Picking up loose threads: Iguazú Falls, Brazilian side

Sol Andino Hostel, La Paz

And here we are back in the highlands again after heat and high humidity. Coming to La Paz almost felt like coming home for me although we only spent a couple of days here last year. It is the whole atmosphere of the highlands where we have done most of our travelling in the last few years. This is the South America I love.

It is not without challenges to come from 400m above sea level to 3800m within one hour, of course. The 'exploding' lotion bottle this morning is a very visual reminder that the air pressure is low: no wonder our bodies need to adjust. We have to walk slowly, especially up the steep hills, and off and on I was plagued by headaches yesterday. Still – it's wonderful to be here!

We are not in any hurry to move on or even do and see a lot for a couple of days – every walk to buy a bottle of water provides enough stimulation – so I'm going to try and pick up a few loose ends from earlier parts of the trip.

It is very hard to believe, and I had to go back to the corresponding blog entry to make sure, but it was indeed only a week ago today that we visited the Brazilian side of the Iguazú Falls. How much distance, how many impressions lie between then and now, there and here! It is not difficult to find my way back there, however, because it is truly an awesome experience. The travel guide did not exaggerate when it said that a visit to the falls would not be complete without looking at them from both sides.

Again we boarded a bus at the terminal in Puerto Iguazú. It took about an hour to get to our destination, including the border crossing. Our bus driver who, it turned out, spoke German, collected everybody's passports and returned after a short while with the stamps – no hassle at all. Conditions were much less crowded than on the Argentinian side when we entered the generously laid out parking area in front of the park entrance. It will look different in high season, of course, but now the parking lot looked almost deserted, and we didn't have to stand in line to get our admission tickets. The park administration buildings are spacious and look almost new, and everything is well organized to process large groups of people – another indication that it is not always as quiet as now.

From the administation building double-decker shuttles, much like the sightseeing busses used for city tours, leave every fifteen minutes or so to take visitors to three different points within the park. The first two provide access to 'adventure tours' run by a private company, the last is the starting point to visit the falls.

We opt for the third stop, of course: first and foremost we are here to see the falls; anything else has time until later. The last bus to leave for Puerto Iguazú will be at the parking lot at five. Just as on the Argentinian side paved walkways make for comfortable walking. Here, there is only one choice, and together with a smattering of other tourists we are on our way down the path through the forest. Only a few metres along movement in the leaf litter beside the path catches our eye: a giant lizard quickly makes its way down the slope, not pausing long enough for a photo. Butterflies, too, are everywhere, many more than we saw the day before. They come in all shapes and sizes, displaying beautiful colours. I see a few among them that I have watched at the butterfly house in the Devonian Botanic Garden.

Turning the first corner we come out into the open – and gaze at an amazing sight. Waterfalls, one beside the other, as far as the eye can see. The very scenery we experienced up close yesterday we can now take in in one sweeping glance. 

  

The path descends slowly, and, just like at the rim walk along the Grand Canyon, every few metres the scenery changes, the view becomes more spectacular. The longer we walk, the further we descend the closer we get to all that roiling water again. 

The picture above is taken right across from where we stood the day before at the edge of the river, where the boats leave for a thrill ride almost right into the water roaring down the 'Garganta del Diablo', Devil's Throat. Once we were that close we decided we didn't need the extra thrill of the boat ride - how much more would this tourist adventure be able to give us anyway? Now, getting ever closer to the very spot from a different angle, able to watch the manoeuvering of the boats, we can see that it would have been even more exciting than we could have anticipated. Still, we are quite satisfied that we decided against it; it would, after all, been a 'man-made' thrill, and nothing that could have improved on the one Mother Nature held in store for us.  

The further we descend, the closer we get to 'Devil's Throat'. Even at the beginning of the walk we felt the mist from the falls from time to time, although they were far away then. Now, the path is wet, and the spray is becoming more steady. The roar of the water, now close by, increases by the minute.

A sign warns to put on rain gear and protect cameras etc: we are about to get wet. People coming uphill take off dripping wet raincoats. Turning another corner we can now see the whole amazing spectacle expecting us if we descend further: a footbridge with several viewing platforms will put us face to face with the Garganta del Diablo. We put on our rain jackets, I stick the camera in a ziplock bag I brought along, and bravely we enter the inferno. 

 

Within seconds we are totally drenched. Conversation has become almost impossible: the voice of the water overpowers everything else, and water is all around us, from the wall tumbling from above to our left to the masses dropping away at our feet. I stand in awe, close my eyes and feel almost lifted by the pure force of it, feel, for a moment, as if I am part of it. For a moment, there is only this – no people screaming to be heard above the voice of the falls, taking photographs, vying for the best spot – just the roiling water and me.

 

We walk uphill for a bit, out of reach of the spume, and sit down to watch a bit more from some distance away. We are both still in awe. How glad we are that we came here, too. We wouldn't have been able to imagine this. Once we've had our fill we walk back up to the shuttle station. We still have about two and a half hours left before the bus leaves for Puerto Iguazú. It would be nice to go for a little hike along one of the paths we passed by earlier.

What disappointment, however: when we inquire about the right trail to take we find out that these trails 'belong' to the adventure tour operators. They are used for their jeeps, 'eco-friendly' electric cars, and of course we could book either one of them and then hike or bike part of the way – that's the tour they offer. Couldn't we just hike for a while along the path, we ask. Only if we pay what we'd pay for the 'full experience'. This is ridiculous! We leave a comment in their suggestion box, but I doubt this will show any result. Why would they give up on a source of income from Iguazú-hungry tourists?

What to do with our time, then? We decide we might as well take the next shuttle back to the falls and enjoy them for a little bit longer.
 In the morning the clouds only parted from time to time, but now a brilliant blue sky spans over the foamy white rising from the falls. We find a bench under a big tree and unpack our lunch, as so often consisting of bread, cheese and water and enjoy the perfect view and relative quiet. We look up when we hear something stir above us and can hardly believe our luck: a toucan, its large, black-tipped orange beak almost translucent in the sun, light blue feet clutching a branch right over our heads. It isn't very shy, clambers about from branch to branch slowly, finally moves to the front of the tree. Wait – what is that twittering I hear now? It sounds exactly like – yes! The toucan climbs into a hollow left by a sawed-off branch, and the twittering stops almost immediately: there's a nest of little toucans right close to us. There is no question of seeing them, of course, but what a wonderful thought!

Once again we walk partway down the path, and it is as if we were meant to be rewarded for coming back. The sun has warmed the slope along which the path leads, and lizards and butterflies seem to enjoy this. A small lizard watches curiously from the shade of a railing post before darting away, and two more of the big lizards we saw in the morning slither through the undergrowth. They are huge, more than three, maybe four feet in length, and after many attempts to determine what they are the conclusion seems to be that these must be tegus. They stay off the path, and I have no real desire to see them any closer than they are. 

One more surprise lies in store for us: a small, armoured brown-grey animal with round, pink-brown, almost opaque ears is busily digging through the leaves on a slope right beside us: a three-banded armadillo, smaller than the nine-banded armadillo that can be found in the southern part of North America. It doesn't pay any attention to us, so engrossed is it in its search for food.

 

Satisfied and happy with this day we board the shuttle. We really could not have asked for anything more. 

Looking back, the Iguazú (or Iguaçu, as they are called in Brazil) Falls were the highlight of this year's South American travels, like Machu Picchu last year. We have a few days left, however, and tomorrow should be another interesting day: we will visit Tiwanaku, a pre-Columbian site about an hour and a half from La Paz.