Jungle is Massive

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Well I'm now so far behind with this blog it's almost pointless for me to continue. However, because I promised myself that I WILL for once in my life finish something I started, and because a few people have expressed an interest in this diary (hi mum), I am going to try and carry on.

I may however do this in a totally illogical order, and fill in the gaps when I get time.

In Bolivia, we obviously wanted to head to the jungle. You can´t go to South America without seeing the Amazon. The obvious transport options were either a 24 hour bus journey or an expensive and somewhat terrifying flight in a tiny plane which apparently lands in a field. Neither of these options appealed to me, so I did a little research and found a company that does a 5 day trip to Rurre, the main gringo trail jungle town. The trip was 2 and a half days downhill mountain biking and the rest on a river boat.

The mountain biking was literally that - they take you to the top of a mountain at 4800m, stick you on a bike and off you go, down hill all the way. The trip was supposed to be for "intermediate plus" level bikers but I thought hey, I have been on a bike and I've been on a mountain... how hard can it be to combine the two? Turns out, not so simple. I spent the first few hours uttering a constant stream of profanities, convinced I was definitely going to die, but after I got the hang a bit it was honestly one of the most exciting things I done, ever. We had awesome bikes with great suspension, full face helmets, gloves and knee to shin leg guards so it wasn't really THAT dangerous, though one guy did KO himself after all of 10 minutes. Nice one Steven. Kit went over the handlebars and landed on his arse but he survived this undamaged, despite his previously poor record with bicycle accidents.

Over the two and a half days we were riding the scenery slowly changed from the snowline of the high mountains, down through cloud forest and into the jungle. I don't have too many photos because I was mostly racing to keep up with the boys, but it was gorgeous. Also easily the least touristy organised trip I've done in South America, or maybe anywhere. There's only one company that offers it, run by ex-professional bikers, not in the guide books because they don't want to become "too popular", they haven't been doing it long and they only run it once every week or two, if they have enough people. The villages we passed through were genuinely really remote. You can tell because instead of begging for something, the kids actually gave me sweets. Every village we stopped at we ruined the school day because the kids would rush out of the classroom when they saw us coming and want to play football, have a go on the bikes or just stare. Completely different and a refreshing change from the kids who've been exposed to tourists who constantly beg and demand money for photos. We were told to be careful taking photos because a lot of illegal coca plant growing goes on in the area and gringos with cameras can easily be mistaken for American drug squad agents. A few times when we were coming up to a village we'd see people leg it out and throw covers over the cocoa leaves that were drying in the sun. Luckily our (American) guide was excellent and spoke Spanish as well as a little Ayamara and Quechua, so people were generally friendly where ever we went.

After the biking was over I thought the river boat aspect of the trip would be a bit of an anticlimax, but this too was awesome. We travelled on a little motorised dugout canoe by day then camped on beaches at the side of the river each night... listened to weird musical birds, made campfires, got viciously savaged by sandflies, ate a fish the size of a labrador that the boat driver caught with a machete. Admittedly while on the boat we didn't see loads of animal life, aside from one really freaky water spider. Mostly we just saw the small DIY mining operations that were going on around the riverbanks, poluting the river. On the 4th day we hiked along one of the small tributaries, which in stark contrast to the main river was perfectly crystal clear. After trekking for a while and hauling ourselves up with a rope we came to a series of stunning waterfalls and pools, I think about 7 in total. We swam in each one then jumped down the waterfall into the pool below. Surrounded by all the lush jungle and butterflies flitting about it looked almost fake, too perfect, and after boiling half to death trekking through the jungle, swimming in the cool clear water felt AMAZING. Definitely a highlight of the trip so far. We did a few other hikes into the jungle at night, seeing loads of crazy insects and plants, and I found out much to my disappointment that the Discovery channel has lied to me - big spiders ARE poisonous.

Anyway I can't recommend this trip highly enough, if you're in Bolivia and don't mind slightly dangerous activities, you have to do it. It leaves some Mondays from Sorata and you can book through Oliver's Travels pub in La Paz. All the local guides were great and the token American Pat was fantastic - he had absolutely no idea what was going on and if you asked him a question like 'where are we?' or 'how long until lunch' he would look panic stricken and make something up, but he was a really sound, interesting guy and he taught us all about Bolivian politics.

