The trip was intended to be a solo effort, but after meeting
We began with a relaxing week in the Yucatan of Mexico, lazing about the secluded little beaches. The burning white sands and emerald green waters were most inspiring. Inland, we explored several ancient Maya ruins, including Tulum. It would have been easy to stay longer but with limited
time we moved on to whatever adventures awaited in
The flight from
Locals saunter about in a state of dreamy lethargy induced by the climate, and llamas offer inquisitive brown-eyed glances as we passed by. Roaming about the streets and markets, we absorbed colorful sights and exotic smells, and sampled many of the strange looking foods. In foreign lands it is often better not to ask what your eating. Case in point, roast cuy (pronounced cooie) is Equador's national dish - roast cuy is roast guinea pig!!
Among our highlights in Equador was a visit to the mountain town of
The Otavalans are distinguished by their brightly colored ponchos, felt fedoras, & colorful bead adornment. Livestock vendors, tapestry weavers, pottery makers, basket weavers, woodcarvers, blind beggars, and a host of others made this gigantic market truly a photographers delight.
On the way back to Quito we stopped for a picture right on the Equator line and celebrated the occasion with a couple of tall cool ones. Although there were many, the most memorable Equadorian event was a trip into the jungle to find the Santo Domingo de Los
Enroute over the terrifying mountain roads, Amado entertained us with interesting stories, like the time a giant condor swooped down on his Andean village and carried off his young donkey! I suppose anything is possible!
Along the way we made the mistake of stopping to find something to eat at a roadside market. Immediately we lost our appetites, as the stench was really overpowering. Chickens in a state of decay dangled from meat hooks, and the counter was adorned with pigs heads covered in flies crawling through the eyes and nose. Suddenly, fasting seemed the order of the day!
We drove as far as possible on the roads then abandoned the car to hike through the jungle into the tribes village. It was a most eerie feeling, tramping through the dense jungle foliage, knowing we were being followed, and observed by hidden eyes. The only clues being an odd branch moving that shouldn't have been, or a slight rustle in the bush nearby. Our guide told us it was just some of the tribe, but ensured us they meant no harm and that we should remain calm and keep moving! Finally the overgrowth eased up and we entered a cleared area with the bamboo and palm huts that were the object of our search.
Amado told us to stay put while he approached the chief. We found out later that the chief must be acknowledged before entering the village . This included asking of his health, and that of his wives. Amado returned with permission for us to enter, so
What a sight. The most astonishing feature of this tribe is their hair - plastered down and colored bright red by a paprika-like paste! Their bodies are painted with bright red and blue stripes, as a protection against evil spirits! They looked most frightening, yet by their nervousness it appeared they felt the same way about us!
These people shy from contact with outsiders, and many of them simply vanished like ghosts into the jungle as we approached. We were careful to show our respect and gratitude to the few who remained, and it must have been appreciated, as we were granted the special privilege of entering the hut of their witchdoctor!
The primitive dirt floored hut contained only some knives, strange feathers, a few live birds, unrecognizable herbs, a pile of the red berries used to color their hair, and a few pots - that weren't to our relief, large enough to fit a human!
Before leaving the tribe, our hands were marked with a blue dye from some sort of root. This tradition meant we were welcome to come back to the village as long as the dye was present. Later, back in
We made a rather interesting departure from
The spectacular scenery made up for the cold, filth, and butt-busting wood seats! Enroute, a Spanish guy and myself snuck out the back door and climbed up onto the roof for some better pictures. We nearly froze up there, as we were traveling at an altitudes up to 12,000 feet. Huddled up amongst the stacks of bananas and luggage, we kept our cameras clicking as we passed legendary MT Chimborazo and MT Cotopaxi and many interesting mountain villages including Yaguachi, Urbina, Sibambe, Milagro & Riobamba. Twelve hours after leaving
The most interesting thing about Duran is the weather-beaten clapboard houses, literally hanging off the side of the mountains. Having been pre warned that Duran was a dangerous place, we only stayed a few hours before catching a river boat across the murky Quayaquil River to the port town of Guayaquil. Christine and I found little of interest here in two days. Hustlers and drug dealers seemed to have gleaned every street corner, and the thing we liked best about this town was leaving it!
