Closing the circle - 360º - Madre Ayahuasca...

My second desire over the last ten years has been to explore the mind a little.  This began with meditation, first with the FWBO and then in the vipassana tradition.  This gave me some tools to help explore a different path; the powerful plant medicine from the Amazon - ayahuasca.  It was only fitting to end the trip with one final ceremony and we headed to Pisac in the Sacred Valley to do just that.  Strangely, when we arrived we weren't greeted or given any instructions about the evenings events.  Still, the place looked the part and we made our own way into the maloka, already filled with about twenty people.  A French guy, Jean, was holding space that night and, after a few opening words, we began to drink in turn.

It was a strange beginning to a ceremony for me.  Earlier that day I'd had an encounter with an artisan-cum-shaman who had thrown me into some confusion - mainly by insisting I was confused!  Our interchange had put me right back in the mindset I'd had when I'd arrived to work with ayahuasca - doubt and skepticism. However, once again ayahuasca would work her magic, dispelling my doubt about her power to work wonders and transforming my skepticism into fascination once again.  It began gently as I sat listening to the music - accompanied by the beginning of a veritable symphony of vomiting from the pasajeros. Apart from one English guy heavy breathing in my direction for most of the night, the evening was remarkably peaceful.  I even fell asleep and snored for a spell.

I had a simple intention for my last encounter with the great teacher which was 'show me what I need to know.'  And a few things came into my awareness which were helpful reminders or fresh insights.  One example was the reason I always like to walk in the hills if there's something on my mind.  The problem isn't always solved on my return but for some reason I always feel better about it.  The reason, it was made apparent to me, is the fact that, when walking in highlands, the landscape forces upon us a sense of our insignificance.  Just a tiny, ephemeral human trotting through the massive, ancient land.  This sense of insignificance makes any problem seem like a passing breeze rather than a hurricane force gale.

Ayahuasca works in mysterious ways:  a hard taskmaster and a kind protector; an unforgiving mirror and wise teacher.  The journey is not always easy, physically or mentally, but the rewards are manifold.  I have seen and felt many things, some of which are of  immediate practical benefit and others seeming more like a strange dream or an overactive imagination.  This is no drug, it is far more than that.  A great deal of my skepticism has left me and I feel there is far more to ayahuasca than meets the eye.  Yet, the further I've gone down this journey of the mind it is questions that arise far more frequently than answers.  It's a little complicated! 

So, for now, as the circle closes on this odyssey, my desires have been sated, at least in part.  Yet already I imagine new ceremonies I want to attend and other far-flung locations I want to pass through.  It seems one lifetime isn't going to be enough!

Closing the circle - 180º - Machu Picchu...

Perú

Over the last decade or so I've had two desires.  The first of which was to explore the world a little more.  The four months I've spent in South America on my Andean odyssey (with rainforest add-ons) has gone a long way to satiate that thirst.  The original plan to travel south through Perú and Bolivia, experiencing both countries in depth, was scuppered in the early stages.   First, by the discovery of the possibility of attending the Eagle Condor Festival in Brazil.  I factored this into my plans, no hesitation.  The other huge disruption to my well-thought-out route was meeting the girl who has now become my other half only four days into my trip.

Mexico

Many years ago I saw a picture of the legendary Machu Picchu.  Before then I'd been lucky enough to visit some European countries with my family but this place sparked a desire to travel further afield that would grow over time.  Eventually, I got to visit some more exotic locations both alone and with some great travelling companions:  Mexico by myself to begin with, charging round Morocco with Phil came next, laughing all the way from Salvador to Rio with John in Brazil followed and, most recently, a life-changing journey through northern India with Andy.  I thank them all for putting up with my idiosyncrasies.  But the primary motivating factor for all these trips was still unseen by my eyes - Machu Picchu.

