This was an extremely long yet very informative day by day email I sent to some people. It describes two crazy weeks of our times in South America. Enjoy:
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Hello family and friends who are wisely in my gmail account, you get preferred treatment.
This was started like 4 days ago and took a while to finish. It is quite long. It is basically a day by day diary of our crazy two weeks in Bolivia where our families thought we died because we could not email them. But like most things, everything works out in the end. So either enjoy it or . . . dont.
Well, we made it. Where Brazil softened me, rounded out my edges, Bolivia chisled the edges back in. Man, it has been a crazy two weeks. I will be coming home to repair my damaged body and eat a lot and surf a lot and hangout alot and what not. So let me begin my story.
We start off in La Paz Bolivia. Chris and I took a taxi to the bus terminal where you catch the bus which takes you to La Cumbra where the World`s Deadliest Road begins. We got dropped off as the bus continued down off the altiplano into Yolsa and up again into Coroico. All the mountain bike tour companies start in La Cumbra which is basically a parking lot. However, Chris and I were trekking down into Yolosá, a 3 day trip which descends nearly 3000 meters. We hiked to a building where you sign in so they can keep track of who travels on what day and when and how many, kinda like Yosemite does. Then we headed out.
The first day we ascended to over 4680 meters with fantastic views of the taller mountain peaks capped with snow and glaciers slipping down their faces. No trees, just barren landscape with interesting geography and geological shapes and slants. We descended into a valley where the rivers begin. The valley was filled with short grasses and small shrubbery that tried to climb up the peaks but couldn`t because of the oxygen. As we descended you could see the Inca trail which snaked down the mountain side down into the valley and off into the distance around a bend. There were also two quite large Inca ruins at the base of the mountain where the trail begins to follow the river. We passed a some locals herding llamas and later some horses. Very few people though. Once down into the valley the hiking became a little flatter which helped. You can get tired of going down. By the end of the trip I loathed `down` and much preferred `up`. We passed through what felt like deserted small villages with stone walls preventing the llamas from escaping as we continued along the side of the river. We reached a larged town, big enough to have a small soccer field, and payed the fee to hike the trail. The fee pays for maintanence. We continued on our feet starting to burn from so much downhill. But by and by we made it to our first campsite in another little town that spread along the both hillsides of the valley conected by a suspension bridge. We set up our tent on the fluffiest grass as we had no sleeping pads. It got cold as we set up and started to bowl water for our first dinner. I took of my shoes and counted 5 blisters on my left foot and 4 on my right. Sucked big time. They were all in weird places too, the tips of toes, under the toes, the side of the foot, places I usually do not get them. We ate noodles and had tuna avocado sandwishes. The tuna was kinda sketchy. We topped off our meal with some Toblerone. Then to bed. I fell asleep and had a better nights sleep in the wild then all the nights in La Paz, I usually only slept 4 or 5 hours and sporatically, plus I was sick, and woke up refreshed and ready to go. Unfortunately Chris did not. And so begins our adventure.
Chris was sick. Big time sick. His body was rejecting everything inside, coming out of both ends, if you know what I mean. Throwing up all night, diareah, fever, weakness, he had it all. He hardly slept at all. He said this was one of the sickest times he could remember. But he felt so good the previous evening? you say. But I say, the night can change it all. It might have been the tuna but who knows. We didn`t eat anymore tuna after that. We set off slowly. Our first stop I took weight of my pack and strapped it onto Chris` since his could hold more and I carried his pack. The next stop I took both packs. That`s right. I reached deep within me and pulled out my Ancient Viking power and for 4 hours hiked with one pack on my back and the other on my stomach. My massive quads almost bursting from my skin as I took each step, my oaks of righteousness legs undaunted by the ups and downs of our hike. We made it to the next town and took a break. Our original plan was to continue on for another few hours but I left the descision to Chris. We stayed the night there.
The campsite was nice. Right on the river which had gained size and white boulders filled its bed and banks where the water cascaded down in various pools. After I took my shoes off to find some blisters diminished and others worse, one a big bloody mess, I went exploring up the river and went swimming in the frigid snow run off. And I went naked. Yes, I am a mountain man. At dusk I came back, which was always fairly early being in a canyo and all, and made more noodles. Chris tried to eat some. He ate five and threw up. I finished off my dinner with Toblerone and some coca tea. Yes, coca leaves are abundant in Bolivia. And no, it is not cocaine. That is processed from the coca leaves. I read for awhile out in the starlight and then hit the ground. We each had our two sleeping bags which ended up being warm enough.
