A while back Zach and I crossed into Chile from Bolivia through the amazing Salt Flats of Uyuni.  More words to come…

The road between La Paz and Rurrenabaque is an unpaved mess carved out of the side of the Andes for the first several hours.  We were inside a cloud with no more than 15 feet of visibility slowly working around turns with cliffs that dropped into oblivion.  Occasionally a peak or canyon would show itself through the stark bright grey and make my heart race, but for the most part there was no telling how dangerous the road was.  The bus was loaded to the gills with people crammed into the aisle and bags everywhere and the guys in front of us were taking full advantage of the reclining seats.

Somehow I managed to get to sleep slumped down in the chair with my legs reaching out into the aisle.  I would regularly get jolted awake when the bus hit a massive pothole or we slammed on the brakes and backed up to allow a truck to slip past us, but as we bounced into Rurre I felt surprisingly rested.  We had to wait a couple hours for the town to wake up and get moving before finding a tour to take us into the jungle and spent the time fending off mosquitoes and contemplating where exactly we had gotten to.  We decided to go with the jovial fat guy in the faded NFL t-shirt over the cranky and unkind woman and after handing over some cash were on our way to the river.

As if Rurre were not remote enough, the jungle tour is another 3 hours upstream by boat in the beautiful Madidi National Park.  We spotted birds and marveled at the jagged hills and dense foliage while the driver deftly wove through the deeper channels of the rapids and then turned from one river to its smaller tributary.  We stopped on a beach and helped carry some supplies to the outpost.  At one point we had to take off our shoes and wade through knee deep murky water much to the chagrin of the Scottish girl that had come along.

There were a few small huts clumped together in a clearing, two guides and a cook waiting there for us.  The men were all pretty sleazy looking with pot bellies, machetes and shorts.  Right after lunch we followed our guide into the jungle along a path which the jungle was constantly fighting to reclaim.  We ambled around trees and over streams across fallen trees and within the first 10 minutes of walking happened upon a puma.  It must have been distracted by something because it didn’t know we were there until we were practically right on top of it and it dashed off quickly out of sight. 

We had heard that there were only rarely animal sightings in the jungle, but our luck continued as we went deeper and deeper.  Before too much longer there were some big monkeys in the tree tops howling back and forth at each other.  They were the color of Zach’s hair which our guide found to be hilarious.  Then further on the guide stopped suddenly, looked ahead to the next clearing and began to silently creep forward.  We followed alertly and saw some wild pigs rooting around for food.  When we got within earshot they barked and howled and plodded away.

I was now very much lost with not a clue as to which direction the camp was and totally at the mercy of the guide and the jungle.  We hacked through more of the woods turning left and then right and taking different branches off what appeared to be the main trail before a noise up ahead made everyone freeze.  There was a terrible clamour of screaming and trees violently thrashing.  It sounded like some prehistoric mega-fauna toppling small trees as it came along to lay waste to the encroaching civilization. We inched our way closer and I could see a tree shaking through the brush.  The screams got louder and louder and then…

A parade of little monkeys were working their way from tree to tree, playfully yapping and yelping at each other.  There must have been 50 or more of them, none bigger than a little house cat and some quite a bit smaller.  They were not fazed by our presence and one little guy even stopped to look us over in depth.  I tipped my hat up to him and then we continued on.  The rest of the way we saw a few birds and lots of little flying insects before emerging back into the camp clearing by some miracle of navigation.

After dinner, when things had gotten very, very dark, we again went into the jungle armed with our little flashlights.  Again within the first few minutes of walking our guide spotted the eyes of a puma looking back at us.  It was a bit too close to the campsite for my tastes, but he assured us through laughter that we were safe.  A little further on Zach spotted a little snake coiled up on a leaf right next the the trail.  The guide came back and informed us that it was very poisonous.  The rest of the way I divided my time between looking back for feline eyes following us and snakes ahead of us. 

