Un viaje extremo

It’s a dangerous route. That’s what Jennifer said, but I assuredly replied ‘no problema’. Which was wrong anyway, it is ‘no hay problema’. Had I but known what was to come…

I left Quillabamba at 10am on Monday morning in a Toyota 4×4 twin cab, the only vehicle able to travel on those roads. This I only realised later. Toyota hit a real bargain there, I only saw one Nissan. I’m not one for detail, but by some stroke of luck I noticed the Nissan sign on the 2nd vehicle that I had to take that day. More of this later.

I soon realised we had a cowboy driver and as I usually do in these kind of situations, I sit back, relax and leave it up to God to get me safely to wherever I need to be. He must have placed at least four gaurdian angels around the bakkie (truck) that day to assure a safe passage.

The road was as scary as the one to Santa Theresa on our way to Machu Picchu. Narrow tracks high above the Urubamba river, no protection and sheer drops. Graders were removing landslide rocks and mud, big trucks would block our way and similar bakkies would regularly come from the front. No-one was passing us, but we were passing many, racing along at breakneck speed.

I had just finished taking a video of the road when we rounded a blind curve and a bakkie was coming directly at us. Our driver swerved to the right (right side of the road driving here), which was the edge, and brakes screeching we halted with one wheel over the edge and the left back wheel in the air. (I was sitting behind the driver, so was furthest from the precipice, ha-ha). No time for fear, strange as it may seem, just a sense of “are we really going to go over te edge? And how will that be?”. No-one said a word, we just all scrambled out of the bakkie as fast as we could, kind of waiting to see if it would fall. It didn’t, and the men got onto the running board on the side to get the wheel down, and the driver reversed to safe ground. I touched his arm and said ‘muy bien’ (very good), but his only reaction was vamos (let’s go). I did notice him heaving a huge sigh, though.

A few hours later a second incident occurred. I had noticed that the driver had slowed down considerably and was feeling relieved, when I heard screeching brakes (again, as Forest Gump would say) as we rounded a curve, and for the second time we headed for the edge. He had fallen asleep and was just going straight ahead. This time I leant forward and said ‘fokit’ (excuse the verb) and everybody looked at me as if though I were mad. I live to tell the story, so yes, the gaurdian angels were working overtime. We were halted by a pile of dead grass and branches on the side of the road, and again we scrambled out. Well, at least I did, the rest were giving each other quizzical looks. I stayed out of the bakkie until they had pushed it back on the road. I was not much help, and by then I felt like walking…

We arrived at Pichari at 7pm, where I had intended to spend the night, but when one of the other passengers (a man and his 2 sons were travelling with us) heard I was going to Atalaya, he suggested I go with them to Ene (which was an hour away), and further on to Atalaya the next day. I duly decided that it would make the journey shorter the following day, so I joined them in thé Nissan (I referred to earlier, which I noticed). It was a really nice driver, Ronnie, and he safely got me to Ene. I had obviously not understood everything, as the father and sons got off before Ene. So I was expecting them to arrive at Ene at 6am the following morning, in time for us all to go with Ronnie to Atalaya. With this in mind, I assured Ronnie that my moleta (suitcase, Louise) could stay on the bakkie, and I booked into the most miserable hostel ever, with a shower and toilet that were extremely unhygienic. The room had no window, but there were openings at the ceiling and hardboard walls, which made it completely un-soundproof. A TV was blaring until about 12pm, the cocks started crowing at 3am, and a radio or TV was turned on at 3:30am. Thus not much sleep. I killed a few cockroaches when I dressed at 5am (in the same clothes I had worn the previous day, as I had left Louise on the bakkie). One had even gotten into my vanity bag, in spite of it being on a chair.

I set out to explore the very tiny village before going to the terminal (taxi rank) to find Ronnie.

