Enter the Jungle

Day 2: August 23, 2007.

Lima, Cuzco, Puerto Maldonado, and Amazon Jungle, Peru.


Got a wake up call at 6:30AM. Snoozed until 7. Packed in a rush and showered. Hot water this time. Made it downstairs by 7:30 for a bottle of water and the bus to the airport. The reservation appeared in the system for me but there was no ticket number. I waited with Alvaro (the guide) for nearly an hour trying to get the travel agent to straighten everything out. Finally got the problem fixed just before the flight closed. Fortunately I had already checked my bag under someone else's name; if I had waited there's no way it would have been put on board.

Took the plane to Cuzco and after taking on more passengers we immediately left again, this time for Puerto Maldonado. The guy sitting in front of me had apparently never flown before and made awful groans for most of the flight. I thought he was dying or something. It turned out he was fine and only had a minor stomach ache. I don't get some people.

From the airport we took an open truck to the outskirts of town where we left our main bags and continued with only our day packs. The truck dropped us at the river and we took long covered canoes with outboard motors down the river to Monkey Island. We took pictures with spider monkeys (the biggest monkeys in the Amazon), brown capuchins, and a little saddle back tamarind. They were all happy to come out and chill with us when we produced mini-bananas. One of the Spider Monkeys was so happy to meet us that it wrapped itself around the face and head of the mom of the family on our tour and wouldn't let go. It was kind of funny. It stayed there for several minutes and our guide kept telling her not to touch the monkey, but really it was the monkey he should have been scolding!

The lodge we were to stay at was nice enough. We each had a little shared bungalow raised off the ground to minimize the snakes, tarantulas, and insects that would come traipsing in. No hot water, but we got to choose between beds and hammocks.

Once it got dark we went out in a boat looking for caimen. I was glad to be wearing 100% Deet and a mosquito net. I had gotten my Yellow Fever, Typhoid, etc shots the day before leaving New York and they would take ten days to be effective. If I were bitten now, it might go very poorly for me. At least I had my antimalarial pills. Lots of insects out and about. We only found baby caimen though. The eyes glow red in the spotlight of the boat at night and that's how you spot them. When we had looked for about an hour without finding any big ones, we returned to the lodge for dinner.

Dinner was weird jungle fish that I assume wasn't kosher. I had an omelet instead. During the meal I found out that there was a shamn's garden nearby with lots of medicinal plants and whatnot. Supposedly very cool. I decided to go find it. The locals said it was only a 5 minute walk or so. After dinner and a Pisco Sour at the bar (they taste a little like Margaritas and have raw whipped egg in them which separates and floats to the top), I went out alone in the jungle with my mosquito net, a mini maglight, and a pocket knife.

The darkness was tough to deal with. I had to walk very slowly, tiptoeing basically to avoid snakes. Didn't see any, probably for the best. I did find a burrow though with 4 tarantulas in it and hunting around the outside. They were roughly 2-3 inches long, black and furry, with reddish rear ends. They were pretty skittish but when I waited patiently they came out. Very stealthy walking. Never hear them.

The jungle is loud, lots of bug calls and falling leaves. The leaves actually sound very loud in the darkness, they sort of make a crashing sound as they fall. I'm not familiar with most of the odd calls so I can't recognize many animals. One exception is a medium-large grasshopper thing I found making a racket. I can definitely recognize those now by the sound. I found carapaces of large beetle with pincers like a scorpion glued to the bases of trees. 1/3 of an inch long maybe. Kind of shiny. I also found a fifth tarantula in a large hole up the trail. Same species as the other four I believe.



After walking for about an hour into the pitch black jungle, I concluded that I was nowhere near finding any sort of garden. In the interests of getting some sleep (and not getting lost/killed) I decided to head back to camp.

It's really creepy walking through jungle alone, particularly at night. It's impossible to see. The jungle is three dimensional but my light was tiny and I could only see one pinpoint at a time. I had no idea what was going on outside the light. Good thing I walked slow and watched my step. On the path about 50 ft from bungalow were hundreds of large red ants marching in a column. Some were just a bit bigger than regular ant size but others, the warriors, were enormous. I just saw one at first, then noticed the entire column. The first one I saw was so big I mistook it for a spider. The mandibles on the warriors were massive and shined white in the light. Reddish colored bodies. Looked very mean - I walked around. I also hoped they wouldn't visit me in my sleep.

Flight Home

Day 17-18: September 7-8, 2007.