Woke the next morning and Chris felt a little better. I stirred up some oatmeal for myself. The owner of the campspot, who also had a small store where he sold water and Coke and the like, offered to carry our bags. A Bolivian porter. We didn`t need two porters, only one if Chris didn`t feel up to it. I had decided to hike in my Chaco`s, God bless them. Chris decided to hire the ported from the town to another 4 hours off called San Fransisco. The man was older, probably in his 40`s and his son who was 12 came along too. I packed Chris` pack with most of the weight like I had done the previous day in order to take advantage of a porter, a real Bolivian porter, like the ones you hear about that carry tons of weight and run up and down the trails. Except this guy was out of practice. His son carried the tent and he the larger backpack. I carried mine and Chris nothing. As we ascended the steep slope (all of which are rocky and slippery) I thought the porter dude was going to keel over and die. He was huffing and puffing and needed more breaks than I did. I was like, `come on we are paying you because you are supposed to be good at this.` At the top of the first hill he traded the big backpack for the tent and gave the backpack to his son who was about his size. It was funny though because the backpack was almost as big as the kid. So off we went again. The kid did well but was kinda slow so I had to beat him to keep his pace up to my preffered speed. We took more breaks and it was cool to see the father and son interact. The son really looked up to his dad. We made it to San Fransisco which was basically a house. That is what most of these towns are, a house or maybe two. Anything over that is big. In San Fransisco the dad and his son ate and that is as far as we paid them to go. As Chris and I waited and I pounded my delicious Snickers (man, you love those things when you are away from the States or backpacking) while the biting sand flies attacked my feet. I didn`t notice them at first but the little buggers were vicious. They are these little flies that land on you and start chomping and then sucking. Not like the mosquitoes which are sly these guys are agressive. I literally got about 25 bites on each foot and leg. Bloody sand flies. After I realized I was being eaten I wanted to go so I picked up the heavy pack and we headed across the mountain side. Most of the trails follow the edge of the mountains on single track trails and the towns are also on these. It is interesting that they live their lives on a 10 foot wide trail. As we walked on we ran into two bulls with big horns. At first we startled them, so we then approached slowly. But one bull didn`t like us and bluff charged us as Chris and I turned tail and scrurried back up the trail, laughing because it was funny but also with an attitude of `oh crap` because those things can run fast if they want to and since the trail was only 4 feet wide at that point we would get the point, if you know what I mean. So we were at a stand still. The town, San Fransisco, was just a short jaunt up the trail so I hiked back to inform the owner that there were two bulls who didn`t like us. He came down with a stick. The bulls even resisted him a little but since he knew how to deal with them they moved. He basically hit them on the horns when the tucked their heads down as if to charge. But we passed and continued on to Sandiani where there was an actual hostel with beds. This town is also known for a Japanese guy who moved there in the 40s and started a Japanese garden. He still lives there today and records all the travelers who pass in his book. You can camp on his property which overlooks the valley, an amazing view, and you are surrounded by red leafed Japanese trees. Chris opted for the bed to get a good nights sleep on a cushioned surface while I opted for the cheaper but more beautiful camping. I bought 2 liters of water and 2 liters of Coke and pounded them both as I whipped up some noodles for dinner. Topped it off with some Toblerone and coca tea and read. During dinner, and the making of it, I just gazed into the distance valleys as the sun sank over the mountain peaks cooling the evening air allowing the cobalt blue mist to settle into its resting place in the valleys below. The sunsets are not so colorful. They need to build more coal factories or something that produces polution in order to intensify the setting sun. But it was magnificent just the same as the light illuminated the various creveses and nokes and cranies of the distant peaks and lit up the snow in a slight orange glow. After reading outside I moved into the tent. I was all alone tonight. My first all alone camping experience. I screamed a lot, gasped, cried, and then passed out in fear into dream land.
