Got up this morning and packed all my stuff, with the intention of heading to Moyabamba.
Heard a big commotion coming from the plaza... walk, walk, walk, and there is a city / military something going on. Seems the president is in town today to visit, talk tourism, and to visit Kuelep.
Roads closed. I wander. Stop by the tour office to see what`s doing. Not much, mostly just lazing around talking. English teacher Mike is there. I mention that I would have liked to visit the top fall at Gocta, but there are not enough people... the cost of a private taxi there would be WAY high.
Lunch rolls around and I am invited to the home of Carlos and Janet, to join in while Mike has his first Cuy (guinea pig) meal. Why not? Too late for a taxi now.
We go off to the market to select said sacrificial rodent. Cute little white guy makes the grade, and goes live into a sack to take home. Bit of rice, some corn, a few potatoes and we are off... Mike and Carlos head out to the yard, and after the deed is done, skinned little white guy is brought in to the kitchen and added to the assortment of foods to be cooked for lunch. All very every day. Mike seemed to handle it all well.
Lunch was good. No Cuy for me. Conversation was lively and I had fun. Siesta time comes and I decide to spend mine wandering the streets, graced with glorious sunshine.
What else to catch up on? Not much. The planned quiet days were quiet. Lots of typing, as you have seen. Did spend a couple of hours walking off the frustration when a lovely long post went into the cyberland void instead of your reading room.
I am relieved to say that I was completely and blissfully unaware of the Chilean earthquake until I turned the news on last night. No need to worry, all is well.
Maybe I`ll get going tomorrow. Maybe not.
Buenos noches... I am heading out to watch the sunset.
And Valerie, you would not catch me moving across the country again... no way. That goes far beyond MY comfort level!
Sunday 28 February 2010
Saturday 27 February 2010
House Proud
February 25th.
The streets outside the hotel are completely torn up; thick mud blankets every nook and cranny along the sidewalks and storefronts.
I sit in the hotel cafe, eating breakfast, and I notice a woman across the street, doing her best to keep the little portion of sidewalk in front of her store clean.
Almost poetic... I can visualise a short movie clip about it. Unlock big wooden doors, take bucket of water, sprinkle on sidewalk with fingers to distribute some moisture for dust control. A first sweeping of said dust from nooks and crannies in and between the old broken tile and concrete walkway. Long stringy mop is flipped and switched about to clean the doors and frames.
Dressed in the standard highland outfit for an older peruvian city dweller... straight black skirt, nice shirt (this one is red), and cardigan. Heavy stockings and sensible shoes complete the outfit. Not a hair out of place. The roundness of middle age.
She is all business as she dumps buckets of water onto the sidewalk. Taking a firm grip on a broom she scrubs at the sidewalk and then sweeps the water into the great void where the street usually resides. She continues to dump, scrub and sweep even as the foot traffic walks through. A losing battle to be repeated every morning, or so I imagine.
A couple fo cups of hot, sweet coffee lifts the headache that had accompanied the morning. I have a slower day planned... quick visit to a nearby village, walk back, and then to the orchidarium for a peek.
The village, Huanca, is a very small satellite town, who`s dainty main square displays 3 statues of women making pottery, for which this town is known. There is also a male figure somehow depicting leadership. Figures.
Some of the things I see in my wanderings:
A plant nursery, where they are starting trees to be planted in a reforestation effort.
A brick making yard, where I see, well bricks... I learn that the formed earth and straw type brick is called adobe. I also see an alternate building technique called tapial which is a pressed mud wall construction. According to Janet (my english speaking guide!) structures made of adobe do better in earthquakes.
There was apparently a large earthquake in 1970, and most of Chachapoyas was destroyed. Now I know why the city looks tidy and organized.... because it is all new. It really does look different than most other places I have been in Peru. Uniform colour schemes and all.
Anyway the town homes made of Adobe fared better apparently.
Now back to my list:
A beautiful climbing geranium in a vivid shade of red. Didn`t know geraniums climb.
Still more more medicinal flora. If there are plants for hair, teeth, bones, skin, and digestion, just to name a few, I wonder how many cups of brew that equals a day for complete coverage?
An amazingly steep canyon. Get too close and...
A cool plant that is used as indoor insect control. It is incredibly sticky. The flies are attracted by the aroma and...
Locally made ceramics, very rustic and pretty but I can`t see successfully bringing it home in my backpack somehow.
After a quick lunch we enjoy a nice long walk back to Chacha, all the while keeping an eye on some very big, dark clouds heading our way. Thankfully they pass overhead before dropping their motherload of precipitation. The wind was nice though.
We picked up a taxi to take us to the Orchidarium. Many cool pictures, although I am still having trouble with my camera focus. This place is part of a network of places trying to keep the rarer orchids from disappearing altogether. Many poor locals go deep into the rainforest in search of plants to bring out and sell. Difference between eating and not, unfortunately.
I see an interesting looking animal, possum like, called an Uvon. They are found only in the area surrounding Kuelep. The animal is young and full of beans. Unfortunately it is also leashed and so can`t run said beans out of it`s system. The explanation is that it was found abandoned as a baby (?) and being home raised can not be released into its native habitat. Or maybe it makes a cute pet. No way to know for sure.
So it was not really the quiet day I should have had, and I am seriously overtired. There will be another piper to pay, unfortunately.
Later.
Random info: The mosquitoes here seem to bite through clothes. Losing battle.
The streets outside the hotel are completely torn up; thick mud blankets every nook and cranny along the sidewalks and storefronts.
I sit in the hotel cafe, eating breakfast, and I notice a woman across the street, doing her best to keep the little portion of sidewalk in front of her store clean.
Almost poetic... I can visualise a short movie clip about it. Unlock big wooden doors, take bucket of water, sprinkle on sidewalk with fingers to distribute some moisture for dust control. A first sweeping of said dust from nooks and crannies in and between the old broken tile and concrete walkway. Long stringy mop is flipped and switched about to clean the doors and frames.
Dressed in the standard highland outfit for an older peruvian city dweller... straight black skirt, nice shirt (this one is red), and cardigan. Heavy stockings and sensible shoes complete the outfit. Not a hair out of place. The roundness of middle age.
She is all business as she dumps buckets of water onto the sidewalk. Taking a firm grip on a broom she scrubs at the sidewalk and then sweeps the water into the great void where the street usually resides. She continues to dump, scrub and sweep even as the foot traffic walks through. A losing battle to be repeated every morning, or so I imagine.
A couple fo cups of hot, sweet coffee lifts the headache that had accompanied the morning. I have a slower day planned... quick visit to a nearby village, walk back, and then to the orchidarium for a peek.
The village, Huanca, is a very small satellite town, who`s dainty main square displays 3 statues of women making pottery, for which this town is known. There is also a male figure somehow depicting leadership. Figures.
Some of the things I see in my wanderings:
A plant nursery, where they are starting trees to be planted in a reforestation effort.
A brick making yard, where I see, well bricks... I learn that the formed earth and straw type brick is called adobe. I also see an alternate building technique called tapial which is a pressed mud wall construction. According to Janet (my english speaking guide!) structures made of adobe do better in earthquakes.
There was apparently a large earthquake in 1970, and most of Chachapoyas was destroyed. Now I know why the city looks tidy and organized.... because it is all new. It really does look different than most other places I have been in Peru. Uniform colour schemes and all.
Anyway the town homes made of Adobe fared better apparently.
Now back to my list:
A beautiful climbing geranium in a vivid shade of red. Didn`t know geraniums climb.
Still more more medicinal flora. If there are plants for hair, teeth, bones, skin, and digestion, just to name a few, I wonder how many cups of brew that equals a day for complete coverage?
An amazingly steep canyon. Get too close and...
A cool plant that is used as indoor insect control. It is incredibly sticky. The flies are attracted by the aroma and...
Locally made ceramics, very rustic and pretty but I can`t see successfully bringing it home in my backpack somehow.
After a quick lunch we enjoy a nice long walk back to Chacha, all the while keeping an eye on some very big, dark clouds heading our way. Thankfully they pass overhead before dropping their motherload of precipitation. The wind was nice though.
We picked up a taxi to take us to the Orchidarium. Many cool pictures, although I am still having trouble with my camera focus. This place is part of a network of places trying to keep the rarer orchids from disappearing altogether. Many poor locals go deep into the rainforest in search of plants to bring out and sell. Difference between eating and not, unfortunately.
I see an interesting looking animal, possum like, called an Uvon. They are found only in the area surrounding Kuelep. The animal is young and full of beans. Unfortunately it is also leashed and so can`t run said beans out of it`s system. The explanation is that it was found abandoned as a baby (?) and being home raised can not be released into its native habitat. Or maybe it makes a cute pet. No way to know for sure.
So it was not really the quiet day I should have had, and I am seriously overtired. There will be another piper to pay, unfortunately.
Later.
Random info: The mosquitoes here seem to bite through clothes. Losing battle.
Day three... Karajia and Quiocta
February 24.
This day started with frustration... Despite an 8:30 am planned start, I got called down early from my room... time change, everyone is waiting. Grab backpack and run. No pee, no bread, no boots.
I was happy to see that Felix (A Chinese Peruvian Swede) is again part of the tour.
Long ride (on dirt roads for a change, she says with tongue firmly planted in cheek), through some pretty impressive mud puddles. Passed yet more road crews clearing and rebuilding.
More miles and miles of perfectly beautiful vistas of farmed land. I enjoy seeing the agave in bloom... as tall as the trees... sometimes the only tall plants on the hillsides. Two different blooms, depending on whether we are talking blue or green mother plants. Both are striking. I vow to insist the driver stop on the way back so I can take pics.
We ramble through a couple of small villages until, hallelujah, we stop and I finally get to pee.. Frequently seen outhouse type baño, but this one had walls and only one very big hole in the floor, so yay. Far from the worst I have seen or used. Practically spotless.
Come to the expected long walk down... this time through some of the cultivated acres of cultivated farmland. My appreciation of the view spoiled a bit by thinking about the walk back up, I will admit. This is day three, and I am starting out tired.
I am charmed by the sight of 3 beautiful, large, swaying orchids on a wild hillside... can`t get close because of the undergrowth, and am thwarted in my attempt to take pictures because my camera doesn`t zoom enough. Felix has a pretty skookum camera and took pictures... will hopefully email them to me.
Crops passed: Potatoes. Mustard. Corn. I am disillusioned to see farmers out spraying the crops with chemicals... I naively assumed that things were done organically, as fitting the yesteryear setting of manually ploughed fields, grazing wildlife, native dress and barefoot farmers. Silly me.
Rounding a corner takes us out of the fields and into steep hillside. Down some steps, and along another narrow descending pathway brings into view the cliff face which display ancient sarcophagus... burial resting place for the mummies of yet another lost culture. Other than guessing that they are that of important individuals, it is not known if they were shamans, chiefs, or warriors. There are smaller pockets of graves, and evidence of where more of the grand figures once graced the rock.
Wandering the path below in the hot sun, there are bones and broken bits of the molded funerary containers littering the boulders. The rockface itself is beautiful, a perfect setting for some "I was here" photos. Yay, more pictures of me, and there are a couple of me swatting away as a regiment of pesky small mosquitoes mounts a full on assault.
Burial conversation is in the air, and I squeem at Felixs´explanation of a (supposed) patented new swedish burial technique... freeze dry & then microwave? Apparently only powder remains to be scattered. O.K.
Change of subject... I am told that the roots of Gladiolus, mashed, left in sun for a few hours becomes an effective headlice cure- Did I tell you this already? I think maybe I did.
Long walk back up in a burning sun. Have already covered this territory too.
We wind back over the roads, passing large trucks parked beside the road as they are painstakingly filled with sacks of potatoes. In the small villages I catch glimpses into small potato warehouses, stacked high with bags, each topped up with grass to avoid sun exposure.
In the villages I see women wearing traditional white, woven, tall topped, grass hats. Most native dress here is quite dull, but still seen are the full skirts worn with a shawl, and for the men ponchos for special occasions. As is customary, many women are holding hand spindles and are spinning sheeps wool, others are knitting. This is accomplished both sitting and as they walk. Much work to do, and no time is wasted.
The setting is the same as most towns, narrow streets bordered by one room homes made from the local Adobe... Yellow earthen mud bricks, rich with grass or straw.
In one of the towns we come upon another funeral procession. Somber. Sobering.
Lunchtime stop in Lamud, and on to rent some rubber boots for our next stop, Quiocta caverns.
Caves. Humid, squishy, watery. The sculls and bones strategically placed indicate this one was used for ceremonial purposes. During the Inca period according to some authority. Really creepy were the muddy areas bordering the cave wall edges where skulls could be seen rising up from the depths.
My poor little canadian sensibilities were in a flap as we trampled all over, into and through roped off areas. So much for preservation. And before you all say "you didn`t have to follow", I will ask you how much you would want to be left alone, in the utter darkness of a 500 meter deep cave, littered with the remains of human sacrifices. Ha.
While I usually enjoy a good cave, daylight in this case was welcome. We head away from the eerie, Clouds above, clouds below, into the cloud we go. There are heavy rains happening in the valley. There are also very dark clouds and a stormy look to the area around Kuelep, and I am glad I am not there.
Almost ran over a pheasant.
Down the mountain we go. Remember the tea cup ride at the fair?? This is the sensation that comes to mind as we careen around the corners. A stomach sinking, vortex inducing wild ride. Slow is not in the local vocabulary, I think. Blew through yet another stop sign. Oh great, lets do 100 on a narrow 2 lane paved road between the river and the rock face wall. And then lets pass on the curves.
