The Marathon Border

There is nothing fast about traversing the border between Peru and Ecuador in the remote outpost of La Balsa. However, it did prove interesting and, although long, a beautiful journey.

I left from Chachapoyas, Peru – the capital of the Amazonas province in northern Peru. Actually, Chachapoyas proved to be one of my most favorite places in Peru. Almost no-one goes to Chacha, probably because it is so far from all the gringo highlights in southern Peru…but Chacha mystifies the inquisitive traveler with literally hundreds of jaw-dropping things to do and see. I also happened to show up in town on the eve of the biggest festival that the town hosts…always a good omen.

After a few days in Chacha, with a visit to Kuelap – an archaeological ruin only slightly less amazing than Machu Picchu (but with no tourists…we had the entire place to ourselves), and a hike to the Gotca waterfall – the third highest in the world, I decided to trade in Peru for Ecuador.

Dawn at Kuelap (on top of hill to right)

Instead of taking the most traveled crossing, on the coast, or the second crossing with a good road and high traffic, I choose a much more remote border crossing with shitty roads and next to no traffic. In fact, it turned out to be a bit of an epic adventure just to get from Chachapoyas, Peru to Vilcabamba, Ecuador. Here’s a synopsis:

Number of days: 2
Hours inside a vehicle: 17
Kilometers traveled: 312
Vehicles: 4 collectivos (shared car taxis: think as many people jammed in the car as possible), 3 moto-taxis, 1 open-bed truck, 1 bus, 1 pedestrian bridge
Armed checkpoints: 3 official, 1 unofficial
Dead animals: one dead chicken….reckless driving is a killer
Coconuts shared with border official: 2
Near death experiences: uncountable

Explanation: lots of different vehicles taken over multiple days…needless to say it was uncomfortable. I also encountered, aside from the normal police/army checkpoints, two blokes stopping cars at a makeshift speed bump in the middle of nowhere in Peru. One had a shotgun and the other a rifle with a scope (I suppose in case anyone decided to run)…they definitely did not belong to the government, but they were asking for donations of monetary value. It’s remarkably easy to give money to guys with guns. Also, in one of the vehicles we managed to tenderize a chicken for someone’s dinner…not surprising considering the speed the driver took the very narrow dirt road with very steep cliffs sprouting up around each corner accompanied by a semi operated by a suicidal driver coming from the opposite direction. To top it off, after walking across the bridge to Ecuador (and having to knock house to house to find the immigration officer – on both sides of the border) I helped the immigration officer crack open some coconuts so we could reap the benefits of the juice. It was a pretty laid back border.

All in all, in anyone finds themselves traveling and encountering tedium at the easiness of transportation, or boredom for that matter, than I suggest trying the border crossing less traveled. It will put a skip back in your step…or, at the hands of your eighteen year old chauffer, you’ll drive fifty km/h too fast through a dangerous curve in the pothole ridden gravel road and end up in a tumbling ball of metal and flesh bouncing three hundred meters to you death, ending your journey in the pristine river flowing through the bottom of the valley – either way you’ll be at peace at the end of the journey.

Now, (finally) in Vilcabamba (a town that boasts extreme longevity in its population) I have encountered a tough decision…go and work for some days on a farm owned by really fascinating people who are ‘planting a seed crystal for a new civilization’ or find somewhere to watch the world cup with hundreds of fanatical Ecuadorians. Damn, I’m no good at these choices.

Hiking in Huaraz

To travel in a country with as much diversity as Peru is truly wonderful…the diversity I am referring to in this case is geographical. It’s amazing to be so close to the equator yet wake up in the morning with glaciers in every direction and ice on your tent.

I am writing from Huaraz, Peru in the Cordillera Blanca…the largest mountain range outside the Himalayas and the largest tropical range in the world. There are over 22 summits breaching the 6000 meter barrier (that’s 20,000 ft for you imperialists) and countless more over 5000. In fact, this place hosts the world’s largest supply of tropical glaciers and some of Peru’s best Andean vistas.

To take advantage of this natural adventure land I went on a four day trek through the cordillera, huffing and puffing and swearing to every deity I know to make it up to the pass at 4750 m and dreaming of fires as I shivered in my tent at only slightly lower elevations. The pain was well worth it, though, and the trek proved to be one of the best I’ve done here in South America.


