Those Incans were some impressive architects...

We departed our comfortable homey town of Ollantaytambo for the Las Vegas of Peru - Aguas Calinetes. Actually Vegas is too kind of a description…it’s more of the Reno of Peru. We took the Vista Dome train up to this small, horrible little tourist trap and were immediately assaulted by vendors upon stepping off the train – forcing alpaca made sweaters, socks and scarves upon us in bulk. The majority Aguas Calientes is similar a giant strip mall selling camera batteries and Inca embroidered wall hangings. The only pleasant find we had in this town was a fantastic restaurant, The Tree House; the equivalent to Canlis in Seattle or the Bistro in Thunder Bay (Total bill $131 soles - $42 USD).

The lone reason anyone visits this wretched little town is that it serves as the jumping off point for Machu Picchu; there is a better representation of foreigners here then at a General Assembly of the United Nations. If you walk through the town or sit at any of the many outdoor pizza joints it is a cacophony of foreign languages mixed with the sound of the rushing rivers that surround the area. The one thing you don’t hear…car horns. Aguas Calientes is only accessible by foot or train, the only vehicles in the town are the Machu Picchu buses (the garbage is collected by a man pushing a cart, he rings a bell to signify it’s garbage time and then the residents come running up with their refuse…it’s a fascinating system.)

We did wander into the ‘locals’ area of town where gringos such as ourselves were few and far between. Unlike the mud adobes that we saw in Ollantaytambo, the people here reside in cinder block homes built into the side of the mountains. The homes surround a local soccer field where, the older boys were playing a pick up game of soccer, the girls were watching and giggling and little kids rode sticks around the edge of the field in the Incan equivalent to Cowboys and Indians – nice to see some things are the same no matter where you are.

The elevation of the town places it in the cloud forest, so in addition to beautiful foliage there is a permanent sense of dampness. The room that we stayed in reminded me very much of a cellar, dank and with slugs on the wall. No worries, as we had to get up long before dawn to catch an early ride to the highlight of Peru…Machu Picchu! We planned to take the first bus up to the site in order to see the magnificent sunrise over the ancient ruins. It was a fantastic plan. How do I know it was a fantastic plan…500 other people had the same idea.

Moving hundreds of people, none of whom speak the same language 1500 feet up a mountain with a single lane road and no guardrails is no easy deed...it took a fleet of over 20 buses and many men with whistles. After 2 near head on collisions up the hill we made it, before sunrise!

I admit that I wasn’t super excited about going to Machu Picchu, in fact had I been travelling alone I would have skipped it. I thought it was going to be neat but seriously how different could it be from other ruins? I was wrong - nothing I can type will do this place justice; it certainly deserves to be one of the 7 wonders of the world. It’s not just the actual ruins, they are impressive but the setting makes it truly spectacular; perched on a mountain, nestled in the clouds. And of course the free roaming llamas are absurdly impressive to me.

My travel compadre and I decided to split up for the morning, he chose to scale one of the surrounding mountains and I elected to over photograph some llamas (I got a little spit on) and then fool around in a field of boulders, getting creative shots. That is until this creature emerged... I was precariously balanced on a rock waiting for some cooperation from the sun and the clouds to get the perfect shot when I heard a little tweaking noise behind me...I slowly turned and was face to face with a Vizcacha. (Imagine a New York Sewer rat and a Canadian Squirrel had a romantic night....plus one of them had a little bit of Kangaroo in them to start with) This is what came out of a crevice at me and why I fell backwards off the rock landing on what I am sure was a rare orchard bush. I laid there for a minute, hoping that no one had seen that…and then the shutter noises of a Japanese tour group snapped me back to reality. If you search hard enough - some where on the internet I am sure there is a photo of a chubby Canadian, flat on her back, squishing a rare plant with a hauntingly beautiful lost Incan city in the background – if you find it, don’t forward it to me.

The watchful eyes of the Haunted Forest...