Not surprising there was a recent newspaper article about 50 dead when 2 buses crashed head on while one was passing on a curve.
Heavy rains blew down the largest of the Agave stalks. No photo ops.
Day three, and I have given it my all.
This day started with frustration... Despite an 8:30 am planned start, I got called down early from my room... time change, everyone is waiting. Grab backpack and run. No pee, no bread, no boots.
I was happy to see that Felix (A Chinese Peruvian Swede) is again part of the tour.
Long ride (on dirt roads for a change, she says with tongue firmly planted in cheek), through some pretty impressive mud puddles. Passed yet more road crews clearing and rebuilding.
More miles and miles of perfectly beautiful vistas of farmed land. I enjoy seeing the agave in bloom... as tall as the trees... sometimes the only tall plants on the hillsides. Two different blooms, depending on whether we are talking blue or green mother plants. Both are striking. I vow to insist the driver stop on the way back so I can take pics.
We ramble through a couple of small villages until, hallelujah, we stop and I finally get to pee.. Frequently seen outhouse type baño, but this one had walls and only one very big hole in the floor, so yay. Far from the worst I have seen or used. Practically spotless.
Come to the expected long walk down... this time through some of the cultivated acres of cultivated farmland. My appreciation of the view spoiled a bit by thinking about the walk back up, I will admit. This is day three, and I am starting out tired.
I am charmed by the sight of 3 beautiful, large, swaying orchids on a wild hillside... can`t get close because of the undergrowth, and am thwarted in my attempt to take pictures because my camera doesn`t zoom enough. Felix has a pretty skookum camera and took pictures... will hopefully email them to me.
Crops passed: Potatoes. Mustard. Corn. I am disillusioned to see farmers out spraying the crops with chemicals... I naively assumed that things were done organically, as fitting the yesteryear setting of manually ploughed fields, grazing wildlife, native dress and barefoot farmers. Silly me.
Rounding a corner takes us out of the fields and into steep hillside. Down some steps, and along another narrow descending pathway brings into view the cliff face which display ancient sarcophagus... burial resting place for the mummies of yet another lost culture. Other than guessing that they are that of important individuals, it is not known if they were shamans, chiefs, or warriors. There are smaller pockets of graves, and evidence of where more of the grand figures once graced the rock.
Wandering the path below in the hot sun, there are bones and broken bits of the molded funerary containers littering the boulders. The rockface itself is beautiful, a perfect setting for some "I was here" photos. Yay, more pictures of me, and there are a couple of me swatting away as a regiment of pesky small mosquitoes mounts a full on assault.
Burial conversation is in the air, and I squeem at Felixs´explanation of a (supposed) patented new swedish burial technique... freeze dry & then microwave? Apparently only powder remains to be scattered. O.K.
Change of subject... I am told that the roots of Gladiolus, mashed, left in sun for a few hours becomes an effective headlice cure- Did I tell you this already? I think maybe I did.
Long walk back up in a burning sun. Have already covered this territory too.
We wind back over the roads, passing large trucks parked beside the road as they are painstakingly filled with sacks of potatoes. In the small villages I catch glimpses into small potato warehouses, stacked high with bags, each topped up with grass to avoid sun exposure.
In the villages I see women wearing traditional white, woven, tall topped, grass hats. Most native dress here is quite dull, but still seen are the full skirts worn with a shawl, and for the men ponchos for special occasions. As is customary, many women are holding hand spindles and are spinning sheeps wool, others are knitting. This is accomplished both sitting and as they walk. Much work to do, and no time is wasted.
The setting is the same as most towns, narrow streets bordered by one room homes made from the local Adobe... Yellow earthen mud bricks, rich with grass or straw.
In one of the towns we come upon another funeral procession. Somber. Sobering.
Lunchtime stop in Lamud, and on to rent some rubber boots for our next stop, Quiocta caverns.
Caves. Humid, squishy, watery. The sculls and bones strategically placed indicate this one was used for ceremonial purposes. During the Inca period according to some authority. Really creepy were the muddy areas bordering the cave wall edges where skulls could be seen rising up from the depths.
My poor little canadian sensibilities were in a flap as we trampled all over, into and through roped off areas. So much for preservation. And before you all say "you didn`t have to follow", I will ask you how much you would want to be left alone, in the utter darkness of a 500 meter deep cave, littered with the remains of human sacrifices. Ha.
While I usually enjoy a good cave, daylight in this case was welcome. We head away from the eerie, Clouds above, clouds below, into the cloud we go. There are heavy rains happening in the valley. There are also very dark clouds and a stormy look to the area around Kuelep, and I am glad I am not there.
Almost ran over a pheasant.
Down the mountain we go. Remember the tea cup ride at the fair?? This is the sensation that comes to mind as we careen around the corners. A stomach sinking, vortex inducing wild ride. Slow is not in the local vocabulary, I think. Blew through yet another stop sign. Oh great, lets do 100 on a narrow 2 lane paved road between the river and the rock face wall. And then lets pass on the curves.
Not surprising there was a recent newspaper article about 50 dead when 2 buses crashed head on while one was passing on a curve.
Heavy rains blew down the largest of the Agave stalks. No photo ops.
Day three, and I have given it my all.
Thursday 25 February 2010
Gocta... a great guide
As promised...
Reluctantly leaving the splendor of the Falls behind, the payment to the piper begins. Up... way up. A step by step reversal of the relatively easy path in. Not so easy going up though.
With the promise of a hot lunch waiting, most of the younger and heartier souls are soon far ahead and out of sight. Keeping me company with a slower and more relaxed pace were a young Frenchman named Mitch and our guide, Hilton. Our conversation flows fairly easily thanks to Mitchs`english speaking abilities.
It is clear that the young and earnest Hilton was taking seriously his responsibility to get my "last little old lady" butt safely back to the pueblo. A complete departure from the Tarapoto jungle guide that was happy to never look back while I took my various tumbles.
Must say it pays to be the last one up, as Hilton regaled us with his extensive knowledge of the local jungle flora, and answered our many questions. All along the trail he would wander over and pluck leaves for us to taste or smell, while explaining their various uses, medicinal or otherwise.
The scents of lemon, orange, lime, mint, and licorice came from bushes and plants that were foreign to me, with uses for tummy, head, hair, altitude and breathing.
Or he would rush over to pick things for us to taste... a small yellow fruit, berries and coffee, all various Parrot foods. All sweet. Heeding warnings to spit out various seeds we enjoy our trials.
Hearkens me back to my time as a new vegetarian at 17, and my father complaining that all I would eat was, well, bird food. :)
Mitch brings out a bag of dried whole coco leaves and offers to share. This is a new way of me experiencing the famed local leaf. Chew, chew, chew... then tuck said masticated blob up in the cheek and let sit. Other than experiencing a tingling sensation where said blob lay, I don`t really notice a marked difference in my breathing or performance. This in marked contrast to last year when I made ample(and appreciative) use of coco tea and candy to get me over the high passes on the Inca trail.
I take photos of the intense moss on ancient looking rocks, thinking it will be a challenge to convey the visual reality in words... for another post I think.
Orange and avocado trees, nuts, seeds, berries, roots, greens... I remark to Hilton that living in the jungle, one certainly need not starve. (or resort to eating grubs?) He earnestly agrees.
At about the halfway mark on the trail there exists a farm offering limited accommodation and an assortment of drinks and crackers as a way to supplement their income. We stop for Gatorade and cookies. The owner is a friendly gentleman, who happily abandons his work shelling frioles (white beans) to welcome us and join us in conversation. Our guide relayed some of my questions about his side garden, and he beckons us through a gate and into a small slice of paradise.
Given the chance, this would be what my garden would look like. In this ideal climatic setting, orange, lemon, banana, plantain, and coffee trees join a variety of vegetable, squash, tuber, medicinal and floral plantings, just for starters. Mitch was impressed with the two healthy looking coco plants mixed in. This is a back yard garden, complete with pig in back pen and chickens clucking indolently at our feet.
MUST be what shangrila feels like. I so wanted to plant my butt down and stay awhile. No can do. With thanks to our host, reluctantly I depart and join the path upward once again.
Cue the afternoon rains. Wonderful, cool, heavy drops pouring from the sky and the smell as they contact the hot earth and rocks rises. Donning my raincoat I think of the two men working in the landslide area, and the some maternal instinct has me sending my hopes for their safety up into the heavens. I won`t presume to guess which form of higher power might be listening.
In no time at all I am soaked. Gloriously, seriously, drowned rat kind of wet.
The elevations of the path allow me to finally see the sideways drainage system at work. The rushing sheet of water heading downwards hits the canals and is sent shooting off the path and on to the hillside to disappear down and into the vegetation. Surprisingly effective.
The rains let up as we find ourselves back in the farm area surrounding the pueblo. We ask more crop related questions, see pineapple in various stages of growth. I learn it takes a year and a half to bring each plant, with its single pineapple, to harvest. I will never complain about the cost of pineapple in the supermarket again.
Hilton points out a series of caves partially visible on the sheer rock wall facing us, rising up from the riverbed far below. I see absolutely no way to reach them, but a couple of years ago somebody managed to get to one of them and found remains. Now they are on a list of sights to be properly excavated... they join a long, long list of sights already found, never mind those still secreted away in unknown nooks, crannies and jungle overgrowth.
All good trekking experiences must come to an end, and we eventually make it back to the pueblo. Soaked. Every piece of clothing plastered to me. My boots are once again wet as the rains simply followed their own path down my pants, under and through my gators, and down on in to keep my little toes company.
Having enjoyed their hot lunch while we dawdled, we are welcomed by the rest of our group. I wring out my hair and inspect the contents of my sopping backpack. The spanish dictionary is my only casualty. Fitting, no?
Thank you, thank you, thank you, and we all pile back into van to head out on our return trip. And enjoy a last look back at the falls in their entirety.
Has to be said... Gocta Falls is way up there on my best experiences ever meter.
Chatted with a nice young argentine couple on the way home, and we compared taxi horror stories... kept most people in the bus entertained judging by the laughter level.
All smiles I headed down the street towards supper and was pleased as punch when a man stopped dead in his tracks, smiled, and called me "Hermosa!" I´ll take it. Being called beautiful in any language feels good. :)
Sitting in the restaurant brought an adrenaline crash so I ordered coffee with dinner, (it was instant, yuck) figuring it would keep me awake long enough to eat and make it back to the hotel. I enjoyed the sight of the "restaurant kid skipping and whistling through the rooms... he must be at least 14. Totally different youth experience.
Bone tired, I weave my way back to my digs. Hot shower. Boot care. Crawl into bed. Soon I will need a vacation from my vacation... what day is it?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
PS.. Valerie, nice to see your comment :)
It is good to hear from home.
Reluctantly leaving the splendor of the Falls behind, the payment to the piper begins. Up... way up. A step by step reversal of the relatively easy path in. Not so easy going up though.
With the promise of a hot lunch waiting, most of the younger and heartier souls are soon far ahead and out of sight. Keeping me company with a slower and more relaxed pace were a young Frenchman named Mitch and our guide, Hilton. Our conversation flows fairly easily thanks to Mitchs`english speaking abilities.
It is clear that the young and earnest Hilton was taking seriously his responsibility to get my "last little old lady" butt safely back to the pueblo. A complete departure from the Tarapoto jungle guide that was happy to never look back while I took my various tumbles.
Must say it pays to be the last one up, as Hilton regaled us with his extensive knowledge of the local jungle flora, and answered our many questions. All along the trail he would wander over and pluck leaves for us to taste or smell, while explaining their various uses, medicinal or otherwise.
The scents of lemon, orange, lime, mint, and licorice came from bushes and plants that were foreign to me, with uses for tummy, head, hair, altitude and breathing.
Or he would rush over to pick things for us to taste... a small yellow fruit, berries and coffee, all various Parrot foods. All sweet. Heeding warnings to spit out various seeds we enjoy our trials.
Hearkens me back to my time as a new vegetarian at 17, and my father complaining that all I would eat was, well, bird food. :)
Mitch brings out a bag of dried whole coco leaves and offers to share. This is a new way of me experiencing the famed local leaf. Chew, chew, chew... then tuck said masticated blob up in the cheek and let sit. Other than experiencing a tingling sensation where said blob lay, I don`t really notice a marked difference in my breathing or performance. This in marked contrast to last year when I made ample(and appreciative) use of coco tea and candy to get me over the high passes on the Inca trail.
I take photos of the intense moss on ancient looking rocks, thinking it will be a challenge to convey the visual reality in words... for another post I think.
Orange and avocado trees, nuts, seeds, berries, roots, greens... I remark to Hilton that living in the jungle, one certainly need not starve. (or resort to eating grubs?) He earnestly agrees.
At about the halfway mark on the trail there exists a farm offering limited accommodation and an assortment of drinks and crackers as a way to supplement their income. We stop for Gatorade and cookies. The owner is a friendly gentleman, who happily abandons his work shelling frioles (white beans) to welcome us and join us in conversation. Our guide relayed some of my questions about his side garden, and he beckons us through a gate and into a small slice of paradise.
Given the chance, this would be what my garden would look like. In this ideal climatic setting, orange, lemon, banana, plantain, and coffee trees join a variety of vegetable, squash, tuber, medicinal and floral plantings, just for starters. Mitch was impressed with the two healthy looking coco plants mixed in. This is a back yard garden, complete with pig in back pen and chickens clucking indolently at our feet.
MUST be what shangrila feels like. I so wanted to plant my butt down and stay awhile. No can do. With thanks to our host, reluctantly I depart and join the path upward once again.
