Jump to Brazil - Uruguay
- Argentina - Antarctica
- Chile - Argentina
(part 2) - Paraguay - Bolivia
- Peru - Columbia
Start Date: 4th November 2003
Preparation (Nov 2003)
As the time approaches for us to go, I go into organising mode, as I
like my plans to go like clockwork. We go to my son's place for a
week, go to France for a week and the off to Rio. Having bought
two one way tickets to Rio we find out that Brazil will not let us in
on a one way ticket. We phone the Embassy and explain our plans
about flying in and leaving overland, they agree that the principal is
fine, but no dice. Plan B, buy the shortest, cheapest air ticket
out of Brazil. Uruguay! Varig Airlines will not sell a one
way ticket for the same reason. We phone the Uruguayan Embassy (I
bet Ronnie Biggs did not have this trouble) - the Uruguayans were happy
with our plans and faxed us written permission, this we then faxed to
Varig and our ticket agent and two days before we left home we got our
tickets.
Like clockwork.
The friends we were going to France with had already got their tickets
and to get us added to their vehicle would cost £100. We thought this
was over the top, so we tried getting tickets as foot passengers and
this came to £80. We thought that was a laugh, so we abandoned France
and decided to drive down to the West Country and visit some friends
there. The House is empty, the Car is loaded and we are off on
the first leg to Camberley. Going round the M25 the car blew a
gasket or something and we have to limp the last few miles to Camberley
trailing clouds of black smoke behind us and we have to abandon the
West Country plans, and the car goes to the knackers yard.
Like clockwork.
During our time with Matthew and Ceri Helen's recent deep tooth filling
starts playing up, followed by a heavy cold. Once all this has
cleared up I am rushed to hospital and after half the night there I am
diagnosed with pneumonia. I am put on a cocktail of medications
and have to go back to the hospital the day before we are due to leave
for Rio to find out if I am OK or have to be admitted.
Like clockwork!
Back to the hospital for my final check up, and fingers crossed we
can go. After blood test, x-ray and physical once over, and, as
the hospital has military connections they even phoned the RAF to see
if it was okay for me to fly. I was impressed with this, but as
nobody at the RAF knows me I couldn't really see the point. But
another bucket full of pills and the all clear.
Into South America
Brazil
After a tedious flight, where the only points of interest were, when
we checked in a select few (including us) had to go through an extra
security check, and take our shoes off, so they could run some sort of
sniffer device round and in them. I know the Americans have a
hygiene fetish, but checking for foot odour before we board the plane I
think is a bit OTT. In transit, at Washington, we had another
security check, and this time everybody had to take their shoes off,
and put them through the x-ray machine. Nobody had spent their
time on the flight converting their footwear into something else, so we
were all allowed through, and then on to Rio.
Rio, with its beaches at Copacabana and Ipanema, the biggest carnival
in the world and the huge statue of Christ on top of Corcovado.
Unfortunately, we do not have the right swim wear (string wear) or the
right figures for the beaches, we are nine months too late for the
Carnival, so the only thing left was J.C. up on the hill (well and a
few bars).
So we did that and then headed off to the Pantanal, a huge area of
savannah, three times the size of Holland. This vast area of
planes supports a few estancias, where the cowboys go out on horse back
to tend the herds of scrawny cattle, some mammals, such as jaguar, puma
and giant anteater, of which we unfortunately saw none of, also
capybara (the world's largest rodent) caymens (alligators) and a huge
variety of bird life. Although the Pantanal itself gets little
rainfall during the wet season, the river Paraguay, whose source is
elsewhere, overflows onto this wilderness raising the water level some
three metres above the low water mark and covering more than 60% of the
land.
During the wet season there is a lot of competition for land which
accounts for the low animal population density now. We are here
at the end of the dry season, our camp is five hours drive from the
nearest town, so we have miles to look around on our daily walks to
find wildlife, and learn about the native uses of the plant life.
One day we went to another camp, this was by a river inhabited by four
foot long caymen (alligators). We knew they were there as they
were on the banks of the river when we arrived. Our guides said
we could swim in the river if we liked, as the caymen were more scared
of us than we of them, what do they know? but, we did swim and no-one
was eaten. The guides now getting a feeling for this took us off
in the afternoon for an hours walk to another river, to go
fishing. So, there we were, all standing up to our waists in
water fishing for piranha! After we took our catch back to camp,
I was that man-eating fish.
On one of our walks, I think the guide got fed up with looking for
the elusive jaguars, so showed us some of the local flora. One
seed pod we saw and mucked about with was used for tattoos, cutting the
pod in half adding a drop of water and mushing the seeds up produced a
clear liquid. Which was about as interesting as watching paint
dry, the only difference is when this clear liquid dried it left our
hairless fingers splodged with purple dye that lasted for about a week.
We had planned to go horse riding with the Gauchos in Argentina,
but after a half day riding in the Pantanal, on wayward horses that do
not understand English, and arriving back with sore bums, those plans
are out of the window. But the good news is we got out of the
wilderness and back to Campo Grande in time for my birthday, and I was
able to celebrate the big six oh with a few beers.
Our next town is Foz do Iguaça, a
sixteen hour bus ride south, and hopefully a bit cooler. The
waterfalls on the Rio Iguaça are amazing. 275 falls dropping some
260 feet, they are truly magnificent and probably the best falls in the
world. We spent most of the day on the Brazilian side looking
round and tomorrow we will go over to Argentina for a different
perspective. That night the rains came and in torrents, wind,
thunder lightning, the lot. It brought down a tree outside our
Hotel and that brought down an electricity pole, dozens of cables and a
transformer, and a few bits off of nearby buildings. It rained
most of the next day, and some of the day after, but this day we went
to Itaipu Dam, the biggest hydro electric project in the world.
Built on the Rio Parana, between Brazil and Paraguay, this visit was to
kill some time on a miserable day, but it was interesting and really
worthwhile. Back to sunny days and across to Argentina, for the
falls. After the recent rains the amazing falls became stunning,
gobsmacking, awesome..... We got soaked several times
during the day, as we took in the 275 falls from different locations
and levels. There is a platform above the top of the biggest
fall, about fifteen feet over the water level, every so often a spray,
some twenty feet above our heads, would come up from the fall and sweep
across the platform soaking everybody. Awesome.
Coastward bound, we get the overnight bus to Curitiba, and from there
to the coast it is another one and a half hour bus ride at R$15 (three
quid) or a four hour train ride at R$33 (six pounds fifty). We
are not train spotting anoraks, but we opted for the railway
ride. Its route through the Serra do Mar range and Atlantic Rain
Forest, through tunnels, over trestles and clinging to the side of
cliffs, was fantastic. Definitely the best train ride in Brazil,
and probably one of the railway journeys of the world.
