Ponchos Come In Handy

Sunday 21 January

We were treated to a little lie in this morning, although with everyone else moving about, we were still awake at 05.00. The cockroaches had disappeared from the bathroom – hopefully down the floor grating and not into the room. It had stopped raining about 06.00, but underfoot the ground was still very wet. We collected all our belongings and made our way to breakfast, far too early – it was not being served until 07.00. We were treated to scrambled eggs and more of that sweet bread, toasted, with fresh foamy apple juice.

Together with a Mexican couple, we made our way down to the lake, just one porter carrying the four green holdalls of luggage in a “mail bag” – a grey, very strong plastic, waterproof bag, filled to capacity. When we reached the water, the otters were swimming just a little way off shore – had they come to say “goodbye”? We could see them sitting up in the water, looking around before giving us a final diving display. Sadly we had to move on. Ten people plus the luggage all piled in one long boat –– it was a wonder we didn’t sink, although we were quite close to the waterline and it wobbled dangerously as one person after another climbed aboard. The paddlers – one at the front and one at the back – started paddling at a fast rate, but by the time we had reached deeper water toward the centre of the lake, they had slowed down. Jesus and the other guide then took it in turns to help them out with a third paddle, and we completed the whole journey in about half an hour – much faster than any of our previous trips.

At the head of the canal we again had to change into our welly boots. Everything was dripping and soggy from last night’s rain, so we were expecting a muddy journey. Two porters transported the luggage and other boxes that I hadn’t noticed in the boat, in a “rickshaw” – more a plank seat within a frame set on two wheels – one man pulling and the other pushing. The rest of us followed behind – the rickshaw was soon out of sight, as they ran along the track, barefooted. We meanwhile splashed and squelched, often not bothering with the slightly drier sides of the path, as these often proved more slippery and dangerous than the mud. There was at least as much mud if not more than our outward journey, and keeping our boots on was a main concentration. We had been going about half an hour when it started to rain – streaming down in huge cold drops from a sky that had changed to become steely grey all round. We were almost soaked through just getting our ponchos on, but we trudged on through the puddles, growing larger by the minute. We stopped to look at a long thin green snake, entwined around a small shrub at the edge of the track. It watched us with small beady eyes, and we soon left it to continue our trek. Despite the conditions we still made good time – about an hour and a half - and the journey seemed shorter than on Thursday. I was surprised when the Ecology hut where we had signed in, appeared at the side of the track, and then just another couple of hundred metres and we were at the river. The rain was still pouring down as we changed back from wellies to our walking shoes – this time out in the open by the river bank, with no shelter – another challenge standing on one leg pulling muddy boots off and trying to get lace-up shoes on.

We all boarded the boat – at least there was a roof, and plastic covers along one side – and soon set off for Puerto Maldonado. The rain was soon driven in the open side of the boat and the driver seemed reluctant when the guides suggested we lowered the plastic covers on the other side as well. Perhaps it interfered with his view – he would have to peer up the middle of the long boat to see the way – a very narrow gap – which was getting more and more hazy as the cloud sank towards the river. We chugged along well at first, but later the engine whined and spluttered and we slowed almost to a stop. The driver’s mate – a young teenage lad, maybe his son – started undoing the bung on a large oil drum, that presumably held the fuel. They put in a pipe, sucked, and started siphoning fuel into the engine – perhaps there had been a blockage in the flow. We carried on again, this journey seeming much longer than when we traveled in the reverse direction on Thursday – it was quite cold by this time and the winds were still driving the rainddrops horizontally. The river is more than 500 metres wide, as it curves through the rain forest, and today the water was an ugly iron grey colour and choppy. We eventually saw the town ahead of us, on the opposite side of the river. The driver took us on past the buildings, to see the new bridge they are constructing across the river on the far side of the town, which will mean that the road to Brazil will be continuous from Lima, instead of having to rely on the ferries. At the moment there is a crane on the Puerto Maldonado side, and some shoring up of the river bank. On the opposite side we could see concrete bridge supports, with iron strengthening protruding from the tops, going away from the river. The riverbank also shows some signs of work and a few iron strands were poking up out of the river, about 50 yards out. Apparently the bridge is expected to be completed in three years.