On my second night I camped with some French trekkers at a cold 4250 meter campsite. In the morning, just as I was soaking in the first aromas of my coffee, I was alerted to a cow prowling around my tent. As I ran over to scare it off it ran away with something in its mouth. A chase ensued…although a short one – the cow had a lot more breath at that altitude than I did. Five minutes later I lay there panting and swearing at the cow and she just stared at me while eating my favorite t-shirt…completely eating it. The French couple obviously found the whole episode to be hilarious.

All in all it was a great trek in a most beautiful area…and to top it off, I finished the trek last night with one of the most popular street snacks here…a kebab of cow heart – I just wish it was from the cow who ate my shirt.

Who said vacations are relaxing? The second installment of my May visitors to Peru has just finished and with my sister has gone all my energy.

Two ten day vacationers back to back, both going to Cuzco, Machupicchu and Lima leaves no rest for the wicked, nor the host/guide/translator.

I can’t complain though…spending ten days with my little sister here in Peru, especially after not seeing her for almost two years, was absolutely great. She arrived here in Lima and we motored out on a 24 hour bus trip to Cuzco where we spent a day adjusting to the altitude and seeing the city a bit.

We decided to go to Machupicchu the cheap way…basically by avoiding the monopolistically expensive PeruRail train. We had planned to head to Aguas Calientes the ‘back way’ to MP, through Santa Maria and Santa Teresa…but a strike by local workers in Santa Maria blocked our plans. So we went the only other way possible…by taking a local bus as far in the Sacred Valley as we could, to Piscacucho, and then walking the train tracks down through the valley all the thirty kilometers to Aguas Calientes.

The walk started off pleasant enough…it was a nice day with nice things to look at, but for ten km we only had the rough rocks of the tracks to walk on. Later, a dirt trail followed the tracks, but by then our feet, not to mention our bodies, were done in and we moped, crawled and sold our souls to the Devil for the last ten km only to arrive after dark and have to get up before four a.m. in order to see the sunrise in Machupicchu. Such tough work traveling is, as Carlie found out…but she motored on like a champion. In fact, we didn’t arrive back in Cuzco until 12:30 a.m. the next morning in a marathon day of ruins, walking, crossing a river in a cable car motored by hand, and an eight hour car ride.



We left Cuzco the next day in order to see some other parts of Peru before Carlie had to fly back. We bussed it to Nazca, crawled up a paltry tower to see some oblique views of the Nazca Lines and then we drifted through the desert to Pisco where we had our first quality sleep in what seemed like an eternity. Pisco happens to be the jumping off point for the ‘poor man’s Galapagos’…Las Islas Ballestas - islands made famous by shit, bird shit to be exact.

In some places the guano is, or used to be 50 meters thick. Now, these shitty islands are visited by tourists because of the amazing seabird life and marine life. It was pretty amazing…birds in amazing numbers, lots of bird shit, beautiful islands dotted with natural arches with waves crashing into them and sea lions popping their heads out of the water in curiosity at the passing boat.

We then shot back up to Lima for one last day in the city whereupon we met some great people in the hostel. In fact, our roommate, who just recently found out she is pregnant, claims to have a shamanic penis growing inside her stomach, of which she is very happy and slightly disconcerted (about the penis part). She is also convinced that my beard is big enough that it may in fact be host to a slightly insane, coke addicted alcoholic woman who is an acquaintance of ours…ala Peter Griffin from Family Guy (see episode with bird in beard).

Agents of Feeling

During the past ten days I have digressed from my normal traveling mode. In fact, going into the past fortnight, I was slightly weary of what I was going to be doing, if for no other reason than because of money. Thankfully hindsight sees no regrets on my part. The reason behind this digression was the visit of a good friend of mine from Chicago.

Ben and I have known each other since university and I was very much looking forward to seeing a friendly face – someone with whom I have a history with and not just a fleeting, anonymous week that ends with an exchange of emails and the very slightest possibility of a future face to face meeting.