Ah, our last day of hiking. Woke up and had a leisurely morning allowing Chris to suck down a few more snoozes. I had a power breakfast of a Snickers and washed it down with some Coke. Oh yeah. Gotta get pumped, gotta do things, gotta get pumped. I carried the larger pack and we hiked down into Chairo. Again I wore my Chacos but this time with my Smartwool socks, God bless them too. The hike was very interesting as you start in an alpine climate and work your way down through various other climates where it resembles California treking at times and others is tropical with waterfalls and banana trees and numerous colored butterflies. In Yolosa we got a drink and waited for the small van which takes you to Coroico. However it was very expensive which made me mad, it seemed outrageous and I refused to pay. So we hiked for an hour to the next town where a lady gave us 6 oranges for free. We had lunch at her place and waited for another bus. It came and cost much less. Down the bumpy and dusty road where construction never ends and up into Coroico we went. One flat plagued us but was quickly fixed. We found a cheap hostal and rested and then watched the sunset over the distant peaks. Actually Chris read and I watched. We then ate at a Mexican restuarant. The food was good but not enough. I grabbed a cup of coffee and read for a while but the coffee sucked and I ended up dumping more of it into a planter. Then to bed.
Woke up, had a good bfast and a better cup of coffee and bought our bus tickets to Rurrenebaque for that day. Packed and waited at the small office. Lots of gringos. Loaded into the back of a pickup truck which drove us down into Yolosa where the bus picks you up coming from La Paz and continuing on. We waited there for about 2 hours and it finally came. Snuck on the bus with my backpack (they don`t want you to do that usaully but I don`t care, all the locals do) and found iour seats, the second to last row, the worst row, the worst seat. I was next to the window. Apperently the second to last row is just jammed in at the end because the bus designers were like `we can probably fit one more row in`. You are all probably sitting in a chair right now reading this, no. Ok, make a thumbs up with your hand. I realize not everyone`s hand is my size but mas o menos. Now place the butt of your hand against the front of your seat with your thumb pointing out. The seat in front of me hit the tip of my thumb. I could not sit normally. My legs were crossed and angled and squashed. Any less room, even a centimeter, and it would have been physically impossible to sit, impossible. Chris sat next to me so I was trapped between the window, the seat, and Chris. Oh joyous day, 15 hours like this on a bumpy road on the side of a cliff. Probably the worst bus ride ever. We were supposed to stop 3 times but only stopped I think once for dinner. But I passed out and managed to sleep a little. As dawn approached my legs were getting antsy, they needed room. It didn`t help that some Israeli guys sat in front of me and had there seats all the way back. They are a weird bunch, Israelis. Travel around them and you will know what I mean.
Morning came and so did our destination. Got off the bus to tourist agents trying to book you with their agency, what a way to wake up. It took me a few minutes to collect myself and then we were bargaining. Rurre (for short) is where you go to see the pampas and the jungle, that is what it is famous for and why it is there. We took a land crusier to a hostal where a guy spoke English and booked with their company, Amazanico. The hostal was apart of the company too. Had some bfast, packed our bags, booked a jungle tour for when we got back from the pampas (you get a better price) and loaded up at 9AM to drive for 3 hours on another dusty road. Our group had 2 Swedish guys, a Danish guy, and 3 Danish girls. Talked with Fredrick (Swede) most of the time and came to the dock where you take a boat up the river. The road was super dusty it was nice to be near some water though. But we waited there again for about 2 hours I think, maybe less, anyways, you get the point, you wait a lot in Bolivia. The boat ride was nice and pleasant. Boats are so soathing. The boat was long about 30 feet plus but narrow, like a giant canoe with an outboard motor. Our guide, Louis, loved his hair and wetted it often to slick it back and wore an all white dress shirt, unbuttoned, of course, a few rows to fit loosely. Heading up river, against the current, we saw many aligators as well as caimans (South American crocodile) one was pretty big. There were many birds too. In the larger bends of the river where the water seems more like a lagoon the pink dolphins surface for air in the murky brown water. We went swimming with them. I was in my underwear as almost everyone as we didn`t know we would be swimming. But it was nice to cool off and lounge on the boat in underwear. Euro baby. It`s cool. We also vered near a tree where squirrel monkeys chattered away and we moved closer for a better look. They ended up jumping on our boat and scampering around. Once our guide pulled a banana out they went crazy like little greedy children running over you and through you to get the delicious yellow fruit. It was super cool. We made it to our camp on the river havng passed many others and even a river side bar. Our camp was one of the furthest up river and nestled in the trees. The structures are wood beamed with mosquito netting walls and a wood roof. Everything is raised off the ground including walkways for the rainy season when the river rises 10 feet plus. A cook stays at the camp and cooks the whole time the group is there. Good food too. All you can eat. We walked to a bar on the river for sunset and then headed home. The mosquitoes weren`t as bad as I thought. No one took malaria pills, nor I, and the stupid bugs only came out at dusk. Night was a little too cold and the day too warm. Ha ha ha, die bugs die. We went star gazing in the boat and also aligator hunting. We caught a small one and took pics.