We returned to the tributary river, the Inambari, that enters the Madre de Dios river here, and seemed to keep going much further upstream than before. Eventually, at the very end of the houses, we came across the concrete steps leading from the river, to a car park , where we could see our coach waiting to collect us. We all scrambled up the wooden plank to the steps, as the driver held other boats moored at the same point, clear of our pathway. We climbed gratefully on to the coach, feeling sodden and cold, and were soon traveling through the city which was very quiet. Most of the shops and cafes closed as it was Sunday. A church was open, and we could see a few of the congregation worshipping there.

At the office, we had to completely unpack again and sort out our back packs – it’s amazing how difficult it is to get everything in the bags on the return journey. We pushed and squeezed and finally succeeded, although all the backpacks were bulging. Our spare bag, one of the AAT Kings backpacks from our first Australian trip, had ripped across the top, so we decided to dispose of that. We were all scarred with mud, and damp, and looking forward to a hot shower and clean clothes in Cusco. We had to fill out assessment forms on our short trip to the airport, where armed with our boarding passes – they had obviously managed to sort out the initial problems with our flights – we went straight to security and again avoided the long queues booking in luggage.

We had an hour to wait – put to good use by reading through and amending some of the blogs not yet published. It seemed no time at all before we were called to board, and as we settled in our seats – in row 3 today, the furthest forward we have been on any of the planes yet – the captain was telling us we would be taking off in just a few minutes. It had stopped raining by this time, but the sky was still clouded over, so there were few photo opportunities during the thirty minute flight to capture the cloud formations. We sailed through the airport at Cusco, not having any large luggage to collect, and emerged to find our courier just arriving to meet us. We were bundled into a car, and set off to the hotel at a manic rate, through the light Sunday afternoon traffic. At the hotel we were greeted by the bellboy – he recognized us at once as this was our third visit to this hotel. On booking in we were allocated a room on the ground floor again – and on inspection it was even smaller than room 101, and we would have had difficulty getting our suitcases in the room. It had two single beds, as two doubles would definitely not have fitted, but it did have slightly more light - just. Returning to reception, we asked to change rooms, and reluctantly the receptionist found us another on the third floor – much larger, with daylight flooding through the windows. We had a quick shower and sorted all our washing to take to the laundry. Were we being too hopeful – it was Sunday afternoon, and we needed it back by this evening as we would be leaving early in the morning? The laundry we had used before was shut, but in the square we found another small dive, at the end of a narrow passageway. The lady was just returning from lunch (about 14.30) and assured us we could collect it by 18.00. We explained that most of it was muddy and wet and very smelly!, but she wasn’t fazed and still seemed happy to take it.

It was time to have some lunch – were we hungry, or was the altitude kicking in again – Cusco is 3,400 metres above sea-level and Sandoval Lodge, just 200 metres – quite a difference. We made our way to an Italian restaurant in the corner of the square, which specialized in pizzas. We were the only customers in the large square room, amidst about forty tables. The waiter seemed pleased to see us, and when we ordered two pizzas – “personal” size – he had to light the big clay fire on the other side of the restaurant – with newspaper and chopped wood! While it was heating up, he went off and returned with the two pizzas, which he put in the oven. When they were cooked they were delicious – perhaps we were just hungry.

We returned to the hotel and purchased an hour on the internet, to publish the blogs and check the emails. I finished reading through the ones I had written and managed to publish eight entries. I was now just a couple of days behind. We read the emails and then sorted our gear for tomorrow – we are traveling by train to Puno, on Lake Titicaca – our last whole day in Peru. We then popped out the Inka Grill and had a snack – chicken sandwich for me and a Peruvian dish with yellow potatoes, chicken, hard boiled egg and rice for Colin, which he told me was very tasty. We returned to the room and sent a couple of emails before settling down for the night – yet another 005.00 alarm call tomorrow.