Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
By the end of our time in the Amazon jungle we were picking grass ticks from our legs - unscrew them clockwise or they'll leave bits in you - and trying not to think about painful fire ant stings and the itchiest mosquito bites ever encountered in our lives. Luckily, according to locals, there's no malaria in and around Madidi National Park which meant we had more time to consider other things like the world's most dangerous bus ride. After spending way too long mere millimeters from certain death (backing the old coach up on the edge of a 300 metre drop to let giant trucks squeeze by is a regular occurrence - hundreds die each year) the sight of remote Bolivian jungle town Rurrenabaque was a very welcome one.
Rurrenabaque is thick with the hot, musky, smokey and sensual smells of the tropics. A combination of burning wood, humid winds through exotic foliage, meandering rivers and the sweet linger of natural insect repellents. "Rurre´s" streets buzz with the nonchalance of motorbikes piled high with people, squashed and side saddled in a sweaty muddle. Freshly blooming teenage girls sulk in the doorways of internet cafes wearing cropped black singlets revealing push up bra and midriff, flirting expertly with smug, greasy-haired middle aged men. We ate kababs fresh off the BBQ at the rivers edge - the meat coated with a salty deliciousness with a brush made of flax leaves as it sizzles and pops.
Looking for a company to take us deep into the wild we stumbled across Madidi Travel. Knowing it to be 3 times the price of anywhere else but actually truthful in its promise to help the environment we ventured in and met Rosa-Maria. Any hope of doing it the cheap way was lost.
Rosa exudes that soft, feminine sort of mana that makes you accept each word from her mouth like it is a gift. She was instrumental in the foundation of Madidi National Park itself, fighting tirelessly for the land and for the people who rightfully live there. She told us of her trips to the White House (the USA being the true power in Bolivia) and "making a nuisance of myself" until they took notice. We later read a National Geographic article from 2000 on the foundation of Madidi, with stories of Rosa demanding loggers off the land despite a loaded gun in her face. She protested for 15 years against a plan for a dam in the area and won, saving the lives of countless flora and fauna in the process. Unfortunately, the dam proposal is rearing its ugly head again, but not for long if Rosa has her way.
Rosa encouraged tourism here in the beginning but has had to change change her ways due to overuse and irresponsible practices by other companies. For these reasons Madidi Travel doesn´t go to the areas populated by the hoards of other adventure companies that line rurre's streets. Instead, with the proceeds from the National Geographic article Rosa and her team bought their own slice of jungle heaven and named it Serere National Park. It was here that we spent four blissful days in a gorgeous jungle teaming with life. Only when we had visited other jungle areas in Peru did we realize how rare it is to be in a jungle that still feels natural, untamed and alive.
The constant wide smiles started when we boarded the river boat from Rurre. Rosa-Maria was nursing a baby Spider Monkey (separated from its mother by a hunter) and a few hours down the Beni we passed sunbathing Caiman and families of Turtles lined head to toe on long logs. Serere (as serene as the name would suggest) is a 4000 hectare reserve featuring rejuvenated lakes and countless species of animals, insects and plants almost everywhere you look, although the former have a tendency to hide.
Walking through the quiet hum of the jungle was miraculous. Never ending armies of giant ants carrying spikey leaf packages cut thick pathways through the undergrowth, marching onwards to their farmland nest where they industriously grow mushrooms with their hard won leafy treats. We walk behind our guide Nilo in silence, learning slowly to stop and listen as he does. He can see a tiny bird a million miles away, something which can take our slow drowsy eyes and ears minutes to find.
Phil: One of our best expeditions involved the tried and true wait and hope technique. We traipsed through a giant banana plantation and positioned ourselves just above a muddy watering hole. After about 30 minutes we heard a large drift of wild pigs approaching; a chatty bunch expert in blood curdling screams and horrific sounds of teeth nashing. Steven King would have an imagination field day. To make matters worse Nilo turned to us and said "There are about 50 of them... these are the really dangerous ones."