La Paz and Santa Cruz, Bolivia, and Miami and New York, USA.


I didn't bother getting up early since there seemed to be little point. All I needed to do was pack up my stuff and get to the airport around 2PM. It didn't take long to get all my stuff organized, but shutting the zipper on my backpack was another story. It's soooo much easier to close an overstuffed bag with two people; one to hold it shut and the other to zip. Finally I managed it by pushing the bag up against a wall with my knee and using both hands to zip. A few things still wouldn't fit so I tossed them in a plastic grocery bag. It'll work as a carry on.


Had breakfast at the hotel again. This time another group was there, they seemed to be mostly from New Zealand. Throughout the trip I ran into very few Americans. Seems like we don't travel in the US anywhere near as much as the folks across the pond or down under.


I took a last walk around the town and used an internet cafe before my taxi arrived at 1:30. A bit of a harrowing ride; Bolivian drivers are fairly crazy. MAde it to the airport around 2PM thinking my flight was sometime between 4-4:30. Turns out I read the itinerary wrong and my flight wasn't until 8:20PM. Oops. Camped out in the airport and started reading the autobiography of Clarence Darrow. After shlepping it all over the world at least now I had the time to read it. Pretty beaten up book after all the travelling and a lot of the pages were falling out. No big deal though.


The flight was a little delayed even for 8:20 so I went for a spin through the duty free shop. Picked up some Frangelico and a bottle of the Merlot I'd had for dinner the night before. Good prices, but in retrospect I never paid tax on anything I bought in any of the markets in Peru or Bolivia anyway. I wonder if there is even sales tax.

Bolivian Shopping Spree

Day 16: September 6, 2007

La Paz, Bolivia


Given the events of yesterday and my unintentional cliff diving experiment, I decided to take it easy and sleep in until 7:30AM. Even after that I just stayed in bed watching TV. Finally got up to drop off my laundry at the front desk and pay for an extra night (a 3 star hotel for $20 a night ain't bad!). Had breakfast in the hotel restaraunt since it was now included in my room (for some reason the rooms booked through Tucan didn't come with breakfast). It was fine but I was the only one in the restaraunt so it was kinda weird. I was served fresh fruit, yogurt and cereal, juice, tea, and a pile of baked goods. I caught up with the world a bit at the internet cafe next door and then went out to begin my great shopping spree.


Prices in Bolivia are ridiculously cheap. It's like running around with monopoly money, it just doesn't mean anything. I think the exchange rate was like 7.7 Bolivianos to the US Dollar. To provide some perspecive, a small bottle of water from a street vendor in NYC is $1. A giant 2L bottle of water from an expensive hotel in Bolivia is only $.79. I thought Peru was cheap, but this was unreal. Sometimes it really wasn't even worth the time or effort to bargain. Do I really feel the need to waste 5 minutes to get something for 49 Bolivianos instead of 55? It's less than a dollar difference, who cares?


I found a leather store that would make custom garments with 2 days notice. Unfortunately I only had one day and they refused to ship stuff to NY even if I would pay extra. Not quite sure what their problem was. Ended up just getting a leather jacket off the rack, pretty nice, seems sturdy, and only 700Bs! I always wanted a leather jacket; should be a good souvenir. I also got some sweaters, alpaca ponchos, a large rug, etc. Yay souvenir stuff.


I decided to splurge for dinner. After yesterday's near death experience I deserved a good meal right? (Who am I kidding, I'm just a foodie always in search of the best restaraunts). As far as I could tell, the best restaraunt in the country was Utama, located on the top floor of the 5 star Plaza Hotel. Fidel Castro and Peru's former president Alberto Fujimori both ate there. The internet claimed Utama was the place to go so I did, I got a cab poste haste.


The views from the top of the Plaza were very nice. The city of La Paz is in a canyon with the best real estate at the bottom (where there is more oxygen and milder weather) and the slummier sections up the cliff walls. At night, the lights from the cliffs surround the lower city and it has as similar effect to sitting in a globe filled with glitter. Sparkling lights all around. I like La Paz. It has a lot of the hustle and bustle of NYC, but for a fraction the price. Anyway, back to dinner.


The staff were all decked out in tuxedos but I strolled in wearing dirty cargos and a rain jacket over my polo shirt. I felt a bit out of place but the staff didn't seem to care. I started off with a half bottle of Bolivian Merlot since they were out of Cab. It was surprisingly good! I believe it was the 2004 La Conception Merlot Reserva. It has a strong olive flavor, but in an interesting way, not a bad way. A little salty like the sea. Some fruit too. Really not bad.


