Rurrenabaque

Returning to La Paz a few days recovery are necessary, but as soon as my legs can walk again I’m off to the airport to take my flight. Waving at the peak of Huayna Potosi from my window my next stop is the jungle of Rurrenabaque. From here a three day tour begins on motorized canoe into the Pampas. The Pampas is acres of marsh land, lakes and rivers; ideal for many varieties of animal life. Every day we saw dozens of different birds, alligators and crocodiles both large and small, as well as multicoloured playful little monkeys. A friend of mine recalled how before his trip his doctor had commented jokingly “To be honest, you should be fine without the rabies jab; just don’t go around fighting monkeys.” He remembered it fondly while six monkeys scratched at his arm, fighting for the banana in his hand.


Our first day we just settled into our new accommodation; a mini village raised on stilts to cope with the changing water levels, where the shower water was browner than the rivers. The next day was Anaconda hunting. Wearing big boots that had seen better days we headed into the long grass. While our guide waded into the swamp where the water reached his waist, the rest of us stayed way off to the side, keeping to where we felt the snakes were least able to hide. None of us could honestly say we thought the concept of Anaconda hunting could be considered a sensible past time, but it sure sounded cool on the brochure. Interestingly enough, waiting for the endless search to produce results, I got chatting to an American girl on my tour. Turned out she did voices, and was actually the actor who did the English voice for the main character of Dragon Ball (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_Ball). Unfortunately I had to admit to never having watched it, but I knew it was similar to Pokemon.

Soon, deep in the swamp, our guide raises a long slithering reptile above his head as he shouts with joy. The first snake he found was not our target, but instead a cobra. This was not as disappointing as it sounds because, finding an Anaconda an hour or so later, we realized that at this size cobras are the far more dangerous species. Our guide demonstrated how to extract poison from the cobra’s mouth, as well as how the Anaconda could attempt to strangle our arm. It was a pitiful attempt, but we soon went quiet hearing how this tiny animal is able to swallow a baby calf whole. Because of this incredible ability the Anaconda will only eat on average once every three months. Our guide also described how he had been bitten by cobras so often that his body was now totally immune. The first ever bite had caused him to go blind for a day, but now he could barely feel it when it happened.









The next scheduled event was swimming with dolphins. These freshwater dolphins are famously pink and swimming beside them is apparently safe. We were promised that the big (arguably man-eating) aligators wouldn`t approach due to their fear of these scary dolphins; we could only assume it was the pink colour that got to them. Either way, when it finally came to it, all a little nervous dressed in swimwear, there were no dolphins to be found. The spot at which we were meant to find them was a section in the river much wider than anywhere else. As we sat in our boat waiting to see them arrive, large scaly crocodiles were clambering in and out of the murky river in every direction. After a while however, convinced by our Steve Irwin style guide, two members of our group chose to jump in and try the warm water. I wimped out, but after our piranha fishing the following day, I never regretted my decision. They launched themselves into the zero-visibility water and as their heads once again emerged they spun around frantically, their eyes darting to check that their scaly onlookers hadn`t made any significant movements. Luckily they had not, and as our guide had promised they came out unscathed.


The piranha fishing commenced the following day. We were each given a string of nylon with a hook attached to the end. Our choice of bate was not worms, but instead small chunks of raw cow, and it was incredibly effective. Within seconds of our hook hitting the water you could already feel a swarm of piranhas tugging on the string, and only a few seconds later the beef would be gone. They are cunning animals, never biting on the hook like fish back home, but with them attacking in swarms fishing becomes very easy. You wait for the swarm to attack, then quickly yank the string backwards as hard as you can. Odds are that one gets in the way and within an hour we had all caught between five and fifteen each. The little buggers had frighteningly sharp teeth and would bite at our fingers as we tried to delicately remove the hook lodged in their cheek. Then finally as we were finishing up, as our guide went to pick up a few loose piranhas flapping on the floor of the canoe, one finally got the bite it was looking for. Blood flowed from his hand. A large chunk, 2cm in diameter and a mm deep, had been removed from his index finger. The crazy guy merely laughed as one of the girls desperately tried to bandage him up. All I could think about however was that if one bite did that much damage, what could a swarm of them do in 30 seconds. And thus I am still very pleased with my decision to stay in the boat the previous day.










