My first glimpse of Iguazu Falls was in the 1986 film, The Mission, with Roberto de Niro and Jeremy Irons. In the opening scene, set in 17th century Iguazu, a Jesuit missionary priest is tied to a wooden cross and pushed into the swirling Iguazu River. As he drifts downstream, the water begins to churn and he is finally plunged into the abyss of the pounding falls, the Garganta del Diablo, Devil’s Throat.
That scene of the crucifix and the priest’s death in the falls haunted me for years. The movie itself tells the story of how the Spanish Jesuit priests tried to colonize the native Guarani and save them from the Portuguese slave traders. However, that thundering water left an imprint on me.
Iguazu Falls are one of the seven wonders of the world and an iconic destination in South America. Millions of people visit them every year. While always a marvelous natural site, the “in-and-out” nature of visits to the Falls always bothered me. They ignore the greater province of Misiones, one of the most beautiful in Argentina.
That all changed in 2018 when Awasi opened its rainforest lodge there. A total gamechanger.
Iguazu is tucked away in the northeastern corner of Argentina in the province of Misiones. This region reaches the subtropical rainforests of Brazil and skirts the eastern border of Paraguay with its grasslands and cattle culture. However, it’s around the Iguazu Falls where the tri-border forms and all three countries converge.
There’s no direct way to get to Iguazu so we hopped a flight to Buenos Aires. We ate well and overnighted, then took a flight at sunrise from the domestic airport Aeroparque. Two hours later, we descended through choppy skies into the jungle. From above, we could see rivers snaking through the dense canopy.
We landed in a hot airport under full construction. I was sporting the city slicker look with a trench, sweater, jeans, and loafers. Our guide from Awasi must have easily deduced I was the gringa as she approached us first.
“Hola chicos!! Soy Selva.” Hi guys, I am Selva.
I smiled and gave her a blank look. Did she just say her name is Selva? As in Jungle?
“Selva?” My husband chimes in, also as if he heard it wrong.
“Si, Selva,” She says.
How fitting. Our guide in the rainforest is named Jungle.
We climb into the 4×4 waiting outside and head off towards the Awasi lodge. The well-paved highway stretches out for kilometers ahead of us through the Iguazu National Park. We have to slow down at times for signs advising of animal crossings like jaguars, monkeys, snakes. As we approach the outskirts of the town, the scene looks like 1960s Argentina with hotels built from concrete slabs and trimmed with flashing neon signs.
We turn onto a dirt road with a wooden sign in Guarani, the local indigenous language. There are still many Guarani reservations in the area and Awasi has built its refuge on one of them on the shores of the Iguazu River. Iguazu is the third lodge with sister properties in Patagonia and The Atacama Desert. Awasi transcends the hotel concept and is more like a “South American Safari” that is all about intimacy, immersion, and depth. At all the lodges, they have re-engineered the guest experience so you feel like you are alone in nature, despite the flow of visitors. Iguazu would prove to be no exception.
We meet with our guides, Selva and Luciano, to plan our explorations over the next few days. As we pour over a map of the Misiones province and the countless possibilities for exploration, a waiter appears like a genie with a bottle of sparkling wine in hand. He read our minds.
We discuss Awasi’s approach to visit the Falls to avoid crowds (they split it over two mornings and do it in reverse order). Besides that, what do we want to explore? Do we want to go deeper into the Alto Parana rainforest to do bird watching? Visit the Jesuit ruins? How about getting out on the rivers on a speedboat?
All of a sudden, I see myself in a crystalline lagoon with a small waterfall. I know immediately I have to bathe there. I share my dream with our guides. They exchange a glance with one another and say, “We can definitely do that.”
My husband and I retreat after lunch down the stone path to our handsome wooden villa. It’s built upon stilts and surrounded by an outdoor deck to enjoy the forest. The weather is delightful with zero bugginess and low humidity. The sun is shining and a fresh breeze is blowing.
I find a spot on the chaise lounge by the plunge pool to soak up the sun’s rays. Ahh, peace and quiet. What should I do? Should I read? Take a nap? Jump in the pool? Scratch that last one as I dip my big toe in the freezing cold water. I feel bored so naturally, I take a couple of selfies. The sun feels like a warm massage and I eventually nod off. A shrill “cookadoodledoo” shakes me out of my siesta.
“WTF?!?!?!?!” I sit up looking for a rooster that must be loose under the deck of our neighbor’s villa. That was the end of my chillaxing. It’s a mystery I won’t solve till we leave.
The next morning we rise at dawn with the singular mission of arriving at the Garganta del Diablo (on foot) before the train. Awasi has early access to the park so we set off on a hike, immediately passing a grove of ancient magnolia trees where several toucans are meditating in the branches.
It’s not even 8am and despite having had two double espressos, I still don’t feel chipper nor much like chit-chatting. I hang back to savor the silence. We parallel the train tracks for a while before the Iguazu River appears to our left. To get out to Garganta del Diablo, Devil’s Throat, we walk across a series of metal walkways over the river. As we get closer, the spray gets heavier, the walkways slippier, and the sound of pounding water becomes deafening. Selva passes us ponchos in preparation for the full-on shower.
