Monday, August 18

Location: Cuzco, Peru

Today's weather: 13░C.

This morning we got up early, had breakfast, then jumped into the canoe which would take us back to the airstrip so that we could catch the plane to Cuzco. This, our final canoe ride, was mostly very silent – apart from Rick telling me of a movie plot that he'd been thinking. His description made it sound a bit like a sci-fi porn movie spoof – though Rick swore that this wasn't the intention. Rick said he might work on a script to trying selling it to a movie studio. When I finally stopped laughing, I wished him luck. I then spent most of our final canoe ride finishing off the book that I'd brought along with me (The Cloud Forest, by Peter Matheisson) which I'd promised to give to Tino on my arrival back in Cuzco.

The early morning views along the river were terrific. In some places there was still a thick mist on the river and in the surrounding trees, but the mist soon burned off as the morning sun became brighter and hotter. Eventually, the scene was one of bright and vibrant colours in the morning light – the soft blue of the sky, the light brown of the water, and the deep greens of the surrounding forest. I looked up from my book and just watched the scenery go by. Walter was still pointing out birds.

We arrived at the airstrip shortly before 8am. We heard a plane in the distance, and watched it arrive – touching down on the far-end of the airstrip then taxiing along close to where we we waiting. A huge cloud of dust followed behind it. The doors opened, and several people climbed out. I was just about to climb on when someone pointed out that it wasn't our plane. Instead, it took off again and returned to Cuzco empty.

We sat down at waited again. Fortunately, there was a cool and comfortable place for us to sit – a small open-sided building which had been built next to the airstrip during its time occupied by the Peruvian army. There was even a little tourist booth of sorts. It had some Indian fishing arrows for sale, although they didn't look particularly solid or well made. I guessed that they'd been made for the sole purpose of being sold to tourists. There were some local kids playing around us. Rick growled at them when they ran in front of him – their running caused the floor of the building to shake, disrupting Rick who was sitting at a table writing in his journal. I liked the kids, so gave them my binoculars to play with for a while. They ran down the airstrip, taking turns to look at each other through the binoculars, then turning to look at birds, and anything other interesting objects around. When they got back, the mother of the German family gave them the small packet of biscuits out of her snack bag (we'd been given a small bag of snacks at the beginning of each day). This REALLY pleased the kids. Nadine (the 20 year old daughter in the German family) gave them her bag, then Rick gave them his, and the German mother gave them another two from of the others' bags. Eventually, the kids had a whole lot of biscuits and very big smiles. They must have thought it was their lucky day.

The plane was still nowhere to be seen. Walter called Cuzco airport on the airstrip's radio to ask where the plane was. He was told that the plane had only just taken off from Cuzco and would arrive in another half hour. In the meantime, he discussed something with the person on the radio – it sounded as if he was going through a big shopping list, the inventory of supplies being brought in for him on the plane. Finally, after what seemed like a long time of waiting, the plane arrived.

We said goodbye to Walter, and thanked him for all his help. Rick and I also said goodbye to Pancho and Allui who been with us for the entire trip – driving our canoe, serving us with food, helping us with tents, and many other things. Rick gave Pancho his gumboots (which he'd no longer need) and I gave Alliu a brand new Telecom t-shirt which had been sitting in my pack. I grinned at the thought that somewhere in the Amazon there would now be a second-boatman, wearing a bright purple t-shirt and wondering what a "Telecom" was.

The plane was a Canadair Twin-Otter, the same one that had picked up Tino, Rob, and Paula a few days before. On the inside it looked as if it'd been well-used. The bright-green vinyl seats and fake-wood trim had definitely seen better days – and then I started worrying about the plane's airworthiness and maintenance history. The plane belonged to the Peruvian Air Force, and I consoled myself with the fact that they probably knew what they were doing. There were already other passengers inside, including several large Peruvian women who seemed to be having problems squeezing into the tiny seats. Rick and I both grabbed seats by the window so that we could have views of the rainforest below us.

The plane got ready to take off. It turned around to face down the airstrip, and increased the power to its engines so that my ears started to ring. Then we were off rattling down the bumpy runway, until the plane lifted off and the rattling stopped.

