J. Dillon
03-10-2004, 06:53 PM
Amazon Jungle and the Galapagos
Getting there and day 1
Miami's International waiting room for connecting flight to Quito Equador was filling up fast. Johanna was reading as usual while I stretched my legs. Actually my purpose was to spot carry on luggage bearing a yellow tag reading OAT, "Overseas Adventure Travel". This would identify other participants for the Amazon Jungle / Galapagos Tour. Approaching my seat a small voice from a huge woman addressed me in an inquiring tone: "Are you on the OAT tour to the Amazon?" Surprised, I replied, "yes". It seems she had spotted my carry on bag tag . She introduced herself along with her husband, almost as big. Combined I'd say 700 lbs wouldn't be a far off guess. Both were destined for the jungle and the lava cones of the Galapagos. I sat down and chatted a bit but my mind recalled the descriptive brochure that emphasized physical fitness.
Pushed back against the neck rest we roared aloft, the ground dropping away while low clouds enveloped the Quito bound jet. As the plane leveled out, motorized canoes and narrow dugouts came to mind. OAT mentioned we would be using both. Cathy and Manuel boarding? Well, both had a lower center of gravity then I. But hiking the swampy bogs and rough rock terrain described ... who am I to judge? Maybe both in better shape then I.
21:30 Darkened Quito is on the same time zone as eastern US, so we didn't have to deal with jet lag. "Pack light, use soft bags, take only absolutely what you need," the descriptive brochure emphasized. Johanna and I plucked off our bag each from the primitive carousel. Marcello, our welcoming guide seemed to be waiting patiently but underneath I detected his apprehension as my new friends pulled bag after bag from the rumbling belt. Three each and 50 lbs over the limit.
At breakfast we met the other thirteen of our party. Most were escaping the northern winter. Couples from Maine, Ohio, Montana and other icy states were represented. Then Golda a mis- placed divorced NYC snow bird appeared. She now makes Boca Raton her home and proved to be the most memorable character of our assorted group. "I want everyone to know I'm deathly afraid of snakes, no jokes even", was her first pronouncement at our first briefing. Sheesh, I thought, why did she book this venture? Marcello quickly responded "We'll be lucky if we see any".
Boarding the bus the mixed bag of fifteen armed with cameras and water bottles were bound for a one day tour of Quito. This 9,300 ft high capital is more steep to get around than San Francisco. It's impossible to go straight for long in any direction which is mostly up or down. Our first destination was to be an orchestra concert at the local center for disabled children. With patient guidance from a inspired volunteer maestro this multi-aged group put on a memorable performance. If any lacked genuine talent they could shake a tambourine at the right moment but most played with proficiency and gusto. Everyone had a part, some dancing in colorfull costumes.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p1c88739d5e6466273c029013e886a704/f961b1cf.jpg
Children at a local Quito market
Our bus now chugged through the outskirts of the city revealing more of the poorer sections. Barren walls sported the typical graffiti seen everywhere. Equador was experiencing a drought which was to affect our venture markedly. Dust trailed beat up cars that nearly clipped emaciated dogs. The streets were relatively clean, at least from litter.
As we departed the bus, order prevailed .We had arrived at the Equator. Probably the show place of Quito.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p3f13e479f43fad1d12ddef7b3f28365f/f961f123.jpg
The Equator according to the French
(see 00o00'00" for other pics)
Marcello stationed himself at the door to see how Cathy and Manuel handled their 700 lbs ducking and stepping off the bus. With a bit of guidance it went well. The rest emerged dribbling past the ticket taker as Marcello arranged our admittance.
A bit of history:
In 1736, a French scientific expedition, the Mission Geodesica, traveled to this region of the Andes, then part of the Spanish colony of Gran Colombia. Today it is Equador. Their mission was an attempt to determine the exact location and circumference of the Equator. Using the best instrumentation available they succeeded in marking off this 0o of latitude
The French were not the first to determine the precise location of the Equator. Thirty-five hundred years ago, the ancient peoples of the Andes used this area to make precise astronomical observations as well. With no written language, they were nonetheless able to undertake a study of the heavens so thorough that they were able to fix the exact location of the Equator – more accurately even than the French team 3,300 years later, who were in fact off by some seven seconds (about 350 meters)! A stone circle on a nearby hilltop, long thought to be an old animal pen, was discovered to be, in fact, an ancient marker for the Equator.