The lookout platform is perched right over the precipice where the front face of the falls plunges into the river below. There are really no words to convey the power of this tumbling, cataclysmic wall of water. It’s like an ocean falling into a semicircular chasm.
I walk to the guardrail, fighting my vertigo, to peer down into the thundering abyss. I last maybe two seconds. The mist rises into the air like smoke. Dozens of great dusky swifts, the tiny little birds who call the falls home, cling to a wet outcropping of slate and grass. They dart in and out of the spray. I look above to see a perfect rainbow arching over us.
We are alone other than another couple from Awasi. I think back to that movie, The Mission. Here I am, looking at this majestic wall of water in perpetual movement. At times the cascading river almost looks like it’s falling in slow motion.
I spot Selva approaching us through fogged sunglasses with a glass of champagne in her hand. I glance at my watch. Note to self: 8:30am. Nothing like setting new wine-drinking records. The bubbly is celebratory for my husband’s 45th birthday so we toast this very memorable location and morning.
By now, we are totally drenched. We towel off as the first train arrives and a line visitors make a beeline to the platform. I feel so grateful for those 20 minutes where we had Garganta del Diablo to ourselves.
We head back to Awasi for an early lunch before setting off again. This time we are headed deep into the Misiones province. Somewhere after driving for an hour, we turn onto a bumpy, ochre orange dirt road. We pass a sleepy village and arrive at a dock manned by a couple stray dogs and a fleet of junker platoon boats.
“Those are the shuttles to Paraguay”, Luciano says, pointing to the opposite shore where the Paraguayan flag flaps in the wind. The river, the great Parana, is the dividing line between Paraguay and Argentina.
A speed boat pulls up and we climb on board. It is quite hot under the mid-afternoon sun, perfect for working on my tan while we cruise. As we speed upstream, the air currents suddenly change causing a dramatic temperature drop from warm to icy, before warming up again. This happens several times and has to do with the smaller rivers feeding into the Parana.
Luciano, who’s a local from the neighboring province of Corrientes, tells us stories about his youth and illegally crossing the border into Paraguay to buy bootlegs and drink cheap beer. It sounds like the wild west.
Since there’s really no border patrol, we zigzag back and forth over the invisible country line before taking a sharp right to enter a shallow creek. The boat driver guns the motor and I am sure we are going to get stuck. A blue dragonfly zooms by as if to say “this way,” and the boat pushes forward.
We stop and have to trek up a steep embankment wearing only neoprene scuba socks and follow a rough trail. As we approach I can see the white waterfall cascading into a lagoon below. Selva looks over her shoulder and says, “Aqui esta tu catarata, Liz”. Here’s your waterfall, Liz.
It sure is.
I have this crazy thought of just diving into the lagoon, but it’s harder to get to the water than it looks. The stones are slippery and my feet sink into the silt. The water is not crystalline (like in my dream) so I decide to wade in to be safe.
The sound is so relaxing. Small ripples form on the surface of the lagoon. As I immerse myself in the cold water, I imagine Mother Nature embracing me. It’s invigorating, soothing, and sublime.
After a little while in the lagoon, I am shaking from the cold water. I get out to warm up and cozy into a plush towel. How often do I get to bathe at the base of a waterfall? It’s pretty awesome. I am also amazed at how our guides made my “wish” come true.
We trek back to the boat and continue on the Parana. It is now late in the afternoon and we turn upstream onto a quiet tributary with still water. The sky is perfectly mirrored on its surface. We drop off the crew at a jetty and go birdwatching.
We spot a Kingfisher so we cut the motor and sit in silence. It’s so quiet you can hear even a tiny leaf rustling in the trees. Surrounded by the rainforest, I realize I have been searching for this kind of quiet internally for a long time. I feel a deep internal peace that is almost restful in a waking state–as if all my mental chatter has disappeared.
We hear some commotion in the branches and the Kingfisher takes flight. End of the show. We return to the jetty, and follow the trail to a treehouse where a surprise birthday aperitivo with champagne, appetizers, and decorations is waiting for us. How lovely!
As the sky fades from orange to fuchsia to midnight blue, the boat sprints back to port. We pass the last junker ferry pushing off for Paraguay. We still have a long drive back to Awasi. Upon arrival, the bartender is waiting for us with negronis made from the local mate gin. What a perfect way to end the day.
The next morning we are up early again for part two of the national park. This time we take on the extensive pasarelas, the walkways and viewing platforms that offer a wealth of vantage points from high and low. To compare Iguazu to other waterfalls like Niagara or Victoria Falls, that are much smaller in terrain, Iguazu is a series of 275 separate waterfalls strung along cliffs of a narrow gorge. On one side is Argentina, the larger of the national park, and on the other is Brazil. The sheer amount of vistas of the falls and the opportunity to walk in the rainforest is part of what makes the experience so unique.
The air is cool this morning and still damp with dewy morning air. Golden rays of early morning light penetrate the dense bush of the rainforest. Birds chant and Cicadas hum to the backdrop of rumbling water. In fact, I am walking through one of the most biodiverse regions of Argentina, and South America, with over 2,000 plant species, 400 species of birds, 80 mammals, and literally thousands of butterflies.