From here we ambled down the coast to Uruguay. We, like the
swallows are heading south for the summer, and plan to come back
to the north of Brazil when we come back up the east coast.
Uruguay (Dec 2003)
Our arrival into Uruguay was via the small border town of
Chuy. Chuy has the look and feel of an old frontier town, and in
this one the border runs down the centre of the main road. One
one side of the road is Brazil, the currency is the real and the
language is Portuguese. Cross over and it's Uruguay,
Spanish and pesos. And just so life does not get too easy
for the townsfolk there is a one hour difference between
countries. There is a propensity for the people in this part of
the world to drink Yerba Mate (pronounced matay). They have a cup
(a hollowed out gourd), fill it with mate (a sort of green sawdust) top
up with hot water and sip through a straw with a filter on the end of
it. They carry this cup with them everywhere, and to ensure they
do not run out they carry a flask of hot water with them, on the bus,
on the streets, in the shops, cup in hand and flask under the
arm. Shops and private houses even sell hot water to top the
flasks up. We wanted to try some of this stuff, but it's not
available in cafés or anywhere, as everybody carries their own.
In the end I had to ask someone if I could have a suck on his straw,
and, unsurprisingly, it tasted like green sawdust..
On our previous trip we were jealous of other travellers who could
just get on a bus and hours later be at a destination hundreds of miles
away, a trip that would take us days by bike. But, after
humping our bags from bus stop to bus stop, checking out our a hotel at
11.00 in the morning and waiting for a bus at 10.00 at night, and
watching the bus drive past some sites worth stopping to look at, in
order to get to some crummy town, we have decided that cycling is the
nicest and easiest way to travel, and the Journey really IS the
Destination. (but we still have the Andes to come!)
Montevideo, Capital City on the mighty river Plate, and all of the
bookshops still sell a range of books about the Graf Spee. From
here, our last stop in Uruguay, Colonia. This is a nice, laid
back town, where we took in a bit of culture. Colonia was
originally founded by the Portuguese in 1680, and used to run tax free
goodies in and out of Spanish America. Spain eventually got fed
up with this arrangement and after a short conflict took the city in
1762. The Old Town is all cobble stone streets and still a lot of
old buildings and fortifications. We relaxed here before crossing
the river Plate, at this point possibly one hundred miles up river, the
Plate is still probably twenty five miles wide. Our last night
here, we got invited to learn about the secrets of "mate" how to make
it, how to drink it and the social aspect of passing the cup
round. And with all this new knowledge and skill I still think it
tastes like green sawdust. Ferry tomorrow.
Argentina (Jan 2004)
Buenos Aires capital city and gateway to Argentina. We had a few
days here sampling the sights and delights. The City has a lot of
ornate Louis style architecture and huge streets, some of them are
sixteen lanes wide, so you have to be a bit of a Linford Christie to
get across before the lights change, especially with sixteen cars on
the front row with engines revving. One of the sights on the list
was the Casa Rosada (the Pink Presidential Palace) and standing in the
Plaza de Mayo we could gaze up to the balcony from where, in her
heyday, Eva Peron (or was it Madonna) enthralled the crowds.
Along the same theme we went to the district of Recoleta and the
cemetery there. A real necropolis, a City of Sarcophagi, huge
granite buildings with ornate masonry, some with glass doors and brass
carriage lamps, and number fifty four is the last resting place of the
aforementioned Stateswoman (or was it that Pop Star). Another
District La Boc a has narrow streets, tango, the houses painted in
varied and bright colours, tango, and home to the Boca Juniors Football
Club, and the handball champion Maradona (that singer gets everywhere).
Tomorrow, all Buenos Aires will be a blaze in blue and gold as the Boca
Juniors win the club world cup. Tango, inside or outside most of
the cafés and bars, in the streets, everywhere there is tango. As
soon as we had as much tango as we could take we moved on to Mendoza,
in the heart of the Argentinian wine country. This turned out to
be not the best of moves. Mendoza is a nice city with wide tree
lined streets, but having explored it, visited the wineries and sampled
their products we started to make plans to move on. On the
seventeenth of December we enquired about buses to other destinations
and were told "not this year" they were all booked up until
January. Nice as it is we were not staying that long.
After going round all the bus companies the only seat we could get was
to Puerto Madryn ( which is good) a twenty three hour bus journey
setting off at 7pm. Christmas Eve and arriving at 6pm. Christmas Day
(which is not quite so good), and hope we can find room at the
inn. Passing the extra time that we now have in Mendoza we
decided to look round some of the outlying districts. Getting the
buses seems to be a bit of a lottery as the bus that you want, with the
number and the destination on the front that you want, when you get on
and ask the driver if you are on the right bus he says "no". You
try it with the next bus, same result, and the next bus, with luck,
might be the right one. I put this down to my lack of Spanish,
but, the locals seem to have the same problem, as they often flag the
bus down, ask the driver, and then get off again. So, if it says
Maipu on the front, it may, or may not, be going to Maipu. Years of
practice have gone into perfecting this system,
On our arrival in Patagonia, on Christmas Day, we had more luck than
Joseph and Mary as "we" found a Hotel. Puerto Madryn or Port
Madryn as it was called by its Welsh founders, is our first
stop. From here we took trips out to visit Penguin, Elephant Seal
and Sea Lion colonies, as well as other indigenous wildlife, and if,
unlike us, you come at the right time of year you can see whales in the
bay. For us, it is yet another place in yet another country where
we have been two or three weeks too late for the whales. At this
point Helen's tooth, that she had taken the trouble to sort out before
leaving home, the one that played up a while before leaving the
country, has now decided to give up all together. We have to go
to a Spanish speaking Dentist and explain the problem, and after a
conversation, in two languages, he pulled the tooth out. End of
discussion.
During our tours round, looking for penguins etc. we visited a Welsh
town (there are a number of them across Patagonia), with Welsh street
names, Welsh house names, we even had tea in a tea shop where the
waitresses dressed in Welsh costumes, served tea speaking
Spanish. Di, had tea here when she was still alive and still
Princess of Wales. Time to move on. Another eighteen hours on the bus,
this time to Rio Gallegos. This is only a stop over point, but to
get here it is eighteen hours over a flat featureless landscape of
nothing. As far as the eye can see, in every direction,
nothing. When we arrived at the bus station, on the edge of town,
we took some time to plan, and bought tickets for the next hop, and the
next bus goes in four days time. Rio Gallegos sits on the banks
of a river of the same name, inhabitants 75,000, wool, coal and
whatever are shipped out from here. The town also has three
tourist offices. We go into town, find lodgings, get bearings and
recover from the bus trip. The next day we go to the tourist
office, a large, nice looking, period building. Big office, lots
of desks, and we enquire "what is there to see and do here?" and our
tourist officer says "I am sorry, there are only three museums"
We ask if there is anything out of town "No, nothing!" I refrain
from asking why there are three tourist offices if there is "nothing"
for tourists or tourism. Instead I ponder how we are going to fit
in three museums in four days (as it turned out one of these is closed)
while we wait for our bus to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego and the
very end of the road in South America. Supposedly Butch Cassidy and the
Sundance Kid robbed a bank here, if they did they found more to do here
than we did.
