Pusharo and the search for Paititi, the lost city of gold (Part II)

To Pusharo

 What do we do now?…

The rain continued on its relentless rage throughout the entire night. In the morning we had no choice but to continue on our way to Pusharo. With our ponchos and day-packs ready to go we hiked to the river along with our three local friends who would take us upriver to Pusharo. Upon reaching the river we stood around in disbelief…the river had swollen nearly double in size. The once smooth flowing clear waters were now muddy torrents with rapids and every type of debris zooming past- everything got swollen up by the river. All six of us got into the boat and started making our painstakingly slow ascent upriver to Pusharo. After a few minutes it hit us…the air and rain were absolutely freezing and the ponchos did nothing to prevent us from getting wet. The rain was hitting us in every direction and boy, was it was cold! 

The man in the front had the most important job, steering us clear of debris flying our way and avoiding the rapids. We moved so slowly that he had no trouble pushing the boat side to side using his thick bamboo pole as leverage and to push away from obstacles. As we headed upstream I could see wild Blue-and-yellow macaws flying in pairs or larger groups. It was amazingly beautiful to see animals that we are so use to seeing locked up in cages flying gracefully through the open air. After about an hour we were completely soaking wet and trembling from the cold. We had no choice, we needed to stop. We pulled up along the embankment where there was a small path. We all got off and walked up the trail, when there sitting in the middle of the jungle, was the nicest little lodge I had ever seen. The lodge had solar panels and the only flushing toilets I have seen in a few days, “why couldn’t we have stayed here?!” Apparently, the place was only occupied a few times a year and reserved only for larger groups of people willing to pay a little extra. Had I known of its existence prior I would have easily shelled out a few extra bucks to have a flushing toilet at my disposal instead of a tiny outhouse squat toilet with tarantulas and spiders crawling all over the walls (no, seriously).

There we waited and waited, drying ourselves off and hoping that the rain would die down. There were no breaks in the clouds and the rain was consistent. After some time, Fernando decided to take off with the locals and assured me he would be back in a little. An hour or so passed when he returned and said we would leave in an hour once the rain stops.  I looked at him baffled and asked, “what makes you think the rain was going to stop in an hour?” To which he replied, “the shaman told me”. “Well, okay then…” Exactly one hour passed when sure enough, the rain stopped. I couldn’t believe it. I assumed that the locals who lived there knew the rain clouds well enough than we ever would. And even so, I refused to believe that the power of the rain would have been so easily influenced by some shamanic ritual as Fernando later implied. But hey, if it works, it works.

The misty clouds shrouded the surrounding hillsides and slowly began to open up as if it was unveiling itself to us for just this brief moment in time to glimpse into its ancient secret.

We jumped back on our boat and finally made it up to Pusharo after another long slow ride. It was lightly drizzling when behind a hillside we could see a massive 75 foot high smooth cliff face. The misty clouds shrouded the surrounding hillsides and slowly began to open up as if it was unveiling itself to us for just this brief moment in time to glimpse into its ancient secret. My excitement peaked as I ran up to the wall and gazed upwards. My first thoughts were of the first westerners who had come across the site almost 100 years ago and what they must have thought. Here I am now standing in amazement staring up at these ancient carvings that seemed to say something important that I had no way of understanding. It was as mysterious to me as it was to the local Matsiguenka who revered this as a sacred place. The lines were creative and purposeful, could they be a map of the rivers? And how about these countless long haired faces, could they represent tribes that existed here prior to the Matsiguenka? Endless thoughts continued to race through my mind of which there were no real answers.

To the Matisguenka, Pusharo is place to be revered. According to them, they do not wish to know anything more regarding it because it is something scared whose meaning should only be interpreted by a certain individual. Some people also maintain legends regarding its presence believing that behind the wall is a dwelling that holds sacred artifacts as well as more modern items (such as weapons). Regardless of the stories surrounding Pusharo it’s truly a fascinating piece of work. Pusharo really captures the imagination. An array of abstract lines and zig-zags can be seen on an area of 100 feet in length and roughly 9 feet in height which can be endlessly interpreted.  Psychologist and explorer Gregory Deyermenjian once said: “In the jungle, all words become softened. Pusharo would be the lowlander’s parlance for Pucharo, which some claimed was a corruption of the Quechua Pukara, meaning fortress, or of Puchu Karu, meaning far away remains”.  Deyermenjian was one of the leading explorers in the search for Paititi, the lost Inca city of gold, which led him to him to further explore Pusharo in 1991:

“Those who have commented upon Pusharo usually suggest any one of four possible interpretations. Some see it as a terrestrial map, with its various serpentine lines indicating rivers, mountains, and various other natural features. They see significance in the fact that it lies in a transitional zone between the lower selva and the highlands, thus being a crossroads for migrating populations that may have sculpted a map in the rock to record their wanderings, or the area from whence they came. Some see it as a gigantic map of the heavens. Some see in these Petroglyphs evidence of pre-Columbian trans-Atlantic contact.”