Cue the afternoon rains. Wonderful, cool, heavy drops pouring from the sky and the smell as they contact the hot earth and rocks rises. Donning my raincoat I think of the two men working in the landslide area, and the some maternal instinct has me sending my hopes for their safety up into the heavens. I won`t presume to guess which form of higher power might be listening.
In no time at all I am soaked. Gloriously, seriously, drowned rat kind of wet.
The elevations of the path allow me to finally see the sideways drainage system at work. The rushing sheet of water heading downwards hits the canals and is sent shooting off the path and on to the hillside to disappear down and into the vegetation. Surprisingly effective.
The rains let up as we find ourselves back in the farm area surrounding the pueblo. We ask more crop related questions, see pineapple in various stages of growth. I learn it takes a year and a half to bring each plant, with its single pineapple, to harvest. I will never complain about the cost of pineapple in the supermarket again.
Hilton points out a series of caves partially visible on the sheer rock wall facing us, rising up from the riverbed far below. I see absolutely no way to reach them, but a couple of years ago somebody managed to get to one of them and found remains. Now they are on a list of sights to be properly excavated... they join a long, long list of sights already found, never mind those still secreted away in unknown nooks, crannies and jungle overgrowth.
All good trekking experiences must come to an end, and we eventually make it back to the pueblo. Soaked. Every piece of clothing plastered to me. My boots are once again wet as the rains simply followed their own path down my pants, under and through my gators, and down on in to keep my little toes company.
Having enjoyed their hot lunch while we dawdled, we are welcomed by the rest of our group. I wring out my hair and inspect the contents of my sopping backpack. The spanish dictionary is my only casualty. Fitting, no?
Thank you, thank you, thank you, and we all pile back into van to head out on our return trip. And enjoy a last look back at the falls in their entirety.
Has to be said... Gocta Falls is way up there on my best experiences ever meter.
Chatted with a nice young argentine couple on the way home, and we compared taxi horror stories... kept most people in the bus entertained judging by the laughter level.
All smiles I headed down the street towards supper and was pleased as punch when a man stopped dead in his tracks, smiled, and called me "Hermosa!" I´ll take it. Being called beautiful in any language feels good. :)
Sitting in the restaurant brought an adrenaline crash so I ordered coffee with dinner, (it was instant, yuck) figuring it would keep me awake long enough to eat and make it back to the hotel. I enjoyed the sight of the "restaurant kid skipping and whistling through the rooms... he must be at least 14. Totally different youth experience.
Bone tired, I weave my way back to my digs. Hot shower. Boot care. Crawl into bed. Soon I will need a vacation from my vacation... what day is it?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
PS.. Valerie, nice to see your comment :)
It is good to hear from home.
Wednesday 24 February 2010
Gocta Waterfalls... the descent.
So this one was at the top of my wish list. With great excitement I don hiking boots and hop in the bus. We are again a very diverse group of about a dozen souls. French, Argentinian, American, Swedish, Spanish, Peruvian and me, lone Canadian.
Once more I find myself heading out on winding dirt roads, although this one seems an improvement on yesterdays. The mountain expanse in front of us is butte-like, with horizontal ribbons of the ages showing, topped with an expanse of green and disected at intervals by long ribbons of high waterfalls.
I make an Agouti sighting... think long coated, very large, tailless rat related to the guinea pig family, and that runs like a bunny rabbit. Tres Amazonian. It is served in all the best restaurants.
Our first glimpse of Gocta Falls, in all its splendor, comes along the road into the Pueblo at the start of the trail. We will be teased with sightings of the falls on and off during our trek. The falls are actually comprised of a double fall, and are so high that they can not be seen in their entirety from up close. There are trails to the upper platform, and down to the base of the final fall. It is to this lower area we will trek.
After meeting guide and paying park entrance fee we head out. Gaters on, I will either make it or get carried back out on horseback. The trail starts innocuously, a childsplay stroll next to the road and past a couple of farmers fields. But this is the Andes, so I know I am not going to get off that lightly. We head up, still following farms, and enjoying the vistas. A little down, and then more up... and then down. More down. More down. Deep mossy greens of dense, wet, humid forest, following rock and mud trails. Many butterflies, some salamanders, and of course the Parrots.
Breath in deep the smell of moist, rich, brown decaying matter and soil. Listen to the crunch and squish of our steps, and the sounds of the many birds and frogs along the way. How does decaying earth smell so fresh? Small streams are crossed, and we zig and zag our way to the sound of water that can be heard from the stream below... the waters of Gocta.
We are walking through an ancient burial area and the walled stone cairns line our pathway, a silent reminder of the passage of a great empire. Each contain remains carefully placed in an upright fetal position, with chins supported by hands and arms resting on knees. There are one or two cairns easily seen, the rest are glimpsed through the vegetation that is overtaking them. Trees, vines, bromelaids, ferns... swallowing history a year at a time. They have a mystical feel about them.
The guide points out a palm like tree that is apparently prehistoric in nature... An amazonian Ginko, so to speak. Each one`s ancestors resided with the dinosaurs apparently.
We come to an area of the trail that is, well, missing. Overnight landslide. There are two very earnest men working to restore a semblance of a footpath for us. The first bit was pretty solid, but the last 20 feet or so were still very unstable and be crossed one at a time. Carefully. One of our party of intrepid explorers chose to turn back. He was probably doing the smart thing, but I am here and on I go.
The air feels cooler, and more moist. The sound of water intensifies. I somehow expected the roar that accompanies Niagara Falls and think we must have quite a ways to go. Not so, as I round a corner and am stopped in my tracks by the beauty of the dance of the water as it falls the 550 meters from the upper platform. Starting like the flowing movements of a harem dancers` veil that twirls, floats, spins and rolls, the waters then shoot downwards like inverted rockets... the power of the water is mesmerizing, enchanting, bewitching. The rockets dissolve in the air like firecrackers on a summers evening, and the water again dances, then falls forcefully to the pool below.
This beauty is set in a landscape from dreamland. Up the banks on either side of the falls lies a mat of vegetation that is so dense it looks like a pillowy green blanket. The mist and cool air intensify the closer I come to the actual waters themselves. I pocket my camera and don my raincoat. I approach until the mist becomes a shower of sideways rain... a wet, windy, west coast, winter day. There are souls that brave a dip in the lagoon area, but I enjoy their experience vicariously. They are obviously nuts. It is COLD. A substantial portion of the volume of water entering the falls is lost to the mists created as water hits rock face, so the actual river at the base of the falls is smaller than expected.
I am also wearing a goodly portion of said water... dripping and soaked through I retreat. Time for a well earned snack.
I will regale you with the trip back up in my next post... Right now I am hungry.
Once more I find myself heading out on winding dirt roads, although this one seems an improvement on yesterdays. The mountain expanse in front of us is butte-like, with horizontal ribbons of the ages showing, topped with an expanse of green and disected at intervals by long ribbons of high waterfalls.
I make an Agouti sighting... think long coated, very large, tailless rat related to the guinea pig family, and that runs like a bunny rabbit. Tres Amazonian. It is served in all the best restaurants.
Our first glimpse of Gocta Falls, in all its splendor, comes along the road into the Pueblo at the start of the trail. We will be teased with sightings of the falls on and off during our trek. The falls are actually comprised of a double fall, and are so high that they can not be seen in their entirety from up close. There are trails to the upper platform, and down to the base of the final fall. It is to this lower area we will trek.
After meeting guide and paying park entrance fee we head out. Gaters on, I will either make it or get carried back out on horseback. The trail starts innocuously, a childsplay stroll next to the road and past a couple of farmers fields. But this is the Andes, so I know I am not going to get off that lightly. We head up, still following farms, and enjoying the vistas. A little down, and then more up... and then down. More down. More down. Deep mossy greens of dense, wet, humid forest, following rock and mud trails. Many butterflies, some salamanders, and of course the Parrots.
Breath in deep the smell of moist, rich, brown decaying matter and soil. Listen to the crunch and squish of our steps, and the sounds of the many birds and frogs along the way. How does decaying earth smell so fresh? Small streams are crossed, and we zig and zag our way to the sound of water that can be heard from the stream below... the waters of Gocta.
We are walking through an ancient burial area and the walled stone cairns line our pathway, a silent reminder of the passage of a great empire. Each contain remains carefully placed in an upright fetal position, with chins supported by hands and arms resting on knees. There are one or two cairns easily seen, the rest are glimpsed through the vegetation that is overtaking them. Trees, vines, bromelaids, ferns... swallowing history a year at a time. They have a mystical feel about them.
The guide points out a palm like tree that is apparently prehistoric in nature... An amazonian Ginko, so to speak. Each one`s ancestors resided with the dinosaurs apparently.
We come to an area of the trail that is, well, missing. Overnight landslide. There are two very earnest men working to restore a semblance of a footpath for us. The first bit was pretty solid, but the last 20 feet or so were still very unstable and be crossed one at a time. Carefully. One of our party of intrepid explorers chose to turn back. He was probably doing the smart thing, but I am here and on I go.
The air feels cooler, and more moist. The sound of water intensifies. I somehow expected the roar that accompanies Niagara Falls and think we must have quite a ways to go. Not so, as I round a corner and am stopped in my tracks by the beauty of the dance of the water as it falls the 550 meters from the upper platform. Starting like the flowing movements of a harem dancers` veil that twirls, floats, spins and rolls, the waters then shoot downwards like inverted rockets... the power of the water is mesmerizing, enchanting, bewitching. The rockets dissolve in the air like firecrackers on a summers evening, and the water again dances, then falls forcefully to the pool below.
This beauty is set in a landscape from dreamland. Up the banks on either side of the falls lies a mat of vegetation that is so dense it looks like a pillowy green blanket. The mist and cool air intensify the closer I come to the actual waters themselves. I pocket my camera and don my raincoat. I approach until the mist becomes a shower of sideways rain... a wet, windy, west coast, winter day. There are souls that brave a dip in the lagoon area, but I enjoy their experience vicariously. They are obviously nuts. It is COLD. A substantial portion of the volume of water entering the falls is lost to the mists created as water hits rock face, so the actual river at the base of the falls is smaller than expected.
I am also wearing a goodly portion of said water... dripping and soaked through I retreat. Time for a well earned snack.
I will regale you with the trip back up in my next post... Right now I am hungry.
Tuesday 23 February 2010
Kuelep
So I signed up for the typical tour of the Kuelep Ruins, bus in... follow guide around... bus back. chop, chop, chop.
As is common practice in Peru, the tour companies consolidate their passengers, so after the initial confusion we were a group of 12 or so. No I didn´t count. Two vehicles, and I lucked out in a cab with two other english speaking guidees. A lovely girl from Wisconsin and a very nice boy from Israel. OK, not girl & boy, but I had a good 25 years on both of them so let´s not quibble.
Conversation was lively, both my companions had been in South America for 9 months respectively and had lots of tales to tell. I am soooo glad I am not naor´s mother. I would not have even one hair on my head that was not grey. Note to my daughters... don´t you dare! And how come these two seem to speak fluent spanish without classes? Hmmm. I object.
The drive up was another long winding one, usual narrow dirt roads with frightful drops off the side. We did travel through an incredible area of tropical farms in the lands bordering the near overflowing river, and an incredible area of wild orange Echinacea. I notice more mosquitoes here (actually in chacha in general... my feet are eaten alive after a session in the internet cafes), bigger and bolder than those in Tarapoto city. Maybe there is just not enough traffic to keep them away!
Note about local garbage attitudes. Everything goes out the window. Bottles, bags, leftovers. I experience a small shock each time I see it. How doe you change this kind of attitude?
The bus takes us touristy types to within a short stroll to the entrance of the ruins (ok.. uphill, and yes, huffing and puffing), and we follow our spanish speaking guide around for a couple of hours.
I took tonnes of photos. Many a failed attempt at capturing the huge flock of parrots flying between the trees. :)
Small details of note:
These ruins are called the Manchu Picchu of northern peru. They are extensive, and still in the process of being excavated. Originally Chachapoyan, there were Inca influences that followed.
The city walls were unbreachable... a tall cloak with single file entranceways that allowed the destruction of any forces trying to enter. Great system... liken to the Chan Chan ruin in Trujillo.
No bathroom facilities in the buildings. Apparently most of their time was spent out in the fields and...
All the water for this large mountaintop fortress either came out of the sky during the rainy season, or got carried up the slopes in earthen jugs from the river far, far below. This is how the Inca conquered the place... cut off the water supply.
And back to the taxi for our homeward bound journey. One note here one passing practices on single laned curvy laneways. It is frightening. In all the crazy driving situations I have found myself in here, I have not until this day experienced real fear. On two occasions we were taking hairpin curves and encountered traffic. Very fast stop, and then our driver BACKS UP to make room for the other vehicles. We are on the outside hairpin edge of said single lane roads. And then we are backing up... um, there is no shoulder! I couldn`t see how he knew when to say when, but obviously I am still alive. Freaked, but alive.
In a small display of irony (given recent brush with death) we pass a funeral procession on the outskirts of one of the small clusters of homes that form a town. It looked like the whole town was there as the impeccably shiny, ornate white coffin was carried uphill towards whatever final resting place it faced. Black skirts, shawls, ponchos, sad faces, flowers being carried, music being played, prayers being recited and rosaries being clutched. This was what I caught in a first glance... I didn´t feel comfortable gawking and looked down until they passed. Knowing the poverty these farmers face I wonder how the coffin is afforded, then wonder if it is communal and somehow reused when required... I couldn`t find a tactful way to ask the guide... so this inquiring mind will still have to wonder.
Back to town in time for an absolutely fabulous sunset. Vivid blue with the sun reflecting off the clouds, turning the blue to robins egg and the clouds to gold. Then, as if someone turned off the light switch, it was gone. Back to a normal evening sky. Mesmerizing.
