Messy Pampas - Blogabond

The longest bus journey so far proved one of the most painless (they let us off to wee and stuff) and, as we had arrived early in the morning, we decided to start our trek straight away. An hour or so later we were rattling along a ridiculously battered road in a matching jeep. The landscape had completely changed, bringing back memories of Thailand and Fiji – it didn´t seem like we were in Bolivia at all. Soon we came to a wide brown river and boarded a long boat which would be our taxi for the next few days.

We were to explore the pampas – a wetland region which supposedly teems with wildlife. No sooner had we climbed into the boat than we saw our first alligator. We all pulled our cameras out and went crazy. They were everywhere! There were so many that soon our reptile induced hysteria wore off and we stopped taking photos. But it seemed that the moment you lowered your camera some new and exotic creature would poke its head out for an unbearably fleeting and photogenic moment. I sat at the front of the boat, my fingers carefully poised above the camera buttons so that I could turn it on and take a photo in a matter of milliseconds.

Families of turtles basked lazily in the sun and pink dolphins emerged looking pale and alien but the most charming visitors of the day were definitely the squirrel monkeys. We pulled right up to their tree and soon we were covered in tiny fury creatures who chattered happily and scampered along our arms, backs and heads in an outrageously sociable manner. Eventually we arrived at our “eco-lodge” which was large and could only have been more comfortable had it not been placed on the bank of the river whose deadly contents we had spent much of the day admiring.

Day two. I woke up confused in a wooden shack in the Bolivian pampas. Vivid dreams lingered in my head and I was pleased to see that the malaria tablets I had started taking were doing something. After breakfast we crossed the river and I found myself recalling that the side effects of malaria tablets could also include suicidal tendencies. I was stamping through soggy marshland in a pair of Converse and rolled up trousers looking for dangerous snakes – could this be considered suicidal? Reassuringly everyone else was doing it too. I couldn´t help noticing that they all had wellies on though. Josh and I had not been surprised to find that the boot collection could not cater for our unreasonably large feet but suddenly we were becoming very conscious of our vulnerable ankles.

The more we searched the more we all wanted to find something. We were all spread out searching different areas, it was a strange feeling, being on your own with your thoughts while looking for something which terrifies you. Like when I was snorkelling for a shark in Thailand , I began to lose my fear and just really want to see something. Suddenly there were shouts – Emmanuelle, a French girl, had found something. We all gathered round excitedly but it turned out to be a disappointingly small and harmless snake. After a few photos and some tentative touching we continued our search. It was hot and the marsh sucked our feet into the water.

Soon Emmanuelle was shouting again! She had seen something BIG. We scattered around the area, trampling carefully, everyone focused on any rustle or strange shape. Then our guide shouted, t was on the move! It came close by me- I could see thelong grass parting and giving away his position. It was fast though! We were running after it – I decided to let the guide go first and soon he was standing on its tail. It was huge! He carefully pinned the head down with a stick and then slowly picked it up. It was, he announced, a cobra. I HAD JUST BEEN RUNNING AFTER A FIVE FOOT COBRA!

Our guide, Oscar, allowed us to hold it briefly and I am not going to pretend I wasn´t scared but we´d searched for so long that I felt I needed to have it in my hands. It was heavy and thick with muscle. Its scaly skin was smooth and surreal. After letting it go we spent a few more hours searching and eventually found what we were after – an anaconda, albeit a very small one. I wasn´t complaining when we headed back to the lodge. I hoped that the afternoon wouldn´t consist of stomping around in the shallows of the river looking for alligators.

It didn´t, although we did keep the hunting theme going – now we were catching piranhas! We drove our boat to a quiet spot where trees grew out of the water scattering the sunlight and creating a scenic and atmospheric environment. The setting had attracted a lot of fish too; as soon as we dipped our lines in the water the red meat on our hooks was attacked furiously. The problem was there were all so small! Their little mouths would not go over the hook, they just happily nibbled away until the meat was gone. When someone did manage to pull in a little flapping carnivore we were often told to put it back in as it would be too small to eat. It was frustrating for the others but I managed to avoid the problem by not catching anything at all. We kept at it for a couple of hours and although Josh was doing well we both pined for the richly rewarding waters for Fiji. In the end I managed to catch one piranha.

That night we got to eat our catch – they were small and bony without much meat and although, to be honest, we would have been better off eating the meat we had spent so long feeding them, there was a strange pleasure in devouring something dangerous. Still, an alligator steak would have been more filling.

The sounds of the Amazonian pampas create a fascinating and endless chorus which Oscar was eager for us to appreciate. So it was that we found ourselves floating down the river that night with the engine turned off and only the clear star lit sky illuminating our way. Fireflies flickered in the trees and birds shrieked strangely. After a while we started singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”. It just felt like the right thing to do.

The next morning we got up early to listen to the morning medleys. I have to confess that I wasn´t particularly interested but the howler monkeys woke me out of my sleepy stupor with their crazy banter and seeing the sun rise from the river was worth getting up for. It was our last day. We had stomped the marshlands looking for snakes, fished for piranhas in the river and driven the boat up and down admiring its diverse contents. There was only one thing left to do – swim in it.

Even with my newly acquired suicidal tendencies this part of the trip was not something I was deeply enthusiastic about but to have swum in an Amazonian river did seem something to be proud of. Besides, all we needed was to find a few pink dolphins and none of the other (more worrying) creatures would come anywhere near us. So we searched. It was the first grey morning we had seen for a while, slightly cold with the sun hidden in cloud. The banks of the river were bare and we didn´t need Oscar to tell us that the hundreds of alligators and camen were all stealthily enjoying the warmth of the river. After almost an hour of searching we had only managed to find a couple of baby dolphins who, Oscar said, were not enough protection. He had explained on the first day that if we failed to find dolphins to swim with, it wouldn´t be safe. Now, seeing our restlessness and growing impatience, he seemed to change his mind. There were after all only three people (guess who) who were stupid enough to want to go in anyway. We were in a wide part of the river where the banks were reasurringly far away but as we got undressed I couldn´t help thinking about how many dangerous reptiles must be lurking in that murky water.

Meh. This was no time for logical thought. We stood on the side of the boat and dived into the brown water. It was warm and much nicer than it looked – when I came up Josh was still standing there hugging himself. He finally managed a feeble and effeminate jump into the water, which would have probably caused me to drown with laughter had I not already been climbing back into the boat. We splashed around, laughing the kind of laugh that comes out after you get hit in the face with a football or fall over in the street, before eventually deciding we had endangered our lives enough for the day. Ironically, as we towelled ourselves down a pink dolphin made a belated appearance but disappeared again as soon as we got back in the water. They really are useless. And they look like penises.

written by

steve_stamp on July 22, 2009 from Rurrenabaque, Bolivia

from the travel blog: The art of being lost

tagged Alligators, Camen, SquirrelMonkeys, PinkDolphins, Cobra, Anaconda, Oscar, Piranha and SuicidalTendencies

Send a Compliment

First clinging to mountain ledges, then prisons and death roads, and now Amazonian swims... what next for my intrepid sibling!? Hope you're not scaring mummy!

written by Nickon on July 23, 2009

it's OK Nick when you know he sat in the internet cafe and wrote the story afterwards-you know it has a happy ending-so far! crazy boy-you've done enough to prove yourself now,surely! Luv Mum xx

written by sue stamp on July 23, 2009

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