Due to the extremely dictatorial, rigid, and inherently selfish vacation allowances that US companies give, Ben only had ten days to soak in the flavors of Peru. Like most people who are given a hard choice, he consolidated his options and chose to spend his time with the hardest-hitting and most rewarding things in Peru…namely a five day trek to Machupicchu and me, of course.

After two days exploring Cuzco and acclimatizing to the altitude we struck out on a five day, 60 km trek over and around Salkantay Mountain…the second highest in the Cuzco region (6275 meters). We spent a bit of money and went on an organized tour and lucked out in a big way. Not only did we have a great group to hike with, but the guides, organization and, especially, the food were great. Nothing beats sitting outside, being overlooked by a six thousand meter, glacier-clad, mountain and being served an absolutely delicious gourmet meal.

We walked for four days, reaching a top elevation of 4650 meters, camping each night, and passing through uncountable climatic and vegetative zones. Our second day was, possibly, the most amazing. After waking up in our tents at 4100m (15255 feet), we climbed, huffing and puffing, to the pass which was cold and windy and little or no vegetation. We had a mostly sunny lunch a little lower and watched the clouds float in from the Amazon basin only to hit the mountains in front of us and dissipate into the thin air (excuse the pun). Then, from the high altiplano-like zone we were in, we descended into the clouds and watched as slowly shrubs, bushes and small trees started to appear. Eventually we found ourselves in the high jungle and were completely surrounded by a cornucopia of flowers….every color that you could imagine. We camped that night somewhat below 3000m and wrapped ourselves in the warmth of the lower elevations.

We followed rives down toward Machupicchu for the next two days witnessing a myriad of plants, flowers, bugs and interesting characters, two of which merit mention. On our third day Ben and I took a bit of San Pedro, a cactus that grows locally and is used by shamans. It is great for walking in the bush because it gives you energy and enhances colors and other senses. It was an interesting and mostly benign experience because of the small dose that we took, but we met two people that day that provided much color to the rest of the trip, for both us and the other people in our group. The first character was part of an older group of people walking the trail (I don’t think they hit the altitude like we did). She was maybe in her fifties and as she walked by I commented that she had more paint on her face that the Mona Lisa, which was true but not the whole truth. As we discovered upon later sightings of her, she couldn’t move the upper half of her face due to God knows how much Botox and face-lifts. It was actually scary to see her…the bottom half of her face was smiling, the top half (was covered in makeup) didn’t move or have a wrinkly on it. Who blow-dries their hair on a jungle trail? We saw Mona many times after that and it got scarier every time. Unfortunately we failed to get a picture of her.

The second notable hiker we met that day was a young man from San Francisco. He walked with us for a while and told us he was going to see all Peru in five weeks. He thought that was pretty bad-ass and thus asked a member of our group, Tim, how long he is in Peru (thinking it would be only a week or two). Tim, an American PhD candidate lives in Peru, in Cotahuasi! The young guy, slightly humbled, asks Tim was he does…Tim replies that he is an anthropologist and then asks the same question back. The guy says, “me?, I’m an Agent of Feeling here in Peru”. Not sure what to make of that, Tim asks what he does back in the States? “There?, I’m an Agent of Feeling there as well.” We ran into the Agent of Feeling, as he became know, later while watching a caterpillar emerge from his cocoon and the Agent only let us watch if would ‘send it our love’. It certainly takes all types….

We finished the trek, our fifth day, at the ruins of Machupicchu. It is very touristy and expensive but for reason….not only is it an amazing archaeological site both in its grandeur and preservation, but is situated on top of a steep mountain in a most dramatic setting and surrounded by jagged, jungle-clad mountains and deep-cut river valleys. What amazing engineers the Incans were! We were blessed with both Mona Lisa and the Agent of Feeling at the ruins…no day would be complete without them.

After Machupicchu Ben and I went back to Lima for two days and saw a small bit of the city before he returned to Chicago. All in all, it was a great trip….I would recommend the Salkantay trek to Machupicchu to anyone not interested in walking the over-populated Inca Trail and sharing every campsite with 500 other people every night.

Tonight I’m going to pick my little sister up from the airport here in Lima. Guess where we’re going? You got it…back to Machupicchu!

