There is no bad season here. Here is what each one actually gives you.
Anytime you can. It is always an amazing, humbling, empowering, transformative experience.
That is the honest answer, and we know it is not the one most operators give. The industry names a best season because a single best season is easy to sell. Here there is no bad one — every month is good for a different reason. The rest of this page is the proof, so you can judge it for yourself rather than take our word for it.
Our territory sits in 175,000 hectares of the Cuyabeno Wildlife Reserve, and the year moves between two states.
Two warnings about those dates before you plan around them. First, they are tendencies, not a calendar. Water rises and falls quickly and locally, and it can sit very high for long stretches; the blackwater rivers and lagoons run especially high. Second, “dry” never means dry. This is equatorial rainforest and it rains in every month of the year. Dry season means less rain and lower water, and nothing more than that. Anyone who tells you to pack for a dry holiday in the Amazon has misled you.
When the rivers are up, the whole territory is reachable and travel is faster. That matters more than it sounds: hours you would otherwise spend working a boat through shallow channels become hours spent looking at animals.
Fruit is the other difference. Trees in fruit draw birds, and they draw primates in numbers. On the forest floor, tracks and signs are far easier to read in soft ground — and there is nothing quite like standing over a print that is clearly fresh.
Then the nights. High water is when the forest after dark becomes another place entirely: far more insects, amphibians and reptiles. Amphibians breed in temporary puddles and reptiles feed on the gathering; the moisture early in the season helps reptiles shed, and breeding follows. If you are coming for reptiles and amphibians, this is your season, not the dry one.
Caimans are harder to spot when the water is spread out — though we always see them. And pink river dolphins turn up in creeks and lagoons that are normally out of reach for our boats, and out of reach for the dolphins at any other time of year.
When the water drops, everything that lives in it is packed into far less of it. The effect on wildlife viewing is dramatic:
One honest caveat on the arapaima, because it is the species most likely to disappoint if oversold: they break the surface for about half a second. Our guides spot them. Guests without experience often do not. Seeing one properly is a real moment, not a certainty.
This is the part that usually goes unmentioned, so here it is. When the water drops, reaching the far lagoons, creeks and small rivers becomes exponentially harder. The river turns into an obstacle course of fallen trees, sunken root systems and skinny water. The engine comes out of the water again and again. Boats get pushed over logs. At certain lagoons in the Lagartococha system, the canoes are carried overland to get in at all.
Our team does that work. Some guests want to help and are very welcome to — but it is never expected of you. Most travellers end up finding it the best part of the trip rather than the price of it. Reaching somewhere genuinely difficult to reach is the point of coming this far — it is more adventure, and it earns you the arrival.
Two other things go quiet in the dry months. Reptiles and insects become hard to find, almost dormant, because they dislike how dry the forest becomes. And tracks get harder to read as the soil firms up.
It is the question we are asked most, and the answer surprises people: rain is usually good for wildlife viewing.
It is not five days of continuous downpour. More often than not the rain eases — though we will not promise you it always does. When it rains in the morning, it most often buys a slow start rather than a lost day. As it eases, the animals come out late, so nothing is missed by not leaving at half past five. Better still, monkeys and birds gather on open branches to dry their fur and feathers, which makes them far easier to see than usual.
Rain helps in two other ways that are less obvious. Walking under rain, the sound of your group is covered, which makes encounters with large mammals more likely. And rain switches the night on: insects, amphibians and reptiles all become active after dark.
One seasonal activity spans both halves of the year, and it is worth planning around. Turtle egg season and the hatchery run mainly through November, December and January, and continue across the summer. It is only accessible at that time of year — there is no way to see it outside the season.
The hatchlings, though, are released during the rainy season. So travellers arriving in the high-water months get the other end of the same cycle: watching the young turtles go into the river, and taking part in releasing them. Two different trips, two different halves of one story, and each is worth the journey on its own.
It does not really matter — every month rewards the trip. But if you have the luxury of choosing, here are some general guidelines worth weighing.
| Your first Amazon journey | Either season. Genuinely. |
| Reptiles and amphibians | High water, March to August |
| Otters, arapaima, anaconda | Low water, September to February |
| Primates and fruiting-tree birds | High water, March to August |
| Reaching the deepest lagoons easily | High water, March to August |
| The hardest, most rewarding travel | Low water, September to February |
In every month of the year you will see monkeys, pink river dolphins, caimans, birds including macaws and hoatzin, amphibians, piranhas, insects, and the signs larger mammals leave behind.
What we will never do is promise you an animal. Giant river otters, anaconda, harpy eagle, tapir, peccary and the cats are real possibilities and never guarantees. That is not a disclaimer — it is the reason no two expeditions here are the same, and the reason the good days are worth travelling for.
Whichever season you choose, the bag is much the same — see our guide on what to pack for an Amazon expedition.