My apologies to Jazz God Pat Metheny for that title. Obviously I’m running short on ideas.
Unlike yesterday’s “Houston in May” weather, today begins as, and largely remains, a “Houston in January” day. That is, after it rained pretty heavily all through the night, its now cool and cloudy. Not exactly jungle weather. I had in mind something more Bridge On the River Kwai than this. People are wearing sweaters all around, not furs. I wore some cargo shorts, and, as a nod to the cooler weather, a long sleeve t-shirt (as you will see later, my Big Lebowski vest would have come in very handy). As I wait for the eight peso round trip bus to (and from) the Falls, I notice a fairly large squad of military types in the bus station waiting area. These guys were definitely more professional than the locals, and in keeping with the ongoing Romancing the Stone theme, I wonder if they’re General Zolo’s special police force. Turns out they are “gendarmes,” a quasi-military security force with jurisdiction throughout the country. Why they’re traveling on commercial buses instead of their own equipment is beyond me. A naval base is located in Puerto Iguazu proper (as opposed to the Puerto Iguazu metropolitan area). I saw some guys playing, what else, soccer in front of it yesterday.
I arrived at the falls after a 30 minute bus ride at the crack of 10:15, later than I wanted but earlier than I was getting to places in Buenos Aires. The bus made several stops to pick up native workers who sell crafts at spots in the visitors’ center. On the bus, I discovered a heretofore unknown (to me) type: Traveler Guy. And Traveler Guy’s Chick. To be fair, there are Traveler Girls (mainly, haven’t seen many women that appear to be in excess of 35 that fit this description), but its mainly guys. I’m referring to people whose “profession,” as it were, is traveling. They don’t seem to have a lot of money of their own, and stay in hostels or camp in places (or even stay on the streets in some cases), working odd jobs to pay for their expenses. They find the dirt cheapest way to get to the next town, the next site, and the next adventure. They have schedules but not goals; they just keep on going down the road. I ran across Traveler Guy in fairly large numbers in Puerto Iguazu, but didn’t really get to see him up close and in action til the bus ride to the Falls. I stood near where a Ben Kingsley-ish looking Australian guy was seated next to his age-inappropriate girlfriend, as they swapped travel war stories with a 20-ish looking Japanese woman travel writer. Places with no water, going for weeks without baths, missed busses, sleeping on the ground, working very odd odd jobs to earn money. Traveler Guy has seen it all, and is living his mid-life crisis (or avoiding taking a real job) all over the world. Traveler Girl seems to be a bit different. Traveler Girl seems to be about the outdoor experience. Traveler Guy is about going to the next place, while Traveler Girl seems to be about the activity at the next place. I saw a few groups or couples of Traveler Girl in the town and at the park, all geared up, all ready to take on the Falls and the jungle adventures that lay beyond. Me? I need a shower and a mattress. The product of a decadent Western lifestyle, perhaps, but at least I’m not still trying to get even with Daddy by renouncing clean water and toilet paper. Signed the Peace Corps. Living your life like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song doesn’t make you a hero, just a douche.
Where was I?
The bus let us off at the visitor’s center, where I paid the 40 peso (roughly $13) admission fee. That’s pretty good compared to US national parks. The visitor’s center was pretty lame. Not much help at all. It was really just a collection of souvenir and craft shops, sandwich and food stands, and stands for private vendors to sell their “jungle adventure” trips, such as chartering a boat to get close to the Falls. Nor were there many park employees about to answer questions. Iguazu Falls is on the Brazil/Argentina border. It’s a collection of several different falls as the river first takes a sharp turn south and then bends back to the north. Argentina and Brazil each have their own national parks on their respective sides of the Falls. According to the guidebooks and the people with whom I spoke, the Argentine side has a more accessible trail network allowing you to see a greater amount, while the Brazilian park has better views but lacks much of a trail network. I didn’t get a visa to visit Brazil so I’m sticking to the Argentina side, which is just as well because with the gray weather, the views from the Brazil side probably aren’t what they are normally. The Argentina park has four main trail systems—an upper circuit (which takes you to the top of many of the falls), a lower circuit (which goes closer to the lower falls), the “Garganta del Diablo” trail (this is a bit further down river, where there’s one incredibly large falls site, and the more isolated Mascuco Trail, leading to the Sendero Falls. An “eco train,” powered interestingly enough by natural gas, runs between three small stations connecting the trailheads for the upper and lower circuit, the Garganta del Diablo, and the main visitors’ center.