Shit Equals Salvation!

A holiday to Peru...$1001 - (possibly much more)

A three day trek in the Colca Canyon…$56.45

A 2.5 liter bottle of water at the bottom of the canyon...$4

Getting lost on a ‘trail’ that is washed out, has five hundred meter shear drop offs and is marked with a skull and cross bones on the map….priceless.

The Colca Canyon is a spectacular place offering breathtaking mountains, shear cliffs, wild rivers, the Andean Condor in prolific numbers, and Quechua speaking peoples farming terraces that have existed since pre-Incan times. I traveled there with a Spanish couple and we met an interesting young American couple with whom we set off together on a three day trek to conquer the wilds of the world’s second deepest canyon (the deepest being a stones throw north and a whopping 163 meters more profound).

We had a pleasant descent to the bottom of the canyon and soothed our sore feet the first night in natural thermal baths and eased our trembling stomachs into some fresh-caught river trout.

On the second day we found ourselves at the level of the river and on a trail that climbed over five hundred meters, only to fall back down to the level of the river again where there was an oasis we had set our hopes upon. After a fierce climb (from about 2000 m to 2500 m) and no sight of respite from the mounting elevation we found a small trail that seemed to skirt the side of the mountain…a shortcut.

The shortcut tuned out to be an old mule train, about a foot wide, and that, with the rain of the past few days, had washed out in places and left one with many leaps of faith while facing quite a few hundred meters of tumbling down the side of the mountain, littered with cactus (and nothing else to hold onto) and into the boiling river. Fun times. So fun in fact that one of the women fell into a panic attack over one of the washouts and started hyperventilating.

The trail was also overgrown, not only with cactus, but with a plant that felt like a bunch of thumbs slapping you, and, when you broke a twig off, it spewed a sticky, milk-like substance, all over the offendng culprit.

Just as we got used to this ‘trail from Hell’ it ended, leaving us scratching our heads. There was nothing left to do but follow the ancient Vicuña (like a llama) paths that were even narrower and more haphazard.

The only images going through my head were headlines from newspapers back home, reading 'American tourist plummits 548 meters to bloody death on non-existent trail in Peru's Colca Canyon...remains could only be identified by dental work', or some such thing.

“Here’s some shit!”
“Here’s some more!!”
“Is it fresh?”
"I don't know, I haven't tasted it yet!" (At least we sarcastic bastards hadn't lost our sense or humor)

This is how the next hour or so went. Never, ever, have any of us been so happy to find, smell, analyze, and follow mule shit. That is how we ended up finding a proper trail and stumbling our sorry selves down into the oasis where a pool and cold beer waited (actually it wasn't cold, but I didn't notice....I did notice the price however, and it was steep).

The right side of the canyon hosted our 'camino de muertos'

Later, when looking back over our maps (there were numerous maps of very bad quality) did we discover that the trail that we ended up taking is marked, on one of the maps, with a skull and cross bones. Hindsight is 20/20. Thankful to survive we were given ample time to reflect on our near death experience on our 1200 vertical meter climb (with a 12 kilo pack and ever thinning air) to the rim of the canyon the next day. Talk about fun times!

All in all, the Colca was great…a beautiful place with lots of close up encounter not only with death, but with the majestic condors. Now I’m back in Arequipa, about to head to Cuzco and start a busy but much anticipated month of visitors from the great ol’ US of A.

Suvivors!...me and my Spanish companions on the rim of the canyon

Welcome to the Jungle

Not many people can say they were chased by a jaguar in the Bolivian jungle and lived to tell about it! Well...neither can I, and I don´t mean that I am dead.

I reckon that the jungle has three predominant and over-excessive features...the color green, every kind of stinging,biting, and generally obnoxious insect possible, and the ability to cause the human intruders to produce unnatural amounts of sweat. The first atribute is a lovely one, the last two can be done away with...remind me to have a world with God next time He designs a world (maybe He can put in an eight day week next time to iron out some of those nasty details).

