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| Peru and Bolivia - 2010 |
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
This is Earth?
Salar de Uyuni (the great salt desert of Bolivia) is like no place I could ever have imagined.
This fairly thin crust of salt sits above a salt water lake that is up to 20 meters deep. You can turn around in a circle and only see blue skies and white salt for miles and miles, but the desert is also home to islands (with 1000-yr old cactii), fresh water lagoons and beautiful jade flamingos.
This fairly thin crust of salt sits above a salt water lake that is up to 20 meters deep. You can turn around in a circle and only see blue skies and white salt for miles and miles, but the desert is also home to islands (with 1000-yr old cactii), fresh water lagoons and beautiful jade flamingos.
La Paz
La Paz is a city of only 1.2 million people (can you tell I'm a New Yorker?), but its neighborhoods are sprawled across a long stretch of mountain cliffs. It turned out to be a much different city than Dixie and I had anticipated: larger and more modern. And while traces of it's colonial past remain, it is only one of La Paz's many flavors.
Unfortunately, we've lost 2 half-days in La Paz because I was sick when we first got here and then our return from Salar de Uyuni was delayed by a day due to a strike (resulting in a 14 hour bus ride that I really don't want to relive or recount). Nonetheless, our visit was well-timed: we arrived the day of University Folkloric Parade and during Bolivia's Independence Day celebrations.
Unfortunately, we've lost 2 half-days in La Paz because I was sick when we first got here and then our return from Salar de Uyuni was delayed by a day due to a strike (resulting in a 14 hour bus ride that I really don't want to relive or recount). Nonetheless, our visit was well-timed: we arrived the day of University Folkloric Parade and during Bolivia's Independence Day celebrations.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lake Titicaca and its Islands
Lake Titicaca spans the border between Peru and Bolivia and is "the world's highest navigable lake". But despite the rather specific title, this large, deep blue, beautiful natural wonder doesn't need to be stretching for it's accolades.
From Puno, a town of about 180,000 people, we set off by boat to visit three of the lake's islands and Copacabana (our first stop in Bolivia).
Our first destination was Uros, a collection of man-made islands that float on the water's surface. They're made primarily by chaining together mounds of the reed grass that grow in the lake, and then piling on layers of dried reed until the island is sturdy enough to support 10-20 families, their homes (made out of reed), and their meeting areas. The lavatories sit on separate islands, which serves as a good incentive for young lads and lasses from Uros to learn to row fast (on reed boats, of course). Uros sounds like an idyllic paradise, but the altitude and the lake bring rather cold, unparadise-like temperatures.
Our next stop was Tacquille, a much larger island with great scenery and a community whose men knit their own hats. These hats carry a special significance, as married men wear hats with a different color scheme than their single counterparts, and a prospective groom must make a hat with a tight enough knit that it can hold water to win his would-be father-in-law's approval.
The next day, we crossed the (entirely unprotected) border into Bolivia. We headed first to Copacabana, a pretty little town whose claim to fame is a cathedral that houses a statue of a dark-skinned Virgin Mary. Peruvians and Bolivians alike make pilgrimages from far away to pay homage to the Madonna.
From Copacabana, we caught another boat to visit Isla del Sol (Sun Island), the purported origin of the Inca culture. The island houses a small garden of native plants, a museum of Incan and pre-Incan artifacts found on the island, and a shaman who performed a short Aymara ritual blessing for us.
From Isla del Sol, we could see the Bolivian Andes on the far shore. Even though we were at 4000m ourselves, those peaks (especially Illampu at 6000+ meters) towered above us.
When we landed on shore around sunset, we took a bus to La Paz, the jumping off point for the final sights of our trip: the pre-Incan ruins of Tiwanaku, and the great salt dessert of Uyuni.
We arrived in La Paz just in time to catch the end of one of their biggest folkloric (carmivale-like) parades, put on by the university students.
From Puno, a town of about 180,000 people, we set off by boat to visit three of the lake's islands and Copacabana (our first stop in Bolivia).
Our first destination was Uros, a collection of man-made islands that float on the water's surface. They're made primarily by chaining together mounds of the reed grass that grow in the lake, and then piling on layers of dried reed until the island is sturdy enough to support 10-20 families, their homes (made out of reed), and their meeting areas. The lavatories sit on separate islands, which serves as a good incentive for young lads and lasses from Uros to learn to row fast (on reed boats, of course). Uros sounds like an idyllic paradise, but the altitude and the lake bring rather cold, unparadise-like temperatures.