Morocco

Thanks to sage advice from my old pal, Erry, I booked the Inca Trail whilst in the UK.  Had I not I wouldn't have been able to trek along this famous route.  It is thanks to him I was able to open the circle properly.  Early in my adventure my dream finally came true and this wonder of the Incas was before my eyes, surpassing my expectations.  However, I had to leave early to meet the rest of my group but when I did I somehow knew I'd return.  And that I did.

Brazil

My novia and I woke before four in the morning to try and beat the huge influx of tourists to the site arriving by bus. The walk up the steep path in the dark was one of the best bits of the day.  The silent forest around us slowly came to life as the sun rose.  It was only as we neared the top of the path that the first buses arrived.  The weather was similar to my previous visit; mist covering the valley and hills, all views obscured.  In contrast to November, the weather would not become a glorious sunny day but, now firmly in the wet season, would only get worse.  We had a chance to roam the site with only a few other tourists.  It was good to see the reaction of someone seeing this place for the first time.  Really great, especially as Machu Picchu was also one of the main reasons she was in Perú.  So, sat at the top of Huyana Picchu in the clouds the exploration of South America came to an end, at least for now.  And in the place of Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat began to rise in my mind's eye.

India

“We must go beyond textbooks, go out into the bypaths and untrodden depths of the wilderness and travel and explore and tell the world the glories of our journey.”

John Hope Franklin    

       

Mindo es lindo...

Lindo - 'beautiful, pretty, attractive' - and Mindo, to the west of Quito, is all those things.  The climate here is spot on; away from the heat of the coastal plain and lacking the extremes of the mountains.  Humidity, sunshine, warm rain and perfect temperatures were the recipe for the next few days in this little-known paradise.  With Carnaval still in full swing, moving round the town was a messy affair.  In addition to the water and foam attacks, the kids here were using mud, with a corner of the park dedicated to girl-dunking in the swamp that had formed there during the rains.

We headed out of town to the canopy zip lines.  A series of ten aerial runways suspended across two valleys up to 80 metres above the forest floor.  My ideas of a morning well spent.  The rest of the time in this Ecuadorean family retreat was spent walking through the cloud forests hunting for some of the 450 species of birds that live there.  We didn't see any but that didn't matter as the house we stayed in attracted about fifteen hummingbirds every morning during breakfast.  After too short a time we had to leave this gorgeous little town to begin the mad dash south.  The Odyssey was drawing to an end and we needed to reach Lima... the circle should always be closed.

Native American mix up...

Robert Mirabal had arrived in Otavalo.  This Native American, flown in from New Mexico, has, in the past, won a Grammy Award for his music.  We waited over two hours in a cold, open air community hall which slowly filled with a couple of thousand keen spectators.  Suddenly the performance began, it seemed whilst the stage was still being prepared.  One minute nothing then, without warning, Mirabal was chanting into the microphone.  It was impressive stuff and nothing like we´d expected.  He was joined on stage by his little entourage of two women and two butch men dressed in neon Native American outfits.  As he began his second song they danced behind him holding patterned dishes.  So far so good.

It started to become a little odd during the third offering as one of the big men walked through the audience dressed as an eagle.  Flapping his winged arms up to the stage he proceeded to crouch whilst tilting his head this way and that with an expression like a demented owl.  On next was the other bouncer-cum-dancer who brought with him a collection of bright neon hula-hoops.  It looked like it was going to be another ridiculous display but, to be fair, it was pretty impressive.  I´m not sure how a man of that age and stature could create a spinning work of art from a few plastic hoops but he did just that.

Jesus made an appearance next with a song asking for Christ to save us all.  Hands were raised to the sky by all on stage as Mirabal almost wept, deeply distressed by the sin of the world.  Through a connection known only to himself, he then jumped to a quote from Sitting Bull talking about the impacts of the invasion of Europeans in North America:

"If a man loses anything and goes back and looks carefully for it, he will find it, and that is what the Indians are doing now when they ask you to give them the things that were promised them in the past; and I do not consider that they should be treated like beasts, and that is the reason I have grown up with the feelings I have... I feel that my country has gotten a bad name, and I want it to have a good name; it used to have a good name; and I sit sometimes and wonder who it is that has given it a bad name."

