The anaconda filled swamps.




For the most part excited, for the rest, made up and pouting furiously, we boarded the boat and shot down the river to what Pampas Man had told us the night before was the primo anaconda spotting swamp in the area. He might have been a little drunk, but I assume he was right. At least three quarters of the remaining tourists on various tours through these parts were also there, up to their knees in goo, desperately trying not to find an anaconda by the looks on their faces. This is the reason we went out and bought extra crappy clothes for the trip. With a fond farewell to dry land we took the plunge and headed out into what could loosely be termed water to find our snake.

Goo and more goo
Thinking back on our time in the Pantanal, specifically the palaver we went through getting Amanda through the rivers we had to ford I should have foreseen trouble. As I recall it wasn’t the threat of bulky creatures with big teeth, slimy creatures with big teeth or even strangly long creatures with big mouths that put her off. Rather if was the gooey sludge that lines the bottom of these Amazonian waterways that she has a problem with, that and the possibility of leaches. This fear was made worse by her trousers untucking from her socks about five steps in, then the water got really deep, about waist high, then Pampas Man took it upon himself to see how fast we could all move through four foot of smelly, tangle vine ridden, sticky swamp water. Not a good combination. Whilst the Irish girls were trying to keep up and the Dutch lads were forging ahead I was at the back convincing Amanda that we wanted to continue.

Pampas man and posse ready.



As the myriad groups of tourists all split up and headed deeper into the swamp our lot took our own path, at one point the water was seriously almost up to our necks, for Amanda it got a little too much. If she was going to see this snake then it could bloody well come to her. She sat on a little dry spot while the others went ahead, if they did see a snake they would come and tell us about it and we’d go and see. If they did see a snake it would be a miracle, considering the number of westerners tramping through the water I’d be surprised if there were any snakes within 100 miles anyway. I elected to wait behind as well, just to keep her company. We weren’t there long before our group returned, empty handed and having seen nothing but a whole lot more swamp. As it turned out only one group of tourists managed to actually catch a glimpse of an anaconda that day, and that was only a little baby one, hardly worth the effort. Still, I had enjoyed our swamp walk, and Amanda had achieved a great deal just getting to where she did. By this time we were all completely covered in muddy goo, the only thing to do was find a safe, dolphin patrolled spot in the river and go for a dip, fully clothed to try and clean ourselves off. My trainers have not been the same since.

Baby crocs.



That night, after dinner and a change of clothes, we took the boat out for an after dark crocodile hunt. Quietly skimming through the water, torches trained on every inch of bank we were confronted on all sides by the reflection of dozens of pairs of gleaming, reptilian eyes. Not the right time for a swim. At the right spot Pampas man showed his metal by fishing a fine two foot long baby specimen out of the water to pass around to everyone in the group for a photo opportunity. He said it was ok, that he was a trained professional handler. Not quite believable after the diminutive beastie nearly had his little finger off. Viciously sharp teeth these things have. I could imagine its mother looking on from the sidelines just waiting for one of us to trail our hands in the water for one second too long. On the way back it might have been my imagination but I could swear those eyes were looking at me with amusement, possibly hunger.





That was our last night in the pampas. The following day we spent about six hours taking the two hour trip to the truck, mainly because Pampas man wanted to come back with us to town but was wanted back at the camp for the next group. We stopped in a deserted campsite to wait for a while so he could avoid this group altogether, but his boss came past in his chauffeur driven canoe, sitting high above all the rest on his purpose fixed chair, and told him to get a move on. After a failed last try with Ruth we made it back to the truck in one piece and eventually arrived in Rurrenabaque, before nightfall.

Alive and happy


Cocktails and missing rings
We moved back in to our old room desperately in need of a shower, got our bags back and somehow liberally spread our stuff about as if we’d been living there for a month. We don’t have enough stuff however that we don’t know where everything is in what, to a layman would look like a total mess. After getting the hotel handyman to come and fix the hot water for our shower it was a surprise then to find that a ring (one that I’d given to Amanda one Valentines day hidden in a kinder egg) had gone missing from the bathroom. Amanda was sure she’d seen it there before but didn’t want to make a big thing about it before we went out.

Off to the pub with the Irish girls and two other girls we’d met in Rurre that we first knew in the Galapagos, they’d been with us on our boat, the Darwin Explorer all those months ago. It really is a small world when you travel. We stopped off at the agency to book our tour for the day after next, then tried to book flight tickets out of there to La Paz after we came back. There was no way on earth we would be going by bus. The office was closed when we tried though, and closed all the next day. Not good. At the bar we picked up a couple of Israeli guys we’d met before in the pampas and started to drink the half price cocktails all night. Amanda and I developed a taste for white Russians quite quickly and we were all soon completely wasted. All thoughts of missing rings forgotten, we staggered home and fell into bed for a well deserved night in a real room with walls and a roof where the crocodiles aren’t crawling slowly up the bank in an attempt to eat you.

The following morning, Amanda, sure that the caretaker had taken her ring went downstairs, a little less sure footed that she should have been, to have a word. At first he denied it, then, all hell broke loose after the manager caught them talking and sussed out what was going on. Apparently she’d been approached by two other guests that morning who’d had their digital camera taken from their locked room. As only the manager and the caretaker had the keys it didn’t take her very long for her to work out who’d done it. Of course he denied it and there was no other evidence, all she could do was shout at him… Until Amanda took him to one side again and said, “ok, I know it was you, just give me the ring”.

Idiot that he was, he did just that. Knowing that he was definitely the thief Amanda then went directly to the couple who’s camera had gone missing and the manager and told them what had happened… Then all hell broke loose. The guy who owned the camera tried to jump on him while his girlfriend was trying to stop him, the manager looked fit to break his skull with a frying pan and Amanda was trying to talk him into giving himself up. Enter the police.

A Bolivian jail cell for the handy man.
The cops managed to convince him that it would be better to own up, he went to his friends car and produced the camera. He’d already managed to change the language over to Spanish so he could sell it off to a local. Unfortunately he’d also wiped the memory card, and another memory card that he’d filched along with it. These contained about three months of the only copies of photo’s they had of their travels. The girl was in tears, she didn’t care about the camera, which could be replaced. The pictures however were priceless and this janitor had casually wiped them forever. Her boyfriend really did look like he was ready for murder. Amanda took a few snaps of the scene surreptitiously; we didn’t want to rub it in. Carted away by the police, we later heard that he got a couple of years for his idiot crime. Tourism is very important indeed for this town, I suppose the local law don’t take any chances when it comes to the locals livelihoods. As for the janitor, the manager told us he’d been working there for years, I think seeing a years salary sitting in from of him every day just got too much for him. He wasn’t too clever about it though, with a little forethought I think he could have been onto a winner. Oh well.

That night, on the way to the bar outside of town we passed the main square where they were having a party night and craft market to celebrate the end of the local villages football tournament that had dominated the lives of the locals since we’d arrived. The quality of the stuff there, everything from candle holders to carved wooden bowls, was really good. It took all of my persuading to convince Amanda that another set of teak chopping boards were a bad idea when living out of a rucksack.

Allowing the Irish girls to lead us astray again we went to bad late once again that night. Our bags were once more, packed and ready to store, all our dirty clothes had been lovingly washed and ironed by the laundry down the road, and they’d even scrubbed our trainers. Tomorrow we’d be off to the jungle, more commonly known as the Amazon rainforest. Neither of us believed it would be a deep spiritual experience, most obviously because two of the Irish girls were coming along too (Sinead was staying behind, one too many cold eggs had given her a bad case of gut-rot). We were just in it for the craik by this point. Roll on Rurrenabaque.