Tag Archives: turtle

Ramble in the jungle

23 Jul
Flying Macaws, Bolivian jungle

We got an incredible view of flying macaws, from a cliff-top above their nesting site.

La Paz, Bolivia
[by Paula]

There are so very many bitey stingy things in the jungle, but it was the ants that really messed with my head. You just can’t see those bastards coming.

And of course there’s nothing a jungle guide likes more than to tell stories of agonising pain, poisoning and death to his or her freaked-out tourists. When Jeremy casually leaned on a ‘devil tree’ and was stung – rather painfully – by some fire ants, our guide Eber said: “Ah, the devil tree, don’t touch that again! The fire ants colonise the trees and will sting whatever gets in their way to protect it. They used to tie criminals to those trees as punishment. If you get enough stings, they can kill you, but they’re not allowed to do that any more…”

Right, well that’s good then.

“Not as bad as the bullet ants, though,” he pointed out a short while later, gesturing towards an enormous ant on a tree trunk. “They give THE most painful bite. The pain travels to the nearest set of glands and constantly hurts like hell for 24 hours. Remember that woman we had who got bitten and was screaming her head off?” he said to fellow guide/cook David.

Leafcutter ants, Bolivian jungle

Leafcutter ants, we like you, you’re nice.

Why is it called a bullet ant? I’ve since Googled it, and the pain – said to be officially the most ouchy insect bite in the world – is often compared to that of being shot.

Great. So how are we all enjoying our trip to the Bolivian jungle?

Shortly after arriving back in La Paz we decided to do a little detour up to the country’s Amazon region and take a trip into Madidi National Park for a bit of wildlife-spotting and jungle hiking. We didn’t have time to take the van on what is a phenomenally bad, and often closed, road because Jeremy had to be back in a week to fly to England. So we did something that in his past life he would not have considered, at least not without taking a bucketload of tranquilizers first – we took a 16-seater plane that flew so low it barely skirted over the Andes, and then descended into the jungle at Rurrenabaque.

Even I was feeling uncomfortable about our proximity to the pilot, especially when he and his co-pilot started digging around for what looked like a ‘user’s guide to aeroplane engines’ and began studying it intensely during take-off.

It was mighty strange to leave the heights of La Paz and 30 minutes later be looking down on the meandering brown rivers and forest of the Amazon basin.

We set off the next morning on a three-night trip that involved going upriver for a few hours then spending one night in a community lodge, and two nights hiking and camping on the ground under a mosquito net.

The great thing about proper jungle is that you really have to work for your rewards. As much as we have loved places like Costa Rica – where habituated animals practically do a dance for you on the trails – it doesn’t compare with running and leaping through virtually unspoiled forest to try to catch up with a herd of peccaries that our guide can smell in the distance, or spending forever looking up into the canopy tops and finally, just before one’s neck can stand no more, catching sight of a toucan or the face of a spider monkey.

Some species stayed elusive, like the shy tapir. We studied their footprints, as well as those of jaguars, but never met them on the trail. Over this trip we have been very lucky to see hundreds of monkeys, of many different types, but in Bolivia we were excited that as well as spider, squirrel, howler and capuchin monkeys, we saw two species that we’d never even heard of. A whole troupe of tiny Lion monkeys careered across our path at one stage, giving us a very privileged close-up. And one night, in a tree right above our camp, we saw a nocturnal monkey who, unperturbed by the flashlight, stared right at us for several minutes.

When I say ‘we’ saw this or ‘we’ saw that, it’s worth mentioning that without our amazing guides we would have seen big fat zilch. These guys literally live the jungle and have the most incredible sense of hearing, sight, smell and direction. We hear a distant chirp that sounds like ‘a bird’ and they identify it as a particular type of monkey. They can mimic the calls of most birds and mammals, and often elicited responses during our walks.

On the night we saw the nocturnal monkey, we were sitting back at camp after a night hike. Two tree frogs very nearby were making such a commotion it sounded like two men were trying to fell the tree with a two-handled saw. We remarked that if that continued all night there was no way we’d be able to sleep.

Suddenly our guide stands up, ear cocked, and says he has heard the chirrup of a nocturnal monkey. He takes the flashlight and immediately shines it upwards into exactly the right spot in the canopy. Two little eyes flashed back at us from about 30ft above. How the hell….?!

Each evening involved a hike in the pitch black. The first night – when we were based at a lodge – we were looking forward to our first foray into the night forest. “We’re looking for snakes and spiders”, said Eber, who started rooting around very close to our wooden cabin.

“Hang on, surely we have to go really deep into the forest, away from where we’re sleeping, to find those things….” we said. “Nope” said Eber. And so it was that we not only found a huge furry tarantula hanging out on a tree a few feet from our cabin, but when we retired to bed, another one was literally hanging out on the thatch outside our bedroom. “I’ll never sleep now,” said Jeremy, a couple of nanoseconds before falling into a deep eight-hour slumber.