The views were incredible and the service impeccable; I couldn't wait for the food to arrive (both curious to see what Bolivia had to offer and pretty hungry at this point). First my cauliflower soup arrived. Quite delicious. The presentation was a bit lacking, the plates and flatwear looked like something bought on discount at Kmart, not the fine china the fancy NY restaraunts use. The soup was in a small cup with a few small croutons on top and looked a lot like something I might get at Carrows or any other diner. Fortunately it tasted a lot better than that. I scarfed it down before even letting it cool down a bit.


Some locals came in while I was eating - I think some businessmen. They all wore suits. I feel even stranger wearing my backpacking clothes now. Quite a disparity between how the tourists and locals dress in places like this.


My steak arrived next. It was reasonably thick unlike most I encountered on the trip. It came in a mustard sauce with some french fries and a few steamed vegetables. Pretty good. Not Del Frisco's by any stretch of the imagination, but one of the better steaks I've had this trip for sure. Quite stuffed but ordered dessert anyway. Decided to try the waiter's favorite, some chocolate cake thingee. It had some sort of cream layers, one of which tasted sort of minty.


Totally stuffed and toes tingling a bit from a combination of the altitude and alcohol. It's much more effective up here. The tab only came to 153Bs. Even adding on a 10% tip (generous here) and the two cab fares it's not even $25! Absolutely ridiculous!

The Death Road

Day 15: September 5, 2007
Camino de la Muerte, Bolivia

Last night I was up relatively late watching the news and whatnot and due to the time change (Bolivia is an hour ahead of Peru) it was very difficult to get up at 6AM Bolivian time to get ready for the ride. Feeling a little sick still, lingering food poisoning, sleep deprivation, or altitude sickness? Dunno. Took my last 2 imodium and hoped for the best.

Showered, put on a pair of jeans, T-shirt, sweatshirt, jacket, sneakers, etc. Got a call from the front desk at 7AM sharp that the van driver was waiting for me downstairs. Hurried down. We picked up four other backpackers who were going on the trek and then went to a restaraunt for breakfast. Altogether there was the guide, Angel, the van driver, Oscar, two swiss girls, a frenchman, and australian, and me. Breakfast was just toast and jam really with some tea and juice. I really hoped the water for the juice was filtered. Another incident of Montezuma's revenge would be quite unpleasant while trying to mountain bike.

We drove for maybe 40 minutes out of La Paz (starting at about 11,000 feet elevation where the hotel was) and up the mountain to an altitude of just under 16,000 feet. Quite a pretty drive. Riding out of the city there are sweeping views of the entire canyon which cradles La Paz and we also saw the dam, river, and some grazing alpaca herds on the way out of town. The mountains were awesome but there was also a lot of fog/cloud obstructing the view.

It got much colder as we ascended. When we reached the top where we were to start the ride, there was a lot of snow around and the puddles outside the van had a reasonably thick coating of ice over them. There was also a large, shimmering lake there, which was not frozen and even had a few water fowl hanging out on the surface. They looked a little like seagulls.

We got out of the van near La Cumbre and the driver unloaded our bikes from the roof. They were pretty serious looking bikes (American Trek 4300s); a good thing too, considering what we were about to do with them. We put on our gear (red wind breaker jackets, black pants, biking gloves, and helmets) and tested out the bikes a bit. My helmet didn´t fit very well so I wore my sweatshirt hood up underneath it to provide some padding. This may have saved my life later, or at least a good bit of skin.

The jackets, gloves, etc that we were given were not warm at all, they were just supposed to protect our clothes underneath from splash damage and we were shivering pretty well by the time we´d been waiting 5-10 minutes in the altaplana environment. The guide took pictures of us all (at the time I wondered if this was for identification purposes if one of us failed to make it) and we set off.

The first part of the trek was a fairly standard, paved, mountain road. It was steep, curvy, and had quite a lot of traffic, but in spite of the sheer drops it wasn´t really dangerous. The asphalt lasted for about an hour. The cold was absolutely biting and the wind cut through all three layers I was wearing. My hands were so cold and numb I could barely operate the breaks. Fortunately I didn´t have to shift gears much, or even peddle for the first 45 minutes for that matter. The road was so steeply graded that we were able to coast at about 80km/hr with little effort in spite of the drag from the gigantic offroad tires our bikes were equipped with.

