Amazon and beyond

24 de Agosto

Best not to reach over for a cuddle in the morning if this is in your bed.

The other monkeys used to play many suncream jokes on Magilla 

The firemen would soon rescue Woody from his predicament

Ecuador is a land of everything.

From colonial cities of grandeur to small alpine like towns. One week you can be sailing the Galapagos mingling with wildlife up close and personal. The next you can be gallivanting with other creatures in the Amazon, although less friendly and creepier.

We took a 5-day adventure to Cuyabeno, which runs off an Amazonian tributary in eastern Ecuador. To get there, is an adventure in itself. First, you must take a night bus from Quito to Lago Agrio, eight or nine hours away.  Ecuadorian buses have timetables, but these schedules are merely for decoration only, as there is a thing called standard time and Ecuadorian time. The latter is whenever the hell the bus rocks up. Eventually, just after midnight, one did, so our joyous two hours of waiting at a bus station the size of a garden shed in the nations capital came to an end, and we were on our way.

With seats and legroom befitting the comfort requirements of a crab, we arrived in Lago Agrio unslept, in the pouring rain, to await our transport to the Amazon. Lago Agrio, which is actually officially named Nueva Loja, but was sarcastically called Sour Lake (Lago Agrio in Spanish) by the locals, exists because Texaco liked what they sensed underground, and brought the drills and bulldozers in and dug up some dollars. It has seen its fare share of oil spills and pollution over the years, and it’s often difficult to tell the difference between a slick and one of the local mingers that advertise services outside one of the towns many brothels. Officially, a brothel in town is called a Discotheque, but the pictures of semi topless women, but with tracksuit pants, lends to other activities.

Our guide, Guido, met us in town, and two hours later, we were at the mouth of the river, ready for a two-hour canoe trip upriver. At least we think we were at the river, as by this stage the rain had taken on biblical proportions, so for all we knew we could have been at a set of traffic lights.

Our bags were stowed under tarps to keep dry, and we were given a poncho that had as much dryness capability as a square of glad wrap. We arrived soaked to the Cuyabeno lodge, but were not fussed as on the trip we were lucky enough to spot an anaconda, piranhas and a huge assortment of birdlife. If only the Galapagos birdies could be here!

The lodge was basic, but very suited to the environment. Rustic cabins, sans electricity, with mosquito netting over the bed. The staff advise you to ensure the nets are tucked all the way under the mattress, not to prevent sly smart ass bugs trying to pull a shifty over you and devour your blood, but to lessen the chance that your bed becomes a warm cosy place for a tarantula or snake to lay their heads. The huts are dark and lit only by candles, but most of the time before we laid our heads to rest was spent shining our torches around the cabin searching for critters. The most we saw inside our huts was frogs. And cockroaches, who are quite possible the fastest creature on the planet. They zip around the room at lightning pace, making it nigh on impossible to land a shoe at them. Kylie also had a visitor, one who had an affinity to chocolate covered marshmallows. She had left a back locked away in its packaging, in her backpack, but awoke one morning to find the pack in disarray, a hole shredded into the side, and the squishy treats devoured. What could have done this? Surely some giant beast is lurking in the camp, possible with an angle grinder, cutting up guests’ luggage searching for tasty treats? But no, after some investigation, in the corner of the room, was a cute little brown and white mouse, whom if he had glasses could easily have been mistaken for Stuart Little. The chocolate on his face as he smiled a “Who, me?” at us, gave him away as the culprit. It turns out he had quite the buffet that night, as he had been into our neighbours packs as well, helping himself to some chocolate chip cookies

The tourists were well prepared for when the motor ran out of fuel

With food shortages the guests were asked to catch their own food with blowpipes

Amazon Christmas trees are made out of real people

One night we had a giant moth the size of a house brick breach the netted fortress. In the middle of the night when all is silent, it sounded like a helicopter. In fact I am sure that I saw a small ladder hang out the side and paratroopers jump out to attack. We removed the net to allow chopper squad to escape, and then rebuilt our castle but kept a look out for other invaders. Screams in the middle of the night were all too common, as people had just discovered the fauna delights of the Amazon.