I waited at the terminal for a while, hoping that I was at the right place. No sign of Ronnie or the other three. Eventually I spotted the Nissan amongst about 15 other Toyota bakkies, and Ronnie asleep on the driver’s seat. Thank goodness for the Nissan, I would not have found him if not for that. Louise was happily dozing on the back seat, and I thought all was well, until Ronnie managed to persuade me that I was not travelling with him, but had to take another bakkie. When I fetched Louise from the backseat of his bakkie, he was most surprised – he had not known it was mine, and would have taken it back to Pichari. Again the gaurdian angels, seeing to it that he was also at the terminal at 6am (in a Nissan)!

This time we had an excellent driver who managed to avoid any incidents. He seemed to be involved with everyone along the way, stopping whenever someone was in trouble. I was sitting in front in the middle, on top of gears and the handbrake with the woman next to me spreading out even more when she fell asleep, really leaning onto me. Every now and then I would shove her hard, and she would slightly adjust her position. In spite of this, I enjoyed most of the trip. Kaby (driver) decided I could speak Spanish after a few broken sentences on my part, so we conversed in a manner, mostly monologues from his side. The road was bad, and we were averaging 20km/hr, which made the hours stretch before me like far-spaced stepping stones.

We stopped for breakfast at a place along the road, and I saw the men going towards the forest to relieve themselves. When I asked about el baño (bathroom) I was pointed in the direction of a pathway in the forest, to discover a sheet of plastic hanging between the trees, behind which was a pit ‘toilet’.

We came accross an accident where two bakkies had collided, but fortunately no one was hurt.

The guy in the previous photo with the rolled up T-shirt is Kaby. I point this out because it seems to be the habit here for men to roll up their T-shirts like that, quite peculiar.

We had to cross a river on a barge, which reminded me of Malgas. It’s such a short stretch, but a woman was offering things for sale. She lives on the other side, and she and her child jump on for each crossing. We had lunch there, and this time the toilet was just behind any shrub.

Along the way I looked at my ticket, only to discover that it was nót for Atalaya, but Satipo. On arrival there at 14h00 I was told that it was another 7hrs to Atalaya. I had started arguing about the price, because I was under the impression it was 1 or 2 hours, when I was thus informed. I was dismayed, but after a coffee and egg sandwich accross the road, I was ready to leave at 15h00. It took the driver another hour to get everything loaded at various places in town, and by the time we left, there were 5 of us inside the bakkie, and 5 more on the back, plus the luggage, spare parts, vegetables and heaven knows what else, completely overloaded.

The distance to Atalya is 222km, and we covered the first 70km in 45min on a beautiful new and broad tar road. We took 9hrs to do the rest!! The road was horrendous to say the least, very often just a 4×4 track with holes, stones, mud, water and trees accross the road. It felt like an African safari trip in the jungle – I suppose it wás a jungle trip, except it was South America, and that makes it even more exotic. I realise that now that I have recovered, but ooh boy, was I zonked!

The driver was obviously exhausted too, and sometimes stopped to wash his face or just walk around for a bit. One such time I managed to walk away from the vehicle and the blaring music that all the drivers play continuously, to listen to the sounds of the jungle – indescribably beautiful! I wished I could be sitting next to a campfire somewhere, listening to night sounds rather than having to travel any further.

We arrived in Atalaya at 02h00, after having started at 06h00 – 20hrs of shaking and bumping around. I did not have a booking because I had not had WiFi the previous night. I gathered up my belongings and Louise and I continued our journey down a paved road, which soon became a dirt road, and I had to carry her. By then I was operating on adrenaline so managed quite well.

This was the hill we went down with, and then along the street with dogs barking and Louise with a high pitched squeal in one of her wheels. (By the way, the plastic on the front of the motor taxi, as they are called, is to protect the driver from rain.)

Was I happy to see this hotel sign! I booked in, for the first time in a hotel, without asking the price, just happy to be alive and keen to have a clean room with private bathroom. Unfortunately no hot water, but Atalaya is very hot and humid, so no hay problema. As it turned out, the gaurdian angels had one last task, and that was to ensure that it was a very cheap, but spotless, hotel, only 35 soles p/n (R160), as I discovered the next morning.

Needless to say, I am flying to Lima tomorrow, no more bad roads in the jungle for me.