Amongst the veritable sea of
people outside the Lima airport we eventually discovered someone carrying a
“Bunniks ” sign and we found ourselves in the care of travel company Coltur. By
the time we reached our hotel, Casa
Andina Select, it was almost midnight.
Of all the places we visited in
South America Lima with a population of 10 million (50% are squatters living on
the fringes of the urban area) is described as “the 7th most populous agglomeration in the world”. Not
surprisingly, Lima impressed George the least. It was far too busy and
congested by traffic; trips to and from the airport invariably took well over
an hour. Nonetheless, in the company of a most knowledgeable old fellow called
Hernando (and Daniel our driver) we were taken on a city tour that commenced at
a high point overlooking the coast, itself largely obscured by the fog
generated by the cold Humboldt Current offshore. We drove past some ancient (15th
century) Inca ruins, Huaca Pucllana, comprising a massive platform
made from mud bricks (adobe) apparently for no other reason according to
Hernando, other than sheer “grandiosity”; parks containing old olive trees
planted in colonial times; various embassies and condominiums all indicative of
what Hernando described as “the economic prosperity of the city”. He reminded
us of Lima’s unstable communist / socialist period era (1960 -1980) when
inflation reached 7000% (as it did in Zimbabwe) and while we were stuck in a
traffic jam explained how buses in Lima are all privately run and the
competition among them accounts for their complete disregard for road rules. Sounded
like the Black Taxies of South Africa!
The Larco Museum was a place we’d
have willingly spent a lot longer but Hernando, the clock watcher pushed us
through the place in less than an hour! It was amazing, set in the grounds of
an 18th century farmhouse, that housed over 45 000 Pre-Inca
artefacts collected by an individual called Rafael
Larco Herrera (born 1901 & died 1966). Like many other people in Peru,
Rafael had actively participated in what was regarded as a “national pastime” –
namely that of searching for (and extracting) the gold present in tombs and
graves of the “first people” who’d lived in the country long before the Spanish
arrived. Fortunately, the idea of putting his collection on display in the
farmhouse his family owned arose and in due course the Larco Museum was opened.
With everything in the museum being in the order of 1 600 years old it was a
remarkable place containing relicts from the Mochicha (Moche) people who lived
in the area for 800 years after the death of Christ. Believers in the
after-life, death was regarded as the start of a new life. Consequently the
tombs of the Mochicha were filled with everything from funeral offerings to
personal riches and items they would require. Even more extraordinary was the
fact that being unable to write; the history of these people was portrayed and
preserved in the form of ceramic objects. Every piece created (stacked on
shelves from ceiling to floor) told a different story from the battles they
fought; the animals they encountered; the food they ate; the tortures inflicted
on each other; even their sexual behaviour (displayed in a special erotica
section). Elsewhere in the museum were examples of the shell and bone jewellery
they made; gold breast plates, nose rings, ear pieces and necklaces;
sacrificial knives; mummified remains; trepanised skulls … so many things (like
skirts made up of tiny breast feathers from birds and further, knotted cords (quipus)
were used by the Incas to record countable information and we thought the
Chinese Abacus was the earliest calculator! In the time available we could
simply could not take it all in!
From there, in total contrast to
that described above, we were dragged off to see the Museum of Religious Art in
the Lima Cathedral ; the President’s Palace (Torre Tagle) and a Franciscan
Monastery where, in the hope we’d would be forced buy one of their booklets on
offer, no photos were allowed! It was a great shame because the catacombs old
Hernando took us through were of great interest. Until space ran out in 1820
the catacombs had been used to bury the bodies of 35 000 Spanish people (each
body being covered with lime) and at one spot we came across deep wells
decorated with skulls and limb bones. Just the sort of thing a maker of
skeletons (George) absolutely loves!
We could not help wondering why
Lima’s “Old Town”, characterised by elegant old buildings from the colonial era,
was in such a poor condition with businesses closed, shops empty, deserted
buildings all covered in graffiti when it was of obvious historical value. The
answer provided… the people living there were unemployed! So much for “the
economic prosperity of the city” Hernando had told us about earlier.
Left to explore on our own, we
almost had to abort an attempt to reach Lima’s so-called seafront later that
afternoon… Cut off as they are from the city by steep cliffs, it was almost
impossible to access. And when we did finally manage to find a route down,
footsore, hot and tired we were confronted by nothing more than an
unattractive, pebble strewn beach frequented by a few dodgy looking surfers in
rust covered vans.