I cannot remember the specific fairy tale but I clearly recall reading about a haunted wood...a forest full of danger where you were certain to die if you entered.  And the trees all had scary eyes in the pictures.  I realize only now that the artist must have been referring to the Amazon Rain Forest.

 

Our lodge sat in a little clearing on the banks of an ox bow lake...surrounded by grass and the occasional flowering tree.  It was serene and stunning...that feeling disappeared as soon as you set off down and of the nearby trails.    After just wandering a few feet into the jungle you felt absolutely enveloped in foliage...the sun disappeared and the dark canopy of lush green hovered all around.  It feels very alone until you start to look closely...there are things everywhere – and most of them can kill you. 

A small flicker of movement above is the only initial indication of a large family of monkeys that have been curiously watching your progress.  Don’t attempt to hold onto a vine for support – if you’re lucky it will just be covered in prickles, unlucky and it will turn out to be a snake.  A dried twig that you reach for will actually be a huge stick bug.  The breeze starts to blow and all of a sudden what you thought was a dried leaf takes flight as a huge moth.  That pile of rotten leaves you almost stepped in is home to not one but two poisonous frogs.   Every large leaf seems to be providing shelter for some sort of creep crawly bug and not looking straight ahead is a guaranteed way to walk directly into the web of a devil spider.

But following initial terror, when you stopped to look around...it is amazing.  Huge trees, colours I have never seen before and a smell of absolute freshness.  The forest is a hum of noise from the monkeys and birds squawking different notes.   Even though we were sweltering in our long sleeves, pants, rubber boots and hats to minimize available flesh for malaria stricken mosquitoes to nibble on, I think we all would have wandered indefinitely. 

But Jose had other plans, specifically breakfast.  We had gotten up before the sun to start our trek and after reaching the end of the freshly cleared path (as you can imagine, they grow over fairly quickly) Jose decided that this was a good time to head back, our troupe of 10 traipsed back over our tracks down the muddy trail.  We were excited at the abundance of monkeys and birds that we did see but were all a bit sad that we missed out on the elusive Jaguar. 

A few minutes into our return trip and Jose stopped short.  Knowing his paralyzing fear of snakes, I immediately went into a bit of a panic mode.   Turns out it wasn’t the slithering reptile that had his attention...it was some fresh tracks in the mud...over our tracks.   While we had been searching in vain for the jaguar...turns out he had found us. 

It seems that we had been followed down the path for the last little while by the largest feline predator in these parts...and had absolutely no idea.  This is extremely worrisome for me...as the traditional slowest member of the group.  Well, it I don’t make it home...at least you’ll know why...

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger (Part 4 - Travel to the Heart of the Amazon)

Mother Nature unleashed another torrential downpour in us, severely hampering our abilities to bail the mud out of our boat as we turned up the Manu River to begin the final leg of our journey.

Just like the other showers, this too stopped as sudden as it started and we were able to sit back and appreciate our jungle cruise. Up until now, we had been floating on the Madre de Dios River, which is swift moving thus our journey was more like running the rapids then a relaxing float.

The Manu River was actually guiding us into the ‘zona experimental’ area of this massive protected area. Unlike the ‘zona natural’ where no visitors were permitted without special permission of the Peruvian Government or the ‘zona cultural’ where the majority of the visitor activities occurred, we were going to be in a unique middle ground. The ‘zona experimental’ is heavily controlled and we were lucky enough to get a spot with the only tour operator permitted into this venue.

The entry into this area is regulated through a variety of check points and occasionally we would be required to stop and produce passports and register. At one stop point we had to listen to a “safety cultural” briefing. The rules about the various zones of Manu are applicable to everyone, except Amazonian Native tribes – they are clearly free to move about as they wish. These tribes are often referred to as the ‘unconquered tribes’. Some of simply never been found where as others have taken great pains to remain without contact from the outside world. They live traditionally; hunting with blow darts, sleeping in thatched huts and eating monkey. They would surely kill us upon sight, and be within their rights to do so. However, the biggest concern was us exposing them to any of the germs that we would carry. Not having had to develop immunities to our common day ailments, a simple cold could cause a tribe to become extinct.

