Traveling With the Sun

Twenty Indigenous men in the Ecuadorean Amazon boarded a canoe in their community near the border with Peru. It was a sweltering Sunday morning, and their destination was a neighboring village 45 minutes away by river.

They were athletes, headed to an intervillage sports competition, a cherished tradition that strengthens community bonds. But it’s one that hadn’t happened in years, and for many participants, it was a reunion of sorts.

“I hadn’t visited Kusutkao since I was a kid,” says Luciano Peas, 28, a member of the Achuar Indigenous group, referring to the village they were headed to.

Twenty Indigenous men in the Ecuadorean Amazon boarded a canoe. It was an extremely hot Sunday morning in their community near the border with Peru. They were going to a neighboring village 45 minutes away by river.

They were athletes, headed to an intervillage sports competition. The competition is a special tradition that strengthens community bonds. But it’s one that hadn’t happened in years. This year was a reunion for many participants.

“I hadn’t visited Kusutkao since I was a kid,” says Luciano Peas, 28, a member of the Achuar Indigenous group, referring to the village they were headed to.

The journey between the isolated villages last October was made possible thanks to their boat, a traditional river canoe except for one distinctive feature on top: 24 solar panels that harness sunlight to power an engine.

The canoe is part of a growing fleet of electric-powered vessels providing a cheaper and greener alternative to the diesel-powered boats that typically travel the Indigenous region’s waterways.

After joining forces with an American solar technician, the Achuar launched their first solar-powered boat in 2017, and today such boats play critical roles in this remote corner of the Amazon. They’ve become a source of pride for the Achuar, who helped develop and expand the network of solar-powered canoes.

The journey between the isolated villages last October was made possible thanks to their boat. It was a traditional river canoe except for one special feature on top. It had 24 solar panels that collect sunlight to power an engine.

The canoe is part of a growing fleet of electric-powered vessels. They provide a cheaper and greener alternative to the diesel-powered boats that typically travel the Indigenous region’s waterways.

With the help of an American solar technician, the Achuar launched their first solar-powered boat in 2017. Today the boats play a critical role in this remote corner of the Amazon. They’ve become a source of pride for the Achuar, who helped develop and expand the network of solar-powered canoes.

The vessels, which can hold as many as 20 passengers, have ferried children to schools, transported the sick to clinics, and even carried mourners to a funeral.

Ninki Roland Antik, who lives in the village of Kusutkao, says when his wife was bleeding heavily after a miscarriage, a solar-powered vessel was able to quickly get her to a local health center.

“Thanks to that, my wife is alive,” he says.

The vessels can hold as many as 20 passengers. They are used to take children to school, transport the sick to clinics, and even carry mourners to a funeral.

Ninki Roland Antik, who lives in the village of Kusutkao, says when his wife was bleeding heavily after a miscarriage, a solar-powered vessel was able to quickly get her to a local health center.

“Thanks to that, my wife is alive,” he says.

Isolated villages are part of the landscape in the province of Pastaza, a sprawling stretch of rainforest roughly the size of Maryland that’s home to about 7,000 Achuar people living in dozens of scattered communities across the dense foliage.

Unlike other parts of Ecuador, where roads connect towns and cities, only a third of the province has roads. The rest is reachable only by boat or by expensive chartered flights.

So rivers aren’t just part of the landscape­—they’re essential links between villages. For generations, the Achuar navigated these waters in traditional dugout canoes, their movements dictated by the rivers’ shifting currents.

Isolated villages are part of the landscape in the province of Pastaza. The stretch of rainforest is roughly the size of Maryland. It is home to about 7,000 Achuar people living in dozens of communities spread across the dense forest.

In other parts of Ecuador there are roads to connect towns and cities. However, only a third of the province has roads. The rest is reachable only by boat or by expensive chartered flights.

Rivers aren’t just part of the landscape. They are important links between villages. For generations, the Achuar navigated these waters in traditional dugout canoes, their movements determined by the rivers’ changing currents.

But in more recent decades, another kind of vessel took over: the peque peque. Named for the sputtering roar of its diesel-powered engine (“peque peque peque peque”), these boats have been the primary mode of transportation in the Ecuadorean and Peruvian Amazon since the 1990s.