In fact, there is another variable common to most jungle environments...extremely shitty transportation. I made a giant loop through Bolivia´s Amazon Basin from Santa Cruz to Trinidad and then to Rurrenabaque. S.C. to Trini was fine and in Trini I purchased a bus ticket to Rurre, the clerk assured me I would be in Rurre before 10pm that same day. The first shock came after only half an hour into the journey when we were forced to leave the mini-van and get in a boat, something the clerk failed to mention. Second shock was that the boat took three hours, namely because the entire country is under a few meters of water and there is no road. However, it was a lovely, if hot, boat journey. The rest of the road journey was not...I´ll just mention driving no faster than 35kmh beacause of the goliath sized ruts, four kilos of pulverized dirt entering the car every sixty seconds through inconceivable orphices, and the failure to meet the promised arrival time by fifteen hours (can´t say I was too surprised, though).

The destination was definately worth it. Rurrenabaque is a lovely little village situated on the Beni river (a tributrary of the Amazon) and surrounded by pristine jungle, including the Parque National Madidi...a massive chunk of jungle with some of the highest levels of plant and animal diversity in the world. I ended up spending three days in the national park mostly sweating, swatting bugs, scatching but also doing a bit of trekking. Besides the color green, we saw lots: different types of monkeys, massive herds(?)of wild pigs that make disturbing noises and release and intersting (read ´offensive´) smell from a gland on their back, tarantulas, turtles, macawas, other parrots, giant cities of ants that cut leaves in order to grow mushrooms, other ants with pincers so big you can stich up cuts by letting the ant bite you and then decapitating it while leaving the head and pincers in your silky skin, and, we almost saw a tapir and jungle turkey (we heard them as they ran away from us but didn´t quite catch a glimpse).



The first picture is of a tree that walks...yes, it walks to find sunlight

I´ve now ventured up to the highest capital city in the world, La Paz. It is completley different than I had imagined...and I think I love it. A few more stops in Bolivia are in store for me (Tiwanaku and Lake Titicaca) and then the call of Peru will ovetake me agianst my will and I will have to leave Bolivia.

Locisimo

I've come to a fantastic realization...I really like crazy people. Sounds kinda weird maybe, but a person who is missing a few marbles or has had the hamster slip off the wheel a little bit is often much more interesting to talk to, or simply watch, than a sane person. And, as R.M. Pirsig so wisely said, "When you look directly at an insane man all you see is a reflection of your own knowledge that he's insane, which is not to see him at all." So we must all look more closely!

I've just reached the Amazon Basin, or namely, Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. I've spent most of the past two weeks in little villages situated in 'the elbow of the Andes'. In Samaipata I relaxed over Easter with some artisans, i.e., we sat in the plaza and drank cachaça, a potent Brazilian spirit made from sugar cane. There was a brilliantly crazy Austrian guy at my campground that was on almost every drug known to man…who needs TV when you watch him. I also, unfortunately, witnessed some of the sadder moments of the drug culture when one of the artisans, an Argentinean, who I had been hanging out with for a few days, had a night on the white powder and then sat up from 12 am to 12 pm licking the table clean. Needless to say, it was an utterly futile attempt. I guess the one word I thought of while watching him was ‘depravity’.

So, enough depravity I told my myself as I kicked on my shoes and shuttled down the road an hour to paradise, Ginger’s Paradise. Ginger’s is a 30 hectare farm in the mountainous jungle of the extreme eastern Andes. I reckon they are about 90% self-sufficient in what they grow and have absolutely amazing food. I’ve spent the past four days harvesting peanuts and yucca, tilling soil, constructing a water wheel, weeding a patch of hallucinogenic cactuses, and making delicious breads. Nobody there was really ‘crazy’ but there were a few on the way. The father of the family that owns the farm, Chris, is incredibly knowledgeable and also on the fringes of socially acceptable thinking. Chris, in conversation with a 62 year old Vietnam vet who showed up yesterday and claimed to have spoken to God last week when he took San Pedro (a cactus) was priceless. I might take a trip to the nut house for the afternoon just to converse with some more lunatics…its great.

So, now, back in the ‘sane’ world of a big city (read ‘boring’) I have decisions to make…which way to go. But, saying that, I think I already know…I’m gonna head into the jungle, to Trinidad. Hopefully the road isn’t washed out.

Ginger from Ginger's Paradise