Heading for the Land of Fire, we pass through a part of Chile, which
necessitates, form filling, queueing for passport control, out of
Argentina and again into Chile. At the Straights of Magellan we
have to de-bus to board a rusty barge type ferry for the short
crossing, and then a bit later the passport control fiasco all over
again. A whole bus load queueing to get stamped out of Chile and
the queueing to get stamped back into Argentina. Then on to
Ushuaia. Ushuaia sits on the banks of the Beagle Channel at the
end of the Andes and according to locals at the end of the world, as
"El Fin Del Mundo" is everywhere, and at 54 degrees 49 minutes south it
is the most southerly city in the world. This beautiful location
was a one time penal colony, and for a short while it is home to us,
even though we are leaving tomorrow for a short trip.
Antarctica (Feb 2004)
This is the unplanned, on a whim, budget breaking part of the trip.
We have never desired to go on a cruise before, but, after a lot of
soul searching, decided to go on this one. Setting sail at 7pm we
motored down the Beagle Channel, in the MV Ushuaia, drinks in
hand, and beautiful landscapes on either side of us, and the sun going
down over the stern. Once we had reached the open sea we turned
right to cross Drake's Passage, and during the night and the next day
the winds and the seas of the Cape Horn Region lived up to their
reputation by laying low two thirds of the ship's compliment. In
our cabin (as with others) anything not nailed down was flung around
the room, drawers were dumped out of their cabinets, chairs turned
upside down, chaos everywhere. In our several rushes to the
toilet we had to negotiate this debris while the ship was bucking like
a demented bronco. But the following day the wind had dropped and
the seas were calmer, and the sun shone. Everything was
wonderful, and we were followed by petrels, skua and albatross, and, at
8.30 that night we saw an iceberg. Our first sign that we were
nearing "Antarctica". As icebergs go this one was quite boring,
as from ten miles away it looked like a block of flats. The
Captain took the trouble to go up close to the left hand side of the
iceberg, and turn right to travel along its whole length, before
rounding and continuing south. There was no fear of hitting it as
we had more lookouts than the Titanic had crew. Up close it was some
one hundred feet high, and approximately six hundred feet wide, a
HUGE slab of ice shelf. It may have been a boring shape, but it
was our first iceberg, and WE were very excited.
Our first day here we did a landing in the Melchior Archipelago, and
saw fur seal, penguins and a lot of snow and ice. In the
afternoon we did a landing on mainland Antarctica, at this point we
considered we were probably the first two people from Doric Avenue
Rochford to have ever set foot on this snowbound continent. Also,
at this point the heating in the ship packed up, and images of
Shackleton came to mind. We had relative freedom of the ship, and
one of the popular gathering places was on the Bridge. Cruising
through the icebergs attracted a lot of viewers, sometimes there were
that many people on the bridge that the Captain, apologetically, asked
if he could be allowed a bit of a view to be able to negotiate the ship
through the icebergs. During our six days here we cruised in the
ship through narrow channels, between the Archipelago and the
Peninsular, watching humpback and minke whales (whales at last)
around the ship. Stunning scenery everywhere. Cruising
round Antarctica we had the luxury of twenty four hour daylight,
unfortunately, we did not have the stamina to go with it. Two
landings each day to see glaciers, climbing hills, and sliding down ice
fields, and watch colonies of Adelie, Chinstrap and Gentoo
penguins. To be in these colonies of thousands of birds is a
fantastic experience, and we had Zodiac rides amongst icebergs, carved
by nature into the most amazing shapes, designs and colours. With
small ice floes carrying basking Crabeater and Leopard Seals. The
whole thing is so amazing, and so fantastic it is a total fantasy land
that I cannot find the words to describe it. You just HAVE to see
it with your own eyes.
iceberg
| in
the dingy | the
boat | wildlife
The forecast for the return trip was not good so we had to cut our
last landing and prepare for a long, hard Drake Crossing. In the
event it was not too bad, but also by then we were seasoned sailors!
A magic trip, highly memorable, highly recommendable,
impossible to top. I now belong to a higher cult of mortals for I have
seen the albatross
Chile (Mar 2004)
Although crossing the Andes into Chile we still stay in Patagonia
and the Lake District. Our first stop was Valdivia.
Valdivia is set in the confluence of several rivers. When they
were here the Spanish had a lot of trouble with local Mapuche
Indians, and foreign invaders from the sea. So they built a
series of fortifications to defend the area. In 1818 when Chile
declared independence from Spain, the Spanish managed to hold on to
this area for a further two years until Chile employed the services of
Scotsman Lord Cochrane to liberate the town. We toured some of
the waterways, some of the forts and sampled some of the local
beer. We moved on to Pucon.
Dominating the town is the 2840 m. (9375 ft.) volcano Villarrica, a
classic volcano shape and snow capped, South America's most active
volcano, although from the town it looks fast asleep. Climbing
this is the thing to do and we have opted to go with a tour company, as
they supply all the gear: waterproofs, snow boots, crampons, ice axes
and gas masks. Now, I have followed some smelly bottoms on treks
but as to yet have never had to resort to gas masks, I am now not so
keen to meet our fellow climbers. It was totally cloudless when
we booked our trip for the following day, but overnight the weather
closed in so the next morning, no climb. Nor the next day.
But, day three was clear, and we were off and up. A bus to the
start, and then five hours slog, over lava, snow and ice.
When you got to the top it "took your breath away" not the climb,
not the altitude, not the view, but, the noxious gasses coming out of
the volcano, where is that gas mask? It may have looked fast
asleep from the town, and I admit it is not actually doing very much
now, but, it is pumping tons of fumes into the air, and does erupt time
to time. Going down was a lot easier, quicker and more fun.
It was "on yer bum" and slide. In a number of different descents
it totalled some three quarters of a mile of sliding down and then walk
the rest. Fantastic. With a few volcanoes around the area
is littered with thermal springs, and sitting in volcano heated water,
drinking an electrolux cooled beer, is definitely "the biz". We
have now had four days rain in the last two months, which we think is
too much, so we are now moving up to sunnier climes.