Having travelled on many buses,
we knew the early morning departure for the bus station and a long journey
ahead had to be endured… We soon changed our minds as the “finest of fine” bus
services is surely Cruz del Sur (Southern
Cross) the bus company that took us - 18th November, from Lima to
Paracas – a four hour long journey along the Pan American highway in absolute
luxury in huge soft seats with footrests; a hostess to serve drinks and snacks
and even a TV behind each seat to watch if required. However, the fog bound,
desert like countryside we were passed through was far too interesting!
Alongside the road lay an endless mass of shacks, many with a small red and
white Peruvian flag fluttering from the roof, generally held in place by old
car tyres. Elsewhere were ugly industrial premises; power lines and billboards;
walls daubed in massive letters bearing the names of candidates wishing to be elected
as regional president; plastic draped roadside stalls; and three wheeled
“tuk-tuks” much in evidence. Every now and again there would be a glimpse of
the ocean, itself grey in colour beneath the grey sky overhead, with flocks of
birds fishing offshore.
When the bus eventually stopped
outside yet another squalid looking roadside settlement we began having more
than just a few reservations about we were to stay next… Waiting for us was
Rosa who escorted us to the world class La Hacienda Bahia Hotel … the quality
and setting of which we could scarcely believe.
From the balcony of our beautifully appointed room was a stunning view of a bay and an enormous 1500m2 swimming pool surrounded by palms.
Our flight delayed by the fog, we
took a short walk around our luxurious “estate” before being whisked off to the Pisco Airport for the
commencement of a flight over the Nazca Lines. Rosa had advised us not to have
lunch which implied that we could be in for a rough ride but at 2.30, with the
fog having lifted, we took off in a 12-seater plane and for the next 45 minutes
headed south-eastwards into the Ica desert. Our bus journey had left us with
the strong impression we were in a barren desert region. Yet from the air we
were immediately struck by the extensive agricultural practices, floodplains
and outwash areas. This is supposed to be one of the driest regions on Earth
receiving only 1.8mm of rain per year?
Long will we remember the
co-pilot announcing we were about to descend to a flight level of 100m above
the desert floor to see the first of the famous geoglyphs known as the Nazca
Lines. A Japanese gentleman across from George had already started puking so
when the plane started banking steeply from one side to another to allow
everyone to get photos we all began feeling distinctly clammy! “There is the monkey on the right side right
under the wing …. now” … and after another violent turn … “under the wing is the monkey coming up on the
left side … now”! A repeat of the whole ordeal within the space
of 30 seconds; ten times over!! At times George could not even see what he was
taking and just snapped photos regardless hoping Lea on the opposite side would
get something with her iPod and, between us we would have some sort of
photographic record of the Nazca Lines. Back at the airport we were issued
certificates to say we’d undertaken the flight!
The Nazca Lines – some, like The Heron measuring 300m in length, were
first spotted in 1927 by a military plane overflying the area and have since
received a lot of attention by archaeologists, historians and ethnologists all
over the world. The lines appear to have been excavated at different times by
different cultures i.e. iron oxide pebbles cleared from the surface of the
desert, then shallow trenches dug into the erosion resistant clayey soils
below. A number of theories exist concerning their purpose. Maria Reiche, a
German researcher, considers them to be huge astronomical calendars used to
plan activities around periods of seasonal rain and/or drought. Another theory
is they were offerings to the gods as they are orientated towards valleys and
waterways (i.e. fertile lands capable of sustaining life) and there are small
mounds alongside them that could have served as altars on which offerings such
as Spondylus shells were placed.
Currently there is a Japanese research team in the area that has been working
there since 2006.
After all our anticipation of the
Galapagos Islands it was the Ballestas Islands we knew nothing about that
overwhelmed us… Given the choice for this time of year – this was the place
that almost outshone the Galapagos Islands - the Ballestas Islands off Paracas!
Described as “an incomparable natural /
geological paradise of wave eroded cliffs, caves carved by enormous waves, used
as a refuge / breeding areas for countless thousands of seabirds and sea lions
– all thriving on the nutritious soup of the cold Humboldt Current” … It
left us deeply impressed. The morning we
spent there began at 8.00 when a fancy black limo (Honda) took us to the
grounds of the Paracas Hotel from where, with yet another Pablo as guide and an
old timer called Papa Benedict at the wheel of a powerboat, we were taken along
the edge of the Paracas Marine Sanctuary filled with roosting Peruvian
pelicans, to see the enigmatic Candelabra
– the origins of which are unknown. Theories
abound –
One being the candelabra is a Nazca representation of a cactus; another
being an ancient land mark made for sea-farers (such a pirates); and yet
another being a masonic emblem from colonial times.