I started out hiking to the upper circuit, and was joined by a young park employee on his way to his information post. He was fairly fluent in English, and related some of the more interesting sites in the park. He was interested in where I was from in the US. He also said he’d never left Puerto Iguazu his whole life, but wanted to go somewhere else like Patagonia or Salta for something new in life. After he made it to his post, I hit the upper circuit trail. Turns out this wasn’t really “hiking” per se; these are mostly easy, level walks on a metal catwalk with hand rails on either side. Although the metal was wet from the misting rain that was starting, they were hardly difficult to navigate. My preparations for a jungle hike obviously were totally unnecessary. The upper circuit actually runs over the Iguazu River for about a third of a mile perhaps, with viewing points at each individual section of the falls. The layout isn’t like Niagara—Iguazu is a collection of numerous individual falls. You’ll walk for a bit and then be at the top of the next falls, then walk some more through some forest, then be back over water til you get to the next viewing point. The catwalk doesn’t extend the entire way over the falls, obviously, but it goes out a fair ways. Lots of people seem to be out today, despite the weather. Throughout my stay there I saw lots of informal and formal groups from all over. That makes some sense; virtually all of the few Argentinians with whom I’ve spoken about my trip have said Iguazu is a real highlight and a prized place.
Then I walked back to the trailhead to go to the lower circuit. This takes you closer to where the falls hit the river section below. On a pretty day I imagine you can see a number of rainbows, but not today. In fact, as I approach the lower portion of the Dos Hermanos falls, it starts to rain in earnest. Luckily, some of my “jungle hike” preparations involved buying the six peso yellow rain pancho at the local bus station (thus allowing me to look like a transparent banana). Its actually quite effective for the money, so I soldier on, continuing to take dozens of photos.
Both circuits took about an hour and a half. So I headed to the train station to get out to the Garganta del Diablo. Normally I would have walked it, as it runs past some nice scenery next to the water, but the trail map said it would take about an hour and a half, and the cold and rain were starting to become difficult. With the rain picking up, it seemed to be getting colder as well. I’ll do cold, and I’ll do rain, but ordinarily I won’t do cold and rain. Having paid the small fortune I did to get to that point, I wasn’t willing to just pack it in, so I took the train and decided to see as much as I could before I gave out.
The trail to the Garganta del Diablo was much more interesting. It crossed much more open river space, as well as some really interesting forest stretches that had lots of birds. I couldn’t see most of them because they were hidden in the high tree canopy, but I did get a couple of good photos. You can tell that in more normal weather, this must be a very mosquitoey place. One funny little thing, there were several signs throughout the park warning about snakes. At one spot on the Garganta trail, I was looking at just such a sign and thinking very carefully about that and actually looking on the ground for snakes (stupid, since it must have been about 46 or 47 degrees out). At that moment, the bottom part of my poncho just grazed one of my calves. I jumped like I was having a seizure (or a kid who’s just lost his toy). How James Bond of me.
The viewing point gives a very close and intense view of these rushing falls. The backspray was everywhere. To add emphasis, they preserved an old section of the previous catwalk that had been washed out by a 1992 flood (according to the sign placed on it). Huge chunks of concrete were lying about. Incredible to think a flood could do that, but ask what little is left of Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi about that.
Because I started shivering, I decided to blow off the Mascuco Trail and instead decided to head back to town. Turned out to be a good choice. On the train I couldn’t stay awake. Waiting for the bus, I had an outstanding “Havanna” hot chocolate, the previously mentioned local chocolate brand. It helped a bit, but I instead took a bath when I returned to the hotel. I noticed that the water in the bathtub was…brown. Uh, that can’t be good for you, right? Must be from the pipes, right? Right? Figuring that I’d been showering in it anyway, I decided to get in. But it was still kind of unsettling, even though it helped with the cold.
The rain continued to pick up after I returned to the hotel, vindicating my choice to blow off the final trail. Unfortunately, that night I picked up another bad habit. I sampled the “dulce de leche” at the hotel’s dinner buffet, and was immediately hooked like Paris Hilton on her herself. For anyone who hasn’t had it, its sort of a cake frosting consistency, and it takes like pralines without the pecans. The Argentines put it on everything; I’ve seen it at every food establishment, and its offered like butter or jam. The New Zealand woman I visited (see two entries from now) agreed with me and said she has to eat it at every meal, and puts it on toast. I think I can avoid that, but boy is that some good eatin’!