Going north we leave the Lake District and Patagonia, our plan is to
go right to the north of Chile, but we broke the journey up by stopping
off for two days at Valparaiso. A seaside town built on twenty
nine hills, and the lower levels are connected to the upper levels by
steep cobble stone streets and sixteen veniculars, built in the
eighteen hundreds. It cost one hundred and fifty pesos to use the
public toilets here, and by the smell of some of the streets most
people save their money! Next Caldera, one day, and then Chañaral
for the Parque Nacional Pan de Azucar. Last Sunday we were
standing on the top of a snow capped volcano, and this Sunday we are
camping on the shores of the Pacific Ocean and on the edge of the vast
Atacama Desert, the driest place on earth.
Moving further into the Atacama we had a quick stop at Calama and
the weather forecast is "today will be dry and sunny" apparently it has
never rained here, but on to our destination, San Pedro de Atacama,
this is a village of dirt roads and adobe buildings in the middle of
nowhere. Here, apart from soaking up the sun, and the red wine,
we took treks and trips to local valleys and ruins of the original
Atacameña people. The nearby Laguna Chaxa Salt Lake and one of
the highlights was the El Tatio Geysers, and at four thousand three
hundred metres (14,200 feet) above sea level are the highest geysers in
the world. This is a vast volcanic area with fifty two volcanoes,
but forty eight of them are extinct. At this very moment all my
mates are off skiing, not to be outdone we hired a couple of mountain
bikes and a couple of boards and headed out to the Valley of the Dead
to do some boarding on the sand dunes. Good fun, but, hard work
in the desert sun. Tomorrow we leave Chile for the last time as
we head back into Argentina.
Argentina (part 2) (Apr
2004)
I forgot, while we were in San Pedro we went to a drive in bank, on
our cycle trip we went to drive in banks in the US, queueing up amongst
all the big American cars on our push-bikes. But, in San Pedro it
was different, it was the bank itself that drove in, so, the hole in
the wall machine was actually a hole in the side of a van.
Leaving San Pedro it is a twelve hour bus ride to Salta, Argentina, and
about ten of these hours is crossing the vast wilderness of the
Andes. A few days in Salta and then Resistencia, and then
Mercedes. Here we catch a local bus to go into the wetlands
reserve of Esteros del Iberia. This is a great place for
wildlife, but mainly birds. We stayed in the village of Colonia
Carlos Pelegrini. The dirt roads are ankle deep or more with
sand, and everybody seems to live in a tumble down shack with a half an
acre of ground.
From here north to Posadas where we leave Argentina for the last
time. "Don´t cry for me". And a game of musical buses, you buy
your ticket to Encarnacion, Paraguay, get off the bus at the bridge
over the Rio Parana for immigration, then wait for the next bus to the
other side of the river. Get off the bus for immigration and then
catch the next bus into Encarnacion.
Paraguay (Apr 2004)
Our book says that "Paraguay falls beneath the radar of most
travellers", but I think planning is the key, time spent planning
is never time wasted. The Plan. Visit two Jesuit ruins
outside of Encarnacion, go to Asuncion, catch a thirty hour river boat
ride to Concepcion. Our book says this is "not for the faint
hearted" and we are not faint hearted. Catch a bus through the
Chaco, visiting what we can. This bit of the plan we have to make
up as we go along, as the Chaco is a scrub savannah bigger than the
U.K. with a few dirt roads, little transport and a population density
of about one person per square kilometre. In our book one of the
settlements where its possible to stay, it says "the owners are
friendly, but are limited in their Spanish and Hochdeutch", it should
suit us as my Spanish is limited and I don´t know what to say about my
Hochdeutch. We will see.
We got to see the Missions at Trinidad and Jesus. The Jesuits
came to South America and set about building vast missions in order to
help, feed, clothe, house and educate the indigenous population.
But, by the 1760´s the Jesuits were being expelled as their ways did
not fit in with the doctrines of the time, which appear to be convert
or kill. We moved on to Asuncion, the Capital. We got there
Saturday afternoon, and it was shut, and it was closed all day Sunday
as well. On Monday we went to the tourist information office
where they knew very little about Asuncion, and even less about the
rest of the Country. They gave us a map of the City Centre, which
I think had been drawn by a six year old , and some brochures of
Brazil. They also told us that it was Semana Santa (Easter) and
Paraguay would be shut for four days. We went to the docks and
they confirmed there would be no ferries going up river.
We decided to nip back into Argentina (only an hour from here) to
the Parque Rio Pilcomayo and camp the Easter away. After two
hours at the bus station, and not finding the bus to Argentina, getting
conflicting information from everybody we spoke to, we decided to admit
perhaps we are "faint hearted" and throw the towel in and get on a bus
to Bolivia. None of the bus companies send their poshest buses on
routes like the one across the Chaco, but I was hoping for something a
bit better than the one we had for our twenty six hour journey.
Two hours late to start with, and it looked and sounded like it should
have been pensioned off years ago.
Going north through Paraguay we stopped at a number of small towns
and settlements to drop off passengers or to deliver goods and
groceries. We also had a number of unscheduled stops for running
repairs. Eventually, we crossed into Bolivia and in the village
of Villa Monte the bus died altogether. After an eight hour wait
an alternative bus turned up, looking slightly worse than the first
one, but we all gratefully piled on board and carried on from where we
left off. Drive for a bit, stop for a repair and drive a bit
more. Two of these stops needed the engine turned off, and to
re-start the first time the bus rolled down the hill and bump
started. The second time everybody had to get off and push,
eventually, thirty six hours after we set off we arrived in Santa Cruz,
Bolivia.
Our book says "Bolivia falls beneath most travellers radar"
Bolivia (Jun 2004)
On entering Bolivia we filled in our
Immigration Cards the same (apart from names and passport numbers),
but, the nice little man behind the desk gave Helen a 90 day permit and
me a 30 day permit. Good start.
Our first stop in Bolivia is Santa Cruz, where we spent a few days
planning, getting dosh and watching the sloths in the trees in the main
square. Bolivia appears to be a country of world records.
From Santa
Cruz we head for the city, and World Heritage Site of Sucre.
Sucre
claims to be (is) the Capital of Bolivia, as does (is) La Paz (possibly
giving Bolivia the most capital cities in the world). But it is a
beautiful city apart from the vehicles belching out black smoke and the
indigenous using the gutters as toilets, we spent a bit of time
here
taking in the culture and trying to pick up a bit of the local
lingo.
Just outside the town there are some dinosaur footprints. This
area
consists of the most species, the greatest number of prints, and the
longest trail of prints in the world. And, a trip to the nearby
indigenous village of Tarabuco on market day was truly an
experience.
But enough of culture and up onto the Altiplano, and Potosi. At
4,070
m. (13,431 feet) a.s.l. the highest city in the world. I hope we
are
not here for long, as at over 10,000 feet I have an alcohol ban.
We
needed a few days to acclimatise, we did this by going to the local
thermal springs for a hot swim and by going to some local
museums. One
of which was the old mint, in Colonial times the Spanish mined silver
from the nearby Cerro Rico and in this mint turned it into coins.
