Cogs Watch: Amazon Jungle Fever

The Amazon jungle is a hot topic on this continent, and understandably so. It covers five and a half million square kilometers, spans over nine countries (one of which is Ecuador) and is home to 25% of the world's animal species. Now that's impressive! We'd been umming and ahhing about whether or not to visit the enticing green mass as we knew it would be a sure cash-drainer. It seemed, however, that curiosity would out do stinginess on this occasion, and we booked a four day, three night tour to see out our last week in Ecuador.

As seems to be a reoccurring trend, our trip didn't get off to the best start. Our tour meeting point was at a hotel in Lago Agrio, a small town in north-eastern Ecuador (also a past target of the FARC guerilla group, information I may have failed to mention to my parents). The plan was to spend the day travelling eight-hours by bus - thus lessening our chances of highway robbery, just an added bonus in these parts - and spend the night in a hostel in Lago Agrio. As it would turn out, however, the 'safest' option, according to our travel agent, would be to take the 11pm night bus which arrived at 6am. This meant yet another day in Quito, a city we have not warmed to at all. Nevertheless, like good little travellers we found ways to amuse ourselves, which included a ride on the impressive 24c Quito trolley bus out to the Equator line...when in Ecuador, I guess. We took the classic cheesy 'Equator' snaps, but failed to actually visit the real Equator, a few hundred metres away. So we earned a big 'F' for accomplishing that tourist attraction. Needless to say, the visit did kill time before what would be a very uncomfortable bus ride.

On the phony Equator line

As I've quite clearly stressed in other posts, bus rides in South America are events in themselves, and not always positive ones. This was one of the less favourable ones. Eight hours on a windowless bus in unbearable heat inhaling recycled air left us sporting dark circles and colds when we reached the deserted Lago Agrio. This jungle thing had better be worth it, I was grumpily thinking to myself. Well that 'jungle thing' turned out to be the highlight of our time in Ecuador.

Our bad morning made a turn-around when we met our tour group: Marieke and Enno, a Dutch couple enjoying a three week work holiday; Dom and Julie, fresh from finishing uni in the UK; and the gregarious Katie, living and working as a teacher in Guayaquil, originally from New York State. Completing the group was our tour guide Washington (named after big George of course), an entertaining Amazonian native who, after 12 years, had worked his way up to tour guide status after learning English from tourists. So it was in good company that we meandered two hours down the Cuyabeno River in a motorised canoe, stopping a number of times to witness squirrel monkeys make suicide missions, leaping the width of the river from one tree to another (some of the less-experienced ending up in the water). By afternoon, we'd practically forgotten the effects of our sleepless night after reaching the secluded lodge we'd call home for the next three nights. Fit with an open-air bathroom overlooking the jungle, moonlight showering to the sounds of the jungle was sure going to be a first.

The next three days were packed with activities, with a couple siestas curled up in a hammock thrown into the mix. After an hour of settling in, we set off to a large lagoon where we swam under the setting sun, out of the way of the piranhas and alligators which, according to Washington, prefer to hang out in the reeds. Before watching the sun set we went pink-dolphin spotting, but unfortunately only saw a couple of shy grey ones.

The next day we woke at 8am and, after a hearty breakfast, explored the rainforest. This consisted of negotiating 'jungle bridges' (logs submerged in mud) and learning about the various flora and fauna, including particular ants nests which locals raid for angry ants, a remedy for lazy working dogs - I guess you'd be more attentive when covered in biting ants! The walk lost its magic, however, when the heavens opened and we saw more rain in half an hour than we have all year, it was seriously pelting down. It didn't help that our boat's engine suffered mechanical issues on the way home, which left us floating aimlessly down steam. 'Well girls, this is jungle living', was Washington's response when he saw what must have been our very unamused faces. Jungle living it was, and embrace it we did. There were no complaints.

By the afternoon, the clouds had cleared and the sun peeped through, perfect whether for...piranha fishing! That's right, where else can you do this but in the Amazon jungle? I've never been into fishing, but this is fishing of a different kind and it's possible I may have missed my calling. There's an art to piranha fishing, which incorporates raw meat as bait and a piece of fishing line tied to a stick. There's none of this fancy rod stuff. In short, you thrash your stick around on the water, near to the shore (presumably to imitate the last seconds of some poor animal's life), and then you let the line go as deep as you can, the biggest hang out in the deeper parts. When you get a bite - and you'll feel it - with a quick flick of the wrist you jerk the stick upwards and back into the boat, hopefully with piranha attached. Let me just say though, piranhas are scary little buggers. If it's not the normal squirm factor involved when a live fish is flopping around a dry boat, it's the audible snapping of their razor sharp teeth that accompanies this, which resulted in many squeals (and apparently a near Bec-overboard incident). I was quite chuffed as, being the first to snare one that day, my prize that night was a 750ml beer from Washington.

Me with my piranha.

With day two being so eventful, I didn't think day three could match it, not on the action side of things. Why? We were scheduled to watch the making of yucca bread, made from a root vegetable, by an indigenous community, followed by a trip to the local Shaman. It was interesting listening to the Shaman talk through his medicinal plants, one of which was a hallucinogenic vine, and to volunteer as the subject of a good-health ritual (although that night my cold got worse...), but it sure wasn't piranha fishing. Things got a bit more exciting when we set out on a night walk through the rainforest. If I wasn't squirming in the boat the day before, I was now. Not quite an aracnophobic, but close too it, seeing a tarantula crawling up my fellow travellers' faces was, while amazing from where I stood about three metres away, slightly nauseating. I definitely preferred the frogs.

So after a little nocturnal excitement, we returned to the lodge, thinking the events of the evening were over. Who was I kidding? How can you take a city girl, put her in the jungle, and not have a bit of drama? Our gumboots were covered in mud from the night walk and, so that we didn't trudge it through the lodge, we dipped our boots into the river. While the others went to where the tide had risen over the end of the wharf, I followed Washington, who was leaning on a chair and crouching to get his boots into the water. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was to lean on the same chair which, unbeknown to me, was not attached to the wharf. You can probably guess what happened next, both me and the chair went into the drink, me head first! 'Piranhas, piranhas, piranhas', was all that was going through my mind as I spluttered to the surface, then, 'alligators, alligators, alligators' (both shore-dwelling). Other than being a tad shocked I came out relatively unscathed, apart from having a few unidentified pine needle-like objects lodged in my hand from some water plant. It wasn't until I was having a beer at the dinner table later that Washington told me it was the electric eels that had concerned him, and that one had killed a Mexican boy who went swimming some years ago. So that's why he'd yanked me out of the water so fast! Certainly one for the memory books.

So I've written a bit of an essay here, but the Amazon is totally worthy of it, we had such a memorable and unique four days. The photos don't nearly do it justice but I'll post some anyway. Katie took some of these with her fab camera.