Met up with my two tour companions for a good veggie dinner, and then we all strolled. It is so much more comfortable wandering the streets after dark with company. Less intimidating. So we meandered. Had my first taste of a local pastry treat, liken to two shortbread cookies stuck together with a kind of caramel paste.
Yum.
We found ourselves having a nice evening conversation with a man named Jorje (George), and we wandered into a local watering hole and gave some of the local liqueurs, settled on a fruity brew and sat and chatted for a an hour or so. Friendly.
Still 2 days behind. Typing furiously here....
:)
As is common practice in Peru, the tour companies consolidate their passengers, so after the initial confusion we were a group of 12 or so. No I didn´t count. Two vehicles, and I lucked out in a cab with two other english speaking guidees. A lovely girl from Wisconsin and a very nice boy from Israel. OK, not girl & boy, but I had a good 25 years on both of them so let´s not quibble.
Conversation was lively, both my companions had been in South America for 9 months respectively and had lots of tales to tell. I am soooo glad I am not naor´s mother. I would not have even one hair on my head that was not grey. Note to my daughters... don´t you dare! And how come these two seem to speak fluent spanish without classes? Hmmm. I object.
The drive up was another long winding one, usual narrow dirt roads with frightful drops off the side. We did travel through an incredible area of tropical farms in the lands bordering the near overflowing river, and an incredible area of wild orange Echinacea. I notice more mosquitoes here (actually in chacha in general... my feet are eaten alive after a session in the internet cafes), bigger and bolder than those in Tarapoto city. Maybe there is just not enough traffic to keep them away!
Note about local garbage attitudes. Everything goes out the window. Bottles, bags, leftovers. I experience a small shock each time I see it. How doe you change this kind of attitude?
The bus takes us touristy types to within a short stroll to the entrance of the ruins (ok.. uphill, and yes, huffing and puffing), and we follow our spanish speaking guide around for a couple of hours.
I took tonnes of photos. Many a failed attempt at capturing the huge flock of parrots flying between the trees. :)
Small details of note:
These ruins are called the Manchu Picchu of northern peru. They are extensive, and still in the process of being excavated. Originally Chachapoyan, there were Inca influences that followed.
The city walls were unbreachable... a tall cloak with single file entranceways that allowed the destruction of any forces trying to enter. Great system... liken to the Chan Chan ruin in Trujillo.
No bathroom facilities in the buildings. Apparently most of their time was spent out in the fields and...
All the water for this large mountaintop fortress either came out of the sky during the rainy season, or got carried up the slopes in earthen jugs from the river far, far below. This is how the Inca conquered the place... cut off the water supply.
And back to the taxi for our homeward bound journey. One note here one passing practices on single laned curvy laneways. It is frightening. In all the crazy driving situations I have found myself in here, I have not until this day experienced real fear. On two occasions we were taking hairpin curves and encountered traffic. Very fast stop, and then our driver BACKS UP to make room for the other vehicles. We are on the outside hairpin edge of said single lane roads. And then we are backing up... um, there is no shoulder! I couldn`t see how he knew when to say when, but obviously I am still alive. Freaked, but alive.
In a small display of irony (given recent brush with death) we pass a funeral procession on the outskirts of one of the small clusters of homes that form a town. It looked like the whole town was there as the impeccably shiny, ornate white coffin was carried uphill towards whatever final resting place it faced. Black skirts, shawls, ponchos, sad faces, flowers being carried, music being played, prayers being recited and rosaries being clutched. This was what I caught in a first glance... I didn´t feel comfortable gawking and looked down until they passed. Knowing the poverty these farmers face I wonder how the coffin is afforded, then wonder if it is communal and somehow reused when required... I couldn`t find a tactful way to ask the guide... so this inquiring mind will still have to wonder.
Back to town in time for an absolutely fabulous sunset. Vivid blue with the sun reflecting off the clouds, turning the blue to robins egg and the clouds to gold. Then, as if someone turned off the light switch, it was gone. Back to a normal evening sky. Mesmerizing.
Met up with my two tour companions for a good veggie dinner, and then we all strolled. It is so much more comfortable wandering the streets after dark with company. Less intimidating. So we meandered. Had my first taste of a local pastry treat, liken to two shortbread cookies stuck together with a kind of caramel paste.
Yum.
We found ourselves having a nice evening conversation with a man named Jorje (George), and we wandered into a local watering hole and gave some of the local liqueurs, settled on a fruity brew and sat and chatted for a an hour or so. Friendly.
Still 2 days behind. Typing furiously here....
:)
3 days behind
I will post the days separately, because otherwise your eyes are going to cross trying to take it all in...
As planned, Sunday was a quiet day spent mostly walking circles around the same few blocks ringing the main plaza.
Breakfast was a novel experience... A local brew of quinoa, soy and macca, with the consistency of thin pablum and served in a very large mug. Add a bit of sugar and it was quite tasty. Different. Not sure I´ll repeat the process.
I nipped into the main market, which was a riot of colours, sounds and people. I wanted to take pictures, but felt uncomfortable doing so... there are locals that are very reluctant to have their photos taken.
My lack of spanish is a real hindrance here. Will have to try and do something about my memory, which barely works in english these days, yet alone español.
Spent a lovely evening at the plaza. Keeping to tradition in design, the area is very manicured, with pathways radiating from a central circular focus... this time a very large and beautiful fountain. Their are large palms illuminated with spotlights, trim hedges surrounding grassy bits, and a selection of trees. This pattern is repeated to greater and lesser effect in every town and city in Peru. People mingled in the evening air, which was cool, but not overly so. The trekkers poured out of the various minivans and combis at the end of their very long days.
Having just been informed that this internet cafe is closing (?), I think I´ll just end the 21st here, and move along to post for the 22nd.
:)
As planned, Sunday was a quiet day spent mostly walking circles around the same few blocks ringing the main plaza.
Breakfast was a novel experience... A local brew of quinoa, soy and macca, with the consistency of thin pablum and served in a very large mug. Add a bit of sugar and it was quite tasty. Different. Not sure I´ll repeat the process.
I nipped into the main market, which was a riot of colours, sounds and people. I wanted to take pictures, but felt uncomfortable doing so... there are locals that are very reluctant to have their photos taken.
My lack of spanish is a real hindrance here. Will have to try and do something about my memory, which barely works in english these days, yet alone español.
Spent a lovely evening at the plaza. Keeping to tradition in design, the area is very manicured, with pathways radiating from a central circular focus... this time a very large and beautiful fountain. Their are large palms illuminated with spotlights, trim hedges surrounding grassy bits, and a selection of trees. This pattern is repeated to greater and lesser effect in every town and city in Peru. People mingled in the evening air, which was cool, but not overly so. The trekkers poured out of the various minivans and combis at the end of their very long days.
Having just been informed that this internet cafe is closing (?), I think I´ll just end the 21st here, and move along to post for the 22nd.
:)
Saturday 20 February 2010
Chachapoyas and Levanto
Just a wee reminder that the spellcheck here is spanish... and therefor of little effect... so picky spellers beware!
Chachapoyas, also known as the city of the clouds. The chachapoyan people known as the people of the clouds. This area of Peru is part of the "eyebrow of the jungle", sits as the easternmost part of the Peruvian Andes, and is some of the most fertile land in the world. It sits in a unique microclimate, which keeps the area temperate and moist.
And green.. think irish moss on steroids. That incredible Andean green. Once covered with a dense rainforest, the mountains and valleys are now blanketed with a patchwork quilt of farm fields, interspersed with small areas of rainforest. Chachapoyas was first settled over a thousand years ago, but most ruins are from either the Chachapoyan culture, or the Incan empire that briefly conquered it.
The sleepy little town of Levanto was once a powerful central figure in those civilizations, and vast fortified mountaintop cities sat on mountaintops to the N.S.E. & W., Kuelep being the most recognized and excavated. This provided a clear line of sight for communication. There are ancient inca trails between Levanto & each of the cities, all still in use.
I thought I`d start my explorations out small with a visit to Levanto and a long walk back to the city. Lonely planet says "an easy 4 hour walk over ancient inca trails". That was the plan, but then a couple of girls from Lima joined the group and, well, the rest is history, so to speak.
The expanded tour now included a visit to Yalep, a stop in Levanto and that stroll back to town. Yaelep is one of the unexcavated hilltop cities, this one sitting above Levanto. I have photos. This was no hill. And that "easy 4 hour walk"? Ha. Five plus hours, most of which was downhill, even though Levanto sits only a little bit higher than Chacha. See there is this wee valley between the two...
So off we go, taking a collectivo up to the starting point for the walk up to the ruins. Once again I find myself breathing in oxygen thin Andean air. Stop and go, let the heart slow and breath return. Up we go through a recently ploughed farmers field and into the bush. Ignore the spiders scurrying across my boots. And the adventure begins...
We follow a threading pathway.
Just how generic is that? Let´s be specific. Pathway:
Through thigh high bright green grasses
Over elevated rickety fence
Over airborne jungle vegetation, nothing solid below.
Deep with twigs.
Through thorn ridden, vegetation tunnels
Along skinny ledges sided with deep drops
Pebbled with stone relics of ancient trail
Still ignoring the spiders scurrying past and over my feet.
We reach the first of 3 glimpses of the ruins and there they sit, unmoved for centuries. The overgrowth is substantial, and my first thought is that it must be murder to try and "uncover" these ruins, never mind find actually finding them in the first place.
There are interesting and mostly rounded rock walls, different from the huge, meticulously carved, squared and zig-zagged stone walls in Cusco. Kuelep is visible on the mountaintop across the river.
After a short break we head back down said pathway, and then followed the road into Levanto. Not a long walk, but pleasant. I was accompanied by our Guide´s son, Daniel, who kept me entertained. There were vistas, flowers, blackberries, cows, horses, dogs. We arrived at the main square, which was quite pretty, just as the sun came out full force and it got very hot, very quickly. There was a woman (slightly unbalanced by the way she was shouting out at nothing) tending gardens dedicated to flowers.
Sitting to the side was a lovely old couple, no doubt as they had many a time over the years. After a rather awkward request I was granted a photo. It speaks volumes.
A lovely church, closed, and an interesting hostal constructed in the round chachapoyan shape and covered by tall, thick, coned thatch roofing. Shame that was closed too, because I had to pee. Now this is not normally of great concern except when I asked to use a bathroom elsewhere I was shown into a plastic cloaked area with three small round holes in the cement flooring. One of the holes was slightly larger and had a 4 inch raised lip around it. Not being terribly sure about which hole to use, and in fact how to make sure my aim was true, I thanked the family profusely and made a hasty exit. So, no pee relief for me.
Now off to the Inca trail back to Chachas.
This trail was, like the path up to the ruins, a varied affair. The initial entrance was the neat, squared, precise stone used to great effect during last years trek. But then things got interesting. Suck your boots in muddy, grassy, rocky, even stoneways, heaved stoneways, slippery shale, deep sand, fossil filled rocks, all of which were pocked with huge piles of animal crap. Nasty stuff at that.
There was an attempt at water control in the small canals that disected the path from time to time, seemingly an ancient concept because it was worked in to the intact sections of the stone path.
Our little group is rather ragtag and my progress is varied, sometimes keeping up, othertimes going ahead, stopping for pictures, for breath. Unfortunately no real place to stop and pee.
Catching my attention were the farms. Such fertility. There is planting in almost every nook and cranny and pretty much up to the mountain tops, where nothing much can grow. Amazing. There is the odd forested area, must not be farmable or grazable, although to my view this seems not possible here.
Passed what I think was an ox tethered to what was obviously some kind of rudimentary plough. We are talking little house on the prairie here.
Now how to adequately relate height? Snap a picture showing the bottom of the mountain/ valley, take a turn and realize that is only one bottom, take another turn... you get the idea. Repeat for 5 hours.
Coming down we are almost always with a walled surface of some sort on at least one side. Definitely no consistency here though, with textures being grainy, shalelike, sandy, clay, flowing rock, squared rockfalls, sideways strata, each influencing the path it lines. Each change in texture was accompanied by a change in colour... rock of white, red, pink, black, yellow, gray. White sand. Pink sand. Red clay.
Many of these walled passageways were flora covered, and of particular note were the orchids... tiny and delicate. There were many types of ferns, one really neat one that pointed straight down like fingers.
I am mesmerized by the clouds and mists moving across the mountains and valleys. The rains finally reach us and we don our ponchos. To the wandering group of horses we encountered on the path we must have looked strange indeed. Probably why they ran off in such a fright...
So we had our rain, which was fun. Weather meter... Sun, very hot. Cloud. cool. Rain. cool. Mist. cool. Cloudy seems best for trekking.
Smells... in turns fresh, floral, fetid, horsey, shitty, old.
Sounds... Cows, horses, squish of feet in mud. Birds, frogs, insects. Daneil making little boy noises. The crackle of twigs underfoot. The rustle of grass. The ferocious buzz of the flys on the poo paddies on the trail. Yucky icky greenish ick.
At one point we entered one of the small forested areas, complete with stream bed and ancient watering hole. Idyllic, except trying to cross said stream / mud puddle.
Made an incredible bird sighting, hummingbird with long tailfeathers ending with little pompoms. Apparently very rare. No pictures unfortunately.
Cool thatched roof housing, both round and square. Adobe farmhouses. A variety of gates, usually guarding small snaking pathways heading up...
Yucca in full bloom, with a flowering stalk that must be at least 15 ft. high. Wide swaths of naturalized pampas grass. Also found: a praying mantis, a stuck hummingbird, and a cool fruit not on my current tropical fruit list. Lots of butterflies.