So after this little adventure we arrived in Rurre, and celebrated by going out drinking along with Pat. The six of us who'd done the trip got on really well, so we decided to stick together for a while and book another trip in Rurre together. We decided on a "Pampas" boat tour, which is the best for seeing animals. It wasn't the kind of jungle we'd been through, more sort of grasslands with all the wildlife and vegetation concentrated around the rivers that run through.

This trip became increasingly bizarre as time passed. On the first day we piled into a Jeep and set off for the grasslands, where we'd transfer to boats. After a while we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. There was this absolutely massive stork-like bird standing outside. We all took photos of it, and watched it peck Americans. Cool. When our food arrived, a monkey descended from the ceiling and started watching us intently. Everyone abandoned the food to play with monkey. We discover that contrary to popular belief, monkeys do not give a shit about bananas. They want rice. After a while my foot bumps against something under the table. I almost don’t want to look. It turns out to be a massive, hairy wild pig. Just chilling there, under the table. People tire of the monkey and start playing with the pig. He likes to have his belly scratched. On my way to the toilets, I noticed they have a deer standing in the kitchen, eating the left over food off the plates. It’s like the Flintstones. There was also a parrot, which bit Kit. I dearly wish I had the photos to upload to illustrate this. It'll have to wait till I get home.

So after this little diversion, it was boat time. We saw literally hundreds and hundreds of alligators a day, to the point where we lost all fear of them, and some people (Kit) decided to poke one with a stick. They don't really do anything except bask and laze. I never saw any of them eat. The other animals comtemptously ignore them. I started to suspect they were anamatronic, like a Disneyland ride. Aside from the gators we saw loads of Capybara, which are bizarre massive rodent type things the size of a large pig. They're strangely adorable, and make a cute little squeaking sound you would never expect to come out of something such a size. Other animals which featured prominently were monkeys, and birds of all kinds.

We swam with pink river dolphins, which was interesting. Not as relaxing an experience as I'd imagined because the water was opaque and brown, loads of alligators were watching us from the banks and I couldn't help but remember my med school lectures on parasites. The guides promised us that the gators aren't very dangerous and that the "dolphins will protect us", but I strongly suspect they got this information from a Disney movie. Anyway, when we were getting out one of our friends actually managed to accidentally KICK a hidden alligator who was minding his own business, hiding in the mud (nice one, Steven). It looked pretty pissed off but no bitey vengeance was forthcoming so I suppose they can't be that bad.

Another day we went "hunting for anacondas" in what would have been the wetlands, had it not been dry season. Our guides assured us this is safe to do because apparently they aren't poisonous, "they just crush you to death". That's fine then. The most entertaining part was when one tried to bite Yuval in the face, just as he was taking a close-up. It was undeniably fun but I felt bad for the snakes, who must be hassled on a pretty much daily basis. When the guides find one they happily tug it out of the tree it's hiding in and poke it about with a stick so we can take photos. Later I talked to someone who said their guide had found a big one in a tree, then set fire to a nearby bush to 'smoke him out'. Uncalled for, surely? I would be much happier just observing the snakes to be honest. I said to the guide -

"It's funny how they're not scared of us, isn't it?''
''He very scared, he just can't move fast enough to get away''

Oh. Well now I feel bad. But I didn't say anything. This is my standard reaction to any moral dilemma. Continue as before, but with guilt.

By far the most exciting thing happened on the second day, when a forest fire nearly burned down our camp. On day one, while we were on the boats, we'd passed a few pretty big fires burning in the grass that was some way back from the river. We were told either that they were farmers burning their fields for mysterious agricultural reasons, or protest fires started by locals pissed off that the area has recently been designated a protected national park. By the second day the fires were burning in the dry grasslands not far from our camp, and eventually bits of hot ash must have crossed the river and set things alight all around us.

We spent a whole afternoon trying to put it out with pots, kettles and washing-up bowls full of water, forming a human chain from the river through the forest to the fire, while the locals frantically hacked at the undergrowth with machettes in an attempt to create a firebreak. Random American doctors who happened to be passing on their way up river to some jungle medical mission stopped to help. After maybe two hours someone turned up with a hosepipe and a motor to suck up river water, which we were all delighted about as those of us near the fire were pretty hot and my shoes had started to melt. So, saving the Amazon. I feel like I've done my bit to combat global warming, and use this as an excuse to justify the huge carbon bootprint I created flying over here.