Naturally, this statement, which I happen to sympathise with wholeheartedly, made the two Gringoes feel a little uncomfortable in the hall filled with mainly indigenous Ecuadoreans.  Then, just as my respect was growing, he decided to issue forth another statement about the reason he was in Otavalo.  He´d been asked, he said, by the people of Ecuador to perform again but, he proudly added, really didn´t want to visit the country.  I´m not sure why the crowd didn´t lynch him there and then for his lack of manners but they sat tight and listened on.  He went on to talk about corn... for a long time.  He told us corn was as important to him as it was to the gathered masses.  So important, in fact, that corn was the reason he was there.  It was the maís that had spoken to him, asking him to perform that night.  Although a strange motivation to my mind, the crowd lapped it up with cheers and applause.  He carried on by proposing that all answers to any questions could be found in the corn before boldly stating he was ´...from the future...´ and to ´...respect Mother Earth´.

I´m not sure how, during his next number, it was respectful to Mother Earth to throw out handful after handful of glowsticks to the eager crowd clamouring before him.  This generosity continued as he threw more objects at his fans, including braids he´d been wearing in his long, dark hair.  After he´d extracted them from his shiny mane he held them before him shouting, `Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic!´  I have to admit, his hair did look healthy but I put that down to good genes and a decent barber rather than magic braids.

During his next piece he invited an 11 year old local boy to join him on stage.  All credit to the kid, he did really well rapping in front of the proud crowd below him.  Whilst clearly generous in making the young lad´s day, Mirabal didn´t miss the opportunity to cash in on the act by posing for photo after photo with the little star.  By the end of his lengthy manipulation of the kid and his dad I had become a little cynical about Mr Mirabal.  The self-proclaimed champion of the Native American population seemed a little more interested in how to work a crowd by mixing in any elements needed to play with their emotions.  Still, bloody good chanting though.

Beware of flying objects...

Otavalo, a charming town north of Quito, drew us in with its famous market offering goods from the surrounding hills and valleys.  We were lucky enough to arrive when Carnaval was beginning across all of Latin America.  Although we weren´t in Rio, the inhabitants of this town were keen to show they knew how to party.  It seemed every school in the state had decided to take all its kids to the Cascada de Peguche, a waterfall in a steep/sided valley.  After cycling there we dismounted and walked up the path passing hordes of kids armed to the teeth with water pistols, water bombs, powder bombs and foam spray cans.  At first they kindly let us pass but, on nearing the falls, we approached a keen looking bunch of teenage boys.  On spotting us they stopped dunking girls in the stream and made ready their weapons.  As we passed a cascade of water fell on us - Carnaval had arrived for these Gringoes and we were soaked.

Cycling on we headed for the nearby lake and stumbled upon a lakeside restaurant fit for Don Vito Corleone.  As we dined hummingbirds frequently called in for the nectar offered to them in the feeders suspended from the ceiling.  Later in the day this flying theme continued at El Parque Condor, a centre breeding and rehabilitating endangered birds of prey.  A stunning range of kestrels, hawks, eagles, owls and condors were housed in fair sized cages in a perfect location on top of a small mountain.  Although a shame to see such birds in captivity, it was a privilege to see them close up.  The highlight had to be the free flying display of a range of birds including the awe inspiring bald eagle.  Once again, eagles and condors flying together.  We returned to the town suffering repeated attacks by young children much to the delight of all.  Our defences were high but nothing would prepare us for the spectacle flying in from New Mexico!

Galápagos VI - Crack addict...

Lo and behold!  Who should show up the next morning but Andrea, sheepishly standing at our doorstep with a another Galápagos guide.  We were getting ready for a day at Tortuga Bay when this woman, who had previously only existed in mythical form, was there in front of us.  Solid flesh and bone bearing a nervous smile.  I've no idea why she didn't show until the last day - bereavement, drug addiction, bloody lazy - but there she was offering us a trip for the day... to Tortuga Bay.  Too little, too late.  After negotiating a free night in our hotel, we gave her her marching orders and the mysterious Andrea vanished once more into the ether.