Our next stop was Tacquille, a much larger island with great scenery and a community whose men knit their own hats. These hats carry a special significance, as married men wear hats with a different color scheme than their single counterparts, and a prospective groom must make a hat with a tight enough knit that it can hold water to win his would-be father-in-law's approval.
The next day, we crossed the (entirely unprotected) border into Bolivia. We headed first to Copacabana, a pretty little town whose claim to fame is a cathedral that houses a statue of a dark-skinned Virgin Mary. Peruvians and Bolivians alike make pilgrimages from far away to pay homage to the Madonna.
From Copacabana, we caught another boat to visit Isla del Sol (Sun Island), the purported origin of the Inca culture. The island houses a small garden of native plants, a museum of Incan and pre-Incan artifacts found on the island, and a shaman who performed a short Aymara ritual blessing for us.
From Isla del Sol, we could see the Bolivian Andes on the far shore. Even though we were at 4000m ourselves, those peaks (especially Illampu at 6000+ meters) towered above us.
When we landed on shore around sunset, we took a bus to La Paz, the jumping off point for the final sights of our trip: the pre-Incan ruins of Tiwanaku, and the great salt dessert of Uyuni.
We arrived in La Paz just in time to catch the end of one of their biggest folkloric (carmivale-like) parades, put on by the university students.
Machu Picchu
After leaving Manu, we had a brief stop in Cusco, which allowed us to get through the worst of some stomach problems that had flared up the morning we left Manu. Fortunately, the desire to be in prime condition to see Machu Picchu overpowered any competing interest to see more of Cusco that day. So we rested.
Early the next day, we took the train to Aguas Calientes, the small tourist trap that everyone visiting Machu Picchu passes through at some point. We arrived just before noon, met our English-speaking guide, and headed straight for the site. We had to: we only had the afternoon to spend at MP because we hadn't been able to get seats on a late enough train the next day to have time to return to MP. That meant no chance of catching sunrise at MP or hiking, Wainya Picchu, the small peak that rises above the site. Truthfully, both of us were a bit relieved to be dropping the idea of waking up at 3am to wait in line for the first buses to Machu Picchu. Instead, we tried to be the last to leave MP in the afternoon, snapping some pictures as the sun set.
Machu Picchu is probably the best documented of the sights we've seen, so there's not much for us to add. We had a fairly typical experience, though I did lead Dixie on a rather meaningless 40 minute hike because I "can't read simple maps very well" (Dixie, consider this my penance).
I will say, though, that despite the hype surrounding Machu Picchu and the climax of our trip in Manu, Machu Picchu did not disappoint. Hopefully the pictures won't either.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Rainforest (Part 3)
The next morning, we woke up early to hike to Cocho Otorongo, a nearby lake. This was our first real opportunity to trek through the rainforest and see the flora up close.
We were also able to spot several species of monkeys, like the loud-mouthed howler monkey, spider monkey, and the dusky titi monkey, and track them as they swung under the canopy. We had seen a few peccary (wild pigs) the day before, but in the forest our guides were able to tell us where they had been just 20 minutes ahead of us (hint: it stunk there).
In the afternoon, we hiked to Cocha (Lake) Salvador. This one had a communal catamaran that we could paddle to quietly move closer to wildlife.
This lake was also home to a family of giant river otter, an endangered species that we had to be very careful not to stress with our approach.
We saw hundreds of birds, including several beautiful varieties of macaws on their way home from the clay licks. We also got to encounter caymans up close...close enough that we were nervous when they disappeared underwater! We saw all of these things while scanning the water for the tell-tale ripples created by the otters. Eventually, we spotted the family and moved slowly closer to observe their playful behavior. Our guides spotted one of their dens on the lake shore and we hung around to watch them swim to their den and then pull themselves out of the water as they entered the den.
We returned at dusk to find another group (including an American biologist) waiting for the catamaran. As we hiked back to our under flashlight, Mitchel asked rhetorically, wasn't it curious that a group would set out across the lake after dark when all they might be able to see are caymans (whose eyes shine red under flashlight)? And hadn't we seen plenty of caymans during the day?
It turned out that some of the less ecology-minded groups operating in the area used the cover of night to actually catch the caymans, look at them up close and then release them into the water. Besides being an all-around unclassy thing to do, it is also illegal. It stresses out the caymans, can cause them to change mating behaviors, or cause them to leave the area altogether. And despite all of this, there is apparently little the small staff of forest rangers can do to curb this practice across such an expansive area.