We felt like tourists racing
towards a lion kill in the Serengeti NP as we were joined by another half dozen or more speedboats all heading in the
same direction out to the Ballestas Islands. As a result of warm water being brought down
from tropical areas to the north of us (the El Nino effect) we were told the
water temperature of the sea was a lot higher (70⁰F) than normal (55⁰F) so the
number of sea birds on the islands was not as high as normal. Nonetheless,
after pulling up alongside the first of the many caves amongst the soaring
cliffs of the islands we were immediately enveloped, and enthralled, by the
sight and sound of one of the most spectacular sights seen thus far – hundreds
upon hundreds of boobies, cormorants, gulls and Inca terns nesting on the guano
stained rocks; sea lions perched on every available ledge; glimpses of Humboldt
penguins; endless streams of seabirds wheeling overhead and the smell of
ammonia (coca de guano) hanging
heavily in the air.
Nearby was a small boat with
local fishermen aboard diving for octopus using the most primitive of
compressor driven gear – thanks to Papa Benedict’s skilful handling of the boat
in swells rushing past we could simply not believe our eyes, let alone take a
photo of the fisherman holding a huge octopus aloft… With so much going on around us we found it
hard to concentrate on what Pablo was telling us about the history of the guano
industry; the present offtake of guano and its value. The whole experience, an
unprecedented natural show, was absolutely magical and over far too soon!
Sadly, it was time to return to
Lima on the Cruz del Sur bus; to have the lovely Myra to escort us as our
driver slowly ploughed through the city traffic taking over two hours to reach
the Airport Hotel -Ramada– cars and people everywhere; ambulances frantically
trying to push their way through the crowds and city buses all filled to
capacity with tired looking workers reminding us of Africa. Back at our
familiar airport hotel we were more than glad to know we would shortly be in
the Amazon jungle!
From Lima we flew to Cuzco (in
the Andes) before our flight continued to Puerto Maldonado, our gateway to the
Jungle. Appropriately we landed during a thunder storm with black clouds
overhead and the sound of thunder rolling around. Puerto Maldonado, once
important for rubber, logging, gold and oil prospecting, was a rather scruffy
looking place (ram-shackled rows of wooden buildings and streets full of
scooters) located on the Madre de Dios River, a muddy looking tributary of the
Amazon easily the size of the Zambesi. Soon, we found ourselves heading
downstream in an outboard powered long boat towards our lodgings, the Inkaterra Hacienda Concepcion. The hotel
lay on a 10 000ha property named the Inkaterra Ecological Reserve adjacent to
the 275 000ha Tambopata National Reserve – itself regarded as one of “the most
pristine primary rain forests in the world”.
Our luggage taken by porters to a
cabin in the forest, we were treated to a magnificent lunch and given a
debriefing by Angel, our guide for the next few days, concerning the activities
planned. He did not think it was a good idea to go walking that afternoon due
to the heavy rain that had fallen. We could think of nothing nicer… and he somewhat
reluctantly provided us with gum boots and four of us were taken on a short
stroll along one of the trails adjoining the hotel. Our first real surprise was
a “walking palm tree” (palms on stilt like roots that can move towards patches
of sunlight at a rate of about 1.2m / year). Next, was the nests occupied by
“barber bees” (bees that have the habit of settling on one’s scalp and nip off
pieces of hair particularly black hair!). We also caught sight of a sun bittern
and came across the remains of an old paddle steamer, dating back to 1931 and made
in Germany, it had once been a mobile doctor’s surgery plying the river.
That evening, before dinner we
went on a spot-lighting search of caiman on the river and came across three
small ones in the course of half an hour. Had George been the guide he would
have been tempted to catch one just for interest sake … Angel decided we two ‘old’
folk would probably not manage the next day’s walk to Lake Sandoval… As we
walked back to the hotel, he explained how muddy and far it was (6 km) quietly
suggesting we may like to give it a miss! Predictably, it had the opposite
effect- making us all the more determined to go. Particularly as Lake Sandoval
was said to be the place for seeing giant otters.
As things turned out we greatly
enjoyed the walk into the Amazon Jungle, slipping and sliding along the track
that led to Lake Sandoval, seeing columns of leaf cutting ants (Atta cephalotes); the blue and gold
macaws flying overhead; red bellied macaws and white bellied parrots feeding in
holes at the top of dead palm trees; heard woodpeckers drumming away at
branches and the bray-like call of a donkey bird (or screamer) in the
undergrowth. Angel pointed out trees used for various medicinal and black magic
purposes, as well as one thought to contain white women – so menfolk always
turn their back to it when they pee! Aboard
a long canoe we were paddled through the palm forests that surround Lake
Sandoval (home of the largest freshwater fish in the world Arapaima gigas growing to 3m in length, as well as electric eels
and piranha) and drifted along the shoreline hoping to see black caiman and
giant otters. Finding none, we were still perfectly content to see things such
as kingfishers and tiger herons, and best of all a group of “asthmatic birds”,
called as such because of the grunting noise made by the males. Locally known
as hoatzin or “funky chickens” thanks
to their spikey yellow crest, russet coloured wings and long tail. DNA analysis
apparently indicates hoatzin are a member of the cuckoo family! They flap noisily around
bushes at the water’s edge eating leaves which are digested by a system of
three stomachs or crops, ferment inside the crops and give the birds a bad
odour which is the key to their protection. Just as strange is the fact the
chicks are born with claws on their wings (like a pterodactyl). When a predator
comes near the nest they leap into the water and use the claws to climb back
into their nests!