Tortuga Bay proved to be as impressive as it had been before.  We headed further along to a sheltered bay lined with mangrove trees.  Here the snorkelling at first proved to be disappointing in the murky waters.  However, swimming further out was rewarded with my first encounter with an eagle ray.  I tried to remember whether it had been this type of fish that had killed the ebullient Steve Irwin.  In my ignorance, I chose to return to shore whilst wondering whether Irwin had it coming after tormenting all those reptiles.

The afternoon was spent at las Grietas (the Cracks).  An old lava tunnel which ran all the way to the sea, the roof of which had long collapsed.  The remaining fissure housed some of the deepest, crystal clear water on the island.  Shoals of huge fish plucked algae from the walls of the 12m deep chasm whilst locals jumped and dived from the rocks 12m above the brackish waters.  Blue Lagoon eat your heart out.  The following day we flew back to mainland Ecuador.  On our way we popped in for a stroll around Los Gemelos, extinct volcanic craters over 200m wide each housing their own personal ecosystems.  The Galápagos Islands had truly lived up to their reputation as a biologist's adventure playground.

Galápagos V - Seymour Skinner...

The final day trip to an island other than our base of Santa Cruz was to North Seymour, a relatively short journey compared to the first two excursions.  This lump of rock possessed a distinct character from the other three.  This is the impressive feature of the Galápagos, the fact that each island is so different from its neighbours.  North Seymour is famed for its friggate birds and blue-footed boobies but these weren't the first animals we would encounter.  As we arrived offshore, three large sharks swam over to check us out.  These oceanic white tipped sharks were at least two metres in length but looked more like three to my wide-open eyes.  At last, the situation suited the type of boats we were aboard and I could finally quiote Brody's wise words, "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

Once ashore, I was again impressed with the guide.  Not only was he knowledgeable and enthusiastic, he even managed to keep the overly-keen paparazzi in check.  In particular one Polish guy whose sole aim was to get that dream shot no matter what delicate flora and fauna he destroyed in the process. 

Once again, we were in a landscape directly from the pages of Arthur Conan Doyle's novel.  Birds were flying everywhere in the sky, mainly the friggates who I've long admired.  Their tactic of bullying other fish into dropping their food has long impressed me - why work so hard when you can get others to do it for you?  Stealing food was not their main activity here, however, being more interested in securing a mate and setting up home.  The friggates silhouette against the azure sky was striking, their sharp-edged wings and swallow tails resembled something like a pteranodon.  In their nests, the males would sit, bright red throats inflated into huge balloons.  Very occasionally one would be lucky enough to attract the attention of a choosy female.  She would descend from her cricling flight for a little slap and tickle atop a thorny tree.  Impressive creatures.

Passing the terrestrial iguanas resting in the midday heat, we searched for blue-footed boobies.  Apart from these animals' blue feet, they didn't really do much to impress me.  And vice versa I suspect.  Nor their red-footed cousins who, the guide informed us, were extremely rare and were only seen about three times a year.  However, only a few moments later the guide almost suffered an anyerism when we saw four in one place at the same time.  Despite his inspiring enthusiasm I was left a little nonplussed at the sight of these modest birds, quietly preening themselves in the trees.  Far more impressive was the bull sea lion on a rocky beach, displaying his prowess in front of his ladies in the surf.

We returned to Puerto Ayora in the vain hope of finding our fictitious tour organiser, Andrea.  With one day left in the Galápagos and no tour to speak of, we had given up hope and decided to arrange a little excursion ourselves.  This with the strong intent of recouping some of the $130 dollars we'd paid for the final day on our return to Quito.

Galápagos IV - Arrested development...

