Welcome to the jungle

The one thing that we agreed on when we were planning our trip to South America was that we didn´t want to go to the jungle. Although, secretly, I think that we both harboured the idea of a nice eco-lodge in Costa Rica with all the creature comforts, that big green thing to the east of the Andes was supposed to be a no go area. Too many snakes, biting insects and heat.

So, of course, what do we do within 6 hours of arriving in Cusco - we book ourselves on a 9 day trip into the Manu biosphere, leaving the next morning at 4.30 am. Approximately half the area of Switzerland, Manu comprises Andean montane cloud forest, tropical lowland forest and the Alto Madre de Dios and Manu river systems. It is home to over 1000 species of birds, 15,000 species of plants, over 200 species of mammals, and untold numbers of insects, and within its heart remain yet uncontacted peoples.


The jungle road, built by Sven Ericsson (the engineer, not football manager), is just wide enough for a bus and is open to traffic going into the jungle on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, to outgoing traffic on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, and to a mad free for all on Sundays, when God presumably determines the outcome. We followed wagons loaded with wood, people, bananas and, no doubt, cocaine from the illicit coca plantations.

After a day and a half on the road, we reached the village of Atalaya and boarded a motorised canoe. There were ten tourists, Tina (the guide), Richard (the boat driver), Cesar (his assistant) and Mariano (the cook). In hot sun and a blue sky, we set off down the muddy brown Alto Madre de Dios (Mother of God) river and Richard steered us between boulder beaches, hundreds of sunken, stranded tree trunks and frothy shallows. Within an hour, a storm broke and we huddled under plastic sheets for the next 5 hours, the boredom broken only by a white caiman (a tropical crocodile) sliding into the river and a family of hairy, grey-bearded capybara (giant rodents). Later, we reached our lodge for the night and went out with torches after dark looking for ´interesting things´ by which Tina meant tarantulas! We found a mother and baby under the thatched roof of the shower block - I am not sure that many people showered that night........

Two days later, we were far down river at a clay cliff watching almost 100 red and green macaws (the stereotypical jungle bird - bright rainbow feathers, a long tail and the hooked beak of a parrot) eating the minerals to counter the toxins that they accumulate from eating unripe fruit. Before the macaws ate, hundreds of blue and green parrots flitted at the cliff face like butterflies. We watched the birds for 3 hours until they had finished and I really didn´t want to leave as it is somehing that I don´t think I will ever see again.

With the weather improved in the sense that it was no longer raining (it was still 100% humidity and very, very hot), we headed into the Manu reserve. The Manu river meanders with a venegeance and you can often see across the thin spits of land between bends and know that it will take you half an hour in the boat to cover what you could walk in a minute. The consequence of this hugely actve river is that oxbow lakes are created with regularity (3 in the last 10 years). In, and around, these secluded oxbow lakes (some up to 8 km long) can be found incredible wildlife and over two long days, we walked and paddled on floating platforms around these areas of wilderness.

The list of wildlife that we saw does not do justice to the excitement of walking through the jungle, hearing something, scanning the vegetation, tree tops and water, and then seeing a movement, a glimpse of colour and finally a bird, monkey or other animal. Statistics invitably reduce these feelings to a simple list, but we saw 8 species of monkey, giant otters, capybara, white and black caiman, tapirs, snakes, a poison dart frog, over a hundred species of birds and the smelly peccary (a type of wild pig).

It is hard to pick one single experience. It was amazing to stand in the middle of a troop of over 100 foraging squirrel monkeys as they leapt around us. Dancing along branches, jumping gaps from tree to tree and occasionally stopping to look at us, it was like having a storm rush past you. It was a privilege to watch two male tapirs, each weighing 250 kg, charge from the undergrowth and into the river in a territory dispute. The loser swam just behind the canoe to a beach on the other side of the river, shook his stubby tail and trotted into the undergrowth. It was humbling to see three giant otters fishing, calling and swimming in one of the oxbows. The wildlife was quite inspriing and it was impossible not to wonder at the complex connections between all the elements of the rain forest ecosystem.

We stopped the final night at a lodge where the tourists beat the Peruvian staff at 5-a-side football. I can report that I scored the winner in the dying minutes of daylight. The next day was the simple matter of 3 hours in the canoe and 10 hours in the bus to get back to Cusco.

There are some experiences that should never be forgotten and the sounds, smells and heat of the jungle will remain with us both for a very long time. I hope they serve to remind us of the areas of our planet that need protecting.

