Most people think of tree climbing as a child’s game. But what if it were a life-or-death skill, performed on a living skyscraper with no ropes or modern gear? In the heart of the Amazon rainforest stands a giant so vast it seems to hold up the sky. Known as the Lupuna tree, this natural wonder can soar over 200 feet, taller than a 15-story building.
What makes scaling giant trees in the Amazon a near-impossible feat isn’t just the height. For the first hundred feet, the trunk of the Ceiba pentandra tree is notoriously smooth. Offering no branches and no handholds. It rises from the forest floor like a sheer, slick wall, appearing utterly unconquerable to the untrained eye.
And yet, for centuries, a few highly skilled individuals have been making their way to its crown. This perilous ascent is never done for sport. According to Amazon communities, the climb is rooted in survival and ancient tradition. A quest for rare honey, vital medicines, or a spiritual connection to the world above the forest floor.
This is a story of human ingenuity meeting one of nature’s greatest challenges, revealing the secrets of Lupuna’s scale.
Standing at the base of a Lupuna, you’re first confronted not by the trunk. By the enormous, fin-like walls that flare out from it. These are buttress roots. Unlike the deep roots of an oak tree, they don’t primarily seek water; instead, they act like the stabilizing feet of a colossal wine glass. Anchoring the tree’s immense weight in the soft, shallow soil of the rainforest floor. Preventing it from toppling over.
For the communities that live alongside these giants, there is a crucial distinction between two main types. The ‘Lupuna colorada’ is a fearsome sight, its trunk armoured with thick, conical thorns, making it a natural fortress.
This giant also produces a famous gift: seed pods packed with kapok, a silky. It has water-resistant fiber once prized for stuffing everything from pillows to early life vests. But its greatest offering is life itself. The tree’s branches don’t even begin until a hundred feet up. Where they spread out to form a massive platform in the sky.
This sprawling canopy creates an entire ecosystem high above the ground an ‘island in the sky’ that serves as a treasure chest of resources. Holding the rare honey, medicinal exotic plants, and sacred vantage points.
No one scales the Lupuna for sport or personal glory. It is not a mountain that one can take. It is a pantry, a pharmacy, and an altar that should be visited. Simple survival is the most widespread motive of the dangerous upward drive. Hives of stingless bees which make a honey. Which is a rare delicacy and a medicine in itself are found in the high canopy walk. Climbers too, are after certain fruits, or nuts, or the nest of some prize bird. Resources altogether unreachable on the surface of the woods. It is purest tree climbing in rainforest tradition: a critical activity of supplying his family and society.
In addition to these material incentives, the tree has a great spiritual importance. The large Ceiba pentandra tree is respected in most of the Amazonian faiths. The essence of the spiritual meaning of the lupuna tree is the fact that it is a cosmic axis. A living ladder that unites the earthly base with the sky world of spirits and ancestors. Climbing the trunk is not only a physical challenge but also somehow a pilgrimage. Some it is a means of transporting to the sacred world and talking to the powers that control the forest.
Lastly, the ascension is sightseeing. A talented climber is able to accumulate invaluable information. As a thousand glances a hundred feet high. They are able to see when the trees in the distance are starting to bear fruit, monitor the actions of monkeys or other animals.
This impossible challenge can be solved with not a high-tech equipment but with a segment of the forest. The one most useful piece of equipment that is possessed by the climber is a plain. A durable loop that is usually prepared with a very sturdy liana vine or a woven strap. That is long enough to go around his back and the giant tree trunk. This is not a safety harness in the modern day meaning of it; it does not have a backup rope. Rather, such a loop serves as a travelling anchor, as a third point of contact enabling the climber to lean back and put the entire soles of his bare feet on the bark.
The climb is started with a hypnotizing performance of rhythmic movements that seem to be like an inchworm crawling on a human being with the loop secured. The climber, leaning on the strap, takes a few steps up the vertical trunk a couple of inches with his feet. At this, with a great sweeping motion, he draws up his upper part, so as to leave the loop unsupported, momentarily, to hook it higher. Feet walking, body drawing, strap hits. One of the cleverest tricks of climbing trees used by the Amazonians is this circle. It is repeated again and again until the naked laws of physics.
It is not just muscle but it is a masterclass in balance and delicacy. Climbers do not only use their bare feet to get a grip but to touch the texture of the bark, feel where it is weak or where there are slippery patches of moss.
The Lupuna do not all give the same difficulty. The dreaded Lupuna colorada, or red ceiba, is cased with heavy and conical thorns, which may rip the flesh open. The rhythmic method of the climber on this tree turns into a slow, meditated puzzle. The placement of each foot should be precise, searching the little, safe spots of the bark between the spikes. Being in a hurry does not merely imply losing control, it implies being injured. The climbing up is a cautious process, which turns the trunk into a minefield which is vertical and requires a hundred percent accuracy.