I managed to get my camera soaking wet because at first I wasn't taking it seriously. Some irritating American girls were running around shouting 'FIRE!!', which I thought was hilarious, so I ran off to take a photo. A few people in our camp were freaking out but I thought they were just being melodramatic. When I went to have a look however I realised it was a big fucking fire and there was a serious possibility it might reach out camp (which was just a collection of wooden huts). So I got soaking wet trying to put it out and in the "heat" of the moment so to speak, forgot I had my camera on me. It survived though, with just a little water damage to the display screen. To it's credit, this camera is hard as nails.

A quick note to those people who refused to help out with the fire - you are all dicks. I mean, not only did they refuse to help, they shouted at their friends who were helping and told them to stop, because it's "not their job" and they're "supposed to be on holiday''. I don't care how much you paid for this trip (incidentally it was about 30 quid for three days, including everything), the fire wasn't anyone's fault and some things are more important than your holiday. Quite apart from all the birds, monkeys and other animals that were nesting in the trees around the camp, that place was someone's home and many people's livelyhood. I hope one day your house is on fire and everyone refuses to help because their itinerary says they're "supposed to be going fishing", you prissy wankers. I'm not going to say what nationality they were because I don't want to perpetuate a negative backpacker stereotype, but seriously. Twats.

Anyway. That's another thing we did, fishing for Piranahs. I lasted about 20 seconds at this, because the first things I caught was a tiny baby catfish, which actually screamed. I tried to get the hook out of it's face, couldn't do it, freaked out and made someone else fix it and throw it back in. I then sulked and refused to participate any futher. Yes, I'm a hypocrite, but we weren't going to EAT any of things we caught and I didnt see the point in recreationally hurting small animals. Anyway, fishing is hella boring. Really, it is. Even Kit, who has been constantly nagging me about going fishing for the last two months, got bored after about 20 minutes.

At the end of that trip, after another night out in Rurre, we decided to fly back to La Paz. I'd heard the flight was pretty scary but the bus journey sounded if anything even more terrifying, and would have been about 24 hours longer. So we booked our seats and turned up to the 'airport' which was in fact a field. Not even a very flat one. It did have an airport bar, which was basically a table set up under a tree. I'm not normally scared of flying, but this setup made me a nervous. They didn't scan or search our bags on the way in, and they let Kit on the plane despite the fact that because or main bags were in La Paz, he had no ID other than a photocopy of his passport which had completely dissolved during the firefighting incident, so it was just a ball of mush. There was no screen between us and the cockpit, so you could see the pilot. No one wants to be able to see the pilot. He looked stoned. Now I know a bus is WAY more likely to kill us, given Bolvia's safety record and the state of the roads, but I was genuinely terrified. After we'd taken off and I'd stopped quietly freaking out, the view was amazing. We flew low enough to get a clear view of the Amazon below and a sense of how deep in the jungle we really were. The plane was climbing the whole way but we never really gained much height above the ground because we were moving from sea level to the mountains. Everything was perfectly smooth the whole way until we were approaching La Paz. The airport is called El Alto, which means I believe "the high". At over 4000 meters, it's the highest commercial airport in the world. It's located above La Paz, on a flat plane surrounded by mountains. We climbed over the mountains, and as soon as we passed them and went from being relatively close to the ground to very high, a load of turbulance hit us and we just dropped. I'm sure this was all intentional but it scared the crap out of me. The turbulance probably wouldn't have been that bad if we'd been in a normal, reasonably sized plane, but our teeny little planelet really felt like it was shaking apart at the seams. Anyway the landing was fine, so I felt pretty stupid. I managed to leave my glasses behind on the plane, in my rush to escape.

OH and before I forget, a quick note on Rurrenebaque. There is, inexplicably, a French baker who decided to move to the middle of the Amazon jungle and open up a shop. A French boy I met in a bar told me about him. His shop is hidden away in a back alley behind one of the tourist cafes, I can't remember which one, there's no sign but ask around. It is AMAZING. You have to get there before 8am or everything is sold out, but it is worth it for the bizarre experience of eating freshly baked, delicious French pastries in the middle of the Bolivian jungle.

Next - back to La Paz.

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