Today, Senor Padilla, Director of Mitad del Mundo Museum ("The Middle of the World") proudly displays his GPS displaying the 00o00'00" but this is about 900 feet to the south of the previously established French line. He has arranged an interesting artsy open air museum in sharp contrast to the elaborate French exhibit displaying busts of scientists aligned along the line topped with a globe on a pyramid.
Senor Padilla proves his accuracy of the line by low tech means as well as his Magellan GPS. A basin of water with a stopper sits over a bucketl located on the Equator line. Senor Padilla pulls the plug and the water drains directly below through a 1" hole with no turbulence. The basin, bucket and all is relocated about 1 meter to the North, filled once again. The plug is pulled, and the water drains but this time with a counter clock wise rotation. Now all is again moved 1 meter
South of the line, stopper pulled and the water drains with a clockwise swirl. The Coriolis effect.
Most third world countries charge for toilet use so a pocket of change is a good carry. However this excursion to Equator had no such annoyance. The US coins ( the accepted currency here) jangled heavily in my pocket and could be applied to other purchases.
Above the display of shrunken heads were two skins of rather large constrictors. I glanced at Golda whose attention seemed riveted on the lecturer relating just how this Shamman's head got that way. Scull bones removed, various spells and a bit of dry heat, a few stitches here and there, and you have shrunken Moboto to adorn the shelves of the souvenir shop forever to awe hordes of tourists. Maybe he's still casting a spell .Golda ignored the snakes. A smiling weaver plied his trade as some of us shed the Yankee dollar agreeing on bartered prices for the fruits of his labor.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p3120f62d98d84fb8ec39d32364d891ab/f961b1cc.jpg
Weaver plying his trade
Back on the bus we were bound for lunch at a cloister . Clouds now obscured the sun but too late for Cathy. Her face and neck were bright red. She forgot to apply her sun block , it was back at the hotel. I offered mine and she liberally applied it. This visit was new to the itinerary of OAT and it became immediately obvious to all of us passing under its arched entrance. It just wasn't designed for a large sudden influx of bladder full tourists. A one seater had to do for all genders. This consumed 45 minutes of precious time. At last we were seated at the dining room whose walls depicted various saints and sisters long past. Wine accompanied the meal which was plain but nourishing. A couple of us spoke a smattering of Spanish but Marcello speeded things up translating questions to Mother Superior. I inquired about how applications were doing in this materialistic world. A long waiting list was the reply. Many were eager to renounce the outside and spend their entire life in silence, prayer and meditation behind these walls. Only immediate family members can visit. We inspected their church which stood over a catacomb that featured an echo chamber if you spoke in the dead center. It was for confessions and all could hear your sins.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/pbf81e3e7f54a4eb63c8c57725344dbe1/f961b1cd.jpg
By now a dimming sun was dropping low in the still somewhat cloudy sky as vague shadows lengthened. Marcello droned on about the sights of the city . Still aboard our bus we were only to have a glimpse of the cathedral boasted of earlier. Time had run out.
From the window of our 6th floor room we could can see the bustle of the street and internet cafés seemed to be everywhere. Golda had already changed her room complaining it was "too much like a cell".
During dinner that evening Marcello related the itinerary for tomorrow. After 06:00 breakfast we were to embark a 08:00 jet for Coca a small town deeper into the interior. A short bus ride would take us to board motorized canoes bound 40 miles down the Napo river, then a 4 mile. trek through the jungle. Cathy winced as her spouse squeezed her still sun reddened hand.
After wine and a fish dinner we got further acquainted the rest of our travelers. Jim from Maine and his divorcing girl friend Jane, viewed the coming water trip with much apprehension. He suffered from acute motion sickness. Jane reassured him and had a battery of relief which included pills, wrist bands and hopefully the favorable wink of Moboto. (Ample amounts of beer would help too).
