Presently in Cartagena. The last South American land I’ll touch on this trip! Boarding a sailboat in a couple of days for Panama. 5 days from here to Panama with a stop in the San Blas Islands. Fritz the Cat is the name of the boat.
Forgot to upload these pictures of my jungle trek in the Peruvian Amazon.
After 5 days in the jungle and a terrible night with a shaman and a dose of his “ayahuasca” I made it back to Iquitos. From there I decided to take the rarely travelled route up the Rio Napo to Ecuador and into Colombia. Caught an old river barge from Iquitos to Indiana where I got off and rode a narrow path the port of Mazan. Calling it a port is very generous… more like shacks by the river. From my research on the internet I learned that this route can take anywhere from 7 to 15 days depending on how lucky you are with the boat schedules since they don’t travel everyday. Usually you have to take a boat to Santa Clotilde a day up the river and wait a couple of days, then continue up to Pantoja then wait a couple of days, then Nuevo Rocafuerte, Ecuador and wait and finally you reach a city called Coca or Francisco de Orellana and that’s where the roads begin again. Being an especially lucky person I ran into a boat that only comes down from Coca a few times a year, has 2 engines and could get me to Coca in 2 days so I took it and made it to Ecuador early this morning. From there I went to the nearest border crossing a couple of hours ride and entered the Colombian district of Putumayo. I find myself in a town called La Hormiga (The Ant), supposedly one of the three most active fighting areas against the FARC in Colombia. Should make it to Cali tomorrow and on to Cartagena within a few days.
By the way, all the pictures are of Peru except for the last one which is from the Ecuadorian side of the Colombian border.
Arrived in Yurimaguas and boarded a cargo/passenger barge named Eduardo V. Loaded up with famished cattle, squealing pigs, sheep, goats, bananas and many other things as well as Peruvian locals and 7 tourists. We were supposed to leave at 6pm but didn’t depart until noon the next day. Got drunk with the crew at a bar on the docks near the boat. The pilots name was Capurro and all of his teeth were gold capped. Didn’t sleep much during the night because of the paper thin mattress that left me lying on wooden boards, the giant insects flying into my room, the smell of manure and the Silence of the Lambs-esque squealing of the pigs at all hours of the night. This did mean some pretty good naps in the middle of the day on the hammock I had rented on the main deck. Actually, most people only paid for a hammock on the main deck, I was the only person who rented a cabin. General was 20 dollars and a cabin cost 60 so I thought I should spoil myself a little..
For 2 days we travelled up the river towards Iquitos. A city with 400,000 people in the middle of the jungle only reachable by river or air. We stopped at small riverside communities along the way and picked up or dropped of passengers and cargo i.e., more cows and bananas. Since I was in a cabin the food was brought to me on a plate instead of going to get it with your own tupperware. The cook was a small gay who said his name was Thalia. He would bring me my dinner and invite himself to sit down while I ate. I had to indulge him as he was in charge of my food and I didn’t want to upset him and receive his wrath in secretive manners. So I sat there uncomfortably while he talked and asked questions about my sexual orientation, my girlfriend at home and other completely ridiculous things that I almost couldn’t believe my ears.