I was reminded of a story I read the day before in which a group of hunters encountered 50 of the same pigs. After they shot 10, however, the rest of the drift turned on the hunters who quickly climbed the nearest trees. All, that is, except for one guy who was set upon by the pigs and literally ripped to shreds. Revenge wild pig style, it wasn´t the most comforting thought at that very moment.
Unluckily (or otherwise) one of our group just then fell victim to a uncontrollable coughing fit as the wiry, black beasts materialised. They hesitated and snorted suspiciously then suddenly a cacophny of
screams and teeth snapping filled the air as they turned and high-curly-tailed it in the other direction. We sat there hearts beating through our chests disappointed and a little but relieved. We saw a huge bunch of dangerous wild pigs and didn´t get eaten. Brilliant.
Ella:On another morning Nilo lead us to a small clearing and pointed high in a tree where a snaking-limbed black Spider Monkey started hurrying a descent towards us. "The monkey will come to us", he said calmly, and just as it started to walk quickly towards us decides to mention, "It will climb up one of you." The monkey eyes us all before choosing a German woman, climbing lopily up her body to wrap around her waist and nuzzle into her shoulder.
This is Cheater, once a baby saved by Rosa who now lives alone but, having never forgotten humans, loves the company and cuddles of visitors (albeit females more than males). Cuddling Cheater is one of those dream moments, better than any baby cuddle, her endlessly long limbs snaked around you, her tail wrapped fully around your middle. I am all giddy, smile and wish only for monkey cuddles for ever more. She is sad all alone and all the girls in the group sigh with a maternal sadness for this little creature alone in the world. We want her to find a monkey partner and have little monkey babies who will also cuddle us. It is nice to see that, although she was exposed to humans to save he life, she still lives as a wild monkey and is treated as so, not as the sad human infant we anthropomorphise her as.
Phil: During other excursions we bumped into a small, pale anteater - the first Nilo had seen for 6 months - which scampered up the closest tree as we approached. We woke up to the sound of Capuchin (Capuchino's in Espanol) and Squirrel Monkeys chattering and swinging in the branches above our cabin, paddled across a lake in the dark to spot red-eyed Caiman at the end of our torch beams, and stayed well clear of inch-long bitey ants. We also spotted oodles of birds and giant jungle rats and racoons, went Piranha fishing (I caught a tiny one screamed quietly and threw it back) and came face to face with a Tarantula.
Ella: Going to the jungle forced to me to face the pathetic, girly fears that have haunted me since childhood - for example a general mistrust of insects and a full blown panic attack inducing horror towards spiders. Once night we went Caiman watching in a small, leaky wooden canoe surrounded by glowing red eyes. My weak headtorch revealed sitting calmly next to me a rather huge pregnant spider with her white sack of babies snuggled under her fat frame. Leaping to my feet, or more to a hunched squat in order to keep the rickety boat afloat, my choices between river death by Caiman and boat death by spider induced breakdown left little to be desired. Nobody seemed to understand the massive crisis as the spider danced in and out of my flashlight beam and threatened to eat me to feed her thousands of children. Phil even asked me for the torch, the only thread of safety left in my crumbling sense of calm. I was not amused.
This of course was nothing in comparison to the next incident. Our net walled, wooden house in the cool middle of the quietly buzzing jungle seemed like a heavenly sanctuary of love and wonder. This was until one night while on the toilet a spider THE SIZE OF MY HAND (I do not exaggerate) scampered across the floor in front of me. The home of wonder became my enemy and Phil had to accompany me to the bathroom for the rest of our stay.
While it is somehow easy to justify the cheapness of doing a regular jungle or pampas tour to Madidi, it felt so much better to use our precious tourist dollars supporting a company that is dedicated to growing national parks. Serere was an incredible place, and the lodge beautiful. It was a heavenly experience. Lying in bed we would go to sleep and wake to the eerie cavernous roar of howler monkeys, and while eating lunch in the lodge hear the squeaky communication as chatters of monkeys played in the trees surrounding the building. Baby Tarantulas sunbathed on thatched walls. On the last night we paddled across the still lake to watch the sun set across the jungle as brightly coloured birds took flight across the mirrored water. This is when we realized we were a little bit in love with Serere.
- comments