Constantly mindful of slipping,
it was a long, hot walk back to the Madre de Dios River and our boat waiting to
take us back to the hotel. Amongst the
many tour groups taking the jungle walk George out-paced them all and Lea with
her natural jungle stick to ensure she didn’t slip and damage her wonky knee-
was not far behind.
Although we saw brown capuchin
monkeys and squirrel monkeys during our visit … the true Amazonian highlights
for us was undoubtedly listening to the incredible sound of a red howler monkey
loudly roaring in the tree tops close to our cabin… This absolutely
extraordinary lion-like sound echoing through the forest will live in our minds for ever especially as
it went on and on as a semi-continuous outpouring of sound. “Jungle magic”, if
there is such a thing, made all the more dramatic when the heavens opened and
the Howler rhythms were accompanied by the steady drip – drip of rain! One of
the frustrations of observing tree top-dwelling animals in a jungle environment
is their invisibility, but we eventually spotted the “culprit” (roughly the
size of a Samango monkey) just as we were preparing to depart on out next
activity – a canopy walkway about half an hour downstream. On the way we passed Monkey Island,
established as a refuge for capuchin monkeys due the intensity of hunting for
them on the mainland. The island became a popular place for tourists to visit and
it was on our itinerary … Unfortunately it had recently been closed to the
public after incidents of monkeys biting people.
A 45m high tower built from
ironwood provided access to the normal series of long canopy walkaways strung
between huge forest trees. Something quite different however was the provision
made for a honeymoon suite in the canopy available for hire at $100 per night!
It was an idea that appealed to us so much we thought we’d put it “our things
to do” list when we next visited! Heavy rain fell during the night cancelling our planned visit to a ‘clay
lick’ frequented by parrots and macaws early next morning which allowed for a lie in – observing the
jungle surrounds from our bed while another long and mighty red howler monkey call
had hairs standing up on the back of our necks … magnificent end to the Amazon.
By 11.00 am we were on our way back to Puerto Maldonado to catch the flight to
Cusco.
Cusco (3 400m asl) and on arrival
at our hotel, the Costa de Sol in the old, colonial part of the city, we were
given a cup of coca tea made with leaves similar in size to a Bay leaf. It was
revolting – reminding George of green tea he had to drink at a tea ceremony in
Japan, except in this case the leaves floating around in the cup stuck to the
roof of his mouth and couldn’t be dislodged! Too hot for Lea, she only swigged
the lot down moments before being taken to our room. Almost immediately she was
aware of a change in her heart beat and a rapid pulse. Altitude sickness began
to make itself felt – initiated (maybe) by the cup of coca tea that is given to
ease it! After a long day of doing
nothing but sit – even the gradual stroll taken around the block left Lea
feeling so nauseous that we returned to our room and stayed put for the rest of
the night. Still feeling fragile and fearful of losing out on the day – George
set off to find a chemist and buy “soroche”
pills. These eased the situation a little and with our new guide Camila and
driver called Abilardo (shortened to Abby by us) waiting to take us off
exploring – off we went. First up, the two of them took us to see an alpaca
farm in the eucalyptus covered hills above Cusco.
We learnt to distinguish between
the different types of camelids …vicunga; wakaryo, wanako and siri alpacas and llamas; watched women
weaving on hand looms and were so impressed at the quality and variety of the
goods available at the shop attached to the farm only to be ‘blown away’ by delicately
carved figures made from a matchstick – sadly these would not have survived our
travels.
Not far off was Tambomachay, the water temple, where
Camila showed us how the different building techniques developed by the Incas
distinguish the period (century) in which they were built, and while visiting
the ruins of Sacsayhuaman, she was
the first to draw our attention to the incredible precision of the stonework -
each piece, some standing over 4m tall and weighing 50 - 60 tons - with
jointing so
perfect George was unable to insert a sheet of paper between them!
The manner in which the blocks
were cut, interlocked and fitted together suggested very careful measurements
had been made beforehand. Inca building
techniques still remain a mystery to modern day architects and engineers as stones
have become dislodged with the passage of time and, rather like Humpty Dumpty,
no one knows how to put them together again.