Conversely, the Lupana blanca with its smooth bark may be the easier way to go, but it brings its share of lies. It is as oily as glass in a sudden shower, and you can get no hold on it. In this case, the risk is not an object of danger, such as a thorn, but rather the loss of friction in a frightening and sudden manner. The climber has no option but to trust to the tension of his vine loop and the perfect grip of his bare feet bearing in mind that a slippery patch may cause him to fall at any given moment.
This is the reason strength is not the most important skill but the fact that you can read the bottom of the bark. The climber looks several dozen feet above, the way of a navigator tracing the route, to avoid or bypass dark and wet areas or thickets of thorns. Passing through such a maze in the vertical is half the battle. To purge the trunk, one must get inside the canopy, where new hazards will be encountered.
When you finally get to the first branches, it is not a relief but the beginning of a new and more uncertain struggle. The hiker has abandoned the dead branch and stepped into a life breathing world- one that is not welcoming of the outcasts. Gravity is a steady menace however, not the only one. The threats of climbing in the rainforest of the Amazon are silent, hidden, and capable of lurking on the same branch you are going to hold on to.
The tree is also the home of creatures that can hurt or kill that inhabit vertically. And a handhold could be containing a snake, such as the fer-de-lance, wound round a branch. Little scorpions and spiders, big enough to fit in your hand are crawling in cracks of the bark and a wrong step will bring a stinging bite which will leave you paralyzed. Climbers are required to observe each and every action with their eyes since, in the Tambopata ecosystem that they are climbing, it is completely blind to their existence.
Worse still are the swarms. A disturbed nest of paper wasps or a column of fiery biting ants can engulf a climber in seconds. While terrifying on the ground, being attacked 150 feet in the air with both hands occupied is a life-threatening crisis. There is no escape; the only option is to endure the assault, maintain composure, and avoid a panicked, fatal mistake.
The phenomenal concentration and uncivilized power of a traditional climber begs a natural question why not all people climb in such a fashion? The solution to this is in the various objectives of the people who go up these giants. To scientists, filmmakers and ecotourism adventurers, it is not only about ascending and descending the mountain in the shortest possible time; they have to do it as safely as possible and frequently with heavy and delicate gear. This has given the totally different method of accessing the canopy.
In one, a conventional climber applies one strap and his own body to the task, whereas in the other, a modern arborist has a completely different set of tools. This is a modern form of tree climbing in rainforests where they shoot a weighted line over a high branch and then pull up a rope in all its strength. The climber is clipped into a comfortable harness and with the help of mechanical ascenders, (small tools that hold onto the rope) is able to walk his/her way up the mountain with a significant amount of less physical effort. This equipment is not only safer but is also more versatile; it allows working on the trees with various surfaces, even thorny trees.
After all, the method used is not a question of which one is superior and rather what suits the purpose. The native process is a masterpiece of simple efficiency, tuned to the unit subsistence and spiritual unity.
In the end of the tedious work hours, everything is transformed in the world. The climber forces its way through the thick layer of leaves and gets into a place of brilliant sunlight and clear sky. It is not a rainforest that is growing on the island. The gloomy, damp forest ground is long since forgotten. This is an amazing sight of the world that a small number of people. They might have the opportunity to view as they stand on the top of a silk-cotton tree.
But such a stunning view point is just one of the payoffs of such a hardcore Rainforest adventure. What is really sought is often material: a beehive of bees that sting not, its honey a wonderful potency and a sweet, invaluable treat to the family of the climber. It can be a group of seasonal fruit that can not be cultivated anywhere to offer an essential source of food and revenue. The achievement of a risky expedition of climbing the kapok tree and bringing back these resources. It is a matter of extreme pride. Which supports the vital position of the climber in his or her community.
It is more than the sight or the harvest that it is the sense of arrival. One has to be a part of a line of people who have fulfilled a task since times immemorial, a moment of self-victory and communion. It is an unbelievable affirmation of a connection with the forest made of bravery, prowess and deep respect. It is a strong lesson of what a human being is capable of doing.
The huge piano of the Lupuna at the Tambopata ecosystem, which was once seen as an insurmountable obstacle, turns out to be a ladder, which is climbed due to the unbelievable pace and the masterful use of generations. Climbing is not a simple athletic act but a ritual with a purpose and the climber connects to the lupuna tree spirituality and their community is kept alive.
This tale is a challenge to us to see past the shallow accounts of the so-called primitive ways of doing things, and perceive how the Amazonian way of tree climbing is a living science. The Lupuna is not a tree. It is a cathedral of the woods and the climber is not a sportsman but a sage. Finally, the climbing of the Lupuna demonstrates that sometimes modern technology is not the only source of improvements.