When Charlotte Haigh found herself childless in a midlife depression no therapy could cure, she headed into the Amazon rainforest for a trip to remember

What the hell am I doing? It’s a question that crossed my mind more than once as a swaying boat steered me down the Amazon river, further away from the hot, hectic Peruvian city of Iquitos and deeper into the dense jungle where I would be taking ayahuasca: a hallucinogenic plant brew used by shamanic tribes as a remedy for the mind.

The next 10 days would be spent in and out of drug-fuelled visions – an experience I’d heard could be life-changing, but also very challenging, taking you into the darkest shadows of your psyche.

I was 41, my life was not as I’d expected it to be, and I was struggling with depression. I had hoped, by this stage, to have a stable family; but I had struggled to find a committed partner, hindered by feelings that I wasn’t attractive enough – a legacy of school bullying. At 36 I did marry; and at 39 I became pregnant, but it ended in a miscarriage, as did my next pregnancy.

At the same time my marriage was breaking down. Eventually I asked my husband for a divorce, knowing it meant saying goodbye to any last hope of having children. As a single freelance writer, I didn’t consider adoption an option.

I plunged into grief. At my core was a kernel of low self-esteem, and a nagging sense that I wasn’t worthy of love – which no amount of therapy could fix. It was time for a new approach.

Reaching the camp involved a river voyage deep into the Amazon Credit: istock

I’d read about research into psychedelics, led by Imperial College, which indicated that the drugs dampen activity in the part of the brain that keeps you in a negative-thinking rut while activating areas that can help you see life in a new way. Fascinated, I contacted Skie Hummingbird, a British shaman who has been taking people to the jungle for years (sungate.org.uk) and booked a place on her next tour.

Iquitos is the largest city in the world inaccessible by road. For tourists, getting there usually means taking an internal flight from Lima. This gave me a taste of the awe-inspiring immensity of the rainforest, spread far below. The epicentre of Peru’s rubber boom in the 1870s, Iquitos is now the hub of ayahuasca tourism, sucking in flocks of young backpackers.

Given the obvious poverty – away from the colonial architecture of the town square, slums tumble towards the river – it’s unsurprising that the unscrupulous take advantage of thrill-seeking youngsters. There’s no shortage of sham shamans hanging around the cafés and bars, offering expensive mind expansion.

I knew that when used carefully, ayahuasca is safe for most people. But it’s not something to take lightly. I was reassured by the detailed guidance provided in advance by the retreat centre where I’d be staying. It instructed me to avoid drugs (including most prescribed medication), herbal remedies, alcohol, caffeine and junk food before my stay, to ensure my body was “clean” and to avoid any potentially dangerous interactions.

Still, browsing the “magic” section of Iquitos’s market – taxidermied animals, fertility totems and “lucky” bracelets made from poisonous jequirity beans – I began to feel nervous about what I had signed up for.

A traditional ayahuasca ceremony underway Credit: getty

The other retreat guests I met on the boat out of Iquitos were not millennial backpackers. Like me, they had reached a point of midlife disillusionment and were looking for answers. We docked by a village where tuk-tuks were waiting to take us deep into the jungle.

As the mighty river vanished behind us, the trees seemed to lean in closer. I inhaled the earthy green scent of the rainforest, the humid air sucking at my skin, and made a decision to embrace the experience with a whole heart and an open mind, however terrified I felt.

This was not your average retreat with fluffy white robes and spa treatments. On arrival, we were led through the grounds, past free-roaming chickens and cockerels, to our tambos – simple huts with bunk beds and toilets that required a bucket of water to flush.

Our host warned us to look out for toads lurking in the tambos – some jungle toads are highly poisonous and a member of staff would come and remove them, he said. If we wanted a dip, there was a little muddy creek. We could also wash our clothes there.

That night, we gathered in the main maloka – a circular, timber structure – for our first ayahuasca ceremony. Sitting on my mat in the darkness, I watched the three shamans enter and walk to the table at the top of the room, their ceremonial beads clicking as they moved.

The lead shaman recited some opening prayers, then began to pour thick, dark liquid from a plastic bottle into shot glasses. Trying not to think too much, I took my turn to gulp down the lumpy, foul-flavoured brew, sucking on a segment of lime to chase away the aftertaste.

The plant is served in the form of a thick, dark, revolting liquid Credit: getty

Going back to my mat, I steeled myself. The shamans shook rattles and began to sing discordant icaros: traditional songs designed to work with ayahuasca and take you through different stages of your “journey”. After about 20 minutes, I began to “see” the music in my mind. Then I started to feel distinctly nauseous.

Ayahuasca is infamous for inducing vomiting, which the shamans call purging and consider important for emotional release. I grabbed the plastic bowl by my mat, my heart hammering as the sickness came. Demonic little creatures appeared in my mind as I purged and I wondered why I had thought this was a good idea.

When the wave of sickness passed, I lay back down on my mat. I didn’t want to see the demons scurrying around, the images as vivid as a hyper-intense dream. But then I recalled my promise to embrace the experience fully. OK, I thought, let me see what you’re trying to show me.

In the vision, I went up to one of the demons. It turned to look at me and I saw it wasn’t evil at all – it was a small, sad child. I picked it up and held it. I realised I was seeing a part of myself that needed to be loved, not shunned. And then the demon-child crumbled in my hands and I grew tall, soaring up into the sky.

When I looked down at myself, I saw I was a giant goddess covered in jewels. The experience was so beautiful, I cried with joy. As the visions began to fade after a few hours, I felt blissfully calm. I realised the journey had been trying to show me my worth. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a mother or a wife. I just had a different path in life.

The next two ceremonies built on this. In one, I saw myself as part of a circle of women and realised I needed to start looking outwards, thinking about ways I could work with my community rather than spending so much time alone, worrying about what I lacked.

Bird life in the Amazon Credit: gettty

Transformative as the ceremonies were, being in the jungle itself was part of my healing. So close to the equator, the sun sank at around six in the evening, and when the generator was switched off soon afterwards, the place was shrouded in complete darkness.

I fell into the habit of going to sleep in my tambo early in the evening, then waking at four in the morning, when the sun came up, walking around the edge of the jungle, immersed in birdsong. In tune with my natural rhythms, I’d never had so much energy.

The wildlife was a big highlight, too. On a sunset Amazon cruise, we dived off the boat – despite worries about piranhas – and swam with pink river dolphins leaping through the water, just as a rainbow appeared. I laughed at the perfection of that moment. A night-time river trip revealed caimans, an anaconda and a huge green snake coiled around a tree’s branches.

Then there was the trek through dense jungle, where we saw a jaguar’s paw-print – even seeing evidence of the proximity of this elusive cat thrilled me – and flashes of bright, beautiful hummingbirds.

Animals are considered totems by the indigenous tribes, and some had a magical meaning for me, too. The snake represents releasing the past and anything that no longer serves – the way a serpent sheds its skin. The jaguar shows us how to face our deepest fears with courage. And the hummingbird symbolises magic and joy.

I left the jungle feeling I’d made a start on achieving all of that.

Charlotte Haigh in Peru

Would you take the plunge into an ayahuasca trip? Maybe you already have. Let us know in the comments box below

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