Camila took us on a walk through
the city of Cuzco, visiting the Cathedral beside the main square (Plaza de Armas) comprised of three
interconnected churches. She was most knowledgeable and pointed out buildings
in the town upon which the original Inca stonework (with its tell-tale inward
lean) had been used as foundations and where colonial and modern day buildings
have repeatedly collapsed after earthquakes. Inca built structures remained
unaffected. The Convent of Santa Domingo
(Qorikancha) served as an example. So
impressed were we by the end of the day that upon finding one of Camila’s
friends outside the convent selling a book she had written about Peru and Machupicchu, we promptly bought it as we
were leaving for the Sacred Valley of the Incas the very next day! It became
our ‘bible’…
We left our luggage in the care
of our Cusco hotel, taking a small bag of essentials for the next few days of
travelling with Camila and Abby. Our journey began with a visit to Pisac in the
valley of the Urubamba River. It was our first opportunity to see the terraced
hillsides on which grain crops (corn and quinoa) was extensively grown by the
Incas. Camila impressed upon us that the Incas clearly knew a great deal about
soils and environmental factors as well as the foundations and drainage
necessary for sustaining the terraces. Similarly they must have had an
incredible knowledge of the geography, topography and hydrology of the areas in
which they built their settlements since they were remarkably skilled at the
building of aqueducts for the conveyance of water from one area to another. In
addition the Incas had an astounding knowledge about the movement of the sun
and of astronomy, and constructed everything from the position of temples to
that of windows and doors in their houses, in accordance thereof.
On the mountainside opposite the
settlement of Qallaqara we saw the results of looters desecration of
hundreds of graves. Despite feeling rather breathless at times due to altitude
and the thousands of steps, we followed a narrow trail cut by the Incas to the
settlement of Intihuatana. By the
time it came to return along the trail the same way it was now the hottest time
of the day and we glad to find Abby patiently waiting for us in the car park
(among crowds of people emerging from tourist buses) with a fresh supply of
water! (Lea’s initial concern about having enough water to drink in South
America was never to materialise…)
After a quick walk around the
marketplace in Pisac we continued driving through the Sacred Valley heading for
the ruins of Ollantaytambo catching glimpses
of snow-capped mountains behind the already massive ranges we were travelling
between. The scenery truly magnificent; the floor of the valley largely
utilized for the growing of maize. The ruins at Ollantaytambo comprised another impressive set of terraces which
were swarming with tourists. Consequently, Camila who read us so well, avoided
the extremely crowded and well beaten track and took us in the opposite
direction pointing out ancient granaries and the bearded face of Tunupa (the
giver of all good things) on the mountainside opposite; a partly complete
‘condor temple’ and the incredible ribbons of small, and still flowing
aqueducts constructed or cut through rock along the slopes of the mountain.
Once again we were fascinated, if
not overawed, by the mystery surrounding the manner in which the granite blocks
lying around had been cut. By whom and with what sort of tools? How could they
have been cut so precisely using the bronze tools that historians and
archaeologists subsequently found on site. Stones not only interlocking,
contained multi-sided cavities and recesses?
It is hardly surprising that some folk believe alien intervention may be
the answer!
As evening approached we
travelled from Ollantaytambo back
along the route we’d come to spend the night in an ancient convent turned
hotel, Sonesta Posada del Inca in village of Yucay. With mountains for backdrop
and gardens full of hydrangeas, geraniums and bougainvillea (not to mention
wooden reindeers on the lawns remarkably similar to George’s!) the hotel had a beautiful
setting, and we couldn’t resist enjoying a beer in these surrounds as the sunset.
Even better, a pan-pipe flutist arrived and as his haunting music wafted
outwards we heard his rendition of “El Condor Pasa”. This tune, heard so
often throughout Peru will, forever, remind us of our trip amongst the ranges
of the Andes Mountains.
Our Machupicchu adventure began with 40 km train journey aboard one of
Peru Rail’s “Vistadome” carriages, snaking along the Urubamba River with
enormous mountains covered by ‘cloud forest’ towering on either side us. Glimpses
of the glaciers on Mt Veronica and, in time we passed the start of the hiking
trail ‘The Inca trail leading to Machupicchu’. Our niece, Carmen Rutter had
walked this and her infectious enthusiasm had led us here… The famed Lost City of the Incas, built in the
second half of the 15th century until “discovered” with the aid of
some local farmers by the American archaeologist Higham Bingham, we were
greatly looking forward to it. As soon as we had dumped our bag at the hotel we
were off to catch the Machupicchu bus up the mountain following a spectacular
track full of hairpin bends that led for ever upwards, At the entrance to the
site of the Machupicchu ruins, amongst homeless dogs and throngs of people
pushing their way through the turn-styles, we began trekking around what can
only be described as a truly amazing place. A place which left us filled with
admiration for the Incas and overawed by the setting and sheer scale of the
city they created, but never completed.
