Around the World

Jungle cruise with sand flies and wasps included

In venturing to South America, the Amazon Basin was a must-see destination for us. Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, and Brazil feature protected parts of the Amazon—and each claims to be the best in terms of wildlife protection and conservation. After a fair amount of research, we narrowed our sights on Manu National Park in Peru and Madidi National Park in Bolivia. In the end, money and time made our decision for us. Manu is exclusive and expensive to visit; plus, we received good intel that the farmers planned to blockade the roads leading from and to Cusco again. Not wanting to get stuck behind a blockade again, we headed straight to Bolivia, and thus our last chance to experience the Amazon basin.

There are only three transportation options leading to Madidi: (1) a 16-20 hour bus ride on a span of one-lane, dirt highway notoriously known as “Death Road”; (2) a 50-minute hair-raising flight on a turbulent twin prop plane; or (3) a 3-day jungle cruise. We opted for the latter.

Like some tour companies, ours only told us half-truths about our trip. This is fairly common and should for the most part be expected, but it does make for a “where in the world are we going” sort of feel among us and fellow travelers. Originally, we planned to go by bus on “Death Road” for only 2 hours and stop for breakfast and then another 2 hours in which we’d meet our guide and start our trip on the river. The trip began as planned by driving 2 hours on a beautiful stretch of the death road. We started high above the clouds and descended rapidly in those 2 hours to the jungle. However instead of breakfast, we picked up two other passengers and continued on for another 3 hours in a humid, steaming bus on a rocky, bumpy road around hairpin turns. Those three hours solidified my decision as well as everyone else’s that we were not taking the 16 hour bus ride on the way back as originally planned.

When we reached what we thought was our destination we all let out a sight of relief. Thank goodness, we thought; none of us could imagine being stuck for much longer in that bus with every inch of our bodies welded by sweat to the seats. Exiting the bus for lunch and a small break, we were informed it would only be another 10-20 minutes before reaching the river. When we were trapped in the sauna-like bus again, we were told in truth we would reach the river in 3 more hours not the stated 10-20 minutes promised just minutes prior. Grumbling and grumpy, sweat poured down our faces, and I began to reconsider whether the cruise was our best option after all.

When we finally pushed off from the riverbank, it was like a scene out of National Geographic. Surrounded by verdant rainforests, burnt-orange cliffs, and boisterous bird calls we swiftly motored down the river. We spent three days slowly cruising to our destination with nights spent on sandy beaches. Along the way, we visited the local communities, swam in streams connecting to the main river, and walked in the jungle. Beyond providing transportation between local villages, the river served as a moth superhighway. Thousands of vibrant-colored moths made their way along the river banks. Specks of azul blue, amarillo yellow, and chartreuse green fluttered along the highway.

Being on the river was amazingly beautiful, but being on land wasn’t without its hardships. Sand flies swarmed the banks waiting for fresh blood. Changing clothes to take a swim was like a flailing dance, hopping from foot to foot with arms waving through the air swatting them off of each other. We clearly didn’t master the avoidance dance as at last count 40 bites covered each of my legs;Chris faired only slightly better. During the jungle walk, what started out as seemingly calm question about a fellow travelers’ insect bite turned into mass hysteria as our group was attacked by wasps. The Czech couple that was attacked first caught our guides attention and quite calmly inquired about the insect they were holding and if it was dangerous as it had bitten one of them. While I attentively listened, one of the wasps stung me through my shirt. Unlike the Czechs, I was not as calm and let out a scream and several expletives (it hurt like hell). Within seconds of my sting, other screams sounded and hysteria ensued as the wasps began their attack. Although not everyone was stung in the melee, everyone had wasps on their clothes or in their hair. As luck would have it, it began to pour. Imagine us swiftly tramping back through the forest with arms waving to swat wasps off each other in a complete down pour, and you’ll have a pretty good picture of our jungle walk. Everyone returned to the boat soaked with some of us sporting swollen appendages from the stings.

After six hours of pouring rain and wind puncturing our wet layers, Rurrenbaque was a welcomed sight. If you’re interested—on our return from Madidi, we opted for the 50-minute flight. Although a few times fellow passengers and I eyed our air sickness bags, the flight wasn’t as turbulent as expected, and we unanimously recommend this as the best option in getting to Rurrenbaque and back.