Colca Canyon

If Arequipa, Peru´s second biggest city, feels like it is in the middle of nowhere, Cabanaconde, perched on the rim of the Colca canyon, is truly the back of beyond. To get there, we took a bus (ex-Brazilian fleet) for 6 hours on a dirt track watching herds of wild vicunas (savage llamas), an empty train line and the occasional shack with stone corrals for the alpacas on which people´s existence is based in this wild region. The Colca canyon is the third deepest canyon in the world (so they say), but is more impressive for its vast pre-Inca terracing which was unknown to the outside world until 1931. We did the usual tourist things - watching condors soaring on morning thermals (though the people outnumbered the condors 50 to 1), soaking in hot springs and warming ourselves by a fire in the cold evening. We are now back in Arequipa to take a 10 hour bus to Cusco. The honeypot of Peru awaits.......

Trekking in the Cordillera Blanca

The Cordillera Blanca is a range of mountains in the north of Peru and, with 35 peaks over 6000 metres, it is the highest range in the tropical world. Understandably, it is remote and tit ook us almost four hours in a minibus (crammed with 21 people when there was seating for 14) to reach Cashapampa, the start of our trek, where we ate fresh fried trout and chips that a local couple cooked over a wood fire for us.

On the first day, we trekked with heavy rucsacs to Laguna Ichiccocha and suffered the effects of the altitude (namely nose bleeds, high heart rates and laboured breathing - it sounds worse than it was, Mum) and lack of trekking (the last time was in the Pyrenees in 2004). The steep sides of the valley and the arid vegetation were slightly oppressive and it was a relief to reach the greenery of the lake. In the evening, we drank litres of coca tea which the packet told us was good for "diarrhea, altitude sickness and tiredness". Perfect.

The following morning, we reached Laguna Jatuncocha and, with big, snow-capped peaks all around, I taught Albane the basics of map and compass. After the lake, the path lead into a wide valley perfectly suited for a Lord of the Rinds battle scene. We were overtaken by a mule train, laden with the bags of a group of walkers who had passed us earlier, but were happy that we were carrying our own kit. We camped at a litter-strewn site nestled beneath the vast face of Nevado Tulliraju (5830m) - a classic jagged ridge with fluted snow, cracked glaciers and a petticoat of grey rock. We watched it until 4pm when a storm arrived and hammered the tent with rain until 9 am the next day. With darkness falling at 6pm, it was an early night!

The third day was the big one and the challenge was increased by the fact that the rain during the night had fallen as snow on our route. Undeterred, we started the 3 hour climb and settled into a pace that, at sea level on the flat, would not have challenged a snail. Still, slow and steady won the day and by midday we had reached Punta Union pass at 4760 metres. The views were stunning and we descended into a deep valley which reminded me of a Scottish valley on steroids. We had four hours of downhill in hot sun and we were both feeling the effect (despite my rather fetching hat and beard - both for sun protection and nothing to do with irritating Albane) by the time we reached camp below Nevado Paron.

Despite it being a full moon, we slept well and, in the morning descended quickly to a Qyechuan village with houses made from mud and thatched roofs. There was no running water, no electricity and conditions were primitive. Yet the children smiled and shouted "Hola!" as we passed - a stark contrast to Morocco where we had been continually asked for a "stylo" or a "bonbon". By lunchtime, we had reached a bridge over the river and, instead of heading left to finish the trek (like most sensible people), we turned right and headed in the Ramincuray valley. Steep, clad with thick forest, filled with the smell of foreign plants and a path that was not clear, we felt as though we were walking into Jurassic Park. For 3 hours we headed uphill and then, with darkness an hour away, the trail disappeared. The ensuing climb through needle-like grass and scrub and over loose boulders was a nightmare and we reached the lake to find that the "good camping" (promised by Lonely Planet) was non-existent. With no other option and too tired to be angry, we stumbled downhill until we found a spot to put up the tent. Right in the middle of the territory of a herd of horned bullocks. Big sticks kept them at bay while we were cooking, but we were then forced to adopt the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality and crawled into our sleeping bags. Albane slept badly.

The final day was a hot four hour walk to the road and a four hour minibus back to Huaraz for roast chicken and chips, a hot shower and the chance to put on fresh clothes for the first time in five days. In other words, all the rewards of a good, hard trek

Touching the void

After a 12 hour flight to Lima and an 8 hour bus journey, we have arrived at the market town of Huaraz in the Peruvian Andes. At 3100 metres above sea level, we have both felt the effects of the altitude - headaches, laboured breathing after any form of exercise and resting pulses 50% higher than normal - and have therefore spent the last two days wandering the town, eating and planning the 6 day trek into the mountain range of Cordillera Blanca, not far as the condor flies from the scene of Joe Simpson´s exploits. Enforced acclimatisation has given us plenty of time to take in Peruvian life and, in no particular order, the following things are worthy of note: urine-coloured Inca Kola (the Peruvian soft drink); an old lady asking to eat the remains of our unfinished meals; ceviche (raw fish ´cooked´in lime juice and chilli); nets of squeaking guinea pigs at the market; 3 course lunches for a pound; fresh papaya juice; views of snow-clad mountains; and thick marmalade sunsets.