A short flight took us into a place called Loja. We hitched a ride into town in an old World War II jeep, whose proud owner was a crazy character named Elvis. This maniac seemed to have a mental block about using the breaks as he raced over the dusty mountain roads! Somewhat shaken we arrived in town and found accommodation above a small grocery store. The room was minuscule, and the shower ice-cold but it became home for the next three days while we went about the difficult and frustrating experience of arranging transportation to our next destination - the isolated Equadorian
Village of
Vilcabamba
.
We left Loja in a shroud of blue smoke emitted from our rickety old bus. The chorus of squawking chickens, screaming kids, squealing cuy, the rattling windows, and the horrible stench from a pig roaming up and down the isle, made for an unforgettable trip! We were very surprised, when several hours later, the old relic, doubling as "Noah's Arc", actually made it over the washboard mountain roads into our village. Disembarking was truly a pleasure!
The village of Vilcabamba (translates to ‘place of longevity’) according to National Geographic, is home to many of the oldest people on earth. People living to 140 is not unheard of, and many live past 100. Though communication proved difficult, we encountered many interesting characters during our stay, including a woman reported to be 129 years old! We got in several interesting day hikes. On one I became lost and narrowly missed stepping on a bush snake!
Several factors may contribute to the longevity of the people in this region, as they are consistent with two other regions in the world boasting a similar reputation. The high altitude(perhaps the ultraviolet rays have an effect on disease). The people eat very little or no red meat. People's lives involve very hard physical work. And finally, the elders are held in high social esteem by the others in the village.
After a couple of days, in this peaceful village we took the dreaded bus back to Loja in order to arrange another overnight bus. This time to the dusty town of Huaquillas
on the Equador/Peru border. Although this bus trip occurred on Halloween night, there were certainly no treats in store!
In the early morning hours we fell asleep on our backpacks in the back of the bus. Shortly thereafter we were rudely awoken by two militia men prodding us with the ‘business end’ of their rifles, demanding passports. Talk about a lousy bedside manner! Too sleep-soaked to reply, we fumbled around and produced our passports for them. Figuring all was OK, we were startled when they gave us the "slit throat" sign.
Christine and I looked at each other, wondering what the hell was going on. We were soon to find out!
Arriving in Huaquillas at 05:30 the next morning, it was still dark, so we cautiously walked about town until we located the dingy Immigration office. While sprawled on the sidewalk waiting for it to open, we determined that to get where we wanted to go meant taking a taxi to a place called Tumbez. From there we could catch a bus down to Lima,
Peru.
When the Immigration office opened, a crowd of people wandered in and received their clearance. We however, were detained and motioned to sit down at the far side of the room. After waiting 20 minutes I approached the desk to try and find out what was going on. Neither of the men spoke English and they just waved me away.
Very puzzled, I approached again a short while later, only to receive the same rude treatment. We glared at the slovenly bulk, reminiscent of the guard in 'Midnight Express', who appeared in charge. He was slouched back, feet up on the desk, having a street kid shine his boots. Clearly a recent charm school drop-out with all the charm of a constipated rhinoceros!
Growing angrier by the minute, I finally reached the end of my fuse and stupidly went over smashed my fist down on his desk, demanding to make a phone call. To my shock he reached under the desk and pulled out a machine gun and pointed it straight at me! For one very long terrifying moment I wondered if the bastard might actually pull the trigger!
Instead he snarled something in Spanish, and motioned with the gun in no uncertain terms, for me to sit back down. Christine, eyes like saucers, was as scared as I was, especially after the previous incident on the bus. Rule number 43 - never get into a pissing contest with a skunk! With a whole new change in attitude, we waited nervously, pondering our fate.