On the last day, the captain walked by and said a cow was giving birth and that I should get my camera. I went to the bow where the cattle were with my camera and snapped a couple of pictures. The cow was lying down, there was a sack sticking out of it’s vagina about 8 inches but nothing else was happening. A crowd had gathered to watch from above. Somebody said the cow had to be on it’s feet to give birth but nobody seemed to care or want to do anything about it. Some people murmured that the calf was already lost. So, I hopped into the pen. I had seen the crew twist and bend the tail of other cows who had fallen down and didn’t care to get back up due to their miserable condition and I guess it caused the cow enough discomfort to bring them to their feet so I did that. The cow came to life and stood itself up. But the calf wasn’t coming out that way either. Apparently, some idiot know-it-all who had “delivered calves before and even done c-sections on them” didn’t care to help, BUT he did say that when they’re that skinny and malnourished it’s usually not possible for the calf to come out of the vagina. Somebody suggested I pull on the legs so I started doing that. Somebody said I should cut the sack so I pulled out my knife and cut the sack and went back to pulling on the legs. Eventually a crew member came and helped me pull. At this point I started reaching into the vagina and feeling the head pressed it outwards. The nose of the calf eventually came out. It’s tongue was sticking out so again people murmured about the calf being stillborn. I kept pulling and reaching in. I could tell the cow was helping with the pushing since she kept shitting and pissing herself. These and all the other fluids were making quite a mess and I wondered as I reached into the vagina almost up to my elbow if the feces on my hands and arms would infect her insides. A Colombian tourist eventually jumped in and started to help pull the legs and then he and the crew member went to the cow’s stomach and from each side pressed on it while I pulled. Time passed and passed, I’m not even sure how long we were at it but eventually the head cleared after that the body slid out after it quite easily. The Colombian helped me carry it to the ground where we cleared it’s mouth and nose. It began to breathe and the crowd burst out with applause. Someone yelled to put it in front of the mother so she recognizes it so I carried it and laid it in front of the cow. She bent down sniffed at it and after a moment started cleaning it. After a few licks she looked at me and would’ve stabbed me with her horns if I hadn’t backed up quickly. Now that she had her baby she was on protective mother duty and wouldn’t let anyone near. As I watched the mother clean the baby a lot of emotions went through me. I couldn’t help but smile and feel joy for what I had just done as well as helping save the life of a calf, maybe as well the mothers. I felt some contempt for the people who would have just sat there, watched and done nothing with indifference about another life even if it was another species. As well I felt futile for the mother was soon going to be going to the butcher with the little meat she had on her bones and her udder didn’t appear to have much milk on it for the calf. But life fights to live even under the harshest conditions and if it gets lucky it has some pleasure before it dies. The deck of the boat being slippery with feces and fluids didn’t allow the calf the traction to stand up as it was trying to. As other cows crowded it and it was in danger of being trampled and as again nobody seemed to give a shit I climbed in again and carried it out of the pen. The crew took it into the back and later when I was checking on my bike I saw it tied up with covered with a sweater. I wondered about it’s future and if anyone would actually be making sure it got reunited with it’s forsaken mother and if not if someone would take it and feed it and raise it. I was going to ask the captain about it but just then we arrived and the crazy bustle of workers and unloaders began and as I stayed by my possessions and 3 dock workers helped me carry the bike from one barge to the next and to the next since we had parked 3 boats away from the actual dock. Again, life is not always organized but it makes due especially in places like these. I can only hope somebody there cared enough, if only for the monetary gain that raising a calf to adulthood would bring, to take care of it.
So, now i’m in Iquitos. Treated myself to the nice hotel with A/C and wifi for a night. Tomorrow I start a 5 day tour of the jungle with a local guide.