Part 2 to follow
JD
Getting there and day 1
Miami's International waiting room for connecting flight to Quito Equador was filling up fast. Johanna was reading as usual while I stretched my legs. Actually my purpose was to spot carry on luggage bearing a yellow tag reading OAT, "Overseas Adventure Travel". This would identify other participants for the Amazon Jungle / Galapagos Tour. Approaching my seat a small voice from a huge woman addressed me in an inquiring tone: "Are you on the OAT tour to the Amazon?" Surprised, I replied, "yes". It seems she had spotted my carry on bag tag . She introduced herself along with her husband, almost as big. Combined I'd say 700 lbs wouldn't be a far off guess. Both were destined for the jungle and the lava cones of the Galapagos. I sat down and chatted a bit but my mind recalled the descriptive brochure that emphasized physical fitness.
Pushed back against the neck rest we roared aloft, the ground dropping away while low clouds enveloped the Quito bound jet. As the plane leveled out, motorized canoes and narrow dugouts came to mind. OAT mentioned we would be using both. Cathy and Manuel boarding? Well, both had a lower center of gravity then I. But hiking the swampy bogs and rough rock terrain described ... who am I to judge? Maybe both in better shape then I.
21:30 Darkened Quito is on the same time zone as eastern US, so we didn't have to deal with jet lag. "Pack light, use soft bags, take only absolutely what you need," the descriptive brochure emphasized. Johanna and I plucked off our bag each from the primitive carousel. Marcello, our welcoming guide seemed to be waiting patiently but underneath I detected his apprehension as my new friends pulled bag after bag from the rumbling belt. Three each and 50 lbs over the limit.
At breakfast we met the other thirteen of our party. Most were escaping the northern winter. Couples from Maine, Ohio, Montana and other icy states were represented. Then Golda a mis- placed divorced NYC snow bird appeared. She now makes Boca Raton her home and proved to be the most memorable character of our assorted group. "I want everyone to know I'm deathly afraid of snakes, no jokes even", was her first pronouncement at our first briefing. Sheesh, I thought, why did she book this venture? Marcello quickly responded "We'll be lucky if we see any".
Boarding the bus the mixed bag of fifteen armed with cameras and water bottles were bound for a one day tour of Quito. This 9,300 ft high capital is more steep to get around than San Francisco. It's impossible to go straight for long in any direction which is mostly up or down. Our first destination was to be an orchestra concert at the local center for disabled children. With patient guidance from a inspired volunteer maestro this multi-aged group put on a memorable performance. If any lacked genuine talent they could shake a tambourine at the right moment but most played with proficiency and gusto. Everyone had a part, some dancing in colorfull costumes.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p1c88739d5e6466273c029013e886a704/f961b1cf.jpg
Children at a local Quito market
Our bus now chugged through the outskirts of the city revealing more of the poorer sections. Barren walls sported the typical graffiti seen everywhere. Equador was experiencing a drought which was to affect our venture markedly. Dust trailed beat up cars that nearly clipped emaciated dogs. The streets were relatively clean, at least from litter.
As we departed the bus, order prevailed .We had arrived at the Equator. Probably the show place of Quito.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p3f13e479f43fad1d12ddef7b3f28365f/f961f123.jpg
The Equator according to the French
(see 00o00'00" for other pics)
Marcello stationed himself at the door to see how Cathy and Manuel handled their 700 lbs ducking and stepping off the bus. With a bit of guidance it went well. The rest emerged dribbling past the ticket taker as Marcello arranged our admittance.
A bit of history:
In 1736, a French scientific expedition, the Mission Geodesica, traveled to this region of the Andes, then part of the Spanish colony of Gran Colombia. Today it is Equador. Their mission was an attempt to determine the exact location and circumference of the Equator. Using the best instrumentation available they succeeded in marking off this 0o of latitude
The French were not the first to determine the precise location of the Equator. Thirty-five hundred years ago, the ancient peoples of the Andes used this area to make precise astronomical observations as well. With no written language, they were nonetheless able to undertake a study of the heavens so thorough that they were able to fix the exact location of the Equator – more accurately even than the French team 3,300 years later, who were in fact off by some seven seconds (about 350 meters)! A stone circle on a nearby hilltop, long thought to be an old animal pen, was discovered to be, in fact, an ancient marker for the Equator.