Next day ate and cruised the river to a large semi dry swamp. Anacanda hunting grounds. However it was a bad day for hunting as the clouds were out and the snakes like to stay in when it is cold. They come out when warm. But another tour group found one so we checked it out and took pics too. Then we continued hunting tramping through the swamp. I had my Chacos on with Smartwool socks, very Euro but very comfortable but very soggy as the swamp was sometimes deep enough to cover your feet. My pants got super muddy too. Then we headed to the soccer field to play some futbol. Our tour guide likes to play and so does his friend who also guides so there was a challenge between the two groups. It was basically Israel verses the World, Denmark, Sweden, USA. We, the arians, out numbered, but managed well ending the game a tie 3 vs 3. I played mainly defense and mid field because no one else wanted to pull back or run, so I ran a lot. One Bolivian was like, muy rapido, to me. I was like, yeah its cool. Many times I was the only defender keeping the ball away from our goal with the help of Fredrick, Swedish, who did an excellent job goal keeping. The game was bare foot futbol, so the combo of coming off of a trek and then futbol left my feet a mess, blisters and then both my big toe nails black and blue, the inner side having popped off a bit. So they are still black and blue and my toe nails like spring boards. The mosquitoes came out in full force towards the end of the game and most of our team was shirtless, but I was so sweaty and running so much they did not bother me. Then dinner, then we all went to this bar for the evening where there was a guitar I played. An Aussie guy was there who played too so that was fun. A homemade drum was beat on as well by another Aussie. But it was an interesting atmosphere. There were three Aussies and one was so high, toasted out of his mind, it was almost impossible to talk to him. The others were not so bad but they had been smoking for basically 48 hours and ran out of paper to roll so they made a homemade bong out of a Coke bottle. Other people were hitting too. So I hung out with them and then went to a hamock and talked with Chris and Fredrick and then fell asleep. Then later the group headed back.
Last day of pampas. It rained cats and dogs, or in the pampas, monkeys and sloths, which is bad for viewing animals. We tried to find a sloth but did not succeed. Then we packed up and headed home. A nice cruise back followed by a very bumpy ride in the Land Cruiser. Bumpier than the first ride. Chris felt sick. I talked with Thomas, the Danish guy, and the others about music and movies and other such subjects. Once back to Rurre we rested and then went to eat. Had a pizza. Thomas came into the same Italian place and had fish. We then had some beers and talked. The conversion ended up veering into politics and then religion. Thomas was a philosphy major getting his mastors in Denmark and, like most philosophy majors, confused about things even though he does not know it. Maybe he does which makes him even more confused. But he was an existensialist and believed that there is no good or bad and everything is meaningless but then he contridicted himseld everyother sentence. But we werent debating. It was interesting and sad. I have dealt with such an individual before, Chris hadnt so he tried to crack through. But it is nearly impossible because you cant argue on any grounds because everything is always changing. Then I played pool with the two Swedish guys. Then went to bed.
And now the jungle. Woke up and walked to the river with our guide, Gino, who was Bolivian Rambo. He had an army camoflauge jacket, an army green bandana, a backpack, and carried a machete in his hand. Then in our group was James, Jack, and Suzy, all English, and a German lady and a Japanese guy. We took a similar boat up the river as in the pampas in the misty morning fog left over from a rainy night. This boat was a little wider and had a small covering. The river snaked through the mountains and into Madidi national park. We reached the beach where we would then hike for ten minutes into the jungle to our camp. Similar to the pampas camp abut more isolated. We ate lunch, a delicious one, and then went for a hike. I turned into the scape goat or teachers pet and tried everything first, termites that tasted like mint, tree sap that tasted like milk, and the like. The jungle is much more wild then the pampas. You have to sneak around in order to see animals and the trails are so lush and thick that without a guide you would get lost in a matter of minutes. On the first hike we snuck up on some wild boar that apperantly can be dangerous and attack. We were a group of 8 so that was going for us, but the German lady was kinda loud and her sense of balance was nonexistent. There were a few times she almost went into a river or two crossing a log. The guide and I helped her out. But she was funny. After the hike we had dinner and then went for a night hike. We headed to the river and did not see much, too many people. We did see jaguar tracks, fresh ones too. Then we went to bed.
