With my friends Tamara and Annika the journey was to take us over the Andes mountains and into the jungle. First was an 11 hour bus trip over the mountains. Waking in the night being thrown from side to side in my seat and then being bumped up and down for what seemed like forever... in the dark, in bus with curtains drawn it´s all a mystery outside.
In the morning the bus pulled into the beautifully named Tingo Maria, in the foothills of the Andes, surrounded by jungle and pouring down with rain. The three of us managed to fit into a tiny moto taxi and go to the Hostal Roosevelt.
North of Tingo Maria is the Rio Huallaga Valley, a major cocaine manufacturing area in Peru and maybe not the safest place to wander through with a backpack. West was the road to Pucallpa and the route we were to take. Our trusty guide book 'The Risky Planet' gave warning that armed robberies have occurred on many occasions along this route. A local told us that it happens but very occasionally.
The bus left Tingo Maria at 10am and then stopped again very quickly to change one of the tyres. 1 1/2 hours later we were going again. Descending through the jungle to meet a big jungle river. Construction crews were working to built new sections where the river had washed the road away. The power of this river in spate must have been incredible. Some way down stream from one of the washouts lay a massive right angled section of concrete probably 20 metres long.The bus stopped to pick up a security guard with pump action shot gun. He made a speech on the bus and with my bad Spanish I translated roughly what he said: 'There are many robbers that make my job very dangerous. I get paid very little to save your lives. I´m very hungry and want chicken for my lunch. Please give me some money for my lunch'. The girls having slept through the speech were rudely awoken by a man with a gun demanding money! Maybe this was the frequent armed robbery that happens on this road?
Steep ravines, mighty river, rapids crashing over rocks, waterfalls cascading down vertical cliffs, lush green jungle, when there was nowhere the road could go the bus disappeared into unlit tunnels. Heading further inland the hills disappeared leaving the jungle to surround. The rain had stopped but had left the roads quite muddy. A big truck was stuck in the middle of the road causing a big traffic jam the other way. After waiting 30 minutes the bus driver decided there was maybe just room to get past, there was and shortly after the dirt road turns to the best tarmac road I´ve seen in all South America and a speedy arrival into Pucallpa. This journey from Lima had the potential to go badly wrong, we were very lucky to arrive with no delays.
Pucallpa is the end of the road in the jungle, onward travel is by boat. The boat is question was the Baylon I. A not too rusty cargo boat with the top two decks for hammocks. Feeling ill in the morning, was it good to be stuck on a boat for 5 days? The doctor at the pharmacy seemed to think I would live so we took our bags and supplies down to the dock and set up camp on the boat, and waited and waited and waited for 30 hours for the boat to leave. During this time the whole bottom deck and part of the next were loaded entirely by hand. Watching the dock workers work, it was easy to see how the Inca rulers were able to built amazing structures in such a short time.
At 6pm we set sale down the Rio Ucayali, lying in our gently rocking hammocks, together with 60 or 70 others on our deck. The days on the boat passed remarkably quickly. Relaxing and interesting and never boring. Breakfast, lunch and dinner provided, although pretty basic it was ideal for my suffering stomach.
There were even showers on the boat, although it was the same brown river water that was used to flush the toilets and came from the taps in the sinks. After 3 days and smelling badly, there was really no choice but to brave the showers. Brushing our teeth at the sinks, the local people looked at us strangely, wondering why we were using bottled water, they didn´t understand our delicate gringo bellies.
Jungle on each river bank with the occasional wooden house or small village. The boat acts as a bus service along the river, calling at village ports to drop goods and passengers. The small motor launch taking and picking passengers up from more remote spots.
Although it was the wet season there was little rain on this trip, but even so, the river was as full as it could get. The sunset over the river was really the highlight of the day.
After 5 days on the boat (4 days actual sailing) we arrived at the jungle city of Iquitos. This is the largest city in the world that cannot be reached by road. Made rich in the 1920´s from the rubber plantations there are many impressive buildings, even one designed by Gustave Eiffel of the towering fame. Hot and humid it has a slightly unusual feel to it, could be a setting for a William Burroughs novel.
The market at Belen, with alligators, turtles, snails and all sorts was something else, the floating town of Belen even more so. 50,000 people living in floating wooden houses that move up and down with the changing river levels. Churches, schools, shops and even a floating disco were all there.
The Long Journey to Ecuador
Annika took the boat down the river to Leticia in Columbia, Tamara and I were to travel to Ecuador.
Time was running short, another 4 days by boat to Yurimaguas was not an option. The crime was committed, the flight ticket was bought to Tarapoto. The 45 minute flight had blown our budgets but had saved us a lot of time.
Tarapoto was a surprise, a friendly and affluent appearing city. Our mototaxi driver took us out of the city the next morning to see a waterfall in the jungle. Mountains, jungle and waterfalls, a beautiful combination.
Leaving an hour late from Tarapoto at 1pm, the bus arrived 12 hours later into Jaen, 4 hours late. For the first part of the journey the bus was more often stopped than not. So it was 1am in Jaen and the mototaxi driver said we could get an onward bus at 3am. There wasn´t much point getting a hotel at this time of night so we agreed he could take us to the 'bus station'. 'Is this safe?' was the question I asked as we were dropped off at a deserted parking lot in an industrial estate on the edge of town..... A dodgy looking character in a hoody told us it would be 4.30am before a bus left so we got down to a serious game of cards and waited. At 2.30am a taxi turned up with a family followed by the ubiquitous Toyota Hiace minibus that would take us to San Ignacio. These little buses are not really designed for 6ft tall Scotsmen so as the sun came up in San Ignacio, sleep was one thing that had been missing.
Hustled quickly to our next transport and the typical share taxi, a trusty Toyota Corolla. 3 in the front, 4 in the back and another 2 hours of dirt roads. Driving through the town our driver shouts out to some one on the street 'GRINGOS' and laughed heartily. The border we were going to at La Bolsa is very remote and not much used by travelers, but that was the whole appeal.
After some breakfast and tracking down the immigration official to stamp our passports we were faced with the choice, cross the border and wait until 12.30pm for a truck to take us to Zumba in Ecuador, or take the offer from a Peruvian taxi driver, $5 each for the ride. There were 3 of us who couldn´t wait for the truck. Although the border disputes between Ecuador and Peru have been settled there was still an army checkpoint just over the border in Ecuador. Young soldiers with machine guns eying us edgily as we had our passports checked again. The taxi driver having the biggest problem assuring them of his intentions.
From Zumba it was another 6 1/2 hours by bus on a really rough jungle road. Construction crews were working at regular intervals to repair the damage from recent landslides. Beautiful jungle views, rivers and mountains. The journey so far had gone reasonably smoothly..... Tamara grabbed my arm as the bus swerved suddenly to miss another vehicle, bumped and came to a sudden halt..... everybody got off the but, woah that was a big drop beside the door as I mistake some vegetation for solid ground and nearly fall where the bus might have gone.
Fortunately this all happened on an uphill corner otherwise things could have been much worse. After 20 minutes the bus was back on the road and careering as madly as ever along the winding jungle road.
Standing beside the bus in Vilcabamba after 30 hours of travel, we talked of our relief to have arrived safely when suddenly there was an all mighty bang. One of the bus´s tyres had just exploded, showering the road with mud and rubber. By the plume of acrid black smoke coming from under the bus, the tyre must have over heated. That was quite enough excitement for one day!