There is so much of interest in a
place like Machupicchu that to try and describe it here is almost pointless
when masses of literature about the site exists elsewhere and the information
provided to us by Camila as we walked around was overwhelming. Nevertheless,
having been told that the city was still under construction until suddenly
abandoned in 1536 we were left wondering, once again, what tools were used to
build the place. The suggestion that round “hammer stones” made from haematite
was all they needed to shape the rocks needed for building purposes left George
unconvinced. Recent discovery of more
walls in the dense forests in surrounding valley of the Urubamba below suggests
the full extent of the city may actually be far larger than is currently
thought. Even the knowledge that the workers on site developed all sorts of
health related problems due to their diet being solely comprised of corn grown
on the terraces; and that there were not even enough terraces to support the
city’s population! We were told the sacrificing of alpacas was commonplace,
especially at time of drought, because the Incas believed that the bleating of
the alpacas, perceived by the gods to be their “tears”, would generally induce
them to send some rain. There is so much to know about Machupicchu and it was the
sense of mystery that served as one of its greatest appeals!
Other little incidents added to
the visit especially our encounter with an Andean chinchilla nestling amongst
the rocks; and the fat lady who suddenly whipped up her trouser leg to show me
the tattoo of a passion flower on her thigh … all because she saw George
photographing one! And as for the
no-see-ums (sand flies) … thinking he knew better by wearing shorts instead of
long pants, George was nearly eaten alive and suffered for days thereafter!
Camila left us to return to Cusco
and we spent the next day “at our leisure” in the town of Machupicchu wandering
around the markets, watching the activities of the local populous especially
the strange, hairless Peruvian dogs… in particular one wearing a tutu and
pantaloons with open back for pooping! Most fortunately, we were seen onto the
train by the local Tourist Operator for Machupicchu or we may well have
disembarked looking for Abby in Ollantaytambo instead of the last station
closest to Cusco. Our VIP treatment made
everything so carefree…
On our way back to Cusco most of
the time was devoted to looking for torrent ducks in the Urubamba River.
Invariably perched on rocks amidst fast flowing rapids we’d counted at least 20
by the time we reached Ollantaytambo. Subsequently we learnt that torrent ducks
are able to cling to the slippery stones with their stiff tail feathers, then
dive and probe beneath rocks in the rapids with their narrow soft bills,
looking for insect larvae. At Ollantaytambo the train crossed the Urubamba
River and began making for Poroy (half an hour from Cusco) through very steep
country where a large number of landslides and rock falls on either side of the
track made us wonder how they manage to keep the railway open in the wet
season. The 4 hour journey became quite festive after the meal was served. With
a view to showcasing Alpaca clothing the carriage staff of three put on a
fashion show to background Peruvian music. Closer to our journey end, Lea
became aware that something was occurring behind us and turned to see a gaily
coloured spirit creature creeping along the aisle before breaking into a manic
dance to lively music and clapping - Saqra
(devil)
Arriving in the station in a
weary state it was good to see the familiar face of Myra waiting for us and we
were smoothly led to Abby our ever reliable driver waiting ready to pull out
into the congested traffic surrounding Poroy station. No sooner out on the freeway we were rammed
from behind at speed when Abby had to brake unexpectedly in the heavy evening
traffic, driver’s side taking the brunt of the rear ending… with his glasses no
longer on his face Abby suspected they had fallen onto the road midst all the
smashed glass of the car resting long side. Lea too, had felt the mighty jolt
sitting behind Abby and when another Coltur vehicle miraculously appeared in
all the turmoil to whip us away Lea found Abby’s glasses lying at her feet.
Such was the impact on that side of the car his glasses must have flown off his
face straight into Lea on the backseat…In that turmoil Myra’s first thought had
been our safety and well-being. She instantly called for back-up. Little time
lost before were delivered to our hotel while Abby was left to pacify the other
drivers involved and report the accident.
Back in Cusco, Lea again suffered
altitude sickness which wasn’t helped by a ten hour bus journey following what
is known as the Trail of the Sun towards
Puno through the southern Andes, and for much of its way, the upper reaches of
the Urubamba River, now shallow and meandering across a wide floodplain. Alfredo, our guide for the day, commentating
along the 380km route which included five stops. The first, at Andahuaylillas allowed
us to see over the Temple of San Pedro and San Pablo (also known as the Chapel
of America) where the entire dome / ceiling was covered by beautiful weavings
made from alpaca wool. From there we
went on to see the Ica temple of Raqchi built in the 14th century from
volcanic rocks and adobe, until the Spanish arrived and knocked it down. Lying
on the Inca trail that runs for 21 000kms through the Andes Mountains from one
end of South America to the other, the settlement at Raqchi also served as a
stop-over for pilgrims and included numerous circular structures (qollqas) used for the storage of
dehydrated foods.