Classic Inca Trek to Machu Picchu

The classic Inca trail is a grueling, yet amazing 4 day, 3 night trek covering 33 kilometres to Machu Picchu. Our trek began with an informational get-together with our group the night before our hike (Read: a meeting to size each other up). As usual, we are the weakest links. We are joined by several other fellow Americans from Chicago, most of them marathon runners, and four Germans that look like they hike the Alps on a regular basis. Carlos and Valetin, our guides for the trek, try not to scare us with the run-down of what to expect for the next few days but it sounds brutal. We are thankful we hired porters to carry our gear; we are astonished that most in our group decided to forego them. Crazy, we think. And, if we may offer one recommendation: hire a porter; this is a tough hike even for marathon runners.

Day 1
Team building exercises are a good way to get to know your group, and on our first day we experienced an unexpected team-building moment. About 2 hours into our drive to the trail head, we encountered a washout of the road. Many buses and trucks jammed the road while the Peruvian guides and porters worked to build a makeshift bridge. The first attempt failed, but on the second attempt fellow trekkers joined in on the effort by gathering stones to fill the hole. While some in our group worked to create the makeshift bridge, others (Chris included) chose to remain on the sidelines to “document” and “oversee” the construction.

With our first team building exercise a success, we moved on to conquer the Inca trail. The first day’s hike started out relatively easy meandering along valley walls and the rivers of Urubamba and Kusichaca. We rested several times along the way, taking in views of Llactapata, an Inca ruin, and the peak of Mt. Veronica. While many groups stop to camp after only 3 hours of hiking, we journeyed on further up the valley. It is a beautiful hike through green forest, but becomes difficult due to the constant uphill for the last 3 hours. When we reached our campsite after 6 hours of hiking, we were greeted by applause from our porters. This seemed somewhat silly as they carry 25 kgs (55 lbs) each of tents, pots, food, benches, and other gear. If anyone deserves applause, it is the porters. But, we were elated to arrive nonetheless. Even more so, when they served us popcorn for happy hour.

Day 2
Fueling our bodies with apple and cinnamon quinoa, omelets, toast, fruit, and tea, we ensured our readiness for the grueling day ahead. We began day 2 by climbing steep stairs through the cloud forest for 1.5 hours to Llaluchupampa, a resting site before the final push over Dead Woman’s Pass, Warmiwañusca. On this first part of the hike, llamas navigated the stairs with ease, and we considered hopping on them for a quick trip to the top. There were several moths and centipedes creating obstacles on the steps; Chris attracted one moth that persistently attempted to reach his face. By the time I caught up to him, he was near panic as the moth was closing in on his neck. With the moth securely removed, we continued onwards to the resting site.

Looking up at the trail to Dead Woman’s Pass, we felt confident we could reach the top with little trouble. Although others told us us this stage of the hike was punishing, it did not look that difficult. After a nice rest, we started the climb to the top of Dead Woman’s Pass at 4,198 m (12,594 ft). At first, we felt great and estimated we could reach the top in 1 hour rather than the posted 2 hours. We were wrong. Dead Woman’s pass gets its name because it resembles a woman; you can clearly make out her face, breast, stomach, and elbow. The pass crosses just below her breast and over her stomach. As we rounded the bend of her elbow, we realized this indeed is a punishing hike. The last 45 minutes climb up the steep stairs is grueling. We can see the top of the pass, but with every shallow breath our energy diminishes exponentially. It is a slow climb, but we make it to the top in 1.5 hours. A few of the marathon runners and the Germans made it to the top before us and cheer us on on over the last few steps. There is little energy for celebration, however. With our lungs gasping for air and our chest heaving in and out, it takes us a while to catch our breath.

Hungry for lunch, we start the 1.5 hour descent down the other side of the pass toward Paqaymayu. This mind-boggling steep descent takes us past waterfalls and trickling streams. Our knees are continually glad we rented trekking polls as the stairs are incredibly steep. Most trekkers spend the night at our lunch spot, but not us. No, we continue on for another 3 hours. We can see the next bit from our lunch spot and the incline looks difficult. All of us are moaning and groaning at climbing uphill again. Anxious though to get to our final campsite, we start the climb up again. It is loaded with stairs and we are all happy when we reach Runkurakay, an Inca lookout, because it means we can rest. The lookout has sweeping views of the valley below us and the Inca trail we traversed in the distance. Our guides point out the half-way mark of our current climb, and I think all is lost. I am spent and do not want to climb further, but we push on. When we finally reach the half-way mark, I am overcome by a second-wind and quickly traverse the remaining climb with Chris bewildered by my sudden energy and mood-change.

We reach the top of the second pass just ahead of the Germans, which seems like a real feat. All that is left is a steep descent down to our camp. We continue our quick pace down until we reach the ruins of Sayaqmarca. Chris and a few others decide to explore the ruins, while the rest of take a breather. In no time, clouds roll in and it starts to rain. All of us scamper to get our rain ponchos out, but within minutes we are all soaked. I meet up up with Chris as he is coming down the stairs from the ruins and we hurry as fast as we can to the campsite. We arrive wet and cold, but there is popcorn and tea waiting for us and somehow that makes our chilled and sore bodies happy.