When we finally reached the end of the trail, I had gained an appreciation (rather inadequate, I imagine) of the hardships endured living the land here, and therein the short life expectancy for the natives. Walking up and down these paths to town with their goods? I freely admit I´d starve to death.
All in all an anticipated fabulous day... but a tiring one, so again with my repetitious refrain, a very quiet day called for tomorrow. Writing no doubt. Wish I had taken a notebook up with me, but then this missive would have been longer. :)
But first... a trip to the bathroom for the long awaited pee.
Adios
PS. chicken and butterflies are still hard to photograph.
Chachapoyas, also known as the city of the clouds. The chachapoyan people known as the people of the clouds. This area of Peru is part of the "eyebrow of the jungle", sits as the easternmost part of the Peruvian Andes, and is some of the most fertile land in the world. It sits in a unique microclimate, which keeps the area temperate and moist.
And green.. think irish moss on steroids. That incredible Andean green. Once covered with a dense rainforest, the mountains and valleys are now blanketed with a patchwork quilt of farm fields, interspersed with small areas of rainforest. Chachapoyas was first settled over a thousand years ago, but most ruins are from either the Chachapoyan culture, or the Incan empire that briefly conquered it.
The sleepy little town of Levanto was once a powerful central figure in those civilizations, and vast fortified mountaintop cities sat on mountaintops to the N.S.E. & W., Kuelep being the most recognized and excavated. This provided a clear line of sight for communication. There are ancient inca trails between Levanto & each of the cities, all still in use.
I thought I`d start my explorations out small with a visit to Levanto and a long walk back to the city. Lonely planet says "an easy 4 hour walk over ancient inca trails". That was the plan, but then a couple of girls from Lima joined the group and, well, the rest is history, so to speak.
The expanded tour now included a visit to Yalep, a stop in Levanto and that stroll back to town. Yaelep is one of the unexcavated hilltop cities, this one sitting above Levanto. I have photos. This was no hill. And that "easy 4 hour walk"? Ha. Five plus hours, most of which was downhill, even though Levanto sits only a little bit higher than Chacha. See there is this wee valley between the two...
So off we go, taking a collectivo up to the starting point for the walk up to the ruins. Once again I find myself breathing in oxygen thin Andean air. Stop and go, let the heart slow and breath return. Up we go through a recently ploughed farmers field and into the bush. Ignore the spiders scurrying across my boots. And the adventure begins...
We follow a threading pathway.
Just how generic is that? Let´s be specific. Pathway:
Through thigh high bright green grasses
Over elevated rickety fence
Over airborne jungle vegetation, nothing solid below.
Deep with twigs.
Through thorn ridden, vegetation tunnels
Along skinny ledges sided with deep drops
Pebbled with stone relics of ancient trail
Still ignoring the spiders scurrying past and over my feet.
We reach the first of 3 glimpses of the ruins and there they sit, unmoved for centuries. The overgrowth is substantial, and my first thought is that it must be murder to try and "uncover" these ruins, never mind find actually finding them in the first place.
There are interesting and mostly rounded rock walls, different from the huge, meticulously carved, squared and zig-zagged stone walls in Cusco. Kuelep is visible on the mountaintop across the river.
After a short break we head back down said pathway, and then followed the road into Levanto. Not a long walk, but pleasant. I was accompanied by our Guide´s son, Daniel, who kept me entertained. There were vistas, flowers, blackberries, cows, horses, dogs. We arrived at the main square, which was quite pretty, just as the sun came out full force and it got very hot, very quickly. There was a woman (slightly unbalanced by the way she was shouting out at nothing) tending gardens dedicated to flowers.
Sitting to the side was a lovely old couple, no doubt as they had many a time over the years. After a rather awkward request I was granted a photo. It speaks volumes.
A lovely church, closed, and an interesting hostal constructed in the round chachapoyan shape and covered by tall, thick, coned thatch roofing. Shame that was closed too, because I had to pee. Now this is not normally of great concern except when I asked to use a bathroom elsewhere I was shown into a plastic cloaked area with three small round holes in the cement flooring. One of the holes was slightly larger and had a 4 inch raised lip around it. Not being terribly sure about which hole to use, and in fact how to make sure my aim was true, I thanked the family profusely and made a hasty exit. So, no pee relief for me.
Now off to the Inca trail back to Chachas.
This trail was, like the path up to the ruins, a varied affair. The initial entrance was the neat, squared, precise stone used to great effect during last years trek. But then things got interesting. Suck your boots in muddy, grassy, rocky, even stoneways, heaved stoneways, slippery shale, deep sand, fossil filled rocks, all of which were pocked with huge piles of animal crap. Nasty stuff at that.
There was an attempt at water control in the small canals that disected the path from time to time, seemingly an ancient concept because it was worked in to the intact sections of the stone path.
Our little group is rather ragtag and my progress is varied, sometimes keeping up, othertimes going ahead, stopping for pictures, for breath. Unfortunately no real place to stop and pee.
Catching my attention were the farms. Such fertility. There is planting in almost every nook and cranny and pretty much up to the mountain tops, where nothing much can grow. Amazing. There is the odd forested area, must not be farmable or grazable, although to my view this seems not possible here.
Passed what I think was an ox tethered to what was obviously some kind of rudimentary plough. We are talking little house on the prairie here.
Now how to adequately relate height? Snap a picture showing the bottom of the mountain/ valley, take a turn and realize that is only one bottom, take another turn... you get the idea. Repeat for 5 hours.
Coming down we are almost always with a walled surface of some sort on at least one side. Definitely no consistency here though, with textures being grainy, shalelike, sandy, clay, flowing rock, squared rockfalls, sideways strata, each influencing the path it lines. Each change in texture was accompanied by a change in colour... rock of white, red, pink, black, yellow, gray. White sand. Pink sand. Red clay.
Many of these walled passageways were flora covered, and of particular note were the orchids... tiny and delicate. There were many types of ferns, one really neat one that pointed straight down like fingers.
I am mesmerized by the clouds and mists moving across the mountains and valleys. The rains finally reach us and we don our ponchos. To the wandering group of horses we encountered on the path we must have looked strange indeed. Probably why they ran off in such a fright...
So we had our rain, which was fun. Weather meter... Sun, very hot. Cloud. cool. Rain. cool. Mist. cool. Cloudy seems best for trekking.
Smells... in turns fresh, floral, fetid, horsey, shitty, old.
Sounds... Cows, horses, squish of feet in mud. Birds, frogs, insects. Daneil making little boy noises. The crackle of twigs underfoot. The rustle of grass. The ferocious buzz of the flys on the poo paddies on the trail. Yucky icky greenish ick.
At one point we entered one of the small forested areas, complete with stream bed and ancient watering hole. Idyllic, except trying to cross said stream / mud puddle.
Made an incredible bird sighting, hummingbird with long tailfeathers ending with little pompoms. Apparently very rare. No pictures unfortunately.
Cool thatched roof housing, both round and square. Adobe farmhouses. A variety of gates, usually guarding small snaking pathways heading up...
Yucca in full bloom, with a flowering stalk that must be at least 15 ft. high. Wide swaths of naturalized pampas grass. Also found: a praying mantis, a stuck hummingbird, and a cool fruit not on my current tropical fruit list. Lots of butterflies.
When we finally reached the end of the trail, I had gained an appreciation (rather inadequate, I imagine) of the hardships endured living the land here, and therein the short life expectancy for the natives. Walking up and down these paths to town with their goods? I freely admit I´d starve to death.
All in all an anticipated fabulous day... but a tiring one, so again with my repetitious refrain, a very quiet day called for tomorrow. Writing no doubt. Wish I had taken a notebook up with me, but then this missive would have been longer. :)
But first... a trip to the bathroom for the long awaited pee.
Adios
PS. chicken and butterflies are still hard to photograph.
Friday 19 February 2010
Way up there, again.
Ah yes, altitude sickness... The headache, dizziness and nausea. Yay. And I am not even in ¨high¨peru... only at 2500 meters.
I am in Chachapoyas now, finally having booted myself out of the hammock. Took 9 hours by shared taxi, waiting times not included. Once I simply gave in and paid for an extra fare to get going. All in all it was a 12 hour journey. My drivers included Kamakazy Carlos, Suicidal Sandro and others, all who lived up to their assigned names. Excessive Eddy was in full idiotic mode as he sat a man, woman and baby in the front passenger seat for his leg of the journey.
Evidence of the rainy season abounds... with frequent large portions of roadway washed away. A long, windy road complete with overhanging cliffs, and mostly going up up up.
Up into the clouds.
Still, next time I am buying a motorcycle and taking my life into my own hands.
After my first little round of recon this morning, Chachas (as it is known locally) looks a nice enough little town. Traffic doesn´t seem crazy. Checked out some of the hostals this morning to try and find a good fit. Still looking. In the meantime I am staying at a very nice hotel, which is unfortunately cold like a tomb thanks to it´s 3 ft. thick walls. It has a pretty courtyard and might be worth the extra money for the huge room if not for the cold, but it will do until tomorrow.
And I will see how I am feeling tonight before committing to a tour tomorrow.
On my hit list are Kuelep, Gocta Falls and Grand Vilayan.
We´ll see. I have given myself a little more than a week...
Off to rest and stop the spinning.
Later.
PS. forgot about the cold... woolies it is.
I am in Chachapoyas now, finally having booted myself out of the hammock. Took 9 hours by shared taxi, waiting times not included. Once I simply gave in and paid for an extra fare to get going. All in all it was a 12 hour journey. My drivers included Kamakazy Carlos, Suicidal Sandro and others, all who lived up to their assigned names. Excessive Eddy was in full idiotic mode as he sat a man, woman and baby in the front passenger seat for his leg of the journey.
Evidence of the rainy season abounds... with frequent large portions of roadway washed away. A long, windy road complete with overhanging cliffs, and mostly going up up up.
Up into the clouds.
Still, next time I am buying a motorcycle and taking my life into my own hands.
After my first little round of recon this morning, Chachas (as it is known locally) looks a nice enough little town. Traffic doesn´t seem crazy. Checked out some of the hostals this morning to try and find a good fit. Still looking. In the meantime I am staying at a very nice hotel, which is unfortunately cold like a tomb thanks to it´s 3 ft. thick walls. It has a pretty courtyard and might be worth the extra money for the huge room if not for the cold, but it will do until tomorrow.
And I will see how I am feeling tonight before committing to a tour tomorrow.
On my hit list are Kuelep, Gocta Falls and Grand Vilayan.
We´ll see. I have given myself a little more than a week...
Off to rest and stop the spinning.
Later.
PS. forgot about the cold... woolies it is.
Wednesday 17 February 2010
Partying, elemental style
Still in Tarapoto. Still thinking about leaving for Chachapoyas. If only the opportunities for enjoyment would stop I might find it in me to actually go. Note to self: must buy hammock for home. And some latin music too. :)
Yesterday was a return drive to Lamas, and my back seat companion was a lovely, curious, very itchy little girl... mosquito bite city. She lives with her family deep in the jungle, is in town visiting with her parents, and came along for the ride. Taking the back way into town the road and driving conditions were perfect for making funny faces and doing exaggerated movements as we were flung back and forth, and side to side over the rough dirt roads. A real ice breaker. I picked up some more of the mindblowing chocolate and shared. I think that helped too.
We went through an extensive rice field area, and at one point we stopped so I could run over and grab a sample. How delighted my new little companion was, as she cradled it carefully in her lap for the rest of the journey home.
On this trip I also met a new friend, Millie, who talked about getting married and following the curves in the road of life to Norway in the summer. We fell into an ease of conversation (english, of course) that had a familiarity about it, and we continued today as I made my way to her home for an afternoon coffee.
No need to worry about losing weight on this trip. Between the bread for breakfast & dinner and the full 3 course vegetarian meal most lunches I believe I have actually packed on a few. Not enough trekking obviously.
The parrots have been cooperative, and I have been having great conversations with them. Not that they speak english or anything, but the interesting responses I get give the impression of understanding.
There are a trio of young canadian biologists staying at the Hostal right now. I can almost remember being that young and enthusiastic about a cause. They are looking at starting a little conservation area just outside Chachapoyas, and have been studying the flora and fauna for the past couple of months. Young. Tri-lingual. PHD's on the way. When I look at them I find hope that this globes problems might yet be solved by our children. We sure as hell don`t seem to be doing a bang-up job of it.
"Yesterday, when I was young"... one little tune I wish would find a home in someone elses head
I have been doused with water, and had my face dusted with flour, all in honour of festival... I wonder what the flour symbolizes?
And now I will subject you to some of the words that seemed compelled to come out of my mind and into my notebook about last evenings storm and festival celebrations...
First draft:
The faces of mischief, waterfights and water balloons. Swarms of youth gathering. Celebration is in the air. Dark grey clouds crowd in overhead, seeming eager to join the party readying to start.
The music comes with the dusk, on the wings of thick humid air. I welcome the bats out into the night, their strange winged flutter so delights me.
The rains join in; droplets, warm and heavy... one, two, hundreds, thousands, more.
The wind moves. Buffets. Warm, yet a cool refreshment after a heavy day.
The bats take refuge and I stand alone in the open garden, welcoming the dance of the storm. On the street, the crowd does the same. Arms raised to the sky in delight I am enchanted with the movement of the water... Soft. Determined. Relentless.
I am pushed from the deluge to observe from the relief of a banana palm, and find a symphony. With eyes closed to focus my hearing, I am serenaded by large droplets bouncing from the palm blades to the tune of the breeze, in contrast to the jumping chorus of heavy droplets dashed against the earth around my feet, and the whisper of smaller sprays bouncing off the leaves in neighboring trees.