Meals were held under a bamboo hut in the lodge area, and one night I took my seat, and while awaiting the yucca soup, which is a delicious potato like vegetable grown in the Amazon, I casually looked up to the roof. Parked there, not a few metres away, was a furry tarantula, the size of a single mans hand. He seemed to either be eyeing off my entrée, or my head. Either way, it was impossible for me to eat there, so I casually moved seats, saying something like, “Oh, I cant reach the salt and pepper from here” and into safety. A German girl then took my seat. The look on her face when I said to her “Just look up a minute” was priceless. The funny thing, for everyone else of course, was that there were now no other free seats. Try looking at the roof while you eat your dinner tonight, and that’s the experience she had and the mess she left.

Quite often, you would hear “The Call”, where someone had spotted another critter. So you would pick up and run, grabbing your torch and camera, and head to the location. Common sights were Glass frogs (really shiny bright green Kermit’s), more tarantulas of various sizes, and one time, an Anaconda, which had waltzed into camp to have a little sticky beak. This was only a baby one, so not as frightening as the ones associated with the appalling movie of the same name, but a snake is a snake, and it was a good size, enough to ensure that mosquito net was really tucked in tonight. After deciding it wasn’t yet strong enough to strangle one of us to death, it slid back into the water, planning his return one day soon. It was a shame he left so early, as I knew of a little rodent food thief who would have made a tasty snack for him.

The days on the Amazon involved many activities unique to the region. Most of each day was spent wildlife watching, and we were able to spot many colourful tropical birds such as macaws, and the really cool toucans, who I thought only existed on Frosties cereal boxes. We also spotted monkeys, including cute little squirrel monkeys, Capuchins, and some fat fluffy ones that sat about in trees doing bugger all. We didn’t see, but we heard, Howler monkeys, which was an absolute highlight for us, despite not knowing what they look like. We pulled the canoe up to a bank, and off in the distance we heard animated roars echoing through the rainforest. The cries are deep and dark, not un-lion like, and quite haunting as they cut through the atmosphere of a jungle morning. 

The Tarantulas would get quite a shock when they woke in the morning to see strange creatures in their room

Lodge Cuyabeno. Spiders and snakes more than welcome

It seemed like a good idea at the time to swim in the piranha infested waters

Piranha fishing boats. Humans tend to make better bait

The incontinent snake was easily spotted

Another day, in the pouring rain, we went piranha fishing. Unfortunately, we came back empty handed, but our guide caught four, which either means he is an excellent fisherman, extremely lucky, or was putting the same fish on his hook each time we weren’t looking. They are fierce little buggers. I remember the old eighties movies where they would skeletonise animals and humans in feeding frenzies lasting seconds, and was really hoping that this was true, but as we were unable to locate a cow to push in the river the test this myth, we tested his jaws on tree twigs the size of toes, and sure enough, his razor sharp molars chopped through with ease. (I should add that this experiment was only made possible by the guide hand feeding the piranha sticks. Stupid, dangerous, but fun.)

It now makes us realise that our daily sunset swims in these very same waters was probably not the smartest ideas, but hands up if you can now say that you have swum in piranha infested waters?  These waters were also home to pink river dolphins, who are not pink, and Caimans, which are related to the alligator. They are very timid and quite hard to spot, and generally can only be spotted at night. However, a few years ago a local man realised that they aren’t that hard to spot. Unfortunately, when the fisherman did see a caiman, it had its jaws wrapped around his legs as he tried to push his canoe off a riverbank. The man is still alive, minus his pegs, and lives not far from our camp. He doesn’t get out much, for obvious reasons.

We trekked through the rainforest one day to check out cool insects, spiders and snakes. We were kitted out with rubber boots, as the area was extremely muddy, and at one point, we had to cross a swamp. Poor Kylie took a step, and her leg moved but her wellie decided to stay in the swamp, so evidently her next step was shoeless, and in she went, knee deep in mud. She squished back to camp, looking worse for wear, covered in dirt, and not very happy. Ironically, a few days later in Banos, she paid for a spa treatment that involved an application of mud to her face.