Day 3
The day starts out with Chris stealing my chocolate pancake. If you sense a bit of bitterness, you would be correct. Everyone claimed they were really good pancakes. Day 3 was our shortest day, but we encountered some of our steepest terrain. The trail starts out uphill through cloud forest and crosses through a cave until reaching the third pass of the Inca trail. This part of the trek was relatively easy. However, the descent down from the third pass tired our knees and quads. Along the way, we visited the site of Phuyupatamarca. This site mostly served as an agricultural area with terraces for growing corn, potatoes, and coca. On this part of the trek, there are 2000 steps but our group lost track after only 100. These steps are incredibly steep and narrow. To give you an idea of the steepness, the width of the stairs were less than my shoe size (6.5 in) and the depth was the height of my knee. Needless to say, we moved slowly.

After 4 hours of hiking down steep stairs, we reached our campsite. Near the grounds, ruins of Wiñaywayna exist. We found these ruins really interesting. They served as an agciculture center, but also had a temple, the temple of the rainbow. The fountains in the complex still worked, delivering water to the terraces. Exploring these ruins tucked away on such a steep hillside made us excited for our next day of touring Machu Picchu.

Day 4
Day 4 began with a wake-up call at 4am. Upon exiting the checkpoint, our guide raced toward the sun gate with us in tow in order to be one of the first groups there. He kept such a fast pace that eventually we fell behind. We held hope that the race to the sun gate would be rewarding, but with the thick, low clouds there was really no chance of seeing Machu Picchu. The trail to the sun gate and Machu Picchu were cloaked in clouds well until 10am. It seems more reasonable to wake later and reach the sun gate as the cloud cover clears. We continued our descent down through the clouds, reaching Machu Picchu around 8am.

We explored Machu Picchu for the rest of the day. For a bit of a history lesson, when the Spaniards began conquering the Quechuans, it is thought the Quechuans kept Machu Picchu hidden and thus protected by destroying the roads leading to it. It is a massive complex of terraces, ceremonial baths, temples, and buildings. The stonework of the temples is incredible. The Quechuans did not use mortar for building their temples, and the fitting of the temple stones is perfectly flush. Walking amongst the ruins, you feel the sacredness of the grounds. Despite all the crowds, it is still a peaceful and beautiful place.

We would like to visit again when we are not so tired from the trek. We would recommend to those that do the trek to spend a night or two in Aquas Calientes and plan to visit Machu Picchu again after resting. We wanted to hike back up to the sun gate and to Huayna Picchu for outstanding views of Machu Picchu, but we were too tired and sore. All in all, the trek was an amazing, beautiful journey through river valleys, cloudforests, and ruins.

As always, our recent photos can be viewed on Chris’ and Jodi’s flickr pages.

Second attempt at skirting Cusco Blockade

Yesterday, we attempted for the second time to skirt the Cusco blockades. We are happy to report we were successful!!! The blockades constructed by local farmers are blocking several major roads into Cusco. The farmers are striking because a company wants to build a hydroelectric dam on the major river that irrigates their land. The strike started last Monday and was only suppose to last 72 hours, but thus far it has lasted eight days.

To get around the blockades, we found a bus company that took an alternate route far into the mountains along a gravel, bumpy road. The trip to Cusco from Puno should normally take 5 hours, this trip took us 12 hours. For the most part, we did not see any protesters but we saw evidence of the blockade as we reached the main road. Our bus driver pointed out the main road to us and said,¨all we have to do now is cross that bridge¨, and then the bus halted. It turned out the protesters burned some of the wooden planks on the steel bridge. The bus driver and guide, placed the charred pieces back on the bridge and the bus gingerly began to cross it. In jest, Chris asked me my escape plan, and another passenger retorted ¨the emergency windows¨. It made me happy to know another traveler was as paranoid as I.

The bus trip was not all that bad though. We saw jagged peaks, pristine lakes, and quite a few flamingos on our bus ride.

Tomorrow, we start the classic Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We will let you know how it goes upon our return.

Happy Halloween early!!

International coalition to thwart Cusco blockade

We knew we might face blockades in Bolivia, but it never occurred to us our travels would be disrupted due to blockades in Peru. A few days ago, we learned of a blockade blocking the roads to Cusco. When traveling like this, we take things as they come. Thus, we did not concern ourselves with the blockade until we arrived yesterday to catch a bus from Puno to Cusco and learned they were not running.