The
largest of these were valued at eight Reales the original "pieces of
eight". The Spanish have gone and the high grade silver has gone,
but
there are still some 200 miners working in these mines, mining lead,
zinc, tin and some low grade silver. The miners are a
co-operative
with different groups working their own seams, and still using Colonial
style methods, pick and shovel, hand winches and pushing "dolly" wagons
with a ton or two of ore by hand. The youngest worker is about 8
years
old, and the average life expectancy is about 45 years, due to the
medieval conditions, and the noxious gasses. Sounds like just the
place to visit! The tour starts by getting kitted out with
overalls,
wellies, helmet and lamp. The off to the miners market to buy a
few
trinkets as gifts for the workers. At the shops and stores you
can buy
anything a miner could possibly want, a stick of dynamite, detonator
and fuse is 10 Bs (69p) a bottle of sugar cane spirit 96% alc. labelled
"Buena Gusta" (good taste). After trying it I don´t think I had
any
taste for a week, 6Bs (42p) a bottle. Orangeade and a big bag
full of
Coca leaves at 5Bs (35p). No wonder they don´t live long.
Stocked up
we headed up the mountain. The mine entrance is some 4,000 m.
(13,200
ft.) a.s.l. high above the town. The main tunnel was high enough
to
walk upright most of the time, but at times only three or four feet
high. On the outward, downhill stretch, dolly wagons laden with
ore
and two waggoners riding on the back would hurtle through the tunnel,
on rickety rails Indiana Jones style, and we would have to get into a
recess or something to get out of the way. This is a real working
mine. We descended three levels by means of crawling, and sliding
down worked out seams, level by level, and the only light is the
one
on the helmet, and the further down we go the hotter it got. From
level three we had the option to go down to level four, or wait, only
half the group went. It started by descending vertically through
a
hole in the floor, with slippery muddy hand and foot holds, onto a
rickety, muddy, home made ladder, the bottom of which was perched on
the top of another slippery hole, where once you were into it enough
there was a knotted rope, and you could lower yourself onto another
rickety ladder and eventually to the face where the miner was working
with hammer and chisel. By now the temp. is 38c (104f) and there
are
still three hotter levels below us. It was hot, cramped and
smelly.
We returned up the same crawly, slippery route. The miners in
this
group take this same route backwards and forwards every day, and do an
eight hour shift, or more. I thought with only a visit "eee it
were 'ard down pit".
Helen went to the market. From here to Uyuni, a small
town in the middle of nowhere. From here we embarked on a five
day
trip starting with the vast Salar de Uyuni, and at over 12,000 sq kms
is the largest salt flat in the world. Some years ago, in Swedish
Lapland I stayed in an ice Hotel, the building, the beds, chairs
and
even the bar were all made of ice. Our first night here we stayed
in a
Hotel made of salt, the building, beds, tables and chairs all were made
of salt. Our first stop the next day was an Island in the middle
of
this vast salt lake, this rocky outcrop is home to a isolated colony
of vizcachas, a sort of long tailed, rock climbing rabbit, and huge
cacti, up to a thousand years old, and amazing volcanic rock
formations. Our second night was in a hovel, somewhere.
Next day was
desert, sand , rocks, scrub and a couple of lagunas packed with
flamingos, and some incredible wind worn rock formations. That
nights
hovel made last nights look like the Ritz. We are high here, over
4,000 m. (13,500 ft) the night is bitterly cold and we have a 5:30 am
start ...super.
First off to the Geysers, 4,950m (16,335ft) a.s.l.
there are no water spouts here, but a huge amount of steam, pumping out
of the ground, and loads of boiling mud. The next stop, Laguna
Verdi.
On our way there, driving across a vast stretch of desert, with nothing
as far as the eye could see, in fact our driver didn't even see the
rock that shook the vehicle and bent the wheel. Change the wheel
and
to Laguna Verdi. Breakfast and some engine maintenance.
Then back to
the hovel for lunch, and for the exhaust to be taken off and
repaired.
While this was being done three of us walked three miles to Laguna
Colorado, black volcanic lava surrounding white borax and the red water
of the Lagoon, an amazing sight. And, thousands of
flamingos. The
adobe dwelling on night four was O.K. The last day was a long run
back
to Uyuni, taking in some rock valleys of ancient civilizations, a
couple of remote villages, and a lot of desert with only one
interruption when we ran out of petrol and had to wait in this desert
for someone else to come by and syphon some fuel out of their
car. One
other highlight of Uyuni is the Cementerio de Trens. A train
"graveyard" a couple of sections of now disconnected rail is now the
last resting place of dozens or old steam locos, with tenders, wagons
and coaches littered everywhere. An amazing sight.
I have managed to persuade immigration to extend my permit, which is
handy as my thirty days are almost up. A bit more south now to
Tupiza,
and thankfully below ten thousand feet, so beer is back on the menu
again. Here our objectives are warmth, (the nights are cold up on
the
Altiplano) walking, and horse riding. During our outings we came
across the trail of Butch and Sundance again. North of Tupiza is
a
place called Huanca Huañusca, this is a lonely desolate spot, there is
nothing here but a dirt road and a stone built cattle pen, and a lot of
mountains. Ninety six years ago it must have been even more
remote and
desolate, but here Butch and Sundance robbed an Aramayo payroll on its
way to the mines, they then spent the night in the cattle pen and then
in the morning legged it on foot across the mountains to the village of
San Vicente, where they were forced into dramatic and permanent
retirement. After our fill of this amazing countryside and
it really
is incredibly beautiful, and after getting saddle sore, we hopped
on
the train north to La Paz.
Amazingly the railway does not go all the
way to the capital, but stops three hours south at the town of Oruro,
and just east of here Che Guevara, another well known name was
also
forced into dramatic and permanent retirement. We get on the bus
to
the highest capital city in the world, here we took in a couple of
museums and a few markets. La Paz is one BIG market, but the best
is
the sitches market where you can buy all sorts of lotions, potions,
skulls and dried Llama foetuses (God knows what you do with
them). We
have missed the ski season in the mountains above La Paz, topping
out
at five thousand three hundred and twenty metres, its the highest ski
resort in the world. Most people only have enough puff to do one
or
two runs, perhaps its just as well we missed it. The other thing
we
missed is the visit to San Pedro prison, the Authorities are fed up
with the inmates running a tour business on the side (or on the inside)
so now there is a ban on Gringo visitors.