Going for the night trek was incredible. Pitch black, under a complete sky, walking through the rainforest, armed with a torch, rubber boots (new ones for Kylie), wearing ponchos, as the rain had returned. We spotted snakes, spiders, and things that we thought were sticks but were actually deadly creatures. At one point we killed our lights, and it was only us and the stars, with only our breath and the chirping of insects, the rustle of leaves as the snakes and ground creatures foraged for food, breaking the silence. It was a surreal moment, and one we won’t forget. Alone in the Amazon, in complete darkness.

We made our way back to camp, avoided a few more creepy crawlies, including one tarantula that crawled under the hammock I was lying on.

We were a great advertisement for DEET companies. We managed to get through a squeezy pack and half a in of aerosol which at 80% is probably more toxic to humans than mosquitos whom I assume aren’t stupid enough to go anywhere near a gringo with mozzie spray.

Shamans are popular in the indigenous villages around the river, and the tour took us to one to see what they are all about. They are basically the local doctor, or healer in the village, where you can be healed of any ill you may have, usually not with any traditional medicine, but by a lot of chanting and whacking with tree branches by a fellow decorated with feathers from an unfortunate parrot.

Kylie got to be the volunteer for the day and was involved in a demonstration. I would also probably recommend Shamans over the bus salesmen (see earlier blog on anus bus) who for thirty cents can provide you with a fizzy drink mix that with two spoonfuls of such will cure you of kidney failure and cancer. Very prominent on buses throughout Ecuador, and let me guarantee you the pictures were just as graphic as our Colombia experience.

The adventure had unfortunately come to an end, and on the fifth morning after breakfast, we boarded the canoe to take us back to the Amazons starting point, then the bus bag to Shitsville, before another long bus ride south. This wasn’t as scenic has we have become used to, as in the middle of pristine rainforest there are refineries and factories to be found, dredged rivers and oil company logos plastering the walls of small towns. Sad, but anything is for sale anywhere in the world. 

The trekker was conned into thinking white was the best colour to wear

We arrived in Ambato, a city still an hour away from where we wanted to be, but as it was midnight, we had to crash the night there. We found a hotel, recommended by a taxi driver, and perhaps he has had the same luck there as the couple in the room next to us. Earplugs were required as the couple kept themselves occupied, and all was heard through the paper thin walls, all the moaning and screaming and seductive Spanish words.

We escaped the next morning to Banos, which is a stunning, alpine like town nestled in the mountains, in the Central Sierra of Ecuador. To compare it to Switzerland is just, what with its rolling green fields, snow capped peaks, thermal pools, and even a Swiss restaurant with bloody good chocolate. It’s a little piece of heaven in the middle of Ecuador.

We found probably the most brilliant hostel, named Princess Maria’s, where for $14 a night, we had a spick and span room, at three star level, run by a delightful local family, of mixed Ecuadorian/Malaysian origin. And it had steaming hot water. After a week in the Amazon, where you either showered in the lake, or took a shower in your hut bathroom using water from the lake, this was a Godsend. Half an hour showers were all too common.

There are many adventure activities to be had in and around town, such as canyoning, white water rafting, or zip lining. Zip lining is where you are crudely attached to a cable via a handkerchief and sent flying across the mountains towards a waterfall, stopped only at last minute, albeit safely, by a man at the other end. It’s a bit of an adrenaline rush, but too exciting for us, so opted to tour the area by mountain bike instead. You can also choose to travel this by cable car, which is quite a misnomer, as its actually more like a giant shoe box with the sides cut out, attached to the cable by the same hanky. Seems safer though, but try telling that to the group of tourists whose box became stuck halfway across, 500 metres from either end, hundreds of metres in the air. Stuck dead. Not sure if something worse happened, but as we were driving past, a few ambulances had rushed to the area.

The bike ride was sensational, as you cycle past and under waterfalls, through national parks, and through tunnels while you avoid being sideswiped by chiva party buses full of drunk Ecuadorian teenagers or blown into the gutter by gusts of wind from the valleys. As it is mostly all downhill, it’s a very easy and pleasant ride, ending once you reach the waterfall at Devils bridge, or once you slide under the wheels of an oncoming speeding bus. Only the crazy or super fit return by bike uphill, into the wind, so instead we put the biked on the back of a locals truck and paid him $2 to take us back into Banos town.

