You’re on a bus into the Amazonian jungle of Bolivia, South America. The woman at the bus terminal told you your journey along Death Road would take somewhere between 18 and 36 hours, and you’re beginning to realise why.
The road is so narrow that the bus only fits onto it with inches to spare. On one side is a cliff face that sometimes scrapes along the side of the bus, on the other side is a sheer drop of more than 3000 feet.
As soon as you’re used to that, a semi-trailer veers around the corner and the bus has to reverse back to the nearest point where the road widens slightly. Then it gets dark and it transpires the bus only has one headlight. Someone takes the role of holding a yardstick out the window to determine where the edge of the road is.
In broken Spanish, the Bolivian man next to you informs you with a chuckle that eight tourists died here yesterday. This could be it, you reckon. This could be the end of your life. You take a big sip of water, wishing it was whisky.
Traveling through South America, I ended up in Rurrenabaque, a town in the north-west of Bolivia’s Amazonian region. I set off into the jungle with five other ‘gringos’ (the local slang meaning tourists) for two weeks.
The jungle was dense. We slept on the bare earth, wrapping mosquito nets tightly around ourselves to protect from the swarm of insects and mosquitos. The sound of monkeys, wild boars, frogs and other creatures filled the night air.
After a few days of solid walking, we arrived at a small tribal community deep in the jungle. The tour guide told us they would provide food and water, so long as we carried it with us. Needless to say, we stocked up. However, the Amazonian jungle is humid and hot and the constant walking made us thirsty.
By the time we arrived at the community we had already finished all the water we had carried, and nearly all of the food. Not having much food was okay, because we could hunt animals and gather fruits. Pachamama (Mother Earth) would look after us. However, even in the jungle the water in Bolivia is dirty and unfit for drinking.
We filled our empty bottles with murky water from a river nearby, and used a thin leaf to try and filter out some of the muck. I wished I’d brought some water purification tablets or a water purification bottle. The locals thought it was strange we couldn’t handle the water, and laughed at the big fuss we made trying to filter out the dirt. Eventually, we got it to a slightly lighter shade of brown.
We spent days fossicking around the community, swimming in the river, hunting, picking fruits and exchanging stories. Many of the local people had never left the jungle their whole lives, and had no need for money or jobs. Pachamama looked after them, they said. Indeed, the jungle seemed to have a plant for everything. There were plants for fertility and abortion, to heal wounds and to give luck. There were plants you could eat to ward off mosquitos. ‘Todo necesitamos esta en la selva’, they told us, meaning ‘everything we need is in the jungle’.
Maybe we just hadn’t found it, because when we returned to Rurrenabaque after two weeks in the jungle, our bodies were covered in bites and scratches, our clothes were ragged and we were all sick from the river water. However, we all agreed we were dirtier and happier than we had been our whole lives.
Planning to travel to the jungle? What you’ll need:
A good water purification bottle, and probably a portable water purification straw too.
A long-sleeved shirt and long pants, both made from durable material
Mosquito repellent with at least 15% deet
A flashlight
Sunscreen, SPF30 minimum
Thick socks and durable shoes
Swimmers
Camera
Toilet paper
Basic first-aid kit with iodine, steri strips, bandages, paracetamol, band-aids and anti-histamine tablets
Malaria tablets, depending on where you’re planning to go. Check out: http://www.malariasite.com/malaria/samerica.htm to see whether you need them.







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