The other cars on the road put out a lot of exhaust, particuarly the ones chugging up the hill, and it felt a bit painful to breathe the air sometimes. The altitude also took its toll on our lungs. Going up the few hills we had to climb was very tough and I got winded much faster than I normally would. There was about four miles of uphill climbing I'd guess. I still kept to the front of our line though, right behind the guide. The swiss girls tended to be a couple minutes behind and the frenchman and aussie were somewhere in between.

The fog was sometimes so bad we could only see about 50 feet ahead but at other times we were treated to gorgeous sweeping views of the mountains and canyons below. The high speeds were a thrill and I had to contain several cheers on the way down; didn´t want the others to think I was crazy. We took a snack break before starting the real Camino de la Muerte or ¨Death Road¨. As an aside, the road got its name for being the #1 most dangerous road in the world with an average of over 200 fatalaties per year. Over two vehicles per month go off the cliffs on average, resulting in fatalities of sometimes dozens of people at a time. Many of the vehicles that go over the edge are small busses.

I was feeling even more nauseous after breathing so many car fumes on the way down. Almost at the point of vomiting. I forced down some water and a banana anyway, figuring I would need the fluids and energy for the next segment. It was still brutally cold, though the air slowly warmed and became more humid as we descended. There was even a bit of rain from time to time. While we made periodic stops for water and I would usually remove my gloves and helmet at these points, I continued to keep my sweatshirt hood up while riding.

The Death Road itself was really something. It was built over 100 years ago by prisoners of war from Paraguay and one gets the impression they had it in for their Bolivian masters. The road was unpaved, a mix of large rocks, potholes, loose gravel, and mud where falling water from above turned everything into a slippery mess. There was also lingering evidence of periodic rock slides. It was pretty steep for the most part and full of hairpin turns bordered by sheer drops of well over 1000 feet. In many places the road was only 2-3 meters wide.

We started out descending carefully. We were already sore from the hard bike seats on the way down the paved road and we tended to hover over our saddles as even our giant rock shocks failed to adequately absorb the vibrations from the rubble-strewn road. Better to take it in the quads than our more private areas. Our arms and hands quickly became fatigued from the strain of constantly clutching the brakes and absorbing the shock coming through the handle bars. In spite of its difficulty for riders, the road is incredibly beautiful, quickly transitioning from icy mountain to stunning rainforest.

After a few miles, the temptation of the large rocks in the road and our hovering riding style became too much for the Australian and I to resist and we began bunny hopping off some of the larger rocks. In retrospect, this was not a bright idea. We were descending at a pretty good clip, probably about 20km/hour on average, which was about as fast as we could go without losing control given the road conditions.

I actually did lose it at one point when the rocks in the road formed something of a rut that my tire got stuck in. I half came off the bike and bruised my leg against the bike a bit but managed to recover before totally crashing. The next time I wasn´t so lucky.

I was behind the Australian at this point and he got a good deal of air off a rock as he bunny hopped down the trail. Going over the same rock I caught the air as well, but as I came down I hit some gravel and my back break was a little too soft. I lost it and my bike began swerving uncontrollably and it was all I could do to keep upright. My last thought before going off the cliff was "Oh man, this is going to hurt a lot!"

Oddly my life didn't flash before my eyes and the fact that in a moment I might be flying thousands of feet down to my death didn´t occur to me. There was no time to really think about it. It was less than 50 feet from the rock I jumped to where I went off the cliff and due to the speed I was traveling at, it took less than 2 seconds before I went over. As my bike hit the edge and went horizontal I just shut my eyes and braced myself for whatever sort of impact was coming my way.

As it turned out, I got extremely lucky. You probably guessed this by now from the fact that you're reading my account of the tale on a blog and not the obituaries. I landed about 15 feet down in a mass of thorny vegetation. I got tangled in the sharp, thorny vines and my bike, which was pinning down my right leg to the cliff face.

My first thought was how much it sucked that I had just gone off the edge and that this was pretty serious. My second realization was the sharp pain coming from my right knee. Then came a third thought: the danger I was still in as I started to slide down the cliff face. I grabbed on to the vegetation and tried to shake out the cobwebs a bit. The Frenchman who was riding pretty close behind me shouted "STOP!" to the others at the top of his lungs and lept off his bike to see what fate had befallen me. The guide and Australian were already too far ahead to hear him I think.

