Jungle Book

The next chapter in our travels sore us the next day heading to the manu national park on mountain bikes, staying in a eco lodge in the Amazon basin. We were to take part in a lot of down hill mountain biking, which for my heart rate and thighs was a good thing. But as far as my wrists and Gooch were concerned the second day was like riding a horse with a concrete saddle.

We biked with a guide (Daniel) who’s English was good enough that he even had a sense of humour. The only thing more miraculous than being able to have a good laugh with our Peruvian guide was being able to have one with our German support crew driver (Jorg).

Both of the guys were fantastic and were very passionate about nature. The jeep would sometimes be brought to a slamming halt because an Alpaca was sniffing some Lama poo. When they spotted an Animal of interest they were like a bunch of computer technicians when Halo 3 came out; levels of excitement and joy that are only warranted if you really have no life at all.

The first night we camped on top of a ridge overlooking the Amazon. The view was quite something. It was cold though I might add and whilst our guides seemingly knew everything about the birds, bees, plants surviving in the jungle they had no idea how to construct a fire. Daniel was trying to get a pile of rather damp blue gum logs going with a piece of paper the size of a bus ticket. Realising a fire was as likely to happen as vegan women shaving her arm pits we quickly took control of the situation and got it sorted.

The second day was 50km of back jolting, wrist breaking and sperm count lowering on a road best described as not good*. At the bottom we had a short 15 minute hike up to the eco lodge. The Amazon jungle was incredible. It seems like everything is alive. You step off the track onto a thick bit of grass and the whole ground moves as hundreds of insects and frogs jump and scurry away. When we went for hikes Smithy would take charge of the camera and ask me to walk in front on the off chance that if I was attacked by a Jaguar at least he could get it a great shot or perhaps a video to stick on utube. At once stage I noticed he had managed to hang a piece of raw meat on the back of my shorts to try to spice things up.

We asked the guides what animal was to be most feared in the Jungle. Surprisingly it was not the Jaguar, the Anaconda or even the Piranha but a very small fish called the Penis fish. This fish apparently lives in the water and is attracted to urine and if it gets the chance swims up the end of your willey causing quite some discomfort. Often having to be surgically removed. How much more effecitve would it work if teachers told boys if they want to pee in the school pool that the Penis fish might get them instead of the old special chemical that turns red myth. Needless to say that washing nude or going commando at any stage in case those little suckers can jump, was completely out of the question.

* other terms were used at the time such as “whoever maintains this road is a loser” ,“hang on a minute I am paying to ride a bike down this road” and “this is bloody ridiculous”,