Today, Senor Padilla, Director of Mitad del Mundo Museum ("The Middle of the World") proudly displays his GPS displaying the 00o00'00" but this is about 900 feet to the south of the previously established French line. He has arranged an interesting artsy open air museum in sharp contrast to the elaborate French exhibit displaying busts of scientists aligned along the line topped with a globe on a pyramid.
Senor Padilla proves his accuracy of the line by low tech means as well as his Magellan GPS. A basin of water with a stopper sits over a bucketl located on the Equator line. Senor Padilla pulls the plug and the water drains directly below through a 1" hole with no turbulence. The basin, bucket and all is relocated about 1 meter to the North, filled once again. The plug is pulled, and the water drains but this time with a counter clock wise rotation. Now all is again moved 1 meter
South of the line, stopper pulled and the water drains with a clockwise swirl. The Coriolis effect.
Most third world countries charge for toilet use so a pocket of change is a good carry. However this excursion to Equator had no such annoyance. The US coins ( the accepted currency here) jangled heavily in my pocket and could be applied to other purchases.
Above the display of shrunken heads were two skins of rather large constrictors. I glanced at Golda whose attention seemed riveted on the lecturer relating just how this Shamman's head got that way. Scull bones removed, various spells and a bit of dry heat, a few stitches here and there, and you have shrunken Moboto to adorn the shelves of the souvenir shop forever to awe hordes of tourists. Maybe he's still casting a spell .Golda ignored the snakes. A smiling weaver plied his trade as some of us shed the Yankee dollar agreeing on bartered prices for the fruits of his labor.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/p3120f62d98d84fb8ec39d32364d891ab/f961b1cc.jpg
Weaver plying his trade
Back on the bus we were bound for lunch at a cloister . Clouds now obscured the sun but too late for Cathy. Her face and neck were bright red. She forgot to apply her sun block , it was back at the hotel. I offered mine and she liberally applied it. This visit was new to the itinerary of OAT and it became immediately obvious to all of us passing under its arched entrance. It just wasn't designed for a large sudden influx of bladder full tourists. A one seater had to do for all genders. This consumed 45 minutes of precious time. At last we were seated at the dining room whose walls depicted various saints and sisters long past. Wine accompanied the meal which was plain but nourishing. A couple of us spoke a smattering of Spanish but Marcello speeded things up translating questions to Mother Superior. I inquired about how applications were doing in this materialistic world. A long waiting list was the reply. Many were eager to renounce the outside and spend their entire life in silence, prayer and meditation behind these walls. Only immediate family members can visit. We inspected their church which stood over a catacomb that featured an echo chamber if you spoke in the dead center. It was for confessions and all could hear your sins.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid107/pbf81e3e7f54a4eb63c8c57725344dbe1/f961b1cd.jpg
By now a dimming sun was dropping low in the still somewhat cloudy sky as vague shadows lengthened. Marcello droned on about the sights of the city . Still aboard our bus we were only to have a glimpse of the cathedral boasted of earlier. Time had run out.
From the window of our 6th floor room we could can see the bustle of the street and internet cafés seemed to be everywhere. Golda had already changed her room complaining it was "too much like a cell".
During dinner that evening Marcello related the itinerary for tomorrow. After 06:00 breakfast we were to embark a 08:00 jet for Coca a small town deeper into the interior. A short bus ride would take us to board motorized canoes bound 40 miles down the Napo river, then a 4 mile. trek through the jungle. Cathy winced as her spouse squeezed her still sun reddened hand.
After wine and a fish dinner we got further acquainted the rest of our travelers. Jim from Maine and his divorcing girl friend Jane, viewed the coming water trip with much apprehension. He suffered from acute motion sickness. Jane reassured him and had a battery of relief which included pills, wrist bands and hopefully the favorable wink of Moboto. (Ample amounts of beer would help too).
Part 2 to follow
JD