In Pastaza alone, there are more than 200 fossil fuel-powered trips per day, according to provincial prefect André Granda, the region’s top elected official. The peque peque revolutionized movement in the region, allowing people to travel faster and farther. But it came at a steep price, say the Achuar and environmental advocates.

The boat’s motor releases plumes of exhaust and leaks fuel into the rivers, polluting the water and affecting nearby wildlife. A 2022 study by an Ecuadorean researcher found that fuel spills had depleted fish stocks, making it harder to fish, which is a major source of livelihood for the Achuar.

In more recent years, the peque peque, another kind of boat, took over. Named for the sputtering roar of its diesel-powered engine (“peque peque peque peque”), these boats have been the primary mode of transportation in the Ecuadorean and Peruvian Amazon since the 1990s.

In Pastaza alone, there are more than 200 diesel-powered trips per day, according to provincial prefect André Granda, the region’s top elected official. The peque peque changed movement in the region. The boats allowed people to travel faster and farther. But it came at a steep price, say the Achuar and environmental advocates.

The boat’s motor releases plumes of exhaust and leaks fuel into the rivers. This pollutes the water and affects nearby wildlife. A 2022 study by an Ecuadorean researcher found that fuel spills had reduced the number of fish, making it harder to catch fish, which is a major way the Achuar earn a living.

“There used to be plenty of cachamas, bocachicos, and tanglas here,” says Anchumir Tentets, 67, an Achuar elder, naming several kinds of fish. “But when the peque peque arrived, the fish disappeared.”

Beyond pollution, the diesel boats, which can carry up to five passengers, are expensive to operate. Their fuel, though extracted from the Amazon, isn’t cheap. A single gallon can run up to $10—more than five times what it would cost in an Ecuadorean city. As a result, rides are also expensive, from $5 to $10, which is more than many Achuar can afford.

“When I had no money, I couldn’t travel to the city to collect my government subsidy,” says Tentets, who lives in Kusutkao.

Finding an alternative was vital to the Indigenous people. An old Achuar legend combined with the help of a visiting American teacher led them to an answer: a canoe powered by the sun.

“There used to be plenty of cachamas, bocachicos, and tanglas here,” says Anchumir Tentets, 67, an Achuar elder, naming several kinds of fish. “But when the peque peque arrived, the fish disappeared.”

The diesel boats, which can carry up to five passengers, are not only a source of pollution but they are expensive to operate. Their fuel isn’t cheap. A single gallon can run up to $10—more than five times what it would cost in an Ecuadorean city. As a result, rides are also expensive and cost from $5 to $10. It is more than many Achuar can afford.

“When I had no money, I couldn’t travel to the city to collect my government subsidy,” says Tentets, who lives in Kusutkao.

Finding a different way to travel was important to the Indigenous people. An old Achuar legend combined with the help of a visiting American teacher led them to an answer. They needed a canoe powered by the sun.

In 2009, a young American named Oliver Utne arrived in Yutzuintza, another Achuar village, as part of a now disbanded English-teaching program meant to help Indigenous people establish a local tourism business.

Utne, now 39, found himself immersed in a world where time moved slowly. Each dawn began with the ritual of wayusadas, morning discussions that followed the communal drinking of a sacred Amazonian infusion made from the wayusa plant, which is known for its cleansing properties.

 He also learned about Achuar mythology, hearing stories of a mystical electric eel, known as Tapiatpia in the Achuar language, that transported beings who lived beneath the river’s surface.

In 2009, a young American named Oliver Utne arrived in Yutzuintza, another Achuar village. He was there as part of an English-teaching program that was supposed to help Indigenous people form a local tourism business.

Utne, now 39, found himself immersed in a world where time moved slowly. Each dawn began with the ritual of wayusadas, morning discussions that followed the communal drinking of a sacred Amazonian infusion made from the wayusa plant, which is known for its cleansing properties.

 He also learned about Achuar mythology. He heard stories of a mystical electric eel, known as Tapiatpia in the Achuar language. It transported beings who lived beneath the river’s surface.

 Utne eventually went back to the United States, where he trained as
a solar technician. He later decided to return to the Ecuadorean Amazon with an idea: What if the Achuar were to build their own modern Tapiatpia,
a solar-powered canoe?