Planning ahead our route out
of La Paz has various names, including "the Death Road" and "the Most
Dangerous Road in the World". We have friends who still have
nightmares about going by bus on this road. Starting at Yolosa
eleven
hundred metres A.S.L. this narrow dirt road winds its way up the steep
mountainside topping out at four thousand eight hundred metres (15,840
feet)A.S.L. and with sheer drops of up to nine hundred metres off
the
side. A lot to worry about. But meanwhile we go to the
Valle de Luna,
an area south of town with a load of fantasticly eroded rock
formations. We gave the highest zoo in the world a miss, but did
some
more markets (Helen is a market person). And now we have the
answer to
our road problem, WE ARE GOING BY BIKE, and luckily, we have to go down
and not up.
The Ride. Even with blue
skies and sunshine an early
start at this altitude requires four layers and waterproofs over the
top, a hat under the cycle helmet, and gloves under the cycle
gloves.
And Off. Whizzing down the tarmac, amongst some of the most
amazing
mountain scenery. We had to get off and walk past the drug
checkpoint,
and shortly after that we had an uphill stretch, and despite having
twenty seven gears, at twelve thousand feet we did not have the puff,
so we had to do a bit of walking. After fifteen kms. we run out
of
tarmac, and it was down the dirt track. When we met lorries
coming up
we had to get off our bikes and stand at the side of the road (on the
cliff side) until they were past (there is VERY little margin for
error). We went under a series of waterfalls, and through two
rivers,
by the time we got to the bottom we were in shorts and tee shirts,
filthy dirty and wet shoes and feet. Sixty four kms. whizzing
down this
dirt road SCARRRRY or what?? see some photos
After the ride we spend a couple of days
in the tropical cloud forest town of Coroico (this is a big coca
growing area) From here we are heading into the Bolivian Amazon
basin. At this point we are feeling a bit foolish as the bus we
are
getting on has just come from La Paz, all the way down the mountain
without killing anybody, we could have done it the easy way. From
Coroico we got a lift in a pick-up truck to a road junction where our
bus was an hour late. From there it hurtled along trying to make
up
for lost time, along a road as dangerous as the one we cycled down, but
this one is levelish. As it was getting dark we got a puncture in
a
rear wheel, the first thing they discovered was that the T-bar did not
fill the wheel nut socket, after some discussion they jacked the bus
up, got the spare wheel out, and after all this the T-bar still did not
fit the socket. So they put everything back and drove slowly to
the
next village (double wheels on the back). Borrow some tools,
change
the wheel. On to the next town, stop for dinner, repair the
puncture
and change the wheel back. (bear in mind that these towns are
wooden
shantys alongside the muddy road). At about two in the
morning we
came across another bus that had been broken down for eight hours, and
loaded the eighteen passengers, and their luggage onto our already full
bus, good job there is only another six hours to go.
From Rurrenabaque
we set off on a three day trip to the pampas. A four hour 4 X 4
ride
and a two hour boat ride gets us to our camp. The area is all
dense
vegetation, but a short boat ride up river brings us to the pampas, an
area of waist high reed like grass. Remember this is the Amazon
Basin
with the emphasis on Basin, everywhere is thigh deep in water, and we
are wading through this looking for Anaconda. We came to a bit of an
island where we, and a couple of other groups, waited while our guides
went out and found a snake, brought it back for a photo shoot. On
our
route back to the boat we came across a Mamba (which is poisonous) and
it was hardly distinguishable from the grass we were walking
through!
The rest of the time we were cruising the waterways in the motor canoe
looking out for birds, monkeys, cayman and pink dolphins. Helen
had a
quick dip with the dolphins. Back to town and then off to the
jungle.
Here, we saw a LOT of trees, we could hear a lot of animal noises
but
not see the animals. We had to limit our pleasures to annoying a
tarantula and eating termites. But the jungle walks were good,
hacking
a route through the undergrowth (the guide was doing the hacking as
gringos are not allowed to have that sort of fun). Crossing
streams by
walking on fallen logs, or swinging "Tarzan style" on vines. On
our
second night we saw a young Jaguar by the camp and on our last day the
Amazon reminded us this is a rain forest - IT RAINED - real jungle type
rain adding some more mud and water to our trek. Back in town our
flight out at seven a.m. the next day is "off" due to the
weather.
Helen does not want to go by bus as the dodgy bit of road is towards
the end of a twenty two hour drive, and only one driver. After
checking the weather reports at the office every two hours we
eventually flew out at six p.m. When it rains here the planes
don't
fly, and the roads become too boggy for the buses to run. A
couple of
days in La Paz and then a couple of days in Copacabana on the shores of
Lake Titicaca and hopefully tomorrow Peru. Bolivia is a really
fantastic country to visit, and if you like chicken and rice a
lot this is the place to be.
Our last update was sent from La Paz, as
the
e-mail costs about six times as much in Copacabana. So, we
anticipated the ending of the Bolivia section. There are two
border crossings between La Paz and Peru, one of them in recent months
has been the scene of unrest with the immigration offices and buses
being stoned, and the crossing point often closed. We took the
other route via Copacabana. We arrived in town, sunny afternoon,
street traders every where and the sparkling lake Titicaca at the end
of the road. It looked idyllic. That evening everywhere
shut, cafés, restaurants, shops, the lot, as rioters roamed the streets
letting off fireworks and dynamite and lighting fires in the square.
All businesses remained shut, the roads were blocked in and out of
town, leaving us with nothing to do and nowhere to go. To some
extent this was handy as we have just about run out of Bolivian money,
anticipating being in Peru within a day or so. The source of this
unrest was the local Mayor, who had been accused of corruption and was
voted out of office, but he refused to go. Copacabana has only
about two dozen streets, and it took the mobs some three days to find
the Mayor. After he was gathered up he was transported to La Paz
and businesses re-opened, and we got the bus to Peru. Good job we
didn't take the difficult crossing!
Peru (July 2004)
I have been to Peru before, so we will skip
some of the things I have already done, but I will have to repeat some
of the highlights for Helen's sake. Our first stop is Puno, still
on
the shores of Lake Titicaca, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable
lake in the world, although I am not sure how you would quantify
that.
But the last time I was here there was a board giving the size, dates
etc. of ships that have sailed these waters, that is now gone.
But the
first ship is still here, or at least the hull, engine room and
superstructure. The Yavari, built on the Clyde in 1860 (two
hundred
feet or more in length, my guess), shipped out to Peru, taken, in
pieces up to Lake Titicaca, eleven thousand five hundred feet above sea
level, by mule - somehow - how did they do that? and then
re-assembled
and launched in 1870. Nine more ships followed, eight from the UK
and
one from the US, only two remain, neither working. I had a look
round
the Yavari, which by now should be two restaurants. And
a visit to
the Islas Flotantes. Years ago the Uros Indians moved onto the
Lake to
isolate themselves from the hard-working Inca people, they built
floating islands out of Totora Reeds, and lived on them. The reed
is
also used for building their homes, making boats and for food.