The morning ended with us tucking into our fried piranhas; absolutely delicious, but surprisingly little meat for such a carnivorous fish. I then headed back in time to catch my mini plane leaving from Rurrenabaque airport. Of course, I use the term "airport" very loosely, as it could better be described as a field (or opening between the trees) with matching shed. I was pleased to find a friend, Paul, who I had met a few days previous was also on the plane. We were both knackered and neither of us had showered in 3 days. We decided to do what any reasonable pair of gentlemen would do in this situation. We bought beers, ordered pizzas... then booked into the La Paz `Ritz´ hotel(http://www.theritzlondon.com/). At only $45 per night for two double beds, ensuite bathroom, a kitchen, mini bar and lounge with cable tv... it would have been a crime not to.

Hauyna Potosi

The second trip was a two day climb of Huayna Potosi, a mountain that peaks at 6,088m. This peak, higher than Kilimanjaro, is snow covered the whole year round and sits significantly higher than the clouds covering the Amazon rainforest below it. The first day is a gentle three hour hike from base camp up to high camp, carrying all the equipment we need for the following day. High camp is conveniently positioned exactly where the rock stops and the ice begins, and it is here where a meal awaits together with a few hours sleep. We’re all in bed as early as 7 as we’re expecting breakfast in time for midnight. At this altitude not only is day time climbing unbearably hot, but the risk of slipping on the snow or experiencing an avalanche is higher than desirable. We therefore plan to climb all night when the snow has turned to ice.


At midnight we wake and already some people have to drop out. Altitude sickness has hit them hard with headaches and vomiting. The rest of us start adding layers, and then with clamp-on spikes on our feet and ice axe in hand we head into the darkness in groups of three. Pairs of climbers have each been tied to a guide with the understanding that we either all make it or all turn back. The climb was easily the most grueling day of my life; constantly uphill with only a five minute break every hour and some completely vertical walls for us to overcome with use of our ice axe. Half way up and the altitude is really paying its toll. My main focus is getting enough oxygen into my lungs, while my partner is suffering far worse with a throbbing headache. Knowing that I need him to make it, the process of feeding him various painkillers and altitude pills quickly commences, and just minutes after sunrise we successfully hit the top. Once the sun rises over the ice the views are incredible. The whole night the only view we had was the tiny spotlight at our feet created by our head torches. On the way back down we get to fully appreciate the beauty of what we have just defeated. The pictures can only attempt to do it justice.

Death Road

The week ended with a flight in a mini 18 man pane flying mere inches above the mountain peak that we had earlier that week struggled day and night to conquer. The reason for the flight was that the only alternative route was an 18 hour bus ride along a path famously known as “Death Road.” It is so named because this gravel-covered, thin windy road sits so comfortably between a huge stone rock face on one side and a fatal 100m drop on the other. Friends who I met after they had survived this bus trip described Valium, a necessarily strong sleeping pill, as the only way to stay calm as the driver, who happily does the whole ride in one sitting, speeds along. Those lucky enough to have a window seat will enjoy watching as the two left hand side wheels regularly take turns to leave the comfort of the gravel and dangle over the deep and menacing cliff edge whenever the road isn’t wide enough to squeeze the whole bus onto it.

I never had the pleasure of experiencing this bus for myself, but instead tried the more popular alternative; Death Road mountain biking. This was amazing. The road seems significantly wider when it’s just you and your bike. This is a long downhill part of the Death Road, which since the World Health Organisation labeled it the most dangerous road in the world, has unsurprisingly become a very profitable tourist attraction for Bolivia. As you cycle down, never needing to pedal due to the sheer steepness of it, you pass many beautifully decorated memorials to the many lost over the edge each year. While deep in the valley, wherever the bush doesn’t quite cover the rocks, it’s possible to make out the outline of the litter of vehicle remains. The gravel is what adds the challenge, knocking your wheels left and right, as the bumpy surface causes your fingers quickly to go numb, reaching for the brakes rapidly becomes more than a chore. But at the end of your exhilarating day, the whole group finishes in Corioco, a small town famous for its spas and hotels. Here we enjoy the sun, a nice warm pool and a traditional buffet lunch. Bliss!