Utne and the Achuar started a nongovernmental organization, Kara Solar, to adapt the human-powered canoes that Indigenous people had invented and long used.

In 2017, after years of planning, Kara Solar launched the first solar boat, sending a small group on an 1,118-mile journey from Coca, Ecuador, to Iquitos, Peru, before returning back to the Achuar territory.

The Achuar community now has nine other solar boats operating in Indigenous communities in Ecuador, Peru, Brazil, and even the Southern Pacific Ocean’s Solomon Islands, with a goal of launching 250 more in the next five years.

 Still, there have been challenges. The engines, which are designed in Germany and the U.S., have had problems navigating the Amazon’s tributaries, which can produce unexpected currents, recede during the dry season, and are often filled with toppled trees and other obstacles.

Utne went back to the United States, where he trained as a solar technician. He later decided to return to the Ecuadorean Amazon with an idea: What if the Achuar were to build their own modern Tapiatpia, a solar-powered canoe?

Utne and the Achuar started a nongovernmental organization called Kara Solar. They wanted to adapt the human-powered canoes invented by the Indigenous people.

In 2017, after years of planning, Kara Solar launched the first solar boat. They sent a small group from Coca, Ecuador, to Iquitos, Peru, before returning back to the Achuar territory. The journey was 1,118-miles.

The Achuar community now has nine other solar boats. They operate in Indigenous communities in Ecuador, Peru, Brazil, and even the Southern Pacific Ocean’s Solomon Islands. They have to launch 250 more in the next five years.

 Still, there have been challenges. The engines, which are designed in Germany and the U.S., have had problems navigating the Amazon’s tributaries. They waterways can produce unexpected currents, recede during the dry season, and are often filled with toppled trees and other obstacles.

“The littlest thing goes wrong, and the whole boat stops working,” Utne says.

While some Achuar have embraced solar canoes, others remain skeptical. The diesel boats, despite their noise and pollution, are still faster—a significant advantage in daily life.

“People here need real solutions,” says Granda, the provincial prefect.

But Achuar who support solar-powered vessels are trying to persuade more skeptical members to embrace a cleaner mode of transit, and Kara Solar is redesigning the diesel boats so they can also be powered by the sun.

Utne started a company, Motores Amazonas, or Amazonian Motors, working with the Achuar to develop motors that will be more reliable than the imported engines currently used.

Granda says he could have advocated to have more roads built. But in other Indigenous communities, he and others said, roads have brought drugs and alcohol that have devastated local tribes.

“We don’t want roads here,” says Nantu Canelos, the president of Kara Solar. “Highways destroy communities.”

The ultimate goal is ambitious: turning the Kapawi River, one of the Achuar region’s most important transit links, into a solar-powered waterway. The Achuar say creating a sustainable transportation network is a way to take control of their own future, blending ancient traditions with modern solutions.

The solar boats, Granda says, are a vital step “to keep the territory preserved.”

 “The littlest thing goes wrong, and the whole boat stops working,” Utne says.

While some Achuar have embraced solar canoes, others remain doubtful. The diesel boats are noisy and pollute the environment, but they are still faster, which is an advantage in daily life.

“People here need real solutions,” says Granda, the provincial prefect.

But Achuar who support solar-powered vessels are trying to persuade more skeptical members to embrace a cleaner mode of transit. Kara Solar is also redesigning the diesel boats so they can be powered by the sun.

Utne started a company, Motores Amazonas, or Amazonian Motors, working with the Achuar to develop motors that will be more reliable than the imported engines currently used.

Granda says he could have advocated to have more roads built. But in other Indigenous communities, he and others said, roads have brought drugs and alcohol that have devastated local tribes.

“We don’t want roads here,” says Nantu Canelos, the president of Kara Solar. “Highways destroy communities.”

The ultimate goal is ambitious. It is to turn one of the Achuar region’s most important transit links, the Kapawi River, into a solar-powered waterway. The Achuar say creating a sustainable transportation network is a way to take control of their own future. It allows them to blend ancient traditions with modern solutions.

The solar boats, Granda says, are an important step “to keep the territory preserved.”

José María León Cabrera is a freelance journalist based in Ecuador.

José María León Cabrera is a freelance journalist based in Ecuador.