Not to be outdone by water, the trees call out with their rustle. Curious, my eyes open to allow me to see the storm through their dance.
Rounded boughs, opening and closing as they strain to catch the breeze.
Straight fingered branches pointing and directing, doing the winds bidding.
Tall Ficus branches, nodded heads leaning in as if to share a secret.
Blue lightening arches the skies, bringing a wider focus. The shout of the storm on tin roofing, and overflow waterfalls reigning downwards onto the patterned concrete sidewalks. In the showers I wander the paths under the trees in the bird sanctuary, and I spare a thought to the parrots no doubt hunkered down against the elements. A storm mist accompanies me as I move under thatch roofing, which has a notable silence contrasting the elements whipping around it.
Faster now, wetter, the trees shouting their messages to me as I try to gain their meaning. Loudly the storm roars a directive and the wind pushes her encouragement as I move quickly from garden to street, where the bodies press tightly together in revelation.
Sheets of rain give their blessing to an overwhelming press of bodies rejoicing in the roadway. The heart stopping beat of the music commands the crowd, and Uva liquor makes its rounds up and down the street, elevating spirits and multiplying the intensity of the crowd.
Joy and exultation. Slick, wet bodies, sending water flying skyward as dancers gyrate. Arms raised in homage to the cleaving of elemental forces. Wind. Water. Sound. Spirit.
So much joy and energy... I am swept away into the one of the crowd. How can one not be?
Later, standing in the garden the sky rumbles more softly, as though clearing its throat after a long song, and the flashes in the night now seem more a backdrop spot, etching the horizon into a memory. The garden spirits are quieter now that the battle between earth, air and water has given way to the receipt of nourishment after a long, hot day.
How I do love a good storm, and this one has been outstanding. I am electrified, amplified, compelled to experience and record.
Above me she speaks again... she is not yet done with me.
Yesterday was a return drive to Lamas, and my back seat companion was a lovely, curious, very itchy little girl... mosquito bite city. She lives with her family deep in the jungle, is in town visiting with her parents, and came along for the ride. Taking the back way into town the road and driving conditions were perfect for making funny faces and doing exaggerated movements as we were flung back and forth, and side to side over the rough dirt roads. A real ice breaker. I picked up some more of the mindblowing chocolate and shared. I think that helped too.
We went through an extensive rice field area, and at one point we stopped so I could run over and grab a sample. How delighted my new little companion was, as she cradled it carefully in her lap for the rest of the journey home.
On this trip I also met a new friend, Millie, who talked about getting married and following the curves in the road of life to Norway in the summer. We fell into an ease of conversation (english, of course) that had a familiarity about it, and we continued today as I made my way to her home for an afternoon coffee.
No need to worry about losing weight on this trip. Between the bread for breakfast & dinner and the full 3 course vegetarian meal most lunches I believe I have actually packed on a few. Not enough trekking obviously.
The parrots have been cooperative, and I have been having great conversations with them. Not that they speak english or anything, but the interesting responses I get give the impression of understanding.
There are a trio of young canadian biologists staying at the Hostal right now. I can almost remember being that young and enthusiastic about a cause. They are looking at starting a little conservation area just outside Chachapoyas, and have been studying the flora and fauna for the past couple of months. Young. Tri-lingual. PHD's on the way. When I look at them I find hope that this globes problems might yet be solved by our children. We sure as hell don`t seem to be doing a bang-up job of it.
"Yesterday, when I was young"... one little tune I wish would find a home in someone elses head
I have been doused with water, and had my face dusted with flour, all in honour of festival... I wonder what the flour symbolizes?
And now I will subject you to some of the words that seemed compelled to come out of my mind and into my notebook about last evenings storm and festival celebrations...
First draft:
The faces of mischief, waterfights and water balloons. Swarms of youth gathering. Celebration is in the air. Dark grey clouds crowd in overhead, seeming eager to join the party readying to start.
The music comes with the dusk, on the wings of thick humid air. I welcome the bats out into the night, their strange winged flutter so delights me.
The rains join in; droplets, warm and heavy... one, two, hundreds, thousands, more.
The wind moves. Buffets. Warm, yet a cool refreshment after a heavy day.
The bats take refuge and I stand alone in the open garden, welcoming the dance of the storm. On the street, the crowd does the same. Arms raised to the sky in delight I am enchanted with the movement of the water... Soft. Determined. Relentless.
I am pushed from the deluge to observe from the relief of a banana palm, and find a symphony. With eyes closed to focus my hearing, I am serenaded by large droplets bouncing from the palm blades to the tune of the breeze, in contrast to the jumping chorus of heavy droplets dashed against the earth around my feet, and the whisper of smaller sprays bouncing off the leaves in neighboring trees.
Not to be outdone by water, the trees call out with their rustle. Curious, my eyes open to allow me to see the storm through their dance.
Rounded boughs, opening and closing as they strain to catch the breeze.
Straight fingered branches pointing and directing, doing the winds bidding.
Tall Ficus branches, nodded heads leaning in as if to share a secret.
Blue lightening arches the skies, bringing a wider focus. The shout of the storm on tin roofing, and overflow waterfalls reigning downwards onto the patterned concrete sidewalks. In the showers I wander the paths under the trees in the bird sanctuary, and I spare a thought to the parrots no doubt hunkered down against the elements. A storm mist accompanies me as I move under thatch roofing, which has a notable silence contrasting the elements whipping around it.
Faster now, wetter, the trees shouting their messages to me as I try to gain their meaning. Loudly the storm roars a directive and the wind pushes her encouragement as I move quickly from garden to street, where the bodies press tightly together in revelation.
Sheets of rain give their blessing to an overwhelming press of bodies rejoicing in the roadway. The heart stopping beat of the music commands the crowd, and Uva liquor makes its rounds up and down the street, elevating spirits and multiplying the intensity of the crowd.
Joy and exultation. Slick, wet bodies, sending water flying skyward as dancers gyrate. Arms raised in homage to the cleaving of elemental forces. Wind. Water. Sound. Spirit.
So much joy and energy... I am swept away into the one of the crowd. How can one not be?
Later, standing in the garden the sky rumbles more softly, as though clearing its throat after a long song, and the flashes in the night now seem more a backdrop spot, etching the horizon into a memory. The garden spirits are quieter now that the battle between earth, air and water has given way to the receipt of nourishment after a long, hot day.
How I do love a good storm, and this one has been outstanding. I am electrified, amplified, compelled to experience and record.
Above me she speaks again... she is not yet done with me.
Sunday 14 February 2010
Bruises not required
I was rather taken aback at the size of the bruise on my hip that decided to come to the surface overnight. I do remember feeling that one when I hit the rocks though, so I guess I shouldn´t be so surprised. On the very plus side, I can once again go up and down stairs without wincing.
This morning was military parade day, which proceeded with much pomp, ceremony and band playing. Many different branches of the military and police, all looking perfect... albeit very warm resplendent in full uniform under the hot mid morning sun.
Today is Sunday, and a holiday, and valentines day... so the streets are particularly empty. No putting my life in jeopardy trying to cross the streets etc. No honking. No roaring of motorbikes. Quite different.
This afternoon was live entertainment at the Hostal in honour of the holiday / valantines day. They were very good, so I spent a good couple of hours swinging to a latin beat in my favorite hammock, enjoying, writing, and searching the dictionary for the occasional spanish word that caught my attention in song.
Then came a late afternoon stroll along the river, (going against the crowd of locals all heading home after spending the day at the river) which turned into a fun hour making my way upriver over the rocks and... not getting my feet wet at all. Of course I was wearing my sandals so it didn´t really matter, just wanted to prove to myself I could.
Down to use a payphone to make a couple of calls, and then on impulse I decided on eating out and ended up eating a lovely meal with an interesting couple of people living in Iquitos, and visiting in Tarapoto for a couple of days. He is a computer software / program developer and she is a drug and rehab counsellor. Both have been in Peru fairly long term and are loving it. Had a great meal and good conversation. Nice.
I made another Peruvian Hairless Dog citing today. Very exciting. Love these dogs.
Really, could this blog get much more mundane? I could bore you with some of my writings, but alas they are in a book in my room. You have dodged a bullet.
I will have to pick myself up and DO something again. Just no more falling. Enough with the black and blue, and yellow and green...
Buenos.
:)
This morning was military parade day, which proceeded with much pomp, ceremony and band playing. Many different branches of the military and police, all looking perfect... albeit very warm resplendent in full uniform under the hot mid morning sun.
Today is Sunday, and a holiday, and valentines day... so the streets are particularly empty. No putting my life in jeopardy trying to cross the streets etc. No honking. No roaring of motorbikes. Quite different.
This afternoon was live entertainment at the Hostal in honour of the holiday / valantines day. They were very good, so I spent a good couple of hours swinging to a latin beat in my favorite hammock, enjoying, writing, and searching the dictionary for the occasional spanish word that caught my attention in song.
Then came a late afternoon stroll along the river, (going against the crowd of locals all heading home after spending the day at the river) which turned into a fun hour making my way upriver over the rocks and... not getting my feet wet at all. Of course I was wearing my sandals so it didn´t really matter, just wanted to prove to myself I could.
Down to use a payphone to make a couple of calls, and then on impulse I decided on eating out and ended up eating a lovely meal with an interesting couple of people living in Iquitos, and visiting in Tarapoto for a couple of days. He is a computer software / program developer and she is a drug and rehab counsellor. Both have been in Peru fairly long term and are loving it. Had a great meal and good conversation. Nice.
I made another Peruvian Hairless Dog citing today. Very exciting. Love these dogs.
Really, could this blog get much more mundane? I could bore you with some of my writings, but alas they are in a book in my room. You have dodged a bullet.
I will have to pick myself up and DO something again. Just no more falling. Enough with the black and blue, and yellow and green...
Buenos.
:)
Saturday 13 February 2010
Jungle Rot has a hangover
Let`s look back on my crazy busy day...
Spent a half hour rubbing a very large dogs`tummy.
Spent about an hour trying to talk a parrot down from a tree... successful, BTW
Went to the drugstore & bought 2 bottles of rubbing alcohol. Picked up water, fruit & bread while I was out. (lunch / dinner)
Tried my hand at translating a dinner menu... not so successful.
Tried to rid my boots of the jungle stench by soaking them in the above mentioned alcohol. Not so successful. After drying out / evaporating in the sun all afternoon they now smell like Jungle Rot that barfed up on itself after a heavy night of drinking very bad booze. (How many different ways do you think I could torture & maim the waterfall guide?)
So I need to find a new pair of boots, and I think hiking the cordillera blanca is probably out of the question.
Fill in the remaining gaps of the day with hammock swinging, and we come to an evening that promises to be very loud... They are getting ready to crown a new Miss Carnival on a stage that has been put up on the street just outside my Hostal. The sound check this afternoon was even louder than last nights festivities, though I thought that not possible.
I believe tomorrow is a return to the town of Lamas for more festivities.
Or not.
Whatever.
PS... the photo above is from one of my not so lazy days... crossing rivers with wet boots.
:)
Friday 12 February 2010
Oh, for a fast internet connection...
Today was definitely a pay the piper kind of day... It is enough to say the dirty river water has done it´s job. Also, the various bumps and bruises I obtained on the way to the waterfalls the other day have all come to the surface now, and so I have various black and blue areas too. Add in tired & achey and I was happy for a non-eventful day.I did manage to buy my shampoo etc., and as you see I was able to get my photos uploaded... now if I just could find a) cat litter or b) grape seed extract I could work on my stinky boots... But unless I hear something different by tomorrow I think it is going to be diluted rubbing alcohol.
I believe I previously mentioned that the motorcycle is very popular here, however it never occurred to me that there may be a climatic downside to said vehicle. However I noticed yesterday one enterprising woman who was renting 2x3 ft. pieces of cardboard, folded lengthwise, for people to put over the seats of said parked vehicles. I suppose it is not much fun hopping back on your bike after it has been baking in the tropical sunshine for an hour or two. Looked to me like she was "working her block". Enterprising, enterprising people.
The February Carnival / Festival started in earnest, with a parade through the centre of town, ending with a street party in front of the Centre for Culture & History, which happens to be next to the hostal where I am staying. Music and speech in volumes I have not heard since I last attended Carribana in Toronto. I watched for a while, but then the need for a siesta became paramount. Yes, I can sleep through almost anything. A very handy skill, actually.
Bobbing heads from the Laguna Azul
And another bloom for LeonaThe frustration factor in trying to post photos from an internet cafe here is high. The connections are unbelievably slow... It is now about an hour and a half for this post.
Think I will take a slow evening stroll now that it has cooled down.
Buenos.
Thursday 11 February 2010
River rafting :)
So this was day three in the company of Wilson and Christine from Lima. Very friendly couple that have hiked, lagooned, translated, and now rafted with me.
Many thanks, and I hope you have a safe trip home.
So you ask, Rafting? Si! We three joined another adventurous few and headed to the local river, the Mayo, (tributary of the Huallaga) for some hot under the sun, swift current, and silty, pink water, fabulous fun. Way fun.
After donning life jackets & safety helmets, and some very basic instructions (in spanish) we took requisite photos. I donned my helmet over my ugly, but very serviceable, sun hat. Entertainment, yes, but hours in the open tropical sun without said hat? I think not. We then took our places in the extremely small looking "8person" raft. (I am thinking 6 max, but what do I know?)