Banos means bath in Spanish, and as is tradition, we decided to join the locals for a hot bath in one of the Thermal pools in town. They say the water is warm and yellow naturally due to the elements seeping through as the water runs off volcanic rock, but gee, there were an awful lot of children in that pool that day.

After the natural baths we treated ourselves to a massage, where for $20 we were totally relaxed for an hour. With mud on our faces

The lazy dog refused to meet his owner on the other side of the zipline

Bystanders had to be on alert for falling dog poo

The students dorm always had a strange smoky smell

Initially, the man with the chainsaw on the other side didn't seem  to be much of a problem

The volcano was extra dangerous when shooting ball bearings

There is a local volcano, called Tungarungabananarama or something difficult, which has always active in the fact that lava leaks and smoke semi bellows from the mouth on a daily basis, but not enough to get the locals in too much of a stink. It erupted big time in the early nineties and wrecked a fair bit of the town, although apparently the subsequent looters actually did more damage to the place, as locals were not allowed to return to the area for four months. You hear rumbles like thunder a few times a day, but the locals tell you not to worry. Once your face is on fire, that’s when its probably time to heed the signs, very creative escape plans seemingly drawn by the sixth place child in a disaster painting competition. So one night, the hostel manager chased us down the street as we walked to dinner, and told us to turn the other way and head uphill to see the sparks. An hour later, the whole fucking thing exploded. Fire and shit and rocks everywhere. Lava spewing out into the surrounding hills. It was awesome, but it unlikely had the same enamour for the cows in the field below. It was just stunning to see. We expect airlines to be cancelling flights soon due to ash clouds somewhere in the vicinity.

The rain hit again on the last day in Banos, so activities were limited, but boy oh boy did we stumble onto Piss Weak World. A museum, of which we are not entirely sure what the theme was, attached to the local church, so once you got past the legless beggars out the front (which in fairness wasn’t that difficult), you paid $1 and witnessed the worlds worst taxidermy efforts. Presumably found dead animals were stuffed with whatever was around at the time, if that was cotton, sand or sink shaving scum, then so be it. Occasionally, limbs and other parts were not where they should be, for example a pelican had and extra head and beak attached to its armpit. A rabbit without ears and its tail attached to its eye. A lizard given legs so high NBA scouts are talking to him. We couldn’t take photos, cameras were banned, and it’s obvious why. You will have to believe us.

The second floor was a room where locals could donate their toys or sports trophies, attached to a letter addressed to the Virgin Mary, who we must assume was responsible for every man of the match sporting performance in town.

The coup de grace was above the clock tower. This is a striking building at five hundred years old, with delicate white wash stone walls and elegant hands that guide the way of the people. But on one of the side faces, was a picture of a dog with a sausage. Presumably the town mascot. He was on a lead being held by a monk. Not sure what it was all about, the locals simply shrug nonchalantly when you ask them. But all I know is, I want one

The next day we headed to Cuenca, a delightful town four hours south. We didn’t have much time there as we are shooting through quickly to get to Peru, but it was enough time to get drunk on homebrew at a microbrewery in town with some cool folks we met in the Amazon trip, who happened to be in the same street as us at the same time.

We stumbled onto the next bus south the next morning, staying in a typically dirty bus station hotel run by a man who resembled Chopper Read. As noisy and uncomfortable as it was, it still beats our Galapagos hotel for our last three nights, which was a mostly waterless dive due to some plumbing problems, which was not pleasant when I had some internal plumbing problems. The manager was Trevor, or Gina ..Well we are not too sure. He was a she, or she was a he, but Trina popped around for a rum and coke were we told him/her that we would be having mates crash the night in our three bed room while they waited for their tour connection, and he/she said fine, no extra charged. When Mr/Miss tried to charge us $30 the next day, the Spanish swear words I had secretly practiced over the months had fluently been put into use. Senor/Senora decided not to continue the discussion.

Now it’s Adios to Ecuador, and we make our way south through the Andes and onto Peru. You have been great to us, your diversity is magnificent. From your boobies to snakes, your colonial old towns to your lush mountain hideaways, your friendly people who without knowing where you want to go will tap you on the shoulder when its time to get off the bus to your transvestites.

Salud.