Quite a
unique lifestyle.
Onto Cusco, the Capital of the Inca Empire, and here
we have another chance to get in some Inca Ruins, including
Sacsayhuaman, Qènko, Puca Pucara, Tambo Machay, Pisac, Ollantatambo and
of course, Machu Picchu. I was lucky last time I was here as
Huayna
Picchu was closed, due to erosion (if you have ever seen a picture of
Machu Picchu, Huayna Picchu is the steep hill in the background).
This
time, unfortunately, it is open, and you know how it is - if it is
there? The Incas put in a stairway up to this peak, the steps are
somewhat whimsical in shape and size, they are VERY steep
and VERY
narrow, and often with a sheer drop off the side. The Incas
obviously
have less regard for my welfare than I do myself, but the climb to the
top was worth it, the view is incredible. There are terraces up
here
that the Incas used to cultivate, I am amazed at how they managed to
carry sack of potatoes down those steps. In fact, how am I going
to
get down those steps, even without the potatoes? Machu Picchu IS
amazing, and well worth a second visit. For a long time I have
been
fascinated by the Incas, but, by now I am about Inca'd out. So,
we are
off to the Jungle, again, for a few days to get a bit of Amazonian
nature.
Here we did all the usual things, toured round in a motorised
canoe, all transport is by river. Going out on the river at
night,
trying to catch a cayman in a boat with a worn-out, unsilenced outboard
engine knocking out about a million decibels, unsurprisingly we
failed. And a night walk through the jungle, looking for
wildlife. A
herd of gringos crashing through the rain forest, trying to sneak
up on
animals that live or die, depending on their instincts to detect
professional hunters like jaguar - how much chance has a gringo
got??
At least the trees don`t run away. We like the jungle, which is
just
as well as we have miles more of it to travel through. Back to
Cusco,
we had to hang about for four days to see Inti Raymi, a re-enactment of
the Inca Festival for the winter solstice. The days before the
festival were entertaining, with colourful parades and dancing in the
streets. Inti Raymi itself, although a spectacular pageant, was a
bit
drawn out. It took ages to getting around to sacrificing the
virgin, I
doubt she was a real virgin, it certainly was not a real
sacrifice!
From here a change of cultures as we drop off the Alti Plano down to
Nazca, and no more hanging about.
<>A flight over the incredible
geoglyphs. Some of the animal designs are up to one hundred and
eighty
metres (six hundred feet) long. It is possible to stand on the
ground
thirty feet away and not see anything of them at all. Even in the
plane some of the straight lines go out of sight in both directions,
amazing. A quick tour round a Nazca Cemetery and Irrigation
System and
on to Ica. Meanwhile, Helen bit a dog (or was it vice versa?)
which
meant hanging about while she went to the hospital. Being a cash
customer Helen gets to the front of the queue, she had to pay one
pound
sixty consultation fee. Then go to the Pharmacy to buy a
treatment kit
(gloves, antiseptic, plaster) thirty five pence, after treatment, go
back to the Pharmacy to buy a hypodermic, five pence for a
vaccination. The vaccine is free, and then every day
for a week for a
gruesome anti-rabies jab in the stomach, leaving me to twiddle my
thumbs. Ica is a grape growing district, so I did the Winery
Tours,
testing the wines and Pisco (the local spirit). There are also
miles
of HUGE sand dunes, so I went on dune buggy rides (hairy) and
sandboarding. A few years ago I had a go at snow-boarding and
decided
it was a young man's sport, after taking forever to climb up three
hundred and sixty feet high sand dunes and almost as long to tumble
down them, with a board strapped to my feet, I think sand-boarding is
also a young man's sport.
A couple of days in Lima, and then to Huaraz, in the northern
highlands, hoping to do some trekking. It is a fantastic area,
but,
unfortunately the best trekking is over Helen's altitude limit, so
after
doing what we could it is back to the coast and further
north.
Stopping at Chiclayo. From here we took a bit of a side trip,
inland
to Iquitos. This involved travelling on various buses, for three
days, mostly on dirt roads and crossing the Andes to the
town of
Yurimaguas, deep in Amazonia. In the main square is a Cathedral
designed by Eiffel, but we are here to catch a boat. The Eduardo
III
is a cargo cum passenger boat. We were allocated some deck space,
fortunately not on the same deck as the cattle and chickens, but, I had
to nip back to the market to buy a couple of hammocks for the two days
and two nights journey down the Rios Huallaga and Marañon to
Iquitos. During this trip the boat had to pull in to the river
bank a
number of times, so that small riverside communities could load goods,
mainly bananas, to go to market, or somewhere.
The source of the
Amazon is high on Nevado Mismi in the South of Peru, but here, at the
confluence of the Rios Ucayrli and Marañon, is the start of the River
Amazon and Iquitos is the end of the line for ships from the Atlantic,
three thousand eight hundred kms. downstream. It is also the
biggest
city in the world with no road connections to anywhere else. On
the
main square we met up with Eiffel again, in the shape of La Casa de
Hierro (The Iron House). Fabricated in France, sent out here in
meccano kit form with several tons of nuts and bolts, and assembled on
site. Upstairs is the Regal Restaurant, which is also the address
of
the British Consul. Helen is worried that as we will be leaving
Peru
before finishing her Peruvian Anti-Rabies Programme of Injections will
she be alright? And, she wanted to ask somebody English-speaking
for
an opinion. The Consul seemed the obvious choice for medical
advice.
We found him propping up the bar, in reply to Helen's concern he said
"you should be alright, keep your alcohol intake up, and don't
worry"
Obviously a man with his finger on the pulse! So, as we have been
getting conflicting advice about malaria I thought I would ask, the man
on the spot, he said "I have been here for twenty years, don't worry
about it, just drink more beer!" It is good to know that tax
payers
money is going towards keeping up "British Standards" even in the
remotest corners of the world.
Getting back to Chiclayo we took in a
couple of Moche sites (a pre-Inca civilisation) one of them had been
worked on for a number of years by Thor Heyerdahl and his team.
And
then we headed north to Ecuador, and hopefully a change of diet, as by
now both of us are up to here with boiled bananas and rice. Helen
is
also hoping for an upturn in her health, as during our two months
in
Peru she has had an exaggerated cough and a cold, diarrhoea, altitude
sickness, giardiasis and the rabies scare. We have spent more
time in
hospitals and chemists than we have sightseeing.... fingers
crossed.
Columbia (Sept 2004)
Given Colombia's reputation we planned a
shortish route through to Venezuela, travelling only in the daytime
and keeping our fingers crossed. Getting into the border town of
Ipiales by lunchtime we took the opportunity to go to the nearby
Santuario de las Lajas in the afternoon. This is a church built
in a
gorge, a bridge was built from river level up some forty metres and
then the church was built on top of it, up against a rock face where
some miracle occurred. And this miraculous rock face some hundred
and
fifty feet above the valley floor is part of the altar. Started
in
1916 it only took thirty two years to build. Next day the old
Colonial
town on Popayan. From here we took a day out to the mountains and
the
village of Sylvia, so that Helen could go to yet another market.