Quick note about Peru. I´m already in Tarapoto, Peru which is pretty far north. I thought it was going to be easy after Bolivia but Peru has actually been the most difficult country to cross. It probably has to do with the path I chose.. NOT the Panamerican highway. It´s been hard to do more than 200 miles in a day. 7 hours of riding a day, almost every day that´s an average of almost 29 miles per hour. In the province of Ayacucho just north of a city called Puquio I had a bit of a wreck. Hours from anywhere and anything I was flying along a dirt road when there was a large and very deep pit in the road. Not able to stop the springs compressed when I hit the dip and the rear of the bike came up and bucked me off over the handle bars. I landed on my shoulder and head. My elbow was bruised and scraped as well and I can´t figure out why my right foot was hurt as well. When I had slid to a stop I lay there for a minute thinking. Thoughts were, ¨Wow, that hurts.¨, ¨Wow, that´s going to hurt more tomorrow.¨, and ¨I hope nothing is broken when I try to move in a second.¨ Luckily, if that´s the right word, nothing was broken on my body. My helmet was badly scraped with the visor gone. My left mirror was gone and my jacket had some rips in it. All in all not bad. My camera case had deep scrapes on the side the bike came down but I didn´t check it then because there was nothing I could do anyway but all the gear turned out to be okay. I picked up the bike and tried to get underway again. The chamber had flooded, the bike wouldn´t start and I eventually drained the battery trying to get going. No cars for two hours which I spent pushing the bike up a small rise in the road and riding it back down trying to start it in gear. No luck. The sun was going down, the temperature was dropping and it was looking like I was going to have to set up camp. Finally a truck came and the driver hooked up a rope and pulled me in gear until the bike started. Still three hours from where I was headed with half an hour worth of light left I went on. Already around 4,000 meters and freezing the road climbed and climbed into the night. I was so cold and sore and with no idea where I was and the path muddy from a thunderstorm I could see travelling ahead of me I started to think I might not make it if I fall and can´t get the bike going again. Climbing, climbing, climbing I thought I was fucked. Eventually I reached snow as well as the summit and couldn´t believe the path started to descend and descend and descend forever. I finally reached a town called Taca that was at 3500 meters. Descending that much and still being at that elevation I wondered how high I had been. The town was completely dark and I asked the first guy I saw about a place to stay. He was kind enough to walk me to the couple of places that had room but they were all full. He was a miner and Taca was a small miner town. He took me to a place where I had one of the best meals of my life for 1 dollar and then offered me a bunk in the house where him and some other miners sleep. I accepted and climbed into the top bunk in a room full of Peruvian miners. Didn´t care about the sheets, the pillow, my belongins. Just wanted to crawl into the bed and pass out. I did and had the best sleep of my life. Woke up with the miners at 6am and headed out to do it all over again.
Now, like I said, I´m in Tarapoto. It´s the deep Peruvian Amazon. Makes me think of Jumanji. The roads are crazy and the drivers crazier. It takes all my digits to count the close calls I have each day. Heading to Yurimagua where I will load my bike onto a boat to get to Iquitos, a water logged city deep in the jungle.
Miss you guys.
Entered Bolivia one night through a town called Villazon. Wouldn’t send my worst enemy there. Border town’s are notoriously bad and this one was the worst. The best lodging I could find was a 2 star hotel and the stars were stretched out. I think it cost me 8 dollars for the night. Woke up briefly to the sound of gunfire…?.. didn’t bother to go see what was going on. Headed out at 630am for a city called Tarija. The worst most dangerous road i’ve been on yet. I counted about 50 crosses on the side of the road in that 150km stretch. One lane wide along sheer cliffs. Transited by large semi’s and buses. Takes 6 hours on a bus, I did it in 3. Very stupid but I had a flight to catch that afternoon from Tarija. I was supposed to meet Carrie in Peru on my motorcycle but all the mechanical delays and my poor judgement on the amount of distance that meant I had to cover resulted with me just entering Bolivia when I was supposed to be arriving in Cusco, Peru. Found a hostel, left my stuff in a locker and caught my flight. Once in Lima I had about 5 hours to wait before Carrie got in at midnight. The Radisson at the airport was full so I had a taxi take me to a nearby hotel. I think it was a hotel for hookers. Hearing a commotion in the next room I let my curiosity get the better of me and through a cracked window I got a peek of what was going on. I wish I hadn’t. A large naked old man wearing nothing but his socks was almost completely hiding a woman’s body underneath him with just her legs sticking out. Not the most romantic start to a week in Peru. The rest of the week was great. The historic center in Cusco was beautiful and rich with history. Machu Picchu was even more amazing. You never really grasp the size of the place until you’re there. The best thing of it is the utter uncertainty and controversy over what the city’s purpose actually was and when it was constructed. One night in Lima and then said goodbye to Carrie. Back to Bolivia.