I told the Frenchman I thought I was ok, even though based on the pain I wasn´t really sure yet. My helmet absorbed a lot of the shock, though I´m convinced that without the sweatshirt hood it would have been next to useless. The hood also prevented my face from being scratched up by the sharp brambles. Fortunately the many layers I was wearing absorbed a lot of the blow from my landing. Bruising from the impact was pretty minimal except for my right leg. Unfortunately the thorns did their job on a lot of the rest of me, along with some sort of biting insects whose nest I must have disturbed in my crash. The thorns pierced through my riding pants, practically shredding them, tore at least one hole through my jeans underneath as well, ripped 3 large slashes in my gloves, and went through my jacket and flesh in many places as well. I also got a pretty good road rash from my right hip up my abdomen and my right knee was bruised and cut from being pinned between my bike and the cliff.

Incredibly after looking myself over, there didn´t seem to be any permanent damage and all my limbs still worked. When the world stopped spinning I passed up my bike to the frenchman who was still gawking down at me from the road in disbelief, and I managed to climb back up the cliff.

Our van, which was bringing up the rear, caught up along with a van from another tour group and both drivers seemed rather amazed to see me alive and climbing up the cliff side. The other tour´s van driver actually even took my picture when I got back to the top. My brakes left an impressive skid mark from the rock I hopped to the cliff edge. You could see where my wheels kept leaving the ground because their were breaks in the skid mark and you could see how I was swerving too.

After assuring everybody I was ok, I got back on the bike, which seemed little worse for wear, and continued down the road. A few minutes later I caught up to the rest of the group (the guide and Australian had been taking a break about 5 minutes down the trail and the Swiss girls were with them already after having passed me by). The guide checked my bike and tuned it up a bit and then off we went.

I did learn my lesson and stopped bunny hopping for the remainder of the trip. The Australian continued however. I had a little less control than normal due to my minor injuries so I figured it was best to take it down a notch, go a bit slower, and not do anything fancy to avoid a less fortunate repeat performance.

We made it down to the bottom of the mountain without any more serious problems, just one section where we had to go through a shallow river that was very rocky and a few of us lost control. No real danger of falling off the cliff there though, just getting wet and scraped. When we reached the bottom, 69 kilometers and over 10,000 feet in elevation later, we piled our gear back in or on the van and drove up to Coroico for a buffet lunch, a swim in the pool, showers, and some time just to rest. Apparently we were a very fast group, having made it down in 3-4 hours. 5-6 was more normal according to our guide.

The buffet lunch was wasted on me, I still wasn´t hungry. Mostly just sat in a chair on the patio overlooking the mountains and jungle to rest. The right side of my chest was pretty sore from a combination of the fall and the shock of the road traveling up my arm through the breaks.

I called Megan on the way out of town from a pay phone to say I´d driven off a cliff but was ok. I figured pretty much anyone else I could call (I don't have many phone numbers memorized) would freak out, so she seemed the logical choice. I then promised her not to do anything else stupid, said I´d had enough, and that I would stick to shopping for the remainder of my trip.

Then we proceeded to do something stupid again. Instead of taking the newly built safe road back to La Paz, we drove back up the death road again. This time we did it in the van and we got an even better perspective on how nuts it was to use this gravelly mess as a road for cars. Our right wheels were nearly off the edge of the road several times on the way up and looking out the windows we could examine the precipitous drops much better than we were able to while concentrating on our biking on the way down.

We stopped for pictures in a few spots, including where I went over the edge. When we got back to La Paz the guide gave us CDs with the pictures from our trip that he had taken along the way and T-shirts.

Exhausted, I went to a place called Ja Ja Ja Chicken for dinner. Kinda like a sketchy version of KFC. There are tons of these chicken broaster restaraunts all over La Paz. Apparently they´re the typical cuisine. I meant to call Megan back after dinner but was too tired. No hot water in my shower so I quickly gave up on that too. Simply collapsed into bed and passed out.

I examined my wounds the next morning. Found lots of itchy thorn punctures. Kind of like mosquito bites but with blood. Guess I am allergic to whatever the thorn bush was or it had some sort of toxin or something. Still feeling kind of lucky I landed on the thorns though rather than the alternative. Feels like I have rocks in my lungs too. Not sure if it was the panting at high altitude yesterday or just soreness from the handle bars. Lots of bruises and scrapes on my right side. Good times.