We stopped at one point and turned off all the flashlights.  The darkness was choking, closing in on us immediately, and the sounds of the jungle at night began to intensify.  Turning to look around my eyes were completely useless and my ears began to pick up what I knew had to be the puma on the prowl for some fresh white meat.  The lights came back and we continued on again.  The next sighting was perhaps the most exciting of all, a jaguar.  Its eyes were quite far apart which gave some idea of how big the full cat must have been.  It would look at us and then turn away only to reappear again a little ways away without making a sound.  Was it moving closer? Were we safe? Would it follow us to the camp which must have reeked of food?  These were the questions that I thought the rest of the night trying to sleep in my mosquito net.

The next day we again walked through the jungle focusing more on the vast assortment of plants.  It is really amazing to think of how many unique and useful species there are in the whole of the Amazon basin and it is quite sad to think of how quickly we are wasting such a valuable natural laboratory.  We again bumped into some monkeys and spied a toucan and a woodpecker before returning to the camp for lunch.  The other group had been fishing all morning and came back with a couple monsters.  Zach’s eyes got big and he made sure that we would get to try our hand at the waters the next day.  That afternoon we visited the tarantula at her lair and were both shocked to see how big it was.  Put both of your hands out like a big spider and you’re close.  It was so fast too and apparently has tons of little spider babies keeping it company. 

That night was real quiet and Zach and I sat out on the porch of our little hut talking and looking out into the blackness.  The next morning we went fishing, catching nothing.  It wasn’t for lack of skill though, you just hurl a hook out with a big hunk of fish meat on it and wait for a tug which never came. Then we were back on the boat racing down stream and back towards the civilization of Rurre.  I felt overwhelmed by the sky.  We had been under the canopy for the whole trip and to see up to infinity again blew my mind.  Then at the town I felt amazing to see so many people in one spot.  There must have been at lest 40 people on the beach.  I cannot imagine how difficult it would be to return to the world after months or years in the jungle.

I drifted off to sleep on the bus out of Cuzco listening to Mercy, Mercy Me and woke to a woman frantically shaking me and telling me we had to get off the bus. No one else was awake, but Zach and I were ushered into a waiting minibus at 5 a.m. in the freezing cold. The sun was beginning to brighten the horizon, but I was in no mood to sit in awe. We had bought a direct ticket to Copacabana and I was cold.

Finally we were able to convince the driver that there were not going to be another 10 people to fill the bus at sunrise at an intersection in the middle of nowhere, Peru. He pulled out and we were cruising along for the border. Unfortunately it is closed until 7:30, so again we were stuck waiting. Unlike the border between Ecuador and Peru, though, once things were moving for the day it was a pleasant and stress free passage. Again we found ourselves in a minibus heading for Copacabana. From what I had read, the town is a great place to “chill out” but I wasn’t digging the hippy rasta vibes that the gringo transplants selling beads and hemp were giving off so we caught the next boat out.

Lake Titicaca might not be the highest navigable lake in the world, but it is one of the most beautiful places I have even been. After an hour and a half we came ashore at Isla del Sol, the birthplace of the sun in Inca mythology. We waded through the scores of people trying to push tickets and housing on us to find a little kid of no more than 8 years old who took us up the hill. Up up up up the hill. At the guesthouse we dropped our bags and sat gasping for breath for a few minutes before even taking a moment to look out the window at the view. We were about 300 feet up on a cliffside above the deep blue water with snowcapped peaks stretching across the horizon.

Rallying our energy we climbed up to a vantage point for the sunset. The lake is already at about 11,000 feet above sea level and we went straight at the highest peak we could see. Terrace after terrace we saw not a soul. The light was becoming magical and when when we crested the peak the view was perfect.

While the sun sank down to the horizon I looked around me at the pastel moutains and sky, the lake which looked like ice and the golden rocks around me and felt like I was inside a painting.

Later in the evening as the stars of the southern hemisphere began to fill the sky, Zach and I cracked open our box of wine and sat out in the cold watching shooting stars and the Milky Way singing songs and listening to the quiet sounds of the island. I have begun to make up my own constellations out of the unfamiliar bundles of lights to make sense of the sky, but for a while at least the big dipper was hanging upside-down on the horizon reminding me of warm summer nights in Texas.