Tarantula, Bolivia jungle.

Tarantula seen during a night walk, Madidi National Park, Bolivian jungle.

Our other two nights of sleep were slightly less luxurious. Basically a plastic sheet on the ground with a net hung over it. Not very ant/spider/jaguar-proof….

We spent a lot of time looking at, and looking for, birds – seeing toucans, mot-mots, eagles, parrots, trogons, woodpeckers, and countless other things that we can’t remember the names of. One very special moment was coming across the most beautiful owl as we returned from a night hike. It was right in our path, and watched us for several minutes as if it couldn’t quite work out what the hell we were doing there.

We were intensely concentrating on a bird above us one day when I felt something tickle my hand. I looked down. Bullet ant. Heading for the gap under my sleeve. No-o-o-o-o. The velocity with which I flicked my hand was such that I was surprised to find it hadn’t dislocated and flown off into the trees. I spent the next hour shivering at the thought and brushing imaginary ants off my skin.

But the incredible things we saw massively compensated for the relative discomfort and creepy crawly fears. One of the biggest highlights was climbing to a rather steep and scary cliff-top to get a birds-eye (see what I did there?) view of scores of red and green macaws swooping around the trees next to their rocky nesting sites. You could watch these parrots all day, it’s like they’ve been created for some ridiculously over-the-top movie about a lost paradise world. The next morning we walked to the bottom of the cliff to watch them at their nests from below. Very special.

Macaws moving in unison

Macaws moving in unison, Madidi National Park, Bolivian jungle.

The jungle is no paradise for your average amateur photographer though. Zooming up into the sun-backed canopy, shooting into dark corners, and trying to capture fast-moving birds and monkeys – it’s good fun trying but basically a nightmare!

We tried our best to capture some of those moments, but really you have to see it to believe it.

Days: 1,024
Miles: 20,851
Things we now know to be true: It’s a jungle out there.

 

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Illegal aliens

7 Jul

DSC_0730

Quito, Ecuador
[by Paula]

As of midnight tonight we will be – for the first time in our lives – so-called illegal aliens. We should be in Peru by now, but we are still in Ecuador, and have exceeded the 90-day time limits on both our tourist visas and car permit.

Unlike most other Latin American countries, those permits are not at all easy to extend and the rules are very strict. Until Thursday we really thought we were going to make it out of Ecuador in time – albeit in a last minute scramble – but found out that night that it wasn’t going to be possible because our van is still not repaired.

This is the first time I’ve written a blog post and then had to scrap it and start again, such has been the constantly-changing situation over the last few days. For weeks we have repeatedly been brought to the brink of getting back on the road, then hopes have been dashed.

Paula, en route to Cotopaxi

Has someone got hold of the other end? A mini rock-climb during an acclimatisation stop en route to Cotopaxi.

A friend said this week that our van seems to have a “flair for the dramatic”, and she’s spot on.

Tomorrow we will try to make a direct appeal to the head of migration services, and if we can’t resolve the situation we will be fined $350 for every day the car overstays its permit. Meanwhile the car sits partially disemboweled at the mechanic’s workshop – yesterday, for the third time, the transmission was removed and dismantled as they try to work out why it is burning up every time they fix and test-drive it.

It has been at the workshop for nearly 12 weeks now – why on earth is it all taking so long? It’s been an unbelievable saga of waiting for three separate batches of parts from the USA, plus delays, cock-ups, puzzles, procrastination and bad luck.

And that 90-day time-limit clock has really been ticking since we last blogged. At that time we were facing a third major delay and we made plans to ensure we’d see all that we wanted in Ecuador before we had to leave.

Since then we’ve been blown away by some of the most dramatic sights we’ve seen since we arrived, with the incredible wildlife of Isla de la Plata – the ‘poor man’s Galapagos’ – and our pièce de résistance, Volcan Cotopaxi.

In both cases we enjoyed some incredible good-luck antidotes to what had seemed like a an unhealthy dose of bad vibes with the van.

After hearing of the latest delay while we were staying in an apartment in Cuenca, we decided that while we waited nothing could be more calming that heading out to the coast and searching for some boobies. The blue-footed booby is a bird that’s not only about the funniest, cutest thing you can ever hope to see, but has a name that makes it impossible not to make hilarious juvenile jokes at every opportunity.

Here’s a little taster of what we saw on the island.