Bartolomé is middle aged in terms of the Galápagos with 2-3 million years under its belt.  This small island was formed when the Earth's crust moved over the Galapágos hotspot.  Well before daybreak we headed there on another Jaws-style vessel, although this time with decidedly less powerful engines.  After two hours on board the island appeared on the horizon.  I've never seen an island that looks more like a volcano that this.  The landscape is totally rust coloured and almost completely barren.  The only plants that live here are hardy xerophytes, like the desert cactus that needs no rainfall whatsoever and completely recycles itself, thereby needing almost no mineral input.  The only animals are crabs and the odd lizard.  A big mammal like me whose body is 70% water would last a couple of days, especially given the fact I'm the sweatiest person within a thousand mile radius.

This volcanic gem isn't actually one volcano.  It is comprised of many parasitic secondary cones which are part of two overlapping volcanoes which together form the nearby Santiago island.  The evidence of volcanic activity is very clear and omnipresent.  There are two main types of rock formation: the smooth lava flows with tunnels; and the far more jagged deposits known as 'Ah Ah', so called as people  make this sound as they walk on it with bare feet.  Despite having had at least two million years of evolution, this landscape showed little evidence of succession.  It lies naked in stark contrast to the rainforest in which plants and animals can colonise denuded areas in a couple of decades.  Nearby, on Santiago, a lava field can be seen which was the result of an eruption in the late 1800s.  This black, bleak expanse of rock was bereft of any vegetation.  It made me appreciate the time needed for the arrival of seeds by wind, water or winged-deposits from above.  Add to this the painfully slow process of soil formation and the time needed for Darwin's theories to play out can be appreciated.

We clambered up the specially made stairway to the summit.  An impressive effort to protect this environment, not a single tourist has to set foot on the island.  From the top the most photographed part of the Galápagos Islands was visible, the view of the rock known as the Pinnacle.  I had to slap myself across the face to check I wasn't dreaming.  This was a landscape straight from the Pixar Animation Studio.  At any moment I expected Godzilla to appear from the surrounding waters and feast on our little group of pesky tourists.  Just to check there were no giant lizard threats, we nipped into the water for a little snorkelling.  The best I've ever had, on a par with the waters around Malta.  After the guide and I were both stung on the lips by jellyfish we returned to the boat for a beer and the ride home.  On the way we were joined by a school of dolphins who decided to show us how pitiful our velocity was.  They swam before the prow of the vessel before veering off jumping out of the water.  Before long all aboard were smiling and laughing.  "It's amazing the power dolphins have over people," someone correctly commented as this grumpy bunch of gringoes had been transformed into delighted children.  Back in Puerto Ayora we asked if the ever-absent Andrea had left us a message but no such luck.  Who was this enigmatic tour rep?

Galápagos III - Animal magic...

The first day long trip to another island, Isabela, would significantly improve my rating of the value for money of the trip.  We set off early to the dock where we boarded a large, fast boast which resembled that used to hunt Jaws.  The journey took four hours at considerable speed, testament to the distances separating these islands.  On arrival we headed to another turtle sanctuary.  It seems each island has its own sub-species of turtle and associated breeding programme.  We were lucky enough to see a randy male chasing a reluctant female around the enclosure before mounting her.  Whilst it would have been great (if a little voyeuristic) to watch them make love, the two hours required to do so was beyond our schedule.  We boarded the all terrain bus and headed on to see a small community of flamingoes which originally came from the Carribean.  The most colourful collection of illegal immigrants I've seen yet.

We were taken by small water taxis to an area of volcanic rock forming a small, low islet off the shore.  This place was teeming with life; marine iguanas in their hundreds, sea lions, Sally Lightfoot crabs, swimming turtles and even sharks.  Walking around it was very impressive.  Given the lack of human contact historically, these creatures have failed to develop a deep fear of people and, as a result, you can get very, very close indeed.  That is probably the most special thing about these islands.  Hopping back on the boats we headed past some penguins to the snorkelling area for a quick swim before heading home.  A long commute but well worth it.  That evening we had expected Andrea to show but no such luck.  There was only a note with information about the next day passed to us by a mystery man who didn't tell us his name and couldn't explain why Andrea hadn't come herself.  We began to doubt her existence.