At the bus terminal, there were several other backpackers seeking to go to Cusco. Some of them heard we could take a private car around the blockade. So, we formed an international coalition made up of Israelis, French, Dutch, and Americans and proceeded to find a private car to take us to Cusco. We were approached in the bus terminal by a few drivers trying to sell us on paying $50 per person for a private vehicle. The French thought this was too expensive so we traveled back to the city center to see if we could get a better deal. It took us awhile, but eventually we arranged private transport for $35 each. We were pretty elated because one of the drivers was a policeman. To receive police escort seemed like a sure bet!

After 3 hours of driving, we reached the blockade. We could see many vehicles taking a different route through the mountains on a gravel road. Our drivers stopped and chatted, and then told us we could not pass. They said another blockade was at the top of the mountain pass. I think there is always a sense of mistrust when you do not fully understand the language, and as we watched cars, minivans, and buses travel on the mountain road I felt a certain amount of suspicion of whether they were telling us the truth. However, it seemed we had no other option and we returned to Puno. Our international coalition failed…..

As we were headed to breakfast this morning, we passed a stranger on the street who said, ¨Cusco?¨ and started snickering at us. Immediately, my gut had that sinking feeling; we were taken. We stopped into two travel agencies this morning to see if it is possible to cross over the mountain road, and both have confirmed that yes, private transports and some buses are crossing and making it to Cusco.

It is a bitter feeling to be taken advantage of in a vulnerable moment. Our Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu begins in three days. We were to report to the office today; it is unknown whether we will be able to make it in time for the trek. We try to rationalize that Peruvians experience a poverty we have never experienced, and thus when opportunity presents itself some take it. But, it sucks to be out $70 and still stuck in Puno.

Currently, we are attempting to arrange transport either through a travel agency or a bus that goes around the blockade. Wish us luck in making it to Cusco by Tuesday, so that we may begin the Inca Trail on Wednesday!

UPDATE:We managed to find a private bus for a Polish tour group that is attempting an alternate route to Cusco tomorrow. They were kind enough (after many calls) to allow us to join their group. We checked out the tour agency and the route with a local information desk and all seems to be legitimate, except they have never taken this route before. Wish us luck!

Lake Titicaca

Yes, I know—Lake Titicaca, get the giggles out now. Chris still remembers snickering with the other boys when his middle school geography teacher said “Lake Titicaca”. He never imagined actually visiting the highest navigable lake, so he was pretty excited when we finally set our eyes on its crystal blue waters.

Yesterday morning, we set off to the dock find a local boat to take us out. The Lonely Planet recommends this over a tour operator as the money spent goes directly to the local people. As soon as we get out of the rickshaw, we are surrounded by people trying to sell us on their boat. Oh no we think, not this again. We are immediately grabbed by two men and shuttled off to a boat to look it over. It is rundown and old; the engine looks like it is on its last leg, but the boat is full of local islanders so we think it might be an authentic experience. The men see us glancing at the touristico boats which look like yachts compared to this dingy and immediately start telling us those are touristico boats and this boat is local and better for the people. They preyed on our sympathetic nature, and in the end we agree to take their boat.

Lake Titicaca is home to 30+ floating islands of the Uros People. The islands are made of layered totora reeds stacked on top of each other. They were originally built to escape the Incas and preserve the Uros culture. Walking onto the islands was like stepping on a firm water bed; with each step we sunk a little. As we did not have a guide, one of the islanders improvised for us and invited us into his home and showed us how he lives. His home consists of two beds for four people. It is a simple way of living, but he has a garden of potatoes and other root vegatables growing underneath the reeds. The communal kitchen has three large cast iron pots over a clay stove. We did not see any livestock on the islands, so we assume they eat mostly vegetables along with duck and fish from the lake.

From the floating islands, we motored across the lake for 3 hours to reach Isla Taquille. As our boat was full of locals and piled high with goods, we climbed the 500 stairs to the top of the island with them. I spent most of the climb in awe of the women easily carrying 50lbs on their backs up the stone steps. Stone fences marking property lines and pastures, sheep wandering the cobblestone walkways, and the bright garb of the locals were memorable sights. Stone archways marked the main path to the town square, as other cobblestone paths spread throughout the island. It is possible to spend the night with a local family in this tranquil setting, but we opted to return to Puno.

On our return trip, we second-guessed our decision to take a local boat. It was by far the slowest boat in port and midway through the return trip the captain began emptying bucket after bucket of water from the bilge. As usual, I had an escape plan which basically just consisted of a life jacket and jumping overboard. Admittedly, not much of a plan. Chris mentioned when we made it to dry land that he was glad we made it back. It is a good thing he did not say anything while we were on the boat or I may have entered into sheer panic.