At Sicuani we stopped for a fine buffet
lunch – Lea, too nauseous to contemplate much more than a portion of soup as
George tucked into alpaca steaks. A tourist from one of the many coaches
stopping for lunch, was seen creeping along to take a photograph of a resting
llama on the grass outside the dining hall. While crouched down on his knees to
obtain a low angle shot, he was unaware that creeping up behind him was a
curious llama determined to see what he was up to… His fright was palpable to
us all as the black head of the llama appeared over his shoulder and, as if
being attacked by a puma, the photographer scrambled away on all fours like a
veteran of the armed forces to the resounding laughter in restaurant.
Driving ever higher into the
mountains we reached the highest point on the road soon after lunch. Lying a 4
435m asl, La Raya sat on the divide between the Urubamba River (regarded by
some as the source of the Amazon) and the rivers that drain towards Lake
Titicaca. We were now in what is known as the altiplano
– high plateau treeless country covered in grassland used extensively
for the grazing of livestock and alpacas in particular. We saw large herds of
alpacas when we stopped to photograph Mt Chamboya (altitude 5489m asl) which
according to Alfredo was once permanently snow covered but now, due to global
warming, only the peak remains capped by ice.
Travelling through the altiplano
region the road is dead flat passing through a countryside where the rivers
meander accordingly and there is plenty of wetland in evidence. Old ladies
wearing their distinctive garb tending herds of cattle and sheep were of much
interest as the landscape itself, as were the number of dogs we saw lying
beside the road all by themselves, often in the middle of nowhere. The only
birds of interest were the occasional flock of pitch black ibis. At Pukara we
stopped to see the museum that houses a collection of pre-Inca stone carvings
dating back to a period around 500 BC. The town is also famous for making
ceramic bulls called toritos that
bring good luck, generate prosperity and the fertility of one’s livestock and placed
inside or on the roof of one’s house. Having noticed so many rooftop toritos
throughout our trip along with an added white cross for early Spanish
Catholicism it was interesting to arrive at the source! George went off and
bought a pair especially for a new homeowner we know.
Ahead lay Juliaca (population 400
000) which turned out to be the most filthy, uncared for town we saw during the
course of our travels in South America. Polluted with garbage and wastes of
every conceivable description and congested by traffic we were relieved not to
be staying there… Puno and Lake Titicaca were only 40 km away. Lea was feeling
so rotten that she couldn’t wait to be off the bus and in her hotel bed. The Sonesta Posadas del Inca overlooked Lake
Titicaca with the city of Puno stretching up the mountainside. George took a
stroll around before he too retired.
On the day of our planned trip on Lake Titicaca, the
highest lake in the world, we woke to the sound of thunder and our hearts sunk.
On time, we were collected and taken down to the harbour, packed full of boats. The water
surface covered by a thick carpet of floating duck-weed, a sure sign of
excessive quantities of contaminants finding their way from the town of Puno
into the lake; the shoreline dominated by the tall sedges, called tortora
(actually a type of cyperus), from which the floating islands of Uros, one of
the major attractions for tourists, are made. As we nosed out into what
resembled a vast inland sea (8 500 km² in extent, 65km wide and 280m deep)
aboard a comfortable powerboat, the low black clouds ahead were a sure sign of
rain.
Over 60
floating islands, in a section of the lake known as the National Titicaca Lake
Reserve, not much deeper than 3m, some 3 000 people live, fish and hunt. We
stopped at one of these islands comprising a thick spongy mattress of tortora,
anchored by long poles to the floor of the lake below. Amongst the shelters on
the island generally occupied by extended family or in some cases, two or three
family groups that are friends. Visible signs of modern aids were in evidence -
solar panels, polythene water tanks, generators, nylon ropes, plastic sheeting
and gill nets. Kids ran around eating the white (soft) basal portion of the
tortora stems; even a few cats. The
headman of the island demonstrated how the islands are created – its foundation
the peat like root mass of the plants which, when the lake level rises, are
sawed into blocks, towed into place by boat, tied together with stakes, then
progressively built up (or layered) with freshly cut stems of tortora. A
toddler just learning to walk struggled on this spongy surface.