Our briefing was laughable, “back away slowly, head down and retreat to the nearest checkpoint to report the sighting”. I have a feeling that our group of 9 Westerners traipsing through the jungle is hardly going to sneak upon a tribe of natives by surprise.

As we headed back to the boat, Jose realized the need to start giving us the rest of the rules was upon as after he caught Yuri holding a poisonous grasshopper. So as we floated along, he started to introduce us to the adventure we are in for…

Rule #1 – Never touch anything colourful. (Apparently there is a vibrantly coloured caterpillar that excretes a paralytic that slowly suffocates it’s victims)

Rule #2 – Never go near any water source at night. (They lost a tourist a few years ago to a black caiman)

Rule #3 – Never go anywhere alone, night or day – no hiking, not to the washroom, nowhere. (Jaguars will rarely attack a group of 2 or more, but a lone person is a very easy target)

Rule #4 – ALWAYS look in your shoes before you put them on. (no shortage to the number of venous things that like to hide in dark places).

Rule #5 – ALWAYS look under, in and around the bed or shower before getting in. (Bushmaster snakes are prevalent in this area and instantly lethal. Jose started to describe the diamond pattern on the back and explain that they can get to be up to 10 feet in length. I told him that I would just come get him if I encountered any snake, no matter the pattern or size of it. This is when we discovered that Jose is scared of snakes – not reassuring since he is the one who is supposed to be keeping us alive)

There was more…sleep with your mosquito nets down, stay away from the unconquered natives, don’t eat the jungle plants – I stopped listening as my head was swimming with excitement and fear over the adventure that we were about to have.

No rain for the past few hours meant that we were able to see vivid Macaws flying overhead and curious squirrel monkeys watching us from shore. Unusual birds became more and more common as we sailed along and the occasional splash from the calm, but pirhanna infested waters reminded us to keep our hands in the boat at all times.

As the sun was setting, we finally "docked" (read: slid into the mud bank). Hyperaware of the dangers of the jungle now, I was petrified to leave the safety of the boat and start the 2km hike to the lodge. The trek in the dark was terrifying as we stomped through thick mud wearing rubber boots while being nibbled by malaria carrying mosquitoes and ducking devil spiders that build their webs across the path. I recall breathing a huge sigh of relief as we finally reached our jungle lodge silhouetted against a mass of dark green rain forest.

We enjoyed a precious few minutes of power while the generator ran long enough to prepare dinner - a delicious meal that we all enjoyed as we sat around a big table and recounted the tales from the past two days of travel. Exhausted, I collapsed into bed, positioned the mosquito net and fell into a deep slumber within seconds. It wasn’t until the next morning when pieces of my dream still haunted me that I realized…I had forgotten to check for snakes.

At least I hope it was a dream…

Nothing to see here…move along (Part 3. – Travel to the Heart of the Amazon)

I have been criticized in the past for being too organized. I actually organize to the point of confusion. That is why I managed to find myself miles from civilization, heading deeper into the uncivilized with the wrong bag. I had inadvertently grabbed by bag packed full of clothes intended for the chilly high altitudes of Bolivia later in our trip and left my lightweight, malaria preventing clothing tucked away in storage in Cuzco – along with my socks and underwear.

Guide Jose reassured me that this was actually my “lucky” day – because it was Friday - the ‘mall’ on our way would be open. We hadn’t seen so much as a hut in the last few hours of our drive so I was apprehensive as to where we were going to find a shopping center. But three hours later, down a kidney crushing road, we arrived at the ‘mall’. Now I will acknowledge that it might not be much of a mall in the western world what with no food court, fountains or roof but I will say this – I was able to get restock on everything I need at a little booth for a mere $8.00.