After dinner, Mitchel took Dixie and I on a private night walk --something we had really enjoyed doing in the jungle in Kerala last year. Somehow, we were both much more comfortable seeing things like spiders, crickets and cockroaches in their natural habitat, than in New York (their adopted habitat). Sometimes we'd walk into a web or be inches from the critter before catching it with out flashlights. We saw many wolf spiders and champion spiders (a variety that probably won it's title unopposed through sheer intimidation). We rounded out our hike by spying some frogs and a small snake in the viper family.
The next morning we woke up at 4am to begin retracing our steps down the Manu River and the Madre de Dios --quicker this time because we were moving with the current. We made it to the Boca Manu airstrip (more like grass strip) around 10am and boarded the small propeller plane that would take us back to Cusco.
Flying under the clouds, the green blanket below us, cut by the occasional river, was beautiful in its area and uniformity. We really lucked out with perfect weather: it wasn't cloudy in the cloud forest on the second day, and it never really rained in the rainforest. We already know that the five days we spent in the Amazon basin will stand out as the highlight of our trip...but we're open to being proven wrong!
We were also able to spot several species of monkeys, like the loud-mouthed howler monkey, spider monkey, and the dusky titi monkey, and track them as they swung under the canopy. We had seen a few peccary (wild pigs) the day before, but in the forest our guides were able to tell us where they had been just 20 minutes ahead of us (hint: it stunk there).
In the afternoon, we hiked to Cocha (Lake) Salvador. This one had a communal catamaran that we could paddle to quietly move closer to wildlife.
This lake was also home to a family of giant river otter, an endangered species that we had to be very careful not to stress with our approach.
We saw hundreds of birds, including several beautiful varieties of macaws on their way home from the clay licks. We also got to encounter caymans up close...close enough that we were nervous when they disappeared underwater! We saw all of these things while scanning the water for the tell-tale ripples created by the otters. Eventually, we spotted the family and moved slowly closer to observe their playful behavior. Our guides spotted one of their dens on the lake shore and we hung around to watch them swim to their den and then pull themselves out of the water as they entered the den.
We returned at dusk to find another group (including an American biologist) waiting for the catamaran. As we hiked back to our under flashlight, Mitchel asked rhetorically, wasn't it curious that a group would set out across the lake after dark when all they might be able to see are caymans (whose eyes shine red under flashlight)? And hadn't we seen plenty of caymans during the day?
It turned out that some of the less ecology-minded groups operating in the area used the cover of night to actually catch the caymans, look at them up close and then release them into the water. Besides being an all-around unclassy thing to do, it is also illegal. It stresses out the caymans, can cause them to change mating behaviors, or cause them to leave the area altogether. And despite all of this, there is apparently little the small staff of forest rangers can do to curb this practice across such an expansive area.
After dinner, Mitchel took Dixie and I on a private night walk --something we had really enjoyed doing in the jungle in Kerala last year. Somehow, we were both much more comfortable seeing things like spiders, crickets and cockroaches in their natural habitat, than in New York (their adopted habitat). Sometimes we'd walk into a web or be inches from the critter before catching it with out flashlights. We saw many wolf spiders and champion spiders (a variety that probably won it's title unopposed through sheer intimidation). We rounded out our hike by spying some frogs and a small snake in the viper family.
The next morning we woke up at 4am to begin retracing our steps down the Manu River and the Madre de Dios --quicker this time because we were moving with the current. We made it to the Boca Manu airstrip (more like grass strip) around 10am and boarded the small propeller plane that would take us back to Cusco.
Flying under the clouds, the green blanket below us, cut by the occasional river, was beautiful in its area and uniformity. We really lucked out with perfect weather: it wasn't cloudy in the cloud forest on the second day, and it never really rained in the rainforest. We already know that the five days we spent in the Amazon basin will stand out as the highlight of our trip...but we're open to being proven wrong!
The Rainforest (Part 2)
The next morning (day 3 in the forest) was a unique opportunity to sleep in until 7am or so, as we had to wait for a young British couple to join our group. They flew in on a tiny 16 passenger propeller plane and landed on the grass airstrip that is known as Boca Manu Airport. The same flight brings in supplies and returns with passengers and waste. It's the only flight the airstrip sees each day, and even then, the flight can be cancelled or delayed by the frecas, the cold front that blows in once or twice a month during the dry season. The logistics of moving supplies in and out are expertly managed. We had actually carried supplies since Cusco meant for the various camps we stayed at.