In
Bolivia it seemed impossible to take a bus journey without getting a
puncture and the wheel changing saga that goes with it. On our
way to
Sylvia the bus caught fire, I hope that, that is not a harbinger of
things to come.
We also took three days to go further a field to
Tierre Dentro, and some amazing twelve to fourteen hundred year old
sub-terrainean tombs of a little known civilisation (actually I still
don't know who they were). Onto Cali, the home town of the
infamous
Cali Drug Cartel. Wandering the streets of Colombia's third
largest
city it is easy to see that nothing of the drug billions is invested
here, but we came here to go on a train ride. Starting from the
village of Cordoba, in the middle of nowhere, we go to San Cipriani,
which is even more remote. The Colombian railway system, like
others,
is rather dilapidated. At the start of our journey we had to wait a few
minutes while the driver got the carriage out of his shed, our
transport is rather like an oversized skateboard with roller bearings
on each corner. He plonked it on the track, we all piled on, and
then
he punted us along with a long pole. The track undulates a bit,
as it
winds its way through the jungle, so we were able to get in a few
downhill runs. At one point we met a "real" train coming the
other
way, well one of those diesel shunting locos, so we had to stop, take
our skateboard off the track, let the loco pass, get back on the track
and carry on. The whole thing was quite good fun, and for a bit
more
money we could have gone on one with a motorcycle attachment, but you
know us.
<>Fifty kilometres from Bogota, at Zipaquira is a salt mine.
Supposedly the biggest in the world, started some eight hundred years
ago by the Muiscas it is still producing four hundred tonnes of
salt a
day with enough left for the next five hundred years. Old parts
of the
mine have been converted to a Religious purpose, including a Cathedral
able to accommodate eight thousand five hundred people, salt altar,
salt
crosses, the lot, all underground. We also took in a few sights
in
Bogota before wending our way north. First stop Villa de
Leyva, a
quaint old Colonial town with cobble stone streets. Then
Barichara
with its flagstone streets and olde world charm. We took a walk
along
an ancient trail to the remote village of Guane.
Years ago I read a couple of books by people whose journeys took
them through the Darien Gap, this is an area without roads or law
enforcement, between Colombia and Panama. The journeys in the
book
sounded fascinating, but since the late eighties the area has got very
dodgy, and even in Colombia it is considered dangerous, so we bypassed
it, getting an overnight bus to Cartagena. Reaching the old
fortified
city of Cartagena (the fortifications only came after a devastating
attack by some pirate named Drake) we have crossed from the Pacific to
the Caribbean. After exploring the old city, the fortifications,
and
even testing the beaches on one of the local coral islands, our
last
visit in this area was to Volcan de Lodo el Totumo. This is
the
highest volcano of its kind in Colombia. Climbing to the top of
it
was not too difficult as it has a wooden stairway up the whole fifty
feet of it, getting to the top we were not disappointed that there
were no flames and lava, instead the crater is filled with bubbling
liquid mud. Although it was bubbling the mud is not hot, but just
warm, so we got in, had a float around, and a massage. The mud
was
amazing, and the bubbles were gasses up from thousands of feet.
From
the volcano we walked, covered in mud, down to the local lake to wash
off before going back to town.
From there we moved on to Santa Marta
to search for the Lost City. Some time in the
fourteenth/fifteenth
century the Tayrona People died out and the city of Teyuna became lost
to the world, we aimed to find it. Having moved away from
Amazonia and
the Andes we thought it would be sunshine, beaches and Pina Coladas all
the way, but the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is mountainous and
covered in rain forest. The first day we spent a lot of time
ascending
in the tropical sun, and sweating at a rate that appeared to be
two
gallons an hour, we were soaking wet. Later we had some tropical
rain, then at camp one, a night in a hammock. Day two was deeper
into
the jungle, and as the group spread out sometimes Helen and I walking
for one or two hours along barely discernible trails without seeing
another soul and we were hoping that we were going the right way, and
not following some animal track to nowhere. Another day
interspersed
with tropical sun and tropical rain, the rain made the trail very
muddy
in places, and trying to get up or downhill in this mud was often
difficult, and very messy. Day three started with a river
crossing up
to waist deep in water, after some two hours of trekking we came to the
Rio Buritaca again, where we had to wade across, walk upstream a bit,
and then re-cross the river. The river crossings were quite
difficult
as the bottom was very rocky, and the current was quite strong, and we
had to cross and re-cross this river eight times, but after the last
crossing we saw some steps going up into the jungle. Our first
sign
that we may have found Cuidad Perdida (Lost City).
After climbing
twelve hundred steps it was there, Teyuna, the Lost City, we had found
it. Our euphoria was slightly diminished when we realised we were
at
the bottom of the city, and it was another four hundred steps to the
top. The City itself was an amazing feat of engineering, just
wandering about on some of the one hundred and fifty terraces and
interconnecting stairways was almost as hard as finding the City in the
first place. The first day going back is a bit hard as we do two
legs
in one day. Starting with sixteen hundred, slippery, moss covered
steps down, then the eight river crossings. The river is now a
little
fiercer due to rains further up, at one point Helen had three men
hanging on to her. It was exciting to watch this tug of war,
would
Helen take all of them downstream, or, would they get her to the
bank? It was very close, but in the end the men won. After
these
eight, it was the two hour trek to the final crossing, and here the
current was too strong this time, so, we had to use a crossing point of
the local Indians, a sort of platform, on a rope pulley, and
then all
the way to camp one. The last day was a walk in the park in
comparison.
The jungle and the scenery was spectacular, the whole
thing was a mega trek, but with sleeping in hammocks every night, and
due to the effects of tropical sun, tropical rain, wading in
rivers and
muddy trails, every day we were wet and muddy, all day. One of us
was
as happy as a pig in the proverbial, the other was a bit of a moaning
minnie. Colombia is a fantastic country, beautiful scenery
everywhere,
great people, and most of it is quite safe, well I think it is.
The
army is everywhere, in Town Squares, on the streets, even on the roads
between towns. Several times buses we were on were stopped by
squads
of heavily armed soldiers, who have checked all the luggage and
everyone's I.D. They even had all the men up against the side of
the
bus and "assume the position" for a quick frisk. I still have not
worked out whether all these troops, guns, and armoured cars, are a
sign of security or imminent war. But, it is a brilliant country,
well
worth a visit, we loved it, five weeks was no where near long enough,
but tomorrow we have to be off to Venezuela.