Tomorrow-on to Salta.
Unlike yesterday’s “Houston in May” weather, today begins as, and largely remains, a “Houston in January” day. That is, after it rained pretty heavily all through the night, its now cool and cloudy. Not exactly jungle weather. I had in mind something more Bridge On the River Kwai than this. People are wearing sweaters all around, not furs. I wore some cargo shorts, and, as a nod to the cooler weather, a long sleeve t-shirt (as you will see later, my Big Lebowski vest would have come in very handy). As I wait for the eight peso round trip bus to (and from) the Falls, I notice a fairly large squad of military types in the bus station waiting area. These guys were definitely more professional than the locals, and in keeping with the ongoing Romancing the Stone theme, I wonder if they’re General Zolo’s special police force. Turns out they are “gendarmes,” a quasi-military security force with jurisdiction throughout the country. Why they’re traveling on commercial buses instead of their own equipment is beyond me. A naval base is located in Puerto Iguazu proper (as opposed to the Puerto Iguazu metropolitan area). I saw some guys playing, what else, soccer in front of it yesterday.
I arrived at the falls after a 30 minute bus ride at the crack of 10:15, later than I wanted but earlier than I was getting to places in Buenos Aires. The bus made several stops to pick up native workers who sell crafts at spots in the visitors’ center. On the bus, I discovered a heretofore unknown (to me) type: Traveler Guy. And Traveler Guy’s Chick. To be fair, there are Traveler Girls (mainly, haven’t seen many women that appear to be in excess of 35 that fit this description), but its mainly guys. I’m referring to people whose “profession,” as it were, is traveling. They don’t seem to have a lot of money of their own, and stay in hostels or camp in places (or even stay on the streets in some cases), working odd jobs to pay for their expenses. They find the dirt cheapest way to get to the next town, the next site, and the next adventure. They have schedules but not goals; they just keep on going down the road. I ran across Traveler Guy in fairly large numbers in Puerto Iguazu, but didn’t really get to see him up close and in action til the bus ride to the Falls. I stood near where a Ben Kingsley-ish looking Australian guy was seated next to his age-inappropriate girlfriend, as they swapped travel war stories with a 20-ish looking Japanese woman travel writer. Places with no water, going for weeks without baths, missed busses, sleeping on the ground, working very odd odd jobs to earn money. Traveler Guy has seen it all, and is living his mid-life crisis (or avoiding taking a real job) all over the world. Traveler Girl seems to be a bit different. Traveler Girl seems to be about the outdoor experience. Traveler Guy is about going to the next place, while Traveler Girl seems to be about the activity at the next place. I saw a few groups or couples of Traveler Girl in the town and at the park, all geared up, all ready to take on the Falls and the jungle adventures that lay beyond. Me? I need a shower and a mattress. The product of a decadent Western lifestyle, perhaps, but at least I’m not still trying to get even with Daddy by renouncing clean water and toilet paper. Signed the Peace Corps. Living your life like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song doesn’t make you a hero, just a douche.
Where was I?
The bus let us off at the visitor’s center, where I paid the 40 peso (roughly $13) admission fee. That’s pretty good compared to US national parks. The visitor’s center was pretty lame. Not much help at all. It was really just a collection of souvenir and craft shops, sandwich and food stands, and stands for private vendors to sell their “jungle adventure” trips, such as chartering a boat to get close to the Falls. Nor were there many park employees about to answer questions. Iguazu Falls is on the Brazil/Argentina border. It’s a collection of several different falls as the river first takes a sharp turn south and then bends back to the north. Argentina and Brazil each have their own national parks on their respective sides of the Falls. According to the guidebooks and the people with whom I spoke, the Argentine side has a more accessible trail network allowing you to see a greater amount, while the Brazilian park has better views but lacks much of a trail network. I didn’t get a visa to visit Brazil so I’m sticking to the Argentina side, which is just as well because with the gray weather, the views from the Brazil side probably aren’t what they are normally. The Argentina park has four main trail systems—an upper circuit (which takes you to the top of many of the falls), a lower circuit (which goes closer to the lower falls), the “Garganta del Diablo” trail (this is a bit further down river, where there’s one incredibly large falls site, and the more isolated Mascuco Trail, leading to the Sendero Falls. An “eco train,” powered interestingly enough by natural gas, runs between three small stations connecting the trailheads for the upper and lower circuit, the Garganta del Diablo, and the main visitors’ center.