From Puerto Lopez we took a boat to Isla de la Plata and set off on a little trail to spot the boobies, as well as ‘magnificent frigate birds’ with their unfeasibly large red inflatable throats. We’d heard the boobies were a guaranteed, easy spot but still couldn’t believe it when we saw the first couple. They were just hanging around on the path, so unperturbed that we had to walk around them. And it’s not a joke, they really do have very blue feet! They posed for photos, positioning their webbed flippers like little ballerinas and showing off with the occasional arabesque. Totally enchanting.

Further down the path we encountered trees and skies full of frigate birds, the males competing with each other to see who could most impressively balloon out their red throats to attract the females. Men, eh? They can never just rely on their scintillating personalities but have to wave appendages around to get attention.

After a chilly but successful snorkelling session some huge marine turtles came to visit our boat – another first for us – just before we set off back towards the mainland. It was the cusp of whale-watching season, and we were slightly hopeful of spotting a humpback en route. Expectations were low though, mostly because our record on coinciding with whale season is so abysmal it has become a bit of a standing joke.

Humpback whale, Ecuador

Somersault! Humpback whale, off Isla de la Plata, Ecuador

So we were really excited when we saw some huge fins flapping out of the water, followed by a glimpse of a humpback’s body on the surface. We were just congratulating ourselves on a great day, when the whale breached – a full-on flip out of the water in what felt like slow motion. Every boat passenger’s mouth was frozen into an ‘O’ for what seemed like ages. Somehow my arm took on a life of its own for a few nanoseconds and snapped a fuzzy photo without me even being aware of it.

We were beside ourselves – although we’d have loved to have afforded a trip to the Galapagos Islands, we felt really chuffed about what we’d seen for a mere $30.

We returned to Cuenca for a final weekend, which coincided with a local music festival and a rather drunken evening with Jess, a British teacher we’d met a few times while there. It was great to have a pal for a short while at least – thanks Jess.

It was time to head back towards Quito, to await the arrival of the latest parts and actually get the work done on the van – rebuilding the transmission, new shock absorbers and suspension repairs.

“Everything will be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, it’s not yet the end.”

On the way back north we diverted to Latacunga, to plan a side trip to one of the most famous volcanoes in the world – Cotopaxi. The weather is very mixed at this time of year in Ecuador, which is just coming into the dry season in the mountains. We’d been dreaming of a perfect view of snow-capped Cotopaxi for ages, but knew that at that altitude you can be blanketed in clouds at a moment’s notice.

Without the van to camp in, staying at Cotopaxi’s hostels and lodges is a relatively expensive affair – we agonised over the cost but decided to splurge on a lodge with a choice location and view of the volcano. We didn’t regret it. It was a fantastically cosy adobe building with a huge log fire, squashy sofas and large glasses to fill with red wine. A wood fire was also lit every evening in our little cabin, which had a face-on view of Cotopaxi from the loft bedroom. We decided to take a guided walk to the glacier line of the volcano the next morning and get a close up.

That evening the clouds not only filled the sky but dropped right down to ground level. It was like someone had pulled the blackout curtains. Uh-oh, we thought.

Then we woke up to this.

Cotopaxi from our bedroom

Hello morning! The view of Cotopaxi from our cabin window.

We took 150 photos before breakfast, just in case the clouds came scudding in.

But there followed hours of unbroken sunshine and azure skies, which remained until we’d driven through the luminous landscapes of the paramo to 4,500m, hiked to a ‘refuge’ building at 4,800m for a hot chocolate and cake break, and then onto the glacier at over 5,000m (about 16,500ft).

It was intense – at that height every step on the soft volcanic ash and rock was a lung-buster, but we did it and were pleased to have kept up with the three 20-year-olds we were hiking with! Not bad for a couple of oldies. To be standing on the glacier felt… well, we were on the top of the world, as you can imagine.

Jeremy reaches the glacier, Cotopaxi

Made it! Cotopaxi’s glacier is at 5,000m.

We couldn’t believe our luck, it had been more than we’d wished for, and we were pretty adrenaline-charged until we suddenly dropped like stones into bed that evening.

We travelled back to Quito and rented an apartment for another week. With bated breath, we called the mechanic to get the latest. The parts were there, the transmission was rebuilt at the weekend, and testing would begin soon, he said. So far so good.

It was a nail-biting week, which ultimately ended with the mechanic hitting another big problem and us missing our deadline. We spent two days trying to navigate the resulting bureaucracy, to no avail as yet.

This latest hitch could stretch into weeks – fortunately Jeremy has just been commissioned to do a big project, something which will take both of us working on it to complete it on time. It will both occupy us while we wait and bring in some much-needed funds to the coffers.

But first, tomorrow we’ll do all we can to make ourselves legal again. And what is Plan B, I hear you ask? And of course we have one – we’re thinking we might apply for political asylum.

Days: 605
Miles: 17,551
Things we now know to be true: “Everything will be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, it’s not yet the end.”
[Cheesy line borrowed from the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel]

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