When we boarded our canoe again, we joined up with another guide, William, and his group of six. This time, we set off upstream on the Madre de Dios River, veering into the Manu River when it merged with the Madre de Dios.
Soon after we started up the Manu River, we crossed into the reserved zone of the forest and checked in. Scanning the sign-in book, we noticed only two other groups were scheduled to be in the reserved zone while we were there.
On the Manu River, we started seeing new forms of wildlife, most notably the white caiman and the much larger black caiman (5+ meters in length), cousins of alligators and crocodiles.
After several hours, we stopped on a sandy beach to use what Mitchel called the "bush toilet". When we boarded our boat again, it was clear something was quite wrong: William (the other guide) was bent over in agony. A few minutes before we stopped, he had apparently developed a sharp pain around his side or kidney.
William eventually got to his seat and we pushed off from the beach, but a few minutes later, he walked towards the back of the canoe where Mitchel, the Brits, Dixie and I were sitting. His loud groans were made worse by the fact that we were in the middle of the jungle, with no doctors among the group. We tried having him lay down on the pile of packs, but everything the poor guy did only seemed to make his pain worse.
The front of the boat wasn't particularly helpful, either. "Give him morphine!" someone shouted. Sorry Dr. Quinn, but I think we forgot to pack any.
Dixie and I urged Mitchel to consider our options: Could we turn around? (We would hardly reach the lightly-staffed checkpoint, let alone the airstrip, before nightfall.) Could we get help? (We weren't carrying radios or satellite phones and had hardly seen another boat since passing into the reserved zone.)
Could we give William something for the pain?
Between the Brits and us, we had ibuprofen (of course) and paracetemol (a drug we don't seem to get in the states, but I'd heard of it thanks to British comedies and British cousins). But William had already taken two pills when the pain started, and after more back and forth questioning than it should have took, we established it was just ciprofloxin (a prescription antibiotic) and paracetemol. That made the decision relatively easy: check the paracetemol label for any obvious conflicts and give the maximum allowable dosage of paracetemol.
With his pain relieved, William finally went to sleep, and strangely --but fortunately-- he didn't experience the pain again during our trip.
_______________
William has a doctor's appointment in a few days and hopefully they can sort out what happened.
When we boarded our canoe again, we joined up with another guide, William, and his group of six. This time, we set off upstream on the Madre de Dios River, veering into the Manu River when it merged with the Madre de Dios.
Soon after we started up the Manu River, we crossed into the reserved zone of the forest and checked in. Scanning the sign-in book, we noticed only two other groups were scheduled to be in the reserved zone while we were there.
On the Manu River, we started seeing new forms of wildlife, most notably the white caiman and the much larger black caiman (5+ meters in length), cousins of alligators and crocodiles.
After several hours, we stopped on a sandy beach to use what Mitchel called the "bush toilet". When we boarded our boat again, it was clear something was quite wrong: William (the other guide) was bent over in agony. A few minutes before we stopped, he had apparently developed a sharp pain around his side or kidney.
William eventually got to his seat and we pushed off from the beach, but a few minutes later, he walked towards the back of the canoe where Mitchel, the Brits, Dixie and I were sitting. His loud groans were made worse by the fact that we were in the middle of the jungle, with no doctors among the group. We tried having him lay down on the pile of packs, but everything the poor guy did only seemed to make his pain worse.
The front of the boat wasn't particularly helpful, either. "Give him morphine!" someone shouted. Sorry Dr. Quinn, but I think we forgot to pack any.
Dixie and I urged Mitchel to consider our options: Could we turn around? (We would hardly reach the lightly-staffed checkpoint, let alone the airstrip, before nightfall.) Could we get help? (We weren't carrying radios or satellite phones and had hardly seen another boat since passing into the reserved zone.)
Could we give William something for the pain?
Between the Brits and us, we had ibuprofen (of course) and paracetemol (a drug we don't seem to get in the states, but I'd heard of it thanks to British comedies and British cousins). But William had already taken two pills when the pain started, and after more back and forth questioning than it should have took, we established it was just ciprofloxin (a prescription antibiotic) and paracetemol. That made the decision relatively easy: check the paracetemol label for any obvious conflicts and give the maximum allowable dosage of paracetemol.
With his pain relieved, William finally went to sleep, and strangely --but fortunately-- he didn't experience the pain again during our trip.
_______________
William has a doctor's appointment in a few days and hopefully they can sort out what happened.
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