From Tarija I headed to Potosi. Instead of taking the same route part of the way back to get to the road to Potosi I asked around and found that there was a half constructed road up the mountain that led to a 1km tunnel and would be a shortcut. It might of been easier if there wasn’t fog and icy rain. I started to climb with small rivers from the rain coming down the road. Missed the turn for the tunnel and ended up going over the mountain on something that looked like a road. Came down the other side to find a construction crew. I asked about the tunnel and they said it was just around the bend. Then they said it was headed to Tarija where I was coming from. Slept in Camargo that night. Made it to Potosi the next day. It’s difficult to put the scenery into words. The most amazing panoramas and terrain changes and temperature changes. Going from a snowcapped peak, descending into a ruddy, dusty, dry riverbed surrounded by cacti. It’s so barren and natural.
Potosi. A 500 year old mining town above 4,000 meters.. For that long they’ve been digging away at a 5,000 meter high mountain called Cerro Rico. It’s supposedly yielded something like 40,000 ton’s of silver. They’ve moved on to tin and other minerals. The town is cold and dirty and poor. You really feel like you’re in Bolivia. Not really a tourist destination. Went on a tour of the mines. Not something I would recommend for fun. More like a way to gain appreciation for everything you have and the luck of being born in a different country to different parents. If Machu Picchu get’s 4,100 visitors a day on average, this tour gets 70 people a day. Before you get to the mines you stop at the miner store and buy them gifts like new gloves, bags of coca or dynamite and detonators. Hung out with some of the miner’s in their changing house. Chatted for a little while. The life expectancy for a miner is 45 years old, they mostly die from silicosis. One of the older miner’s changed their shirt while we were there. It was hard not to stare. The guy was mostly skin and bones except for his upper back. Hulking. Once in the mines I met a 65 year old miner named Simeon. He was still going at it. Retirement age had been at 65 for miners. When Simeon was 62 the law was changed to 58 years of age. So, already 4 years over retirement he filed his papers. 3 years later the paperwork is still in transit somewhere in the Bolivian bureaucracy. We went to the deepest part and did some digging. After only a couple of hours in the mine I was having trouble breathing. The thought of doing it for years, or 40 years like Simeon was thoroughly depressing. I wanted to get out. On the way out we stopped by the “Tio”. They make a sculpture at the entrance to each mine for worshipping and bring him gifts. The Spanish invented it 400 or 500 years ago to get the natives to work. The misunderstanding in the translation between the Spanish “Dios” to the Aymara language ended with “Tio”. Basically the devil, which they worship when they are in the mines and give sacrifice to for safety and great yields from their work. Idolatry and worship… frustrating. As I’m writing this remembering those poor miners in Potosi the royal wedding is playing on CNN. The world doesn’t yet make sense to me. Anyway’s enough of Potosi. It’s a very sad place full of people who will live their entire lives on meager wages and few hopes and dreams.
From Potosi I went to the “Salar de Uyuni”. The Uyuni Salt Flats. Incredible place. Wasn’t sure if I would be able to go onto it because I heard it was flooded but luckily it wasn’t that deep and the pictures will explain the rest.
Onto La Paz. Madness. The traffic. The bowl they decided to build a city in. The people. Funny enough miners in La Paz were protesting. And when miner’s in La Paz protest, watch out for the dynamite getting thrown into the street throughout the day. Evo the president can’t do anything to them because they’re one of his main supporters that got him into office. I headed out of La Paz to Coroico one day to ride down the “Death Road”. They market it as the world’s deadliest road. I didn’t think it was that bad. Where the road ended there was a restaurant at an animal refuge and planning to have lunch and get a move on I ended up volunteering for 10 days. Amazing experience working with all sorts of animals, especially monkeys. Also, 3 days building a dam that again, funny enough, some disgruntled miner’s from that area destroyed with their bulldozers. The bastards. Back to La Paz for a day and then I headed to Peru. Maybe the strangest place I’ve ever eaten in my life is the Bolivian border with Peru, with a bunch of truckers waiting for the border to reopen. Had some chicken from an old lady with silver capped teeth at a shack on the side of the road for a dollar. Didn’t get sick… yet. There’s so much to write about Bolivia. I could fill a book. Somehow my initial dislike for Bolivia grew into an affinity and I found it hard to leave.
About my previous post. I had left word that I was going to do the “Death Road” and getting caught up with the animal refuge I forgot to send word I was okay for 5 days… dumb dumb. Embassies were called, police were notified.. oops.