I got to sit in the front for our first run, and was soaked by waves of pink frothy water coming straight for us each time we hit rapids. Up. Down. Squealingly delightful Up. Laugh out loud Down. Swallow unintentional gulpfuls of water fun. (There go all my water precautions!)
I managed to stay on board until we hit a placid patch, then handed over my camara sack and did a classic scuba water entry, clothes et al. Coming up I noticed that the raft and I were swiftly parting company, however a good hard swim back had me just riding along in the water. I was not the only person in the river, in case you think I lost my mind and jumped ship without an OK. Warm wonderful water, and having the current course around me was a very new and neat experience. Not pool calm. Not ocean waves. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
My re-entry into the raft was rather a floppy fish affair, what being hauled up by the life vest and all, but laugh out loud fun, and again the entertainment factor.
When done I asked the guide how long it would take to raft the rest of the way to the big river... 5 hours apparently. I would have been game. I think I have discovered my new favorite sport. Well, in warm water anyway.
Saw more road construction work on our way to the drop off point. They were in the process of either widening or re-constructing the road, and using square wire cages filled with rocks, stacked for retaining purposes. The undersurface was then ploughed in before being paved. Very new and interesting method to view. Took photos.
Also passed a portion of road that was caving in because the river bank below it had washed away with this years rains. More work for the road crews.
Upon return to the hostal I sent up a quick thanks to whoever thought up "travel clothes", as I was washing my morning ensemble, knowing it would be dry by supper. These things are better than bathing suits. Which I didn´t bring... I would rather speak in front of a packed conference room than try on bathing suits, and I know many friends that feel the same. And when you figure that in general people fear public speaking more than death, well... you do the math (so to speak).
Saw my friendly lizard type room companion again last night, which made me think about my insecticide permeated mosquito netting hanging next to the wall by the headboard, which in turn had me re-arranging said net so my little buddy had safe passage all around the room. The guilt would probably be my undoing.
Missed telling you yesterday about the army recruits being "water trained" in the Laguna Azul. We could hear them shouting out the standard responses to their commander over the water, and during our little cruise we passed fairly close to them. Fifty or so bobbing bald heads in the water. You have to appreciate the visual. I took photos. Happily nobody came to confiscate my recording of this secret military procedure. :)
Also failed to mention how my little lake spray excursion took me back for a quick trip down memory lane. Boatrides with my father & grandfather, on the lake at the cottage with my Aunt & family, in the Carribean and on the Red Sea. Every once and a while something triggers this slightly trance like state that has my mind following its own path. Nothing freaky, just new.
Dinner was a cabbage & carrot salad with fresh local raisins in a lime dressing. (again, the difference in the taste of the raisins is just unreal) This was followed by Tofu stew and rice, with a side of garbanzo beans and spinach. The food at this little place never ceases to delight. No wonder I don´t want to leave town. Which I will most likely do in the next couple of days. Kuelep and Gocta Falls are calling.
However after 3 full days, I know tomorrow had best be a quiet one. (Shaking my fist at the hands of fate etc.) Slow me down yes, stop me no. Maybe I´ll solve the photo shortage problem, and get some new conditioner for my hair. Berts Bees just doesn´t hold up in this sun.
Oh, and if some can please answer my question about how to salvage my boots???
:)
Many thanks, and I hope you have a safe trip home.
So you ask, Rafting? Si! We three joined another adventurous few and headed to the local river, the Mayo, (tributary of the Huallaga) for some hot under the sun, swift current, and silty, pink water, fabulous fun. Way fun.
After donning life jackets & safety helmets, and some very basic instructions (in spanish) we took requisite photos. I donned my helmet over my ugly, but very serviceable, sun hat. Entertainment, yes, but hours in the open tropical sun without said hat? I think not. We then took our places in the extremely small looking "8person" raft. (I am thinking 6 max, but what do I know?)
I got to sit in the front for our first run, and was soaked by waves of pink frothy water coming straight for us each time we hit rapids. Up. Down. Squealingly delightful Up. Laugh out loud Down. Swallow unintentional gulpfuls of water fun. (There go all my water precautions!)
I managed to stay on board until we hit a placid patch, then handed over my camara sack and did a classic scuba water entry, clothes et al. Coming up I noticed that the raft and I were swiftly parting company, however a good hard swim back had me just riding along in the water. I was not the only person in the river, in case you think I lost my mind and jumped ship without an OK. Warm wonderful water, and having the current course around me was a very new and neat experience. Not pool calm. Not ocean waves. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
My re-entry into the raft was rather a floppy fish affair, what being hauled up by the life vest and all, but laugh out loud fun, and again the entertainment factor.
When done I asked the guide how long it would take to raft the rest of the way to the big river... 5 hours apparently. I would have been game. I think I have discovered my new favorite sport. Well, in warm water anyway.
Saw more road construction work on our way to the drop off point. They were in the process of either widening or re-constructing the road, and using square wire cages filled with rocks, stacked for retaining purposes. The undersurface was then ploughed in before being paved. Very new and interesting method to view. Took photos.
Also passed a portion of road that was caving in because the river bank below it had washed away with this years rains. More work for the road crews.
Upon return to the hostal I sent up a quick thanks to whoever thought up "travel clothes", as I was washing my morning ensemble, knowing it would be dry by supper. These things are better than bathing suits. Which I didn´t bring... I would rather speak in front of a packed conference room than try on bathing suits, and I know many friends that feel the same. And when you figure that in general people fear public speaking more than death, well... you do the math (so to speak).
Saw my friendly lizard type room companion again last night, which made me think about my insecticide permeated mosquito netting hanging next to the wall by the headboard, which in turn had me re-arranging said net so my little buddy had safe passage all around the room. The guilt would probably be my undoing.
Missed telling you yesterday about the army recruits being "water trained" in the Laguna Azul. We could hear them shouting out the standard responses to their commander over the water, and during our little cruise we passed fairly close to them. Fifty or so bobbing bald heads in the water. You have to appreciate the visual. I took photos. Happily nobody came to confiscate my recording of this secret military procedure. :)
Also failed to mention how my little lake spray excursion took me back for a quick trip down memory lane. Boatrides with my father & grandfather, on the lake at the cottage with my Aunt & family, in the Carribean and on the Red Sea. Every once and a while something triggers this slightly trance like state that has my mind following its own path. Nothing freaky, just new.
Dinner was a cabbage & carrot salad with fresh local raisins in a lime dressing. (again, the difference in the taste of the raisins is just unreal) This was followed by Tofu stew and rice, with a side of garbanzo beans and spinach. The food at this little place never ceases to delight. No wonder I don´t want to leave town. Which I will most likely do in the next couple of days. Kuelep and Gocta Falls are calling.
However after 3 full days, I know tomorrow had best be a quiet one. (Shaking my fist at the hands of fate etc.) Slow me down yes, stop me no. Maybe I´ll solve the photo shortage problem, and get some new conditioner for my hair. Berts Bees just doesn´t hold up in this sun.
Oh, and if some can please answer my question about how to salvage my boots???
:)
Have question... PLEASE ANSWER
OK, so if you have been following my blog you will know about my hiking boot fiasco.
My question is: How can I rid my boots of jungle rot stench. They are now pretty much dry (2 days of tropical sun exposure), but really can´t get near them they stink so.
What can I do? I am thinking of pouring vodka into them and lettin it sit for 10 minutes or so, and then letting dry. Not sure if this will not just make them fall apart though.
Suggestions / answers can be posted as comments, or email me.
thx.
L.
My question is: How can I rid my boots of jungle rot stench. They are now pretty much dry (2 days of tropical sun exposure), but really can´t get near them they stink so.
What can I do? I am thinking of pouring vodka into them and lettin it sit for 10 minutes or so, and then letting dry. Not sure if this will not just make them fall apart though.
Suggestions / answers can be posted as comments, or email me.
thx.
L.
Wednesday 10 February 2010
Mountain roads and river crossings
So I will bore you all with the ins and outs of another day spent experentially.
Purpose of trip: Visit the Laguna Azul (blue lagoon)
The road was breathtaking, both for the vistas and the actual scary road conditions. Rutted, rocky, narrow, snaking, rockslide prone and oh, so close to the edge of deep drops. Happily the vehicle had 4 wheel drive... which was needed when we started skidding oh, so close on the hairpin turns. And he even slowed down for those ones.
On this wild and wacky journey up and down the mountains on both riversides we passed several road work crews, mostly clearing recent rockfalls, but there was a gent weedwacking at the side of the road (I personally couldn´t see any weeds coming up through the debris), and yet another handwashing the guardrails. Not a common sight at home.
We needed to cross the Huallaga River in order to reach Sauce (sausay), launching point for our little jaunt around the Lake. Now I have previously mentioned the flooding that has happened up river in the Tingo Maria area... massive, never before in memory kind of flooding. So the river has been running high and hard. Evidence of this could be seen in the sediment on the leaves of the trees along the river, and the still flooded lower farmlands at the ferry sight.
Which was actually our second choice ferry, we had to abandon our first crossing point because the landing was still underwater. Well, and a whole lot of red slippery ick.
I digress.
The river was running so fast, with many uprooted banana trees heading downstream. The ferry is a 2 vehicle barge type watercraft, attached by cables to a much larger cable suspended between shores... no small feat considering the distances involved. If you cut the top bit off the Lions Gate and plunked them on either side of the river you would get a good representation.
The cables are needed because there is no way a small craft could cross against that current. No. Way. About 50ft. from shore the river simply took the boat, and the ride continued almost sideways along the cable to the other side. Then came the fun of the vehicles trying to exit the barge upward onto / into very deep muddy riverbank. I have pictures. Much pushing by many strong backs involved. Will try again tomorrow to see if I can access them.
The lake was lovely, not so blue this time of year with all the sediment brought in from the rains, but very warm. A swimming opportunity was presented. Didn´t want to ride home in wet shorts, so a-wading I did go. Bought some trinkets for my girls, and had a nice lunch. Enjoyed seeing a nice variety of tropical birds along the lakeshore. Then back accross the mountains and river. Road conditions had not changed drastically in the few hours we were playing by the water, but the river was actually running faster with the second crossing. Must have rained again up river.
This river, after collecting water from many rivers along it´s lengthy journey, is actually a major tributary to the River Marañon, which in turn empties out into the Amazon river, as one of its tributaries. Geography lesson complete.
Other tidbits from the day:
Full on tropical sun day. Hot, hot, hot.
Change in feel of the climate over the mountains... moist to dry & back.
The area is almost completely cleared, but not planted. What a waste.
There is some evidence of cattle grazing, but a lot of the land is just "there".
Saw my first pig.
Found the city Garbage Dump. (not that it was actually "lost")
There were lone "large trees" dotting the horizons. Sad.
Fields of large white boulders, most covered with black lichen. Otherworldly.
Local intercity buses, standing only in the back of a truck... cost about $1.
Fact: Cows and horses will wander through open gaps in fencing, and onto roads.
Puete is spanish for bridge.
I will leave you with an astonishing image I viewed as we came from the river. As we crested the mountain enroute back to Tarapoto, I counted no fewer than 12 mountain ridges in front of me. Stared out green, but fading into sequentially rising, blue-grey paint brush strokes. It was spectacular. It was the mountains that I viewed coming into the city by air, those that looked as if very large hands had swiped deep into the ground.
A picture couldn´t do it justice.
Another red letter day, and a very tired Buenos Noches.
Purpose of trip: Visit the Laguna Azul (blue lagoon)
The road was breathtaking, both for the vistas and the actual scary road conditions. Rutted, rocky, narrow, snaking, rockslide prone and oh, so close to the edge of deep drops. Happily the vehicle had 4 wheel drive... which was needed when we started skidding oh, so close on the hairpin turns. And he even slowed down for those ones.
On this wild and wacky journey up and down the mountains on both riversides we passed several road work crews, mostly clearing recent rockfalls, but there was a gent weedwacking at the side of the road (I personally couldn´t see any weeds coming up through the debris), and yet another handwashing the guardrails. Not a common sight at home.
We needed to cross the Huallaga River in order to reach Sauce (sausay), launching point for our little jaunt around the Lake. Now I have previously mentioned the flooding that has happened up river in the Tingo Maria area... massive, never before in memory kind of flooding. So the river has been running high and hard. Evidence of this could be seen in the sediment on the leaves of the trees along the river, and the still flooded lower farmlands at the ferry sight.
Which was actually our second choice ferry, we had to abandon our first crossing point because the landing was still underwater. Well, and a whole lot of red slippery ick.
I digress.
The river was running so fast, with many uprooted banana trees heading downstream. The ferry is a 2 vehicle barge type watercraft, attached by cables to a much larger cable suspended between shores... no small feat considering the distances involved. If you cut the top bit off the Lions Gate and plunked them on either side of the river you would get a good representation.
The cables are needed because there is no way a small craft could cross against that current. No. Way. About 50ft. from shore the river simply took the boat, and the ride continued almost sideways along the cable to the other side. Then came the fun of the vehicles trying to exit the barge upward onto / into very deep muddy riverbank. I have pictures. Much pushing by many strong backs involved. Will try again tomorrow to see if I can access them.
The lake was lovely, not so blue this time of year with all the sediment brought in from the rains, but very warm. A swimming opportunity was presented. Didn´t want to ride home in wet shorts, so a-wading I did go. Bought some trinkets for my girls, and had a nice lunch. Enjoyed seeing a nice variety of tropical birds along the lakeshore. Then back accross the mountains and river. Road conditions had not changed drastically in the few hours we were playing by the water, but the river was actually running faster with the second crossing. Must have rained again up river.
This river, after collecting water from many rivers along it´s lengthy journey, is actually a major tributary to the River Marañon, which in turn empties out into the Amazon river, as one of its tributaries. Geography lesson complete.