Arriving to Bolivia

30 hours it took from Lima to La Paz. But I can´t complain as the Colombian I spent half the journey chatting to was enjoying the last leg of his 120 hour journey (Colombia to Santa Cruz, Bolivia, sat on a bus!). The Colombian was very chatty and so was the Peruvian next to me. I guess I would be too if I did those kind of 5-day journeys regularly. I did my best, Spanish dictionary in hand, as usual they didn´t speak a word of English.

Upon arriving in La Paz, I checked into the Loki Backpackers Hostel (they have a facebook group). People were amazed to find I´d had no bus trouble despite travelling the day after the Peruvian earthquake. Standing in Lima we had felt the ground shake for a whole two minutes, lamp posts swinging forward and back. As ignorant Europeans we had jumped and cheered, very excited by this incredible earthquake (7.5 on the richter scale). We soon became quiet as local Peruvians ran into the street, embracing each other, some crying. Unlike them we had never suffered casualties, families and friends, to such a catastrophe. Arequipa, Pisco and Ica were the worst affected. Ica, the city outside Huacachina, is reported to have had a quarter of its buildings destroyed. Fatalities were in the hundreds.

Arriving in La Paz was strange for me. This is the first part of my trip that I´m doing by myself. There are endless things to do at rock bottom prices, impossible to get bored, you meet a dozen new really cool people every single day. Some of them you click with almost instantly and spend the next few days partying away. The problem is that they then have to leave, off to see the next big sight or city, a new set of amazing experiences. Of course they ask you to come along, experience the world together, but you´ve already got plans, already seen that sight. There´s of course still a dozen new people for you to meet and click with, but you´re completely out of energy. No one can be happy and charming for weeks non-stop, and unfortunately first impressions really count. Still, now I´ve had my day of rest, I´m back on the ball. I hear there´s a party tonight; somebody´s birthday apparently. Should be good.

The Inca Trail

The Inca trail is a four day trek up to the recently voted new wonder of the world, Machu Picchu. The terrain here is incredible. The stone clad path leads you through deep forests, along gorgeous streams, through flourishing valleys and to the peaks of steep mountain tops. In fact, with so many gorgeous mountains, I was quickly introduced to the concept of “Summit Pants.” A simple concept: climb to the tallest summit, then ask a passing stranger to take a picture of you with your trousers around your ankles.

The second day was the hardest and coincidentally also my birthday. The day is a step climbing exercise, uphill all the way. Upon reaching camp everyone was totally exhausted, but the feeling of self satisfaction was great. Then as we sit down awaiting dinner a small candle appears out of nowhere from around the corner and the classic birthday song begins. Somehow, in the middle of nowhere, half way up a mountain, our cook has managed to bake me a cake. And a particularly good one at that.

I can’t stress enough how incredibly impressed we were with the Peruvians. Our Inca Trail cook made possibly the best meals of our Peruvian experience while our porters carried half an industrial-sized kitchen together with all our tents and enough food to feed two dozen people for half a week. But not only did they carry this, they also jogged the whole way up and down the mountains, without even breaking a sweat. My attempt to keep pace with one on the third day lasted all but an hour, despite the fact that his bag was twice that of mine and it was all down hill. My legs spent the whole next day living to regret it.

The fourth and final day starts as a race. The gates to Macchu Picchu open an hour pre-sunrise to allow the best views when you arrive. However first there’s a mad trek along a thin and narrow path which ends with a 45 degree climb up to the Sun Gate. The problem with this path is that its breadth only allows a single-file queue of one behind the other. So with hundreds of people urgent to finish the last leg of their trek there is serious pressure to keep pace with the fastest of the horde. One girl behind me soon broke down in tears, refusing to stop, despite her literally hyperventilating in the low-oxygen altitude. Passing people sympathized with her suffering, but no-one wanted to risk missing that critical moment as the sun rose and spread light over Macchu Picchu.