The sound of water gushes everywhere. It is like a walking meditation in nature. Streams and creeks converge into the system of waterfalls that are about to blow my mind. I stop and close my eyes to try to mentally record this moment. When I open them, a butterfly called the “88” has landed on my chest. She seems to look up at me. I swear we exchange a silent hello before she flutters away.
We descend down dozens of metal staircases. The lower circuit is longer and gives a real sense of scale. We cross small gorges and streams plunging into the Iguazu River, a hue of steely blue. A couple kilometers upstream, we see the spray rising out of the Garganta del Diablo.
What’s astounding about Iguazu is not just the perspective of Garganta del Diablo. It’s the entire park. You are literally surrounded by falling water on all sides. As we follow the miles of trails, we meet “curtains” of falling water. We appreciate cascades from afar and close up. We ascend to a high circuit and encounter people. Up until then, it has been mostly birds, butterflies, and a few Coatis, the raccoon-like native inhabitants of the park. Fortunately, we pass them quickly and stop at the San Martin falls. This is another big plunge with a lookout platform where dozens of waterfalls fall all the way down the canyon, erupting in sparkles and rainbows.
I am so awestruck by the immensity of this place. I don’t know how to take in this much beauty. It’s all so godlike. I feel humbled, grateful, and strangely at ease. Maybe it’s the meditative sound of falling water, but I have some sense of release. It’s like I can let go of inner baggage I no longer need and the falls will wash it away.
The crowds are growing. We steer away from the attraction (the water) and I wish I could do the whole circuit all over again. Right then and there, I make myself a promise to return.
That afternoon, our dynamic guides talk us into testing out a new paddleboarding excursion. The day is perfect: no wind, cloudless skies, a picturesque lake.
We navigate in a speedboat for 20 minutes and anchor by a little island. I have never done this before and am quite sure I will end up in the murky water.
Selva gives us a basic paddleboarding lesson. We first practice laying down on the board, using our arms to paddle. Once we have momentum, we push up to our knees and use the oar to row and direct the board. Then once our balance is firm, it’s one foot up, then the other.
I try…and it is quite fun. It’s not as hard as it looks, at least with no wind. We paddle, standing, around the island and spot a toucan. We venture further out into open water to cross to another arm of the lake. I get tired halfway there and stop to catch my breath. I only hear the wind in my ears and the lapping of the water on the board. It is so peaceful. I sit on my board to absorb the sun.
Selva cruises by and stops to show off a yoga headstand. Paddleboard goals I will likely never have…
Now I am feeling very hot under the sun with the life vest and really want to go in the water for a dip. I still have that “issue”, however. Me and dark water are not friends. It terrifies me to swim in any body of water where I cannot see the bottom (I realize I will never be a scuba diver).
I am melting though and I have to cool off. I dip my foot in. It feels nice. My husband eases off his board in, splashing me with cool water. Great, now I am the only one left on the board. I kinda ease in and let float my legs on top of the water. The water feels refreshing and washes over my waist. I breathe a sigh of relief and go in a little more. It’s the perfect temperature. I lay there, floating, and enjoying the cool water, breeze, and sun. I even forget my deep, dark water conundrum.
Then I remember. Ayyyy!!!!! I hoist myself back on the board in a single push up.
The sun is getting low in the horizon. We pack up and start motoring back to port. I turn around to see Luciano mixing up gin & tonics for us. We sit cross-legged on the bow for a cocktail hour as the sun becomes a fiery, orange ball. A lone fisherman in a motorized skiff sails past, casting his darkened silhouette onto the horizon.
Beautiful Misiones with her rainforests, waterfalls, orange earth, and epic sunsets. We are shrouded in a golden orb of light. I am buzzed from a second gin & tonic and having one of those joy-inducing moments where all I feel is happiness and that everything is right in the world.
Our last morning, we meet Selva to go on a mini hike down to the river where Awasi has a little deck with hammocks. Arriving to the waterfront, I hear that damn rooster.
“He followed us!,” I groan.
Selva laughs, “Liz, the rooster is on the Brazilian side. The gorge bounces the sound back so it sounds like he’s here”.
Or rather, under our neighbor’s villa. Mystery solved…the bloody rooster lives in Brazil.
A couple hours later, it’s time to continue to the Brazilian side of the Falls. Usually, I am ready for the next stop, but this time I am not quite ready to leave. I feel a wave of sadness saying goodbye. It’s as if I was just starting to relax, rediscover balance, and find my flow. I definitely feel lighter and more joyful than when I arrived.
While we did cross over to Brazil, and that side is beautiful, I missed Awasi for a long time after. I am not sure what made it so irreproducible. Perhaps it was the convergence of Mother Nature–her beauty, her power, her embrace–that I felt in full force. Or maybe I was more receptive on this trip and needing my own transformation. Whatever it was, Iguazu on this trip proved to be moving…a magical place where butterflies and rainbows are eternal…and I place I know I am destined to return.
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