Other tidbits from the day:
Full on tropical sun day. Hot, hot, hot.
Change in feel of the climate over the mountains... moist to dry & back.
The area is almost completely cleared, but not planted. What a waste.
There is some evidence of cattle grazing, but a lot of the land is just "there".
Saw my first pig.
Found the city Garbage Dump. (not that it was actually "lost")
There were lone "large trees" dotting the horizons. Sad.
Fields of large white boulders, most covered with black lichen. Otherworldly.
Local intercity buses, standing only in the back of a truck... cost about $1.
Fact: Cows and horses will wander through open gaps in fencing, and onto roads.
Puete is spanish for bridge.
I will leave you with an astonishing image I viewed as we came from the river. As we crested the mountain enroute back to Tarapoto, I counted no fewer than 12 mountain ridges in front of me. Stared out green, but fading into sequentially rising, blue-grey paint brush strokes. It was spectacular. It was the mountains that I viewed coming into the city by air, those that looked as if very large hands had swiped deep into the ground.
A picture couldn´t do it justice.
Another red letter day, and a very tired Buenos Noches.
Tuesday 9 February 2010
A wee walk in the woods
So Cindy asked me if I wanted to take a little walk to the waterfalls today. Um, 6 hours later I wobbled my way into my room.
The guide apparantly decided to take an alternate route to the falls... 15 river crossings, and a whole lot of rock scrambling later we made it to the falls. Where I promptly jumped in fully clothed. OK, I took my top and boots off. Sports bras make good bathing suit tops. It felt wonderful. I skirted around the river crabs and had a nice long soak under the sun.
Which I deserved, after the gruelling trip in. The path had started out dry and meandering. We made our first river crossing at a point I had been previously, and continued up following the river. Cross. More clambering. Cross. At this point the guide remarked that we had 15 river crossings to make, and he thought taking my boots off each time was a waste of time. I tried to explain that keeping my boots dry was kind of important because things don´t "dry out" here.
It all became a moot point when I lost my footing at the next crossing and in I went. Perfect. Boots wet. Lunch wet. Camara wet. Crap. Again the entertainment express as the guide laughed himself silly. Not really cool considering I hit the rocks quite hard and was feeling it. So my boots stayed on after this, and I had to learn a new dynamic... the squishy boot treking reality. Ugh. I truly hope they aren´t ruined.
So a couple of notes:
Clay pathways get very slippery when they are wet.
Mossy rocks get very slippery when they are wet.
River rocks get slippery when they are wet.
And, well all the rocks in the river are slippery.
It is hard to balance on slippery surfaces.
Are you sensing a pattern here?
Muddy, slippery, often near vertical pathways = very dirty clothes and lots of bumps and bruises. Not a good place for a broken bone, I kept telling myself. The trail in became heavily tropical, humid, moss on every surface and plants crowding the path. Wet clay turned into packed leaves. I took more photos of pretty plants, and tried to get shots that would convey the essence of the path. Don´t think it can be done.
So Lunch was at the waterfalls, and I ate my cake and oranges while everyone else had a "Juane", which are meals packaged and cooked as little packets wrapped in large leaves. Cool little things, and an apparently typical food here. Chicken and rice... I took a picture. Too bad I still can´t just upload for you, but I have previously lamented on the photo situation. Oh well.
A wonderful wind took flight, and was welcome as both a cooling factor and mosquito deterent. The trees were waving and the leaves were rustling. Lovely.
Different route home, and this one was difficult. Using roots, vines and stones for footholds we climed pretty much straight up for almost an hour. Many rest stops. We changed vegetation zones as we got higher. It got drier, the jungle undergrowth was exchanged for grasses and bamboo, and the path became gritty and a different kind of slippery. I took a rest laying against a tree and found myself swaying in the breeze. We continued along the ridge for about an hour, and then the dreaded DOWN. Steep and slippery on Jelly legs. I seem to recall this sensation from my last trip. I would soooo rather climb. But home was "way down there" and so on I carried.
We stopped at the guides family farm so he could feed the dogs and chickens. Which are almost as hard to photograph as butterflys. We got fresh bananas from his trees (oh, my, god, what a difference in taste!) and admired his cacao trees ready for harvest.
Then we continued down for another 45 minutes. I was thinking I am so glad it is not me taking the harvest to town.
Back at the hostal, I poured the water from my boots & wrang out my socks. Heavenly shower. Good food. Back hurts. Hip hurts.
Perfect.
Hope tomorrow is as much fun.
Oh, and I really hope my cameral will live to take more pictures...
Hasta luego.
The guide apparantly decided to take an alternate route to the falls... 15 river crossings, and a whole lot of rock scrambling later we made it to the falls. Where I promptly jumped in fully clothed. OK, I took my top and boots off. Sports bras make good bathing suit tops. It felt wonderful. I skirted around the river crabs and had a nice long soak under the sun.
Which I deserved, after the gruelling trip in. The path had started out dry and meandering. We made our first river crossing at a point I had been previously, and continued up following the river. Cross. More clambering. Cross. At this point the guide remarked that we had 15 river crossings to make, and he thought taking my boots off each time was a waste of time. I tried to explain that keeping my boots dry was kind of important because things don´t "dry out" here.
It all became a moot point when I lost my footing at the next crossing and in I went. Perfect. Boots wet. Lunch wet. Camara wet. Crap. Again the entertainment express as the guide laughed himself silly. Not really cool considering I hit the rocks quite hard and was feeling it. So my boots stayed on after this, and I had to learn a new dynamic... the squishy boot treking reality. Ugh. I truly hope they aren´t ruined.
So a couple of notes:
Clay pathways get very slippery when they are wet.
Mossy rocks get very slippery when they are wet.
River rocks get slippery when they are wet.
And, well all the rocks in the river are slippery.
It is hard to balance on slippery surfaces.
Are you sensing a pattern here?
Muddy, slippery, often near vertical pathways = very dirty clothes and lots of bumps and bruises. Not a good place for a broken bone, I kept telling myself. The trail in became heavily tropical, humid, moss on every surface and plants crowding the path. Wet clay turned into packed leaves. I took more photos of pretty plants, and tried to get shots that would convey the essence of the path. Don´t think it can be done.
So Lunch was at the waterfalls, and I ate my cake and oranges while everyone else had a "Juane", which are meals packaged and cooked as little packets wrapped in large leaves. Cool little things, and an apparently typical food here. Chicken and rice... I took a picture. Too bad I still can´t just upload for you, but I have previously lamented on the photo situation. Oh well.
A wonderful wind took flight, and was welcome as both a cooling factor and mosquito deterent. The trees were waving and the leaves were rustling. Lovely.
Different route home, and this one was difficult. Using roots, vines and stones for footholds we climed pretty much straight up for almost an hour. Many rest stops. We changed vegetation zones as we got higher. It got drier, the jungle undergrowth was exchanged for grasses and bamboo, and the path became gritty and a different kind of slippery. I took a rest laying against a tree and found myself swaying in the breeze. We continued along the ridge for about an hour, and then the dreaded DOWN. Steep and slippery on Jelly legs. I seem to recall this sensation from my last trip. I would soooo rather climb. But home was "way down there" and so on I carried.
We stopped at the guides family farm so he could feed the dogs and chickens. Which are almost as hard to photograph as butterflys. We got fresh bananas from his trees (oh, my, god, what a difference in taste!) and admired his cacao trees ready for harvest.
Then we continued down for another 45 minutes. I was thinking I am so glad it is not me taking the harvest to town.
Back at the hostal, I poured the water from my boots & wrang out my socks. Heavenly shower. Good food. Back hurts. Hip hurts.
Perfect.
Hope tomorrow is as much fun.
Oh, and I really hope my cameral will live to take more pictures...
Hasta luego.
Monday 8 February 2010
still swinging
Big news: I took my clothes to the lavandaria, will be clean by supper.
I still find ways to entertain the locals... I spent lunch (at my favorite little veggie place) repeating the spanish names of all the vegetables as they made their way to my mouth. Really. Entertaining.
I thanked the owner for a lovely meal, and will now go back to my hammock. Lazy, lazy days.
Figured I would just assure you that I am still alive. :)
Hasta luego.
I still find ways to entertain the locals... I spent lunch (at my favorite little veggie place) repeating the spanish names of all the vegetables as they made their way to my mouth. Really. Entertaining.
I thanked the owner for a lovely meal, and will now go back to my hammock. Lazy, lazy days.
Figured I would just assure you that I am still alive. :)
Hasta luego.
Saturday 6 February 2010
Ho Hum
I am guilty of an all night Cable TV binge. NCIS, Law & Order, a couple of movies... Been a heck of a lot of years since I was able to hear the roosters crow BEFORE I went to bed.
I missed my complimentary breakfast; sleeping until noon pretty much took care of that. I did actually wake around 10 am, but the deluges had come early today and I just let the sound lull me back to sleep.
Finished the main section of english copy for the hostals website, so will see what other trouble I can get up to.
Oh, and I woke up to a spider (albeit a small spider) sleeping on the pillow next to me.
Had a nice dinner. Took a long and winding walk. Now is the time to head to sleep. No cable TV allowed.
That`s all folks. Maybe tomorrow will be more exciting.
:)
Friday 5 February 2010
Familiar faces in the crowd
I met a very nice woman from Germany this morning and we decided to hike up the local trail along the river to the waterfalls. This is the trail I did solo earlier in the week so I knew more or less where I was going.
Ah the frustrations of having to adjust expectations and plans when someone else is part of the picture. I now know that I am becoming a crotchety old woman. Lots of complaining about the heat, applications of sunscreen etc., (no, not by me). When we got to the first river crossing (and granted it would have involved a bit of balancing) she wanted to turn back. Groan. Much deep breathing and searching for my Zen place. We stopped yet again at the river and I plopped myself in the water, clothes and all (it really was a scorcher today). I was content to just chill there, but the thunder was rolling in and away we went.
Not to sure why I bothered to put my poncho on during this deluge because I was already wet clear through. Mostly to keep the locals from thinking I am a raving lunatic of a gringa. And there walked my companion, hurrying up the muddy road carrying her little umbrella. Cute really. I love a good drenching once and a while and would have been content to dawdle. The rain continued through most of the journey back to the hostal, where I arrived in all my drowned rat glory.
I think perhaps it is time I joined a group trek to get my head in gear... I can´t always have it my way. I think I was supposed to have learned this as a child or something. But then again I have no memory so who can blame me?
On a completely different note, I believe I have just about perfected the art of crossing the streets here. It is all in the timing of the first step... too early and you are going to get mowed down, but wait to long and the minuscule chance to cross safely has passed. Yay me.
And on yet another completely different not, you know you have been in the same place for a while when you start to run into people you know on the street. As this happened to me 3 times today it may just be time to move on. Not at least until Monday though, because I have an invitation to join a family gathering at the river on Sunday. See? I am practically tribe, so to speak.
Such a wonderfully comfortable place.
Ants and spiders excepted.
xoxoxo
Ah the frustrations of having to adjust expectations and plans when someone else is part of the picture. I now know that I am becoming a crotchety old woman. Lots of complaining about the heat, applications of sunscreen etc., (no, not by me). When we got to the first river crossing (and granted it would have involved a bit of balancing) she wanted to turn back. Groan. Much deep breathing and searching for my Zen place. We stopped yet again at the river and I plopped myself in the water, clothes and all (it really was a scorcher today). I was content to just chill there, but the thunder was rolling in and away we went.
Not to sure why I bothered to put my poncho on during this deluge because I was already wet clear through. Mostly to keep the locals from thinking I am a raving lunatic of a gringa. And there walked my companion, hurrying up the muddy road carrying her little umbrella. Cute really. I love a good drenching once and a while and would have been content to dawdle. The rain continued through most of the journey back to the hostal, where I arrived in all my drowned rat glory.
I think perhaps it is time I joined a group trek to get my head in gear... I can´t always have it my way. I think I was supposed to have learned this as a child or something. But then again I have no memory so who can blame me?
On a completely different note, I believe I have just about perfected the art of crossing the streets here. It is all in the timing of the first step... too early and you are going to get mowed down, but wait to long and the minuscule chance to cross safely has passed. Yay me.
And on yet another completely different not, you know you have been in the same place for a while when you start to run into people you know on the street. As this happened to me 3 times today it may just be time to move on. Not at least until Monday though, because I have an invitation to join a family gathering at the river on Sunday. See? I am practically tribe, so to speak.
Such a wonderfully comfortable place.
Ants and spiders excepted.
xoxoxo
Thursday 4 February 2010
Photo frustration
I spent most of the afternoon trying to accomplish 2 things, find a way to access the photos on my camera and find a padded envelope to mail a couple of trinkets home so I won`t have to backpack them out.
The photos are now safely ensconced on my new memory stick, but not transferring well through the agonizingly slow internet connection. Still haven´t tracked down the padded envelope.
Close your eyes and imagine me TRYING to explain `padded envelope´ in spanish. Like gnashing teeth together. Since I had told Ezra that it was going to be a spanish only afternoon I was once again providing free entertainment. I should charge a fee.
The rain today has been unrelenting. It started about 2pm and has poured steadily since then. The streets have turned into creeks, and of course this is one of the few days I left the hostal without my trusty day pack containing my poncho. So I joined the throngs of people scurrying from one overhang to another as I ran my errands.I also bought a spanish / english dictionary, in the hopes that I will find words when I want them. Here`s hoping it isn`t wasted money.
This one is for Leona:
This is the friend that joined me for breakfast:
That`s it for today. Tomorrow is still a tantalizing mystery.
Buenos Noches
:)
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