Urrutia is executive director of Bestias del Sur Salvaje, and Díaz is communications coordinator at Conservamos por Naturaleza.

 

 

On the shore of a small beach along the Marañón River, Don Eduardo Huasman moves quietly among an international group of students and river lovers. While some get ready for bed after a long day on the water, Don Eduardo has already been sitting for a while with his fishing rod in hand. “Just three little hours, to see if the river gives me a fish,” he says with a serene smile—the kind that only comes from a lifetime lived beside the water. 

 

That warm, quiet nighttime scene marked the beginning of an adventure few could have imagined: eight days navigating the Amazon’s greatest tributary by raft and kayak, learning from the river and those who call it home.

 

There were more than thirty of us, from five continents and with stories as diverse as our countries: Australia, Taiwan, France, Mexico, the Netherlands, Botswana, Chile, Ecuador, Switzerland, Belgium, the United States, and Peru. We gathered to travel 145 kilometers together, sharing the journey with communities whose lives have long been entwined with the Marañón.

 

This impromptu journey—infused with Don Eduardo’s quiet wisdom—surprised us all. “I never thought I would be sharing with people from so many countries,” he admits, still amazed by the mix of voices and faces gathered around the fire. In this way, people with open hearts and a shared dream came together: to protect Latin America’s great rivers.

 

 

“The Marañón now faces mounting threats: dam projects, mining, and oil spills that endanger both biodiversity and the lives of riverside communities."

 

The Marañón, the main source of the Amazon, originates in the Andes and runs for more than 1,700 kilometers, linking mountains to the jungle. It winds between peaks, erodes stone, and carries nutrients to the vast Amazon basin, sustaining ecosystems that rely on its ceaseless flow. Among them is the seasonally dry tropical forest—a sanctuary for species found nowhere else on earth.

 

Yet the Marañón now faces mounting threats: dam projects, mining, and oil spills that endanger both biodiversity and the lives of riverside communities. Local resistance has halted some projects, but challenges remain. Now, more than ever, there is a crucial opportunity to protect this river and its landscapes.

 

Conservamos por Naturaleza, part of the Peruvian Society for Environmental Law (SPDA), leads the drive for technical and legal solutions to protect the Marañón. In recent years they’ve launched international campaigns, secured a resolution at the IUCN, and helped win judicial recognition of the river’s rights—giving indigenous communities crucial legal tools for its defense. This momentum enabled the Students for Rivers Camp (SRC) to become a platform uniting science, activism, and ancestral wisdom.

 

For the first time in Latin America, The River Collective's SRC gathered students from diverse fields along the Marañón to brainstorm conservation strategies and inspire real action. "It's a unique opportunity to combine many strategies for river conservation," says Vera Knook, who leads the program. The students spent time with experts, communities, and the river itself, turning research into action. "There's nothing better than bringing together experiences from different perspectives for one goal: the conservation of our rivers," adds Carolina Butrich, manager at Conservamos por Naturaleza.

 

The journey crossed Class I to IV rapids, vast beaches, and traces of ancient cultures, turning the river into a living classroom. Ecological, cultural, and legal complexities became tangible with each stroke. Mornings began early to the sound of water and the scent of the forest. By day, sunlight played on the river’s surface, revealing ever-changing landscapes: narrow canyons, stone terraces, and trees shaped by time and wind. Come evening, camps brimmed with laughter, multilingual conversations, and music improvised by those who found, in this gathering, a new sense of home.

 

 

 

 

The Marañón is known as “the golden serpent,” a name inspired by Ciro Alegría’s novel. Its waters, thick with sediment and memory, aren’t for everyone. They demand vulnerability and courage—a willingness to embrace discomfort and the unknown. At camp, simple gestures became treasures: lemons for a cough, shared mangoes, smiles, and quiet advice. Here, wealth is counted in time and generosity.

 

On the banks, community life pulses to the rhythm of the river. Pancho, a leader from Tupén, was pressured more than once to accept deals that would endanger the Marañón. His answer was always clear: “Do you know how much my life is worth here?” In this way, he reminded everyone that true power comes from belonging and community—not from fear or money.

 

As the days passed, differences faded. We were no longer students, experts, or guides—we were one, united by the river and a shared transformative experience. Amid moments of introspection, technical debate, and emotional catharsis, the Marañón shook our bodies and our hearts. More than a journey, it was an experience that merged personal and collective currents into a single torrent.

 

“What did we do right to end up here?” wondered Alejandro Calderón of Chile as the sun set over camp. “My home will always be your home. Come back, don’t get lost,” our hosts told us again and again. In the end, we are all waters of the same stream. Ancestral wisdom isn’t lost: it lives in the earth, the water, and the forest. The Marañón opened its waters to us and, at times, struck us with all its force, bringing hidden emotions to the surface. This river changes only those who truly dare to navigate it.

 

The river didn’t give us a fish, but it gave us something deeper: the certainty that hope for a new humanity lives on in the water, the land, and the communities. “Thank you for sharing a little piece of your friendship,” Don Eduardo said as he bid us farewell.

 

 

“We were no longer students, experts, or guides—we were one, united by the river and a shared transformative experience.”

 

The Marañón transports us to another era, where time dissolves in the river’s flow and everyone moves at their own pace. It reminded us that caring means not only protecting a landscape, but also the stories and communities that flow with it.

 

Inspired by the Marañón, The River Collective is expanding its work in Latin America. Fourteen students from around the world will travel to Colombia’s Samaná River for an immersive program focused on protecting this unique watershed.

 

The Samaná, the last free-flowing river in Antioquia, is resisting the pressure of dams and development. Its survival is vital for biodiversity and local communities; protecting it is an invitation to join the movement for change.