For the princely sum of ten soles
(c. $3) each we were taken for a ride on one of their gondola-like boats made
from tortora, being punted all the way through the marshy surrounds of the
islands. There George was interested to see how many of the aquatic plants
growing in the shallows were familiar to him. There were modern day boats with
small outboard motors from which the men fish or hunt birds (such as coot,
ducks, flamingos and herons) using home-made / self-primed shotguns. Eggs
collected, incubated and then hand reared. A young heron was squawking
voraciously and the children fed it -
so in essence, these children learn to eat their ‘pets’ without any
qualms. On our return to the island, a
little girl took Lea by the hand, keen to show her inside the rustic and very
basic house. We were sorely tempted to buy one of the beautiful mobiles made
from tortora by the islanders but knew it would never get through Australian
customs and refrained.
From the more sheltered islands
of Uros we continued further out into Lake Titicaca. The wind having generated
some large waves it was a fairly rough journey as we made our way to the island
of Tatile (or Taquile)., Rough enough to
be glad to reach the tiny harbour and get off the boat with a steep climb up a winding path that led to the
island’s main centre (or plaza). Divided into six communities, each with a
chief (and a mayor presiding over them all) some 2 500 people live on Tatile
Island. Once named Intica, this island has had a chequered history. It was
originally occupied solely by women who’d developed the art of knitting using
human hair. Inca men used these women as good source for wives; while later, the
Spanish thinking it contained minerals took it over; the government then wanted
it as a political prison; then it fell into private hands, before eventually
being sold (in 1945) to the islanders themselves. The islanders knitting skills are considered
the best in South America.
The more we learnt about the
island, the more intrigued we became by the customs of the islanders.
Everything on Tatile Island is shared by the community and as a result there is
no such thing as crime. By the age of 7 young boys are knitting their own
distinctive cap and we saw several lads knitting while they walked – no idle
hands here! Men wearing white caps were unmarried, while those with red caps
were married. It is customary for young men at the age of 18 to live together
with their prospective bride for 3 years.
If a child is born during that period and the couple decide not
to get married, all their worldly assets remain with the child. Once married the wife allows her long hair to
be cut off by her husband and turned into a broad belt used to protect his back
while working with a foot plough tilling the pitifully thin soils on the tiny
terraces regarded as “fields”. Special
bags are made to contain the coca leaves which they give to Pachamama (Mother of the Earth) each
day.
What setting!
What an amazing meal of quinoa soup and fresh trout.
The skies had cleared and we
enjoyed lunch on the narrow terraces of our restaurant and gazed across Lake Titicaca
towards Bolivia. After the meal was over our hosts entertained with island folk
dancing and a demonstration using crushed leaves of a particular plant growing
on the island to create a detergent that removes the lanolin embedded in
sheep’s wool prior to spinning. Despite a language barrier there was no doubt a
young lad told by his older brother to do the ploughing dance was most put out
– body language told its own story and we had to laugh at his discomfit and
clapped him all the more.
A graceful looking ship was moored directly in
front of our hotel and we walked down to the hotel jetty to look over MV Yavari
– a British made ship, sent in pieces from England in 1862. Over the next six
years these many parts were hauled over the Andes, piece by piece on the backs
of mules, all the way to Puno! The intention to use the MV Yavari as a gunboat
in the “Iron Fleet of Titicaca”. More
recently it was purchased by Mrs Royds and the ship is presently being lovingly
restored as a maritime monument and refurbished. A delightful man stopped work
and showed us over… with a capacity for 30 passengers the final intention is to
offer cruises over to Tatile Island. Meanwhile three cabins are available for
nights aboard this historic and elegant ship to help meet costs. In the stateroom
we came across a rather chauvinistic explanation on why a ship is called a
‘she’ that tickled George…..
A ship is called a ‘she’ because there is always a great deal of bustle
around her;
There is usually a gang of men about, she has a waist and stays;
It takes a lot of paint to keep her good looking;
It is not the initial expense
that breaks you, it is the upkeep;
She can be all decked out;
It takes an experienced man to handle her correctly;
And without a man at the helm, she is absolutely uncontrollable.
She shows her topsides, hides her bottom and, when it coming into port,
always heads for the bouys.
The MV Yavari made a fitting end to our visit to Lake Titicaca and Peru
as a whole. An hour later a guide and
the driver escorted us back to Juliaca- the only flat ground for an airport and
due to the very thin air it has the longest runway in the world! Our arrival coincided with a huge tour group
and the queue through the hand checked security was slow and laborious. Our personal
escorts waited with us until we were through, ensuring we had as smooth a
departure as was possible… Sadly, it was the last we were to see of our Bunniks
arranged tour guides as from here on we would have no one to hold our hand! From Juliaca, we flew back to Lima for our
connecting flight to Santiago in Chile.