 Replenished, we continued on down the bumpy trail for another hour until we reached the port of Atalaya; a small little town whose primary function is to launch the occasional tour group and receive harvested bananas. It was here that we were supposed to meet up with the advertised “jet boat”. As we bid a fond farewell to our bumpy vans, we made our way down to the river to start our relaxing journey. I stood there on the banks looking long and hard for any sign of this envisioned posh, speedy vessel that was going to carry us to the magnificent jungle lodge. I saw nothing but a few long motorized dugout canoes.

Not at all shocked that things were not exactly as advertised, I climbed into the canoe just thankful to be out of the van (little did I know how much I would be missing the van, and it’s roof soon enough). As our “jet boat” pulled out into the VERY swift Madre de Dios River to start our 8.5 hour ride that I realized our adventure was not even close to over.

This long jaunt gave us a chance to see what life on the river is like. We watched boats with 15+ people on them putted by, propelled by the very tiniest of motors. I actually had a chance to see rainforest deforestation in action as we saw mammoth trees floating by us with local loggers. We stopped next to one bank to get fuel, and a group of men watched us warily with looks that made it clear taking photos was not an option. When I asked Jose what was happening there, he just shook his head and said they “provide fuel for us, nothing to worry about”. I have a sneaky suspicion that the fuel was in exchange for silence.

I know it doesn’t sound too bad…floating down the river…watching life float by even if that means participating in a bit of organized crime…at least there is the occasional monkey to spot. Do you know how that jungle gets its lush green appearance? Rain, rain like you cannot even imagine – I am talking about torrential downpours that our no match for our commercial raingear. Bone-chilling, relentless precipitation that comes down that seems to appear out of nowhere and then vanish after thoroughly dousing everything in its path.

At one point the rains had finally let up enough for us to eat lunch in our boat while we fueled up one final time near the Boca Manu Village. And as the garden hose was filling the spare tanks with gasoline, the muddy bank we were fastened to gave way and slid into our boat. I sat there, soaked, in ankle deep mud, that fact that I was now a witness to some sort of shady Amazon operation weighing heavily on my mind, and started to wonder when the vacation was going to start.

To be continued…

Good bye World....(Part 2 - Travel to the Heart of the Amazon)

Our tummies sufficiently full, we started our descent out of the Andes and into the Amazon. The glee and excitement we were feeling was palpable…not only were we going to see amazing things…the roads would surely be better! Wrong…in fact dead, pardon the very nearly ironic pun, wrong.

It seems the roads had just recently re-opened (my guess is in the hours before we arrived) after the rainy season. This resulted in us driving through actual flowing water, not little streams, full-fledged shallow rivers that were following the same path as our van down the mountains. At one point we drove through a waterfall; a genuine, post card worthy waterfall.

 And as terrifying as that all was – it was nothing compared to the mud slide. Roads in Peru frequently wash out. At least once a year there is an international news article about tourists who are stranded somewhere in the Sacred Valley because of roads or rail tracks washed away. This year the story was close, very close, to being about some foreigners who died en route to the Amazon when there trail/road slid out from under them.


I remember taking this photo as we were sliding...

As we approached the slide area, a few locals were waving frantically at us - I waved back, thinking they were just being friendly. It wasn’t until the driver started a string of what I assume was local dialect profanity and I physically felt the van slipping sideways while still inching forward that I realized the waves were actually ‘stop you are about to die’ waves. I will credit our drivers impressive skill at getting us through that but even he got out afterwards and with shaky knees collapsed and kissed the ground.

The next few hours of bumping along the rocky path and through rivers seemed rather tame in comparison as we slowly started to descend to the Amazon Basin. We arrived at the picturesque Cloud Forest Lodge just before dusk and had to rush to see the local “celebrity” in the area – the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock (The National Bird of Peru that is only found in the mountains around the altitude of 5000 feet).

The lodge itself is spectacular. All of our rooms over look a raging river that is providing the soundtrack for the evening. A small glitch in the generator means that we have to enjoy our stay without power. No hot water or heat is going to mean an extra bundled up evening as we get to meet our fellow travelers over what I am hoping is a delicious dinner around the fireplace.

