One of the most exciting ways to see the Amazon basin is to hire an independent guide in Iquitos and head off in search of crocodiles, piranhas and the heart of the jungle.

Iquitos is a city bound by jungle in the Peruvian Amazon basin. There is no road in, so travellers either fly, or as I did, make the adventurous trip by land and river.

Iquitos is a good place to find tours and guides who take travellers on jungle expeditions. Guide selection, however, is crucial. The reputable agencies mostly offer jungle tours that are too luxurious (and expensive) for the adventure- bound traveller. I was looking for an independent guide with whom to immerse myself in adventure in this legend-filled landscape, but I very nearly took off with a dodgy one.

A last minute trip to the tourist office revealed, to my distress, that the guide I was to leave with that day was fresh out of jail after robbing tourists at gunpoint in the jungle! I was told that guides must have a licence.

Fortunately, I soon found (the only) independent and licensed guide, Alex, who was ready to leave for a jungle trip that day with three Spanish travellers.

The adventure started immediately. We were running late for the cargo boat which was to take us 200km down the Amazon to a village from where we would head to Alex’s base camp. So, in high drama, we all pelted down the jetty and into a dinghy taxi that would chase the Esmarelda. With the Esmarelda still moving, we leapt onto its low deck to an audience of bemused locals packed like sardines on the boat.

People hung in hammocks strung two high and squished side-by-side over cargo, animals and kids sleeping on the floor. A trip to the toilet involved snaking most of the way on my stomach across the floor under hammocks. At 3am, we reached a tiny river town to be met by a timid local guy, Enrique, who works with Alex and would be my guide. We canoed through swamp and stream with swarms of blood-thirsty mosquitoes to the camp, which was two candle-lit, palm-thatched open huts, high off the ground on a river bank.

After a nap under mosquito nets Enrique and I packed a dug-out tree trunk canoe with food, machete and mosquito nets and left the exhausted and mosquito-tortured Spanish blokes with their guide.

Over three days, Enrique and I paddled for hours through networks of lagoons, creeks and rivers, exploring humid swamps within the lively world of monkeys, sloths, falcons, piranhas, frogs, bats, dolphins, huge butterflies, spiders, alligators and more.

One afternoon we waited for pink dolphins at the convergence of two rivers where they feed. Enrique had proposed that we swim with them, assuring me that the alligators only come out of the reeds at night, and don’t prey on humans anyway, and that the piranhas only bite if you are already bleeding. So, with heart racing, I jumped in (after Enrique) for an amazing afternoon in the river with four pink dolphins.

They would circle us then duck under the canoe and tease by rising in a rush of water (I nearly passed out with fear) alongside me. At sunset, we paddled again, and I learnt about animals, plants and jungle survival which Enrique had learnt from his medicine-man father. As dusk turned to night, we pushed through the final reed-filled stretch to a small clearing where we hooked up mozzie nets and cooked freshly-caught piranha for dinner over a fire.

My concern about sleeping on the banks of an alligator- infested swamp was offset by Enrique’s explanation that the only things I really had to fear were two types of deadly snakes — the only jungle creatures genuinely feared by locals.

Determined to deliver the adventure I`d been so keen for, Enrique proposed a nighttime alligator spotting expedition. Under an immense, star-filled sky, he paddled as I nervously shone the torch into the reeds looking for the laser red spots which were shining alligator eyes — once spotted, we would paddle up close for a look! I gained confidence after the first red eyes revealed a baby of less than a metre long, although this confidence was short-lived.

We’d been paddling in an incredible symphony of animal calls, shrills and songs, until one of Enrique’s grunt calls (meant to arouse response from alligators) was responded to by a frightening, resounding grunt that cut through the otherwise seeming harmless chorus of calls.

Fear encompassed me as nervousness washed over Enrique’s face. To my distress, we hung about there, Enrique with machete in hand and grunting to get another response from the alligator. He explained the importance of letting the alligator know where we were, so as to avoid a collision and possible attack due to the alligator’s shock and confusion. Thankfully it took off, after an unnerving period of silence.

Strangely for me, despite immense fear and adrenaline, I felt oddly calm and trusting. It was as though we were not under attack at all by this jungle world, but instead for a time were part of its network. It was a humble paddle back to our camp after what had been an incredible, special night.

Unexpectedly, the adventure was to continue for the journey back to Iquitos. On the day we were to leave for Iquitos, we missed the cargo boat. Village folk assured us another would pass around midnight, so we hung about in the humid evening swinging in hammocks.

A local fisherman entertained me with the corpse of a three-metre alligator he had ‘accidentally’ hooked from his canoe that afternoon.

Despite several villagers madly signalling with torches, the midnight boat passed without stopping. Aware of my need to be in Iquitos the following day to meet yet another boat, to Colombia, Enrique had Plan C up his sleeve. We set out in the canoe again and paddled through the night, taking it in turns to sleep curled up in the canoe. At dawn we reached a town from where a road went part of the way back to Iquitos.

The morning passed before the tray of the ute was packed with passengers and we could bounce, slide and get seriously bogged under blazing sun to the end of the road. We were all dropped off to make the hour walk along a muddy track to meet the end of the road out of Iquitos. A wagon awaited us for the final leg of the trip.

It was dusk when we finally arrived. By then, my boat to Colombia had left, but I was realising the irrelevance of my urban (and Western) ideas of time in this jungle context. I thanked Enrique for an unforgettable adventure.

I had arrived filthy and exhausted, yet deeply energised by the magnificent four-day journey through this rich and special place.