Smoking Llama vs The Giant Spiders

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My friend Chris and me departed Colombia for Peru, and a two part trip: the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and the Amazon rainforest. After a couple of nights in uninspiring Lima (and a donation to the Casino at the Sheraton) we met with our group of fellow travellers and headed off to Cuzco, arguably the tourist capital of Andean South America.

The group was made up of the usual melange of nationalities, with an especially welcome sprinkling of Scandinavians this time. Scandinavians, I am finding, are generally good people to hook up with as they tend to be rather less aggressively arrogant than some of our other European partners (ie the ruthlessly efficient ones or the ones who don´t use deodorant - you know who I mean). There was a wonderful couple from Norway, a young trio from Sweden, a fun girl from Canada, an ebullient American from Texas, an enterprising older couple from Massachusetts, and a softly spoken guy from San Francisco. All were on the trip to have a good time, and to do something different. No bad eggs were present (apart from those that Chris and me seemed to be smuggling up our arses, judging by the tents in the mornings), and I haven´t laughed so much in ages.

So, a day in Cuzco (at some 3,400m) to acclimatise and then we set off on the Inca Trail, a five day, four night hike along trails of indeterminate antiquity with the astonishing jewel of Machu Picchu at the end. We were camping, but luckily had a team of some 21 guides, porters and chefs to carry the heavy stuff and to keep us well fed and rested. An extraordinarily large group of people just to assist the ten of us gringos to get to the proverbial photographic money shot, but the luxury was worth it. Day one was a gentle reminder of our lack of fitness (13km, fairly flat) with day two being the real challenge: 16km of steep up-and-down with two high passes to negotiate (4,200m and 3,900m respectively). Here I picked up my nickname for the trip ´Smoking Llama´. The latter bit came from my surprising ability to scamper to the top of the hills and jog down the other side (I put this down to conditioning earlier on my travels). The former is referring to my celebratory cigarette at the top of every steep section. Yes, Chris has been force-feeding me fags, and I am planning to knock them on the head again. One cannot beat, however, the feeling of greeting a Goretex clad teutonic climber at the top of a long climb with a smile and a ¨wonderful weather for smoking, isn´t it?¨

Chris seemed to enjoy the trek, although was rather ´bunged up´ for the majority of it. He would often excuse himself from the dinner table, only to return moments later mumbling something along the lines of ´not everything being right downstairs´. There were group discussions about the need for drastic action upon the return to Cuzco (a spoon being the agreed implement for removing the noxious obstruction), but luckily he passed just before we arrived at Machu Picchu. There was much rejoicing and clinking of glasses. Actually, on that last night before waking at 4am to trek the final bit, a number of us got rather drunk. Myself and Arild became melancholy and emotional on the floor of the bathroom over an insect that was struggling to right itself, and the Swedes joined the ´thank you´handshakes of one of the other groups (prompting lots of puzzled looks from those tired trekkers). Shelly and myself became cackling drunk, and it was a struggle to haul ouselves up the last few metres the next morning. It was also unclemently windy, but the weather was perfect.

Machu Picchu does indeed take your breathe away. The ruins themselves are interesting, but the aspect of the place, hidden from the world (and indeed the violent Spanish conquistadors - they never found MP) and nestled on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere, is astonishing. After several jaw-dropping hours, and the usual post-trek smugness, we took a dip in the hot springs to make sure that we were exposed to as much bacteria as possible before returning to Cuzco. Binge drinking and steaks followed. One feels slightly less guilty about over indulging when one has seen one of the wonders of the world that morning...

The Amazon

Well, really a tributary of the Amazon, but rainforest jungle nonetheless. A short flight from Cuzco and then a bus and a couple of hours in a boat took us to the Libertador Lodge on the Tambopata River. I found myself humming songs from Apocalypse Now as we made our way down the river, while behind me Chris murmured ´the horror, the horror´ while squeezing into his safari suit and pith helmet.

A slight change in groups as various people left for home, but luckily we still had the cheerful Norwegians with us (unfortunately, we lost Shelly). Sweating with the humidity we settled into what turned out to be fairly luxurious surroundings. Hot running water and a clean room with toilet and as many mosquitoes as you can feed. There was no electricity, but that mattered little as we had torches and the terror in Chris´ eyes to light the way.

Over the next couple of days we explored the area around the clock. Seeking out caymens and taunting chicken spiders by night and observing missing link species and malicious trees by day. I won´t bore you with the natural history stuff, but the place was astonishing. One felt like one was in the middle of a big seething vat of life, and it was all rather unnerving, especially when walking alone in the forest. I found myself stumbling into spider webs while trying to side-step ant colonies, all the time feeling utterly out of my environment. Like anything, though, one quickly gets used to he humidity, the wildlife, and the feeling of being surrounded by things that can cause you harm (just like being at work, really).

The lodge had a foul mouthed parrot called Veronica (naturally) and an orphaned baby spider monkey called Wally. The latter was adorable, and took a particular liking to my bag and hat. I whiled away a couple of hours playing with Wally, before he tipped a bin over, threw a banana at me and crapped himself. It´s astonishing how human-like monkeys can be.

I really want to go back to the rainforest at some stage on my trip to see more. We didn´t scratch the surface, and I was really taken with the bustling setting that seemed so divorced from humanity. I imagine this is as close as one can come on earth to visiting an alien environment. I may also try to make it to the Pantanal in Brazil to go looking for anacondas - the guide described this to me and it sounded like a whole lot of fun.

The final night saw another beer binge with the Norwegians, discussions on the insanity of the Finns and the madness of an elderly Frenchman who claimed to be a journalist and seemed to be shadowing us, and lessons in air guitar. Then the journey back to Cuzco for me, and home for most of the others.

One final sting in the tail. The crapping monkey may or may not have been responsible for one of the most unpleasant bouts of food poisoning that Chris or me have ever experienced (we swapped notes by text message in between bouts of bathroom floor writhing). It is good to have finally broken my gastric duck and fallen foul of what locals call ´the Inca two-step´, but I suspect that they will need to call in the decorators after I have left the hotel.

20 plane trips, 11 boats, 9 x rickshaws, 1 x motorcycle and countless buses and taxis so far. Phew! I´m staying put in Cuzco now for a couple of weeks to learn some Spanish. Thanks for all your messages - keep them coming.

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