Good night and I will write more tomorrow, providing this lodge doesn’t get swept into the scenic river tonight.

Make room for me Sven. (Part 1 - Travel to the heart of the Amazon)

To truly “get away from it all” you must cheat death. I learnt this over a harrowing 2 day journey to, literally, the heart of the Amazon.

Departing our comfortable Cuzco hotel before dawn, Barry and I, joined by 4 Australians, 2 Israeli’s and a Swede bumped along the Peruvian pavement for what turned out to be 30 glorious minutes – and then the pavement ran out. Initially the following 45 min along the dirt road seemed like an eternity…until hit our first obstacle…predictably – road construction.

Our guide Jose relayed to us that the delay was going to be “30 min” (Peruvian time). As time slowly ticked by, we sat on the side of the road and watched the construction crew in action. It seems they were attempting to widen the road at one particularly dangerous bend by chipping away at a large rock face with a pick axe and crow bar. The rock chips would then be loaded into wheelbarrows and taken to be dumped down a nearby ravine. To reach the higher parts of this cliff – they attacked from above. I watched as one guy, in what appeared to be the standard uniform of rubber boots and hard hats, loop a twine rope around a tree and then lower himself down before starting to chip away. No safety harness…just boots and some impressive upper body strength. After about 15 min of chipping away, it appears as though he chipped himself in to a sticky spot. Unable to maneuver any further, he called down to some coworkers who then ran off to the woods while he just hung there patiently.

No word of a lie, not 10 min later these men emerged from the woods carrying a crudely made ladder that they had evidently just constructed but cutting down trees and binding them together. They simply leaned the ladder against the rock face and – voila – worker rescued.

With the construction drama dissipated, we passed some more time there by trying to converse with the locals from a village up the road. With no traffic able to reach their village, he locals would hike down to the main road with a crazy load of produce strapped to their backs (potatoes, beans, carrots etc) and just wait for a car to come. When a car would slow down at all there would be a mad scramble to get your produce and yourself in the car (it would seem their compact cars can hold up to 10 Peruvians with goods) for the ride to Cuzco. They had to relocate this "bus stop" every now and then because rocks would fall on them.

Our journey eventually continued and we barreled down a road that eventually turned into a trail. I refuse to continue to call it a road because I have seen hiking trails that are both wider and better maintained. The next portion of the journey faced intermittent delays due to livestock. Most commonly we would come across little kids, in traditional Peruvian garb, twig in hand trying to herd 35 sheep while the driver would be frantically honking and we would be leaning on the window snapping photos of this unusual sight. (NB – it wasn’t always sheep…out passage was also thwarted by cows, llamas, pigs and alpacas.)

Overall it was surprising how fast we were moving considering we were snaking our way through the Andes crossing over two mountain passes while dodging domestic animals. By lunch “time” we had finally reached the edge of the massive Manu Nature Reserve and arrived in the Elfin forest. At this altitude very little grows and what does grow is stunted in appearance. But the lack of vegetation is made up for by clouds, dense, wall-forming clouds. Not exactly ideal driving conditions really when you are barely perched on a one lane trail next to a cliff with no guard rails.

To avoid slowing down at all on blind corners, (there are so many corners it would take years to reach your destination if you slowed for them all) a system seems to have evolved where the drivers just honk to signal their approach. This of course means that we had almost a dozen head on collisions and with no room to pass - one vehicle now must slowly back down the trail until they find a tiny spot of solid earth and squirm over while the other vehicle slowly inches by…very scary.

After a nerve wracking morning, I think we were all greteful for the brief picnic stip at the memorial monolith to Dr. Sven Ericsson.  Located at the top pf Acjanaco pass (11,870 feet) in the dense fog…I couldn’t actually see the plaque to tell you why Dr. Ericsson was significant…but I can guess that the commemorative monument was located here, in remote Peru, after he perished on these roads. If my memorial statue ends up there, next to Sven’s…come visit us.