The next day we went on a longer hike and learned more about the various trees and plants and vines. Then back at camp made rings out of small coconuts. Our guide made some really cool ones for the girls. He makes a ring for everyone who he guides. I made a pretty cool ring and then it broke. But I used the brokeness and turned it into another cool ring. Then 4 of the people left that day leaving only Chris, James, and I. We then went fishing. Our guide caught two small viscious suckers which we would use for bait to catch the big ones in the big river. We baited our lines but caught nothing. We switched spots and still no luck. A patrol boat came along and we had to pretend we were not fishing since it is illegal. Our guide did not care. Ate dinner and then went fishing again. This time it was night and before we fished we think we saw the eyes of a cat, caught a crocodile, and saw various birds. Then we went fishing. Apparently the fish we were fishing for were roughly 30 to 40 kilos in sizea. And the lines we used were thick and wrapped around a piece of wood that you would unwind and then hold in your hand. My line was baited and cast and ready to go. What you do when a fish comes is it will take the bait, you let the line slack for a few feet and then give a quick tug to snag the hook and then bring it in. That is in theory. A big one came and took my bait and pulled the line through my hands. At this point I was focused on catching the bloody fish and not the slow a burning of the line on my hands. I gave a tug and the fish took off like a race boat whipping the line through my hands, literally through my hands. I tried to hold on a first but then my reflexes, gotta love them, sensed pain and let go. I tried to step on the wood block but it was gone before I could move. As the line burned through my hands it felt like, and then looked like, someone was taking a sodering iron and swiping over my hands, or heating up a hanger til nice and red hot and laying it on my hands. I gave out a loud, son of a bi . . . you get the point. It hurt. The line burned through my skin layer of my first finger on my right hand right at the last joint. Right to the white connective tissue underneath. But there was no bleeding. We think the line singed the blood vessels shut. At first the guide was like, my line. He was staring out over the murky dark water watching the wood block speed away with moby dick pulling it. Then he looked at my hands and laughed. It was not extremely painful after I let go, it was just a bummer to have such a deep cut, in the Amazon, on a place that will take a while to heal. We walked back and I cleaned it out with Purel, put some antibiotics on it, and went to sleep. I did not really have any bandaides so I just kept my finger curled all night and the next day.
Last jungle day. We went for another hike and ate from the quinine tree, which is where all the anitmalaria pills come from, drank water from a vine, and I tested my pain threshold with the guide by placing our arms against the tree the Amazon fire ants live in. The guide got bit 3 times, myself 5. It did not really hurt that bad. I was gettingt used to pain. Then he made a little weapon out of trees and stuff. Back at camp we made more rings and ate and packed up and loaded the boat and zoomed down the river. Got back to sunny weather but the power in Rurre was out and had been the past few days. Ate a fish dinner with James, excellent fish, some of the best and then went to a bar where I talked with a South African girl and New Zealand guy and then an Irish girl. Then to bed.
The next day we spent reading and eating baked goods from a dude in a little cart he made. Everything organic. Excellent banana bread, chocolate cake, cookies, etc. He also gave us information on his beliefs. He was a Christian who moaved to Bolivia to escape the coming globalization occuring in the world which is the movement of the anti Christ. Interesting stuff that made you think. The UN is the beginning and there is already a computer called the B.E.A.S.T. and the first digits of the code to access it are 666. I have the papers you all can read. As far as I know he was legit too. Not some wacko. Although the apostles probably seemed like wackos too. Ate another fish dinner and went to bed.
Today we flew on a military plane which took an hour to get to La Paz from Rurre but you waited 3 hours to get on and loaded up. It felt like we were going into battle. There was also a leak in the ceiling that one of the military guys kept shining his flashlight up and eventually climbed up to check it out. It only got worse. But they did serve us Coke and some crackers, classy. By and by we made it back to our familiar La Paz with its Super Gyros and triple ice creams and cheap everything else. And now my body can heal. I started sick in La Paz and came back healthy but with blistered, bug bitten, toe nails black and blue feet, fire ant stings on my arms, and fishing line burns on my hands with a deep gash on one finger. Oh Bolivia.
I still need to tell you all about La Paz and the free concert and the Bolivian whiskey but that will have to wait.
I am actually in Cusco now and will be home very shortly. That is weird. Anyways, need to get back to socializing. We met a fellow American and a Brit we have been hanging out with. Saw lots of ruins today. Ruined out. But you get free drinks everywhere you go here which is great. And there is free salsa too.
Staying alive in South America,
Erik
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So that is what it is like. Thanks for finishing this if you did. If you didn't, go jump in the Beni (only those who read this will understand).