I started out hiking to the upper circuit, and was joined by a young park employee on his way to his information post. He was fairly fluent in English, and related some of the more interesting sites in the park. He was interested in where I was from in the US. He also said he’d never left Puerto Iguazu his whole life, but wanted to go somewhere else like Patagonia or Salta for something new in life. After he made it to his post, I hit the upper circuit trail. Turns out this wasn’t really “hiking” per se; these are mostly easy, level walks on a metal catwalk with hand rails on either side. Although the metal was wet from the misting rain that was starting, they were hardly difficult to navigate. My preparations for a jungle hike obviously were totally unnecessary. The upper circuit actually runs over the Iguazu River for about a third of a mile perhaps, with viewing points at each individual section of the falls. The layout isn’t like Niagara—Iguazu is a collection of numerous individual falls. You’ll walk for a bit and then be at the top of the next falls, then walk some more through some forest, then be back over water til you get to the next viewing point. The catwalk doesn’t extend the entire way over the falls, obviously, but it goes out a fair ways. Lots of people seem to be out today, despite the weather. Throughout my stay there I saw lots of informal and formal groups from all over. That makes some sense; virtually all of the few Argentinians with whom I’ve spoken about my trip have said Iguazu is a real highlight and a prized place.
Then I walked back to the trailhead to go to the lower circuit. This takes you closer to where the falls hit the river section below. On a pretty day I imagine you can see a number of rainbows, but not today. In fact, as I approach the lower portion of the Dos Hermanos falls, it starts to rain in earnest. Luckily, some of my “jungle hike” preparations involved buying the six peso yellow rain pancho at the local bus station (thus allowing me to look like a transparent banana). Its actually quite effective for the money, so I soldier on, continuing to take dozens of photos.
Both circuits took about an hour and a half. So I headed to the train station to get out to the Garganta del Diablo. Normally I would have walked it, as it runs past some nice scenery next to the water, but the trail map said it would take about an hour and a half, and the cold and rain were starting to become difficult. With the rain picking up, it seemed to be getting colder as well. I’ll do cold, and I’ll do rain, but ordinarily I won’t do cold and rain. Having paid the small fortune I did to get to that point, I wasn’t willing to just pack it in, so I took the train and decided to see as much as I could before I gave out.
The trail to the Garganta del Diablo was much more interesting. It crossed much more open river space, as well as some really interesting forest stretches that had lots of birds. I couldn’t see most of them because they were hidden in the high tree canopy, but I did get a couple of good photos. You can tell that in more normal weather, this must be a very mosquitoey place. One funny little thing, there were several signs throughout the park warning about snakes. At one spot on the Garganta trail, I was looking at just such a sign and thinking very carefully about that and actually looking on the ground for snakes (stupid, since it must have been about 46 or 47 degrees out). At that moment, the bottom part of my poncho just grazed one of my calves. I jumped like I was having a seizure (or a kid who’s just lost his toy). How James Bond of me.
The viewing point gives a very close and intense view of these rushing falls. The backspray was everywhere. To add emphasis, they preserved an old section of the previous catwalk that had been washed out by a 1992 flood (according to the sign placed on it). Huge chunks of concrete were lying about. Incredible to think a flood could do that, but ask what little is left of Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi about that.
Because I started shivering, I decided to blow off the Mascuco Trail and instead decided to head back to town. Turned out to be a good choice. On the train I couldn’t stay awake. Waiting for the bus, I had an outstanding “Havanna” hot chocolate, the previously mentioned local chocolate brand. It helped a bit, but I instead took a bath when I returned to the hotel. I noticed that the water in the bathtub was…brown. Uh, that can’t be good for you, right? Must be from the pipes, right? Right? Figuring that I’d been showering in it anyway, I decided to get in. But it was still kind of unsettling, even though it helped with the cold.
The rain continued to pick up after I returned to the hotel, vindicating my choice to blow off the final trail. Unfortunately, that night I picked up another bad habit. I sampled the “dulce de leche” at the hotel’s dinner buffet, and was immediately hooked like Paris Hilton on her herself. For anyone who hasn’t had it, its sort of a cake frosting consistency, and it takes like pralines without the pecans. The Argentines put it on everything; I’ve seen it at every food establishment, and its offered like butter or jam. The New Zealand woman I visited (see two entries from now) agreed with me and said she has to eat it at every meal, and puts it on toast. I think I can avoid that, but boy is that some good eatin’!
Tomorrow-on to Salta.
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