SEEK: A True Story

Close Encounters of the Un-contacted kind

(Madre de dios River, Peru 2014 - 32 years old)

-- I took a look at one of the local villagers that was driving our boat, and all I could see was a face full of fear. After five minutes of driving the boat back up the river, our guide finally spoke up to the group very hesitantly. She said that THEY found our campsite. We all looked at each other confused and asked if she was talking about local villagers. She said no, it was "Los Collatos", which translates to "The Naked people".

It's hard to sleep, with the sounds of the jungle at night. There is just so much life, small life that you can hear buzzing and flying, and large life that you can hear, and even feel walking around you. I swear I hear something or someone, walking around our hut.

Waking up the next morning, we were greeted by the chatter and laughter of our compadres on this excursion. Our simple, but highly-anticipated breakfasts, were a great chance to socialize and feel the magic of being in the middle of the jungle, hours by boat from any form of civilization.

We left for an all day trip to the nearest village, which was three hours away down the river. This village had one of just a few radio towers in the jungle. Here we would be greeted by the jungle ranger and villagers that were explaining their daily lives, in return they would get a of share of what we paid our tour guide. While they were about to show us how they hunt, with a bow and arrow demonstration, something unbelievable was happening back at our camp.

Our cook stayed back at camp and was taking a nap, when suddenly she heard the sound of laughter and some sort of bird-like chirping. There were four naked women, in the hut that we used as a kitchen. The cook woke up and started screaming and as she went into the kitchen area, the women were ripping open rations and scooping up mounds of sugar and eating with their bare hands. The scene resembled something similar as to when a wild bear enters at home, ravaging everything to get to the goods, with reckless abandoned.

The cook chased them off, as they ran sprinting through the woods, completely ignoring any brush or other obstacles, with their bare feet. By coincidence another local jungle ranger had visited the camp shortly thereafter, and found the woman in shock and panic. He radioed the village we were staying at. At the same time this was occurring up the river, I was taking my turn with the bow and arrow, as the villagers watched.

It had been decades since I picked up the bow, but I was going to give it a shot. The group I had come with on this journey were watching and expecting another failed attempt at hitting the cardboard box 25 yards away. I could hear the jungle alive in the background, as I adjusted the arrow on the bow, quickly pulled back -- bulls eye. Not only was I the only person to hit the target, but I was the only one able to get even close. I was glad to show that not all people from first world countries were completely inept in age-old survival skills. I was particularly happy to show this to the high ranking Peruvian ex-military commander, that was on the tour, belittling the villagers and disrespecting the environment by carelessly throwing his cigarette butts around on the pristine rainforest.

I was feeling good about myself among the villagers, and was advised by the villagers that I should hunt their prized catch, howler monkeys. They described different arrows for different game, and I wondered why they would target such amazing creatures. They told me the monkey meat was very sweet, and a prized delicacy.

As I was trying to process this experience, our group was quickly thrown off by our guide that was coming running towards us from the dock along the river. "Quick come quick, come quick to the boat" the guide said. We all tried to ask questions but she just insisted we move as fast as possible.

I took a look at one of the local villagers that was driving our boat, and all I could see was a face full of fear. After five minutes of driving the boat back up the river, our guide finally spoke up to the group very hesitantly. She said that THEY found our campsite. We all looked at each other confused and asked if she was talking about local villagers. She said no, it was "Los Collatos", which translates to "The Naked people".

We heard legends from our guide about these Un-contacted people. The Peruvian government formally denied their existence, despite multiple sightings by pilots and the locals. I had been half joking earlier on the trip that I would love to see them, despite multiple murders and attacks reported by anyone that has accidentally come in their path before.

Our guide was trying not to panic, but trying to quickly develop a plan for us to get our food, supplies, as fast as possible and flee the scene. She told us to run and help gather everything in the boat as fast as possible, and try to do it as quietly as possible. There was a chance that we would NOT be able to retrieve our passports and any other personal belongings, and that was to be done last, and only if we had all supplies critical to the group first.

On the boat we were discussing people, were halfheartedly recording their last words. The first world travelers from Germany, England and the U.S. did not really grasp how things work in other parts of the world. Although locals were mostly welcoming and giving, there is also a harsh reality that we saw in terms of corruption and a "save yourself first" mentality and approach when it comes to dangerous situations.

Wild West capitalism was taking afoot in the native's land and they were losing their home as industry was pushing through towards protected lands.
The uncontacted tribes, ran only by the law of their own tribe and since the area was so remote, there was a gray area for the rule of law among the villagers and the natives. The last person that tried to negotiate with them was murdered, less than a year earlier, so this wasn't the best timing for us to be in the middle of a scuffle. I wasn't going to assume our Alien white faces would be met with open arms, which is completely understandable — Even the villagers, whom are related to the natives, separated by only a generation, were considered from another world.

As our boat docked the fight or flight kicked in. I sprinted with some of the others to grab our water jugs, food rations, and critical supplies. The whole time I imagined people tracking me through the jungle. If I had heard the villagers stories of the Un-contacted earlier, I may have not felt so daring.

The stories from the villagers told of the tactics that were used when tribes would clash. The tactic was to set a fire in the middle of the opposing sides camp or villages. Then, as people ran out to see what was happening, they would be illuminated as the attackers would stay in the shadows and pick off the targets one by one with poison arrows — a practice of war in the jungle, as old as mankind itself.

As we approached the camp, the cook that came with us, was hysterical and in shock, she hugged us and ran to the boat. After we had returned our critical items back to the boat, there was a brief chance for us to collect our own personal belongings.

Our huts were simple structures built on a platform, walled just with netting and a small, flimsy door. The first thing I noticed was that they had poked the netting out creating a large hole, which made no sense, considering there was a door handle and the huts were not locked. There wasn't supposed to be any human beings around for over 50 miles in every direction, besides the small village we were just at, a 2 hour boat ride down the river. We were so confident that we were all alone in the jungle, that we felt confident and were encouraged to leave all our valuables behind, completely unsecured.

None of our clothing, electronics, or even our money was taken, despite everything looking like it was tossed around. As a habit, we had put our wet or dirty laundry in plastic bags and tied them up, to prevent odor. Oddly, these bags were ripped open, as if they were the most intriguing things that these people had found. Nothing was missing at all, they had no use for our valuables or modern belongings.

This is something that the tour guide had never experienced, or had ever even known someone who had experienced, besides tales from the closest villages. We had just crossed paths with another time. We had a close encounter with people who'd never seen a door, had never seen plastic, and were fascinated by the ringing of pots and pans.

When we headed back to the closest village, we later were informed that this incident was bigger than we thought. On our way back to Cusco, we met another tour guide and chatted with him as we stopped to stretch our legs. I saw the other tour guide look in shock and fall to his knees in fear, excitement and disbelief. As far as I know, this part of the river remains restricted by the government, to this day.