As you arrive to Macchu Picchu you are literally astonished at the beauty of this place, and you realise instantly where the inspiration for every “lost jungle city” style movie-set has come from. What you don’t realise, as you begin to relax, thinking that that trekking is finally over, is that they will now tell you that the enormous rock that appears in the back of every Macchu Picchu picture is in fact the ultimate view spot to observe this wonder. Put off we were not, as of course upon reaching the top, what better opportunity to add to our growing Summit Pants collection!

Cusco

Arriving in Cusco, the old capital, and definitely the tourist capital of Peru, we hit the town celebrating Rachel´s 19th birthday. Cusco is the kind of place where you can drink for free all night, as long as you move from pub to pub at a fast enough rate, making promises of staying that you never intend to keep. Among others, our favourite night spots included an irish bar serving classic british meals such as shepherds pie and BLTs, a danish bar with such classics as frakadella burger with remoulade and biksemad (some danish favourites), and a peruvian club with salsa lessons every night. We even managed to get a private 2-hour spanish lesson so that the locals no longer could dance circles round us “Gringos.” But by far the best find was the discovery of a dusty old Risk board hidden in the corner of the danish bar... need I say more!

Particular past-times worth trying here in Cusco are whitewater rafting, a full-body inca massage, breaking into a local park to play ultimate frisbee, and of course the San Pedro experience.

San Pedro is a cactus, the juices from which are very hallucinogenic. The experience involved tasting this delicacy and joining a rather amusingly dressed Shaman at the top of a hill for the duration of the afternoon. From here participants were able to feel at one with nature, after which you will throw up for hours on end. Note that this means it´s working...

Without mentioning names, one particular participant decided to film what he saw as the walls, clouds and buildings began to move in crazy unnatural ways. Unfortunately he was then completely baffled when later, playback of his video failed to show any evidence of what he was sure he had witnessed.

Peruvian sightseeing

The last couple of weeks have been packed. Included here is a quick taster of a few of the touristic highlights.

First there was the Nazca lines. In the middle of a desert, from the ground they simply look like strange dents in the ground, but from above, hundreds of metres in the air, these lines become shapes which represent well defined images. The best way to view these lines is therefore from a mini private plane. It is believed these images were created many years ago as messages to God, who supposedly at the time would have been the only “being” able to view them from a sufficiently high point.

The plane was great. In order for people on both sides to get equal appreciation of these sights it was necessary to bank left and right repeatedly, up to 90 degrees, as we viewed over a dozen different patterns. I can confidently say that despite the sickly feeling that builds up in your stomach, it is definitely worth the suffering for the experience.

The second highlight was biking from the top to the bottom of an enormous mountain. After reaching the bottom, with only one person suffering a bike-on-bus collision, we arrived to a quaint little village by the name of Yanque. Here we were fed well and spent the rest of the evening enjoying the boiling hot, outdoor natural springs. This was particularly satisfying when the weather was ideal for a hat, gloves and thermal underwear combo.

The next morning we were up early at 6, just in time to see the local children performing their weekly parade. Arguably an odd time to choose for a Saturday morning; a definite contrast to how I remember my childhood. An hour later we arrived at Colca Canyon, ready to see the condors rise up with the morning air. These amazing birds span a massive 3m and can weigh up to an average of 12kg; astonishing for any flying bird.

Lake Titicaca was our 3rd highlight. This massive lake that spans Peru and Bolivia, is home to the entirety of Bolivia´s, arguably pointless, navy (they have no coastline). In the centre here are the floating reed islands. These are man-made islands built entirely of reeds. A clever idea, as whenever a son grows old enough to move from home, he simply saws himself off a corner of the family island and floats away to live life in independent adulthood.