The view flying over rainforest was fantastic, although marred slightly by the plane's old scratched perspex windows. There were brown rivers snaking through dark green forest. From the air, the forest looked like a dark green carpet that covered the ground for as far as the eye could see. Occasionally I could see the sun reflecting from underneath the trees, probably some small forest stream.

About 10 minutes after take-off, our plane started descending again. I guessed that this was the stop for the rest of the passengers. We flew over a large area of land where the rainforest had been cleared and there was just brown dirt. It looked ugly and unnatural compared to the forest – I guessed that this was one of the local goldmines. There was a small town where we touched down. Because of the small size of the plane, and the difficulty of getting out the baggage, we all had to get off the plane and stand around on the runway. I looked around at the buildings – they were all rough and a little shabby. The town seemed to have the modern conveniences of electricity judging by all the cables and aerials. I watched as a big bright-yellow helicopter came into land. There were several other helicopters parked nearby, and I guessed that helicopters were probably one of the most practical ways for transporting men and heavy equipment in the area around the goldmine.

Finally we got back onboard. There were some new passengers among us – big and tough-looking goldminers, though they seemed friendly enough. The one sitting next to me had a big piece of gold set in his teeth which glittered whenever he smiled. When we flew back over the goldmine, he pointed downwards to indicate that was where he worked. I said that it must be very hard work, but he replied that they used lots of machinery so it wasn't too bad. Unfortunately that was about as far as our conversation could go since my Spanish was almost non-existent. There were big bulldozers and trucks scattered across the area. The nearby rivers and streams seemed bright orange – a result of all the mud and dirt which had been dumped into them as a result of the mining. I felt very sad at the destruction of the pristine rainforest in the area below me, to me this was more valuable than the gold which lay beneath it.

To cross back over the mountains to Cuzco, our plane had to fly very high. It climbed up to 18,000 ft (6,000 metres). But the air at this height was very thin – it contained very little oxygen. I looked around me and noticed that most of the people had fallen asleep or looked very drowsy, which I figured was the effect of the altitude. As we descended towards Cuzco (13,000 ft) everyone woke up again, and eagerly peered out the window. We landed at about 11am. I had been a little doubtful about the plane throughout our trip, so was glad that the flight was over (but also felt sad that my rainforest trip was now over, too). As I wandered across the tarmac to the airport terminal, I noticed that the wall of the VIP lounge appeared to be Inca stonework – and I thought that it would have been very strange if the Incas had built part of the airport (in reality, the stonework was probably just a modern-day replica). Outside the terminal there was a mini-bus waiting to meet us and drive us into town.

The mini-bus dropped everyone off at their hotels. I'd heard that it was possible to get a place for as cheap as $5 per night (I'd previously been paying $13, although the place was quite nice), so I resolved to find a new hotel. I got the mini-bus to drop me off on Plaza de Armas (in the centre of Cuzco) and walked around checking places to stay. Most of the places were $12 per night and didn't look so good – but then I found one around the corner called Hostel de Plateros. It cost $10 per night, but was much nicer that the other place that I'd stayed. The room was a double room with a television, telephone, and private bathroom (and hot water). Outside the rooms was a lobby with tables where it was comfortable for me to work.

After dumping my things in my room, I wandered back to the office of Expeditiones Manu to return the sleeping bag that I'd used, and to pick up my computer and other things which I'd left with them. I then spent much of the day wandering around town trying to find a book about the Manu Reserve that I'd seen at the Wildlife Centre and in the Expeditiones Manu office. The book had lots of beautiful photographs and a complete history of the reserve – but it was nowhere to be found, I discovered that the last copy had been sold the previous week and that none of the local bookshops had it. I felt very disappointed – though I thought that it might be possible to order it through the amazon.com Internet bookstore based in the USA where the book was printed.

On the way back to the hostel, I ran into Cathy. She said she'd been trying to get hold of Rick (she'd left messages at his hotel) but had just missed him. She was sure that they'd find each other eventually. We chatted for a while in the hotel lobby. She then went off to check some things in town, while I wandered down to the local Internet office to check my email and download the questions for this week's audioconference.

I returned to the hotel, and worked until the early evening trying to write notes and answers for the questions – although I feel asleep very early. I'd forgotten about the altitude changes at Cuzco and how it wears you out very quickly if you attempt to do too much.