A short while later we noticed a blond girl come in who was conversing in fluent Spanish. I called to her and asked if she spoke English. Fortunately she did. Her name was Mildred and she was an American who had been teaching school in Peru.
Relating what had happened, we asked if she could find out what the hell was going on. Acting as interpreter, she determined the problem was we had overstayed the departure date on our passports.
After pleading a good case for us, "Mr. Machine Gun" tells her that despite my foolish actions, he is in a good mood, and as a favor to her he will not jail us if we pay him 4,000 sucres - almost all the money we had!
She strongly advised us to give him the money even though he would pocket it, because the same thing happened to a friend of hers, and he was jailed for two weeks before getting any food! We begrudgingly gave him our money, and quickly left before the vulturous bastard changed his mind. Heading off down the dusty road to find a taxi, we never dared to look back. Welcome to Peru!
I believe that if "they" give the earth an enema, Huaquillas is where "they" will insert the tube!
With Mildred in stride, we made our way to Tumbez and boarded a bus headed for
Lima. Everything was fine until we got several miles outside of town and the bus was stopped at an army checkpoint. All passengers were told to get off and take their luggage with them. The bus was then searched for who knows what, then we were told to reboard. As the bus started to leave I noticed my backpack still lying on the road, so I rushed to the front of the bus and made the driver stop. As I walked around the bus to get it the driver yells to them something about marajuana!
Two soldiers hustled me off to their shack despite my protests of innocence. After a rough search and an interrogation, they determined I was clean and could go. I was paranoid the bus was going to be gone when I got out, but fortunately it was still there. Resisting the urge to punch out the driver, I reboarded the bus.
Later, in the middle of the night I went to the back of the bus to lay down on the floor to get more comfortable.
We started to wonder about traveling in
Finally our bus pulled into cosmopolitan
During our stay in Lima
Next stop was the jungle town of
Over 4000 miles in length, its volume exceeds the combined flow of the next 8 largest rivers in the world. It contains one fifth of the worlds fresh water, is over 200 miles wide at the mouth, and pours 8 trillion gallons of water into the
The sweltering jungle heat enveloped us as we stepped off the plane. Drenched in sweat, we hitched a ride into
That night
Next morning we got up, put our shoes on and shared a cold shower with the insects, then went outside to see what the place had to offer. We didn't have to wait long to find something interesting. Stepping out the building as dawn lightened the eastern sky, we were shocked to see the streets covered with large dead beetles! There were thousands of them, a sea of black! We have no idea what killed them or how they got there. It was so incredible we just couldn't get over it. Only in
Down by the river, we found a neat little shop that had a big
We learned of a camp in the jungle where we could stay so we made arrangements for a ride down the Amazon on a riverboat for the following day. The boat dropped us off at one of the tributaries and from there we got a small boat to take us up to the camp, where we would spend the next few days.
The camp, although primitive, was very practical. It had lanterns for after dark, mosquito nets, and even a makeshift shower rigged up in a tree from which one could dump down the mud brown water, straight out of the river!
Our first night in camp was unforgettable, the screaming jungle sounds at night were absolutely incredible. Just thinking about it raises goose-bumps. Being in the Amazon jungle at night is truly a most humbling experience!!
In the morning we went out fishing with an Indian guide in an old dugout canoe. Nervously, we watched as a good sized alligator slithered off the river bank right beside us!
Our primitive fishing gear consisted of a hook (barbless piece of wire) and about 4 feet of nylon line tied on to a tree branch. None the less it worked very well, as the river was teeming with fish. There was no shortage of action as we were catching all different kinds of fish, including catfish and piranha! As the guide brought in the fish he didn't bother to kill them - just flipped them into the canoe.
That was real interesting, as the canoe had about 3 or 4 inches of rain water in the bottom - just enough for the fish to get about in.
Back at camp they cooked up the piranha we had caught and we ate them for dinner (not bad – tasted like trout). We figured that US eating them, was much better than vice versa! The razor sharp piranha teeth were given to us as a souvenir!