To be continued…

The day of the cow....

The altitude here in Ollantaytambo is approximately 11000 feet. This time I am travelling with old buddy of mine, who happens to be in remarkably good shape (marathons. long distance cycling etc) - his favourite activity in these parts...hiking. This means that I am now scaling the sides of mountains, literally. Today, we climbed another 1000 feet up into the clouds along a "trail" (I think it was more of dried up natural irrigation path then and actual trail). There were lots of different cacti and various brightly coloured spiders, plus...stick bugs (very exciting to see such a different insect)! Super Hike the freaking mountain goat bounded up the loose rock with the greatest of ease. Me...I looked like a damn hyperventilating hippo trailing behind. But you know me, I am not about to admit that I cannot do something that one of my friends can - so I trudged along behind...and made it. Once we reached a point where we could go no further and we set down to marvel at our/my accomplishment. As I was basking in some well earned awe of myself I glanced over to see a cow. We are sitting on the side of a steep mountain. This is not a grade you could drive a car up and these cows are just meandering about. Peruvian cows actually scale the sides of mountains to graze.

I shouldn’t be surprised. the cows here are awesome. It’s not just peaks and valleys where you can find them; they wander through the ancient Inca ruins. It is a little odd to be sitting at the temple of the sun god pondering the thoughts of the ancient Inca and then have a big cow come and moo in your ear. There is usually some child, not far behind with a twig used for herding.

Hunger began to set in after our early AM feat and we retreated to the town square for a yummy breakfast of banana pancakes and coffee (it’s funny, the waiter will wait until he has your order, keep in mind the waiter is about 13 y.o., and then run to the market to get the ingredients for your breakfast). Just as I finished my last drop of coffee (which consists of a strong shot of espresso in a cup that you add milk to, sort of like Ollantaytambo’s answer to a Latte) the "milk lady" came by to deliver milk to the restaurant. Why I am I surprised that this consisted of a giant TUPPERWARE container of freshly milked milk I have no idea. I thought back to an earlier conversation Barry and I had discussing how the milk was surprisingly warm. Of course it was, it just came out of the udder! I know this shouldn’t be as disgusting to me as it is but I freely admit that I am a HUGE fan or pasteurization.

Well not a minute later a guy strolls through the square carrying the head of a freshly slaughtered cow. Just slung over his shoulder while flies trail behind him eagerly liking their little fly lips. Deciding that our appetites had been temporarily satisfied/damaged, Barry and I wandered through the local market. Barry excused himself to the sanctity of the fresh air when we got to the “meat department”. Flies buzzed all over a variety of animal parts, the locals that I met were all too excited to show off their goods. I had a chance to see what I imagine could easily be a contender for the world’s largest liver. Then something caught my eye…there it was…the cow’s head that we had seen just a few minutes ago. I eagerly went over to try and determine the fate of this head, for I truly have no idea what purpose the head serves. The language barrier made this task difficult but my enthusiasm was apparently evident as the locals were eager to give me the honour of removing the cow’s brain. I used some sort of special brain scooping tool and plopped it out. It came right out and I stood there proud as punch at my accomplishment while the local Peruvian folks seemed confused as to the expression on my face. I was unsure of the etiquette that should follow such a tribute, so I politely bowed (not sure why but it felt right) and said thank you in a few different languages until I could remember the Spanish salutation and scurried away.

The thing about appetites, they always return. A few hours later I could hear the familiar rumblings of my stomach. Throwing caution into the wind and feeling particularly adventurous I approached a street vendor and, after surveying the goods, opted for “cow on a stick”. What could go wrong? It was cooked over an open fire, granted that fire was in a garbage can, but still it looked well prepared – and it was well seasoned. It was delicious and I didn’t regret eating it at all, until 6 hrs later.

So... in one day - I climbed a mountain with a cow, drank it’s milk, removed it’s brain and then ate it with some delicious spices. Good thing I’m not in India.