I´ve been working at an animal shelter in the jungle. I´m very sorry for worrying those I love.
Left Malargue with a brand new inner tube and tire. Hopped back on Route 40. Dirt and rocks through hills covered in oil wells. Only 50 miles outside into my ride my tire was flat once again. Slime didn’t work. Somehow the innertube had ripped off the valve stem. Rode 25 miles through a sandstorm on a flat tire back to the nearest gas station where Route 40 had continued off the asphalt highway. Was able to leave my bike on a property near the gas station with a man named Sergio. Took the front wheel off and was waiting back at the gas station for anyone who would pick up a dusty hitchhiker with a scraggly beard, dirty clothes and a motorcycle wheel. No luck. Asked around at the gas station and they dug up some old inner tubes they had laying around. One of them was close enough to the size I needed. Some weekend dirtbikers pulled in to fill up and I asked if they could help. They happened to be renting a little cabin on Sergio’s property and ended up giving me a lift back there, helping me replace the inner tube and tire and then inviting me to dinner, drinks (Fernel Branca & Coke- Never had it before but I will be having it again.) and then some acoustic guitar and song of Argentine traditional and folklore music by Luca, one of my 5 new friends.
Got out of there the next day. Circumvented about 120km’s of that impassable part of the 40 that had humbled me the day before by going through San Rafael and up to Mendoza. Past Mendoza through San Juan into the night to Jachal. The following day through the most incredible landscape and single lane, red dirt, canyon, cliffed road. If ever I was to make a western this would be the place. I was on the way out of Argentina thinking I had seen all it had to offer. I know differently now that even with the amazing things I saw in the south and the Patagonia my favorite part of Argentina was the northern part of Route 40. VERY specifically, KM 4580.
Spent a night and half a day in Santa Maria changing the oil, oil filter, rear tire and buying a new flat tire repair kit. Once ready, I set off continuing north. Made it to a town called Cachi riding into the night again. A town I plan on returning to. Only a couple hours north of there I can say I found my favorite stretch of road so far on this trip and don’t expect to find better. As I mentioned before, KM4580. This stretch of road climbed up the mountains through rivers and up zigzagging trails to climb up to an altitude of 4,860 meters above sea level. That’s 3 miles high. Just thinking would leave me short of breath. Made my way down the other side into the town of San Antonio de los Cobres. It’s difficult to imagine the kind of poverty I saw there. Loaded up on gas and headed across the desert passing by the Jama salt flats on the way to the border town of La Quacha. Unexpected sand pits on the gravelly road eventually led to a fall. Slight bit of nervousness and excitement when I discovered that the bike had pinned my leg to the ground with the help of my travel bag. I couldn’t get in a position where I could get the leverage to lift the motorcycle up without feeling like I was going to snap my knee in half. After some staring around in every humanless direction and laughing for a little while I squirmed and wiggled until my leg came out. Then getting the bike going again after the carburetor had flooded I went on my way. Made it to the border town just after sunset and into Bolivia where I spent the night in Villazon. I wouldn’t wish Bolivian border towns on my worst enemy. The next morning I headed out at dawn on my way to a town called Tarija. The most dangerous road yet. A one lane highway along and up and down the sides of mountains with precipitous cliffs, blind turns, large ignorant semi’s. At one point reaching the summit of a mountain I found myself looking on the other side at the top of a blanket of clouds covering the length of the horizon. Heading down that side of the mountain almost in Tarija, I drove into the cloud where things got wet and muddy, visibility not more than 20 feet ahead of me and the ongoing game of dodging 40 ton 18 wheelers. Finally getting below the clouds and making it into the city of Tarija.
My motorcycle “Isabella” has become my muse.
New tire. New inner tube. Bike’s all set to make it to the northern border of Argentina and to Bolivia. Will try and make it to San Juan today. Approx 600km’s. Day after to San Salvador de Jujuy. and the third day cross the border into Bolivia, to the salt flats of Uyuni.
Was Found Now Lost 