Later that night a Jivaro Indian wandered into camp. He was an outcast from his original tribe, having married a Yagua woman. We were most fortunate to see him, as the Jivaros are the famous "head shrinkers", a warlike tribe who have absolutely no contact with outside world. They keep retreating farther and farther into the jungles to avoid contact. It felt as though he had some sort of weird aura about him and we both felt very uncomfortable in his presence.
Still, I regret the communication barrier, as I'm sure his thoughts on life would have been most fascinating. Imagine the challenge of trying to explain to him the concept of a computer!
Insect life in the jungle was amazing - multitudes of huge brightly colored butterflies fluttering about like self propelled flowers, and some of the biggest, most badass bugs I've ever. One night
The bird species were beautiful. Several varieties of parrots including the Green Amazon and Macaws, and the fascinating big-billed toucans. Some of these birds were so tame that when they flew down to eat the bunches of bananas left for them, we could actually touch them. Truly delightful to see them in their natural habitat. It was at this isolated camp that we found a guide willing to take us to the primitive jungle tribe known as the Yaguas.
Awoken at dawn by the screeching and squawking of our feathered friends, we set off with the machetes we had been given (for snakes), on a trek through the jungle to visit the Yaguas.
At this point in our travels I was more concerned about
The vegetation in the Amazon basin, accounting for nearly 50 % of the world's oxygen, is simply awesome. Intertwined plants, trees, and vines, struggle towards the white-hot sky, all but blocking out the blistering sun. We hiked for several hours through this steamy jungle, over logs and under vines, unsure of what may be lurking around the next corner! It was a most exhilarating experience that got the adrenaline pumping! Sweat-soaked, we finally came upon the village.
The primeval scene before us was nothing short of spectacular! Primitive straw huts built up on stilts. Bare-breasted Yagua women clad in grass skirts and faces dashed with red paint. Pet monkeys ricocheted around the camp. A leopard skin staked out to dry in the sun, which we later found out had been killed nearby the previous day!
The chief, complete with feathered headdress and blowgun came timidly out to meet us. It is an unusual sight to see the Yagua, with a stature of about four feet, packing about the six foot blowguns they so desperately rely on for their survival. We presented the chief with a small gift and entered the village.
Later we were treated us to an exhibition of his marksmanship with the blowgun. With but a single shot he felled a canary-sized bird perched some 40 feet up one of the trees. The blowgun darts, sharpened by a set of piranha teeth, are dipped into a mixture of crushed beetle shells, which paralyzes the prey upon impact, allowing the Indians to then move in for the kill.
We made our way back up the Amazon to
From Iquitos we departed Peru and flew into Tabatinga in Brasil. Here we had a good stroke of luck. We learned by accident that a visa was necessary in
The river
Next stop was Bogata, capital of
Our departure turned into a miserable experience. While waiting for our plane in one of the holding areas, four men entered, and took us into to a small back room. They roughly ransacked our backpacks, breaking several of our things in an apparent search for drugs. Seemingly disappointed at finding nothing, they put both of us up against the wall for a quick 'pat down'. This kind of harassment seemed common place in
We later learned that our traveling route - Leticia, Bogata, Baranquilla, was the major cocaine smuggling route in
After the search we grabbed our backpacks and ran like hell for our plane, not wanting to spend another night here. Crossing the tarmac
Soaked in sweat and hearts pounding, we made our way to our seats, only to find them occupied! We forced the squatters out, and collapsed down into our seats, thankful to be winding down our travels in
Our flight to Baranquilla turned into a bit of a "white knuckle special", as we flew through a spectacular lightning storm that certainly had our attention! Frustrated with more hassles in Baranquilla, we tried to book a flight out, but were told the plane was broken! Eager to leave, we jumped a bus that night to Cartegena.
Even though
Flying out of the country, we were delighted to be leaving, with no immediate plans for a return visit.
Before flying home, we had one final country left to visit. That was the lovely
Reflecting back on South America
Mark Colegrave 1981
