June 04, 2003
Photos -- Venezuela & Brazil
Location: Sucre, Bolivia
Mile from Home: 13,600
Days on the Road: 168
Brrrr.......
Although at 2,800 meters (9,240 ft.) Sucre, where I'm hiding out for a few weeks to polish up my Spanish, is still considered just a "mid-elevation" city by Bolivian standards. Potosí, a few hours southwest, reigns as the highest inhabited city in the world at 4,000 m (13,200 ft.). For reference, Santa Fe is at around 7,500 ft., and Trucha Peak, the highest point in New Mexico, peers down from a mere 13,100 ft. or so.
Here's a selection of the incredible sights from southern Venezuela and my all too short jaunt through western Brazil. The plan is to cut back north through the coast of Brazil in November or December after Patagonia. At least, that's the plan at this point...
Although better known as Argentinian, the Parilla is the number one roadside food in Venezuela as well. You might call it Lord of the Flies meets fast food. You buy your beef or pork by the kilo from huge wooden spits right off the fire. It's diced into bite size peices in front of you, and served with yucca (like fries) and salad. My quarter kilo ran me a cool $2.
If you have ever wanted to know what they mean by "slash and burn" agriculture, here it is. Throughout the Amazon, poor farmers cut down the forest and burn it to clear land. Unfortunately, the soil is poor and they can only work the plots for three or four years, after which they have to slash and burn more. Can you say deforestation?
I must say I've waited the whole trip to say that I'd shaved in my bike mirrors. ;)
This is what Ten Thousand miles from home looks like...somewhere in the middle of Venezuela's Gran Sabana en route to Brazil.
The shot of Apongoa Falls in the Gran Sabana before running back to the bike to meet my maker and the mud.
Half way through my mud bath I stopped so I could remember just what the road (and the bike) looked like.
You might say I felt a bit disheveled after the whole mud ordeal. This is half a mile after hitting tarmac again.
I ran into this gent from Puerto Rico who has been circling the world on a bicycle for NINE YEARS. He was just hanging out at a pitstop half way to Manaus from the Brazilian border. I couldnīt figure out how he was paying for it all, but I donīt think he was exactly loaded.
As I crossed the Equator, I kept an eye out for the nearest toilet. Water swirls clockwise in the northern hemisphere, and counterclockwise in the southern hemisphere due to the rotation of the earth -- the "Coriolis Effect." People have been flushing away at the equator for years to see if it will ever just go STRAIGHT down, but until today there have been no confirmed sightings of the ever-elusive "straight flush."
On the boat out of Manaus to Porto Velho, the hammock space was somewhat limited. At about 16 inches apart, we had to adjust the levels up and down to make enough room for shoulders and hips. I ended up on the lower level with a butt in each eye, but still I slept like a baby.
Brazilian sisters, 5 and 7.
Night three on the boat turned into a huge Churrasco on the upper deck. From 4 oīclock on they threw steak, pork, and fish on the grill until the entire boat was fed. They just cut up pieces in a pan and everyone ate with their fingers, while also taking mouthfuls of faria -- a crunchy cereal much like bulgar wheat -- from the same three spoons.
A view of the boat during one of our port calls up river.
I donīt know what it is, but the whole loading and unloading process is always the most stressful for me.
My new favorite car parts store in Brazil. The owner caught me snapping the photo and came out to introduce himself -- Carlos Fuck. He said he always thought it was so funny when, every few weeks, tourists stop to take a picture of his store.
Ok, so it ainīt Yosemite, but this is Brazilīs "Bridal Veil Falls," one hour northeast of Cuiabá, en route to Chapada.
I showed up at this Poussada at dusk, and after paying $3 to sling my hammock from his gazebo for the night, the owner invited me to join him for dinner. When he left for Rio the next morning, he told me to make myself at home for another night and to finish the bottle of Bourdeaux wine we had started the night before. I spent the day skinny dipping my way down the series of seven waterfalls that leads down canyon from the property and after getting back lolled in my hammock at dusk watching the sun set over the canyon rim.
On the way into the Pantanal, I stopped at another Poussada at dusk. The road got a little muddy before making it to the house, so I left the bike and hiked in the last kilometer. I was greeted by 500 cattle that seemed a little unnerved by a skinny white guy walking through the herd. They surrounded me, snorting and scraping their hooves, their heads bowed. After 20 minutes pleading for a little mercy, I made it to the house, only to find it empty. At 10 pm, the caretakers arrived via boat with three buckets full of freshly caught pirana to find me under my mosquito net on the front porch.
The next morning I took a four hour boat ride with this fella -- I never figured out how to say his name. He showed me a few miles of the flooded wetlands of the Pantanal, pointing out every critter he could. The highlight was a group of giant river otters that were scurrying about next to the boat for 10 minutes.
My second morning in the Pantanal, I woke to the sound of a few hundred birds outside my window. I peered out of the corner of my eye and saw a Coke truck parked in front of my room. I shot up in bed, wondering what in the name of God a bright red Coke truck was doing in the middle of the Pantanal, only to see it was one of the most brilliant sunrises I'd ever seen.
The road in and out of the northern Pantanal is 147 km long, with 124 wood slat bridges. Not all of them were in such nice condition as this one...
More photos from my first few weeks in Bolivia coming soon...