“The Petroglyphs of Pusharo strike most viewers as weird, confusing, and fascinating. We may never know what these glyphs mean. We may, however, be able to understand something of the psychological and cultural motivations behind their creation. Whenever it was that these petroglyphs were carved, the northwest Amazon would have been home to countless hundreds of Amerindian tribal groups. Although most of these groups lived far away from each other, they must have nonetheless shared many life experiences in their relatively similar physical environment. They also undoubtedly partook of the same hallucinogenic plants, especially Ayahuasca, but also Brugmansia. They must have seen similar visions, and expressed them graphically on their houses, on rocks by rivers, with an especially lush flowering of expression emerging at Pusharo.”  (Source: Petroglyphs of Pusharo)

After exploring the area briefly it was time to leave. We all knew the dangers of going down river with the current, but little could prepare us for what was to come. The water current was so strong we were at its mercy as we began to zoom by. It all came down to the navigator in the front with his bamboo pole to avoid the extreme rapids and fallen trees along the river.  20-30 minutes into our ride he lost control and we spun out slamming against the tree branches along the river’s edge. “Not too bad” I thought, looking around the boat. But I soon realized that there was a new level of unknown that I didn’t anticipate or even think about. Apparently, when it rains in the jungle all those insects you would normally see crawling or flying about take cover underneath the leaves of trees. When we crashed a thick layer of every type of insect you could imagine blanketed the boat…and there was nothing we could do. I tried knocking out of the boat the large spiders and tarantulas that I could reach. As we got back into the rivers flow, I could feel them crawling about…tarantulas…crawling up my face. I panicked as Fernando managed to pluck them off quickly.  But before we knew it, the current got too strong. I then heard his bamboo pole break and we lost control and crashed yet again. Even more insects began to cover the boat. Spiders were everywhere. I had taken off my boots when I entered to let them dry, however, now the boat was taking on water as I could see these large spiders floating back and forth on the water next to my toes. I tried everything to elevate my feet but there’s not much I can do, they were crawling on everything.

It was like being in an amusement park water ride, but without any real protection. I must admit, despite the gross factor it was thrilling knowing that at any moment the whole thing could flip and we would be carried off into the abyss. We continued navigating through the rapids using his half broken bamboo pole when the next thing I heard was “get down!” as we began to plummet straight into a broken tree towards the middle of the river. I put my head down and braced for impact. I heard the loud crash and quickly glanced up only to see our navigators feet flying up into the air and go straight into the river. At that point I thought we were done for. As we spun out of control I could see him trying to swim back to the boat but was having a difficult time. He was finally able to gain control of the boat using his feet and navigate towards the shore. He was not happy as he ran off into the woods with his machete to cut off a fresh piece of bamboo. We eventually made it back to the village, alive and well. We were so relieved and I wanted nothing more than to lay down for a minute.

The adventure continues…

The following morning started out pretty normal, and I figured it was about time things went according to plan, but if it’s one thing I’ve learned it was that nothing ever really goes to plan, at least not in this part of the world. We loaded up our gear on the boat once again and headed down the river and back onto the main Madre de Dios River. It was a nice day, a few scattered clouds but nothing to suggest another storm. We made it back to the Port of Santa Cruz, disembarked and waited…and waited…and waited. Because there were no cars to be found for miles upon miles of the jungle, we had no choice but to wait for the bus shuttle (which was the only means of transportation) to the next village. After making some calls, we found out that the bus was having mechanical issues and had to turn around to get repaired. So, we had no choice but to wait around. Hours went by, and the only other vehicle that came by was a offroad 4×4 who was driving through to drop off a package. Fernando tried everything in his power to convince the guy to give us a lift but they flat out refused. More time went by, when late in the afternoon the bus finally arrived. We felt so relieved! As we gathered our gear to hop on, the guy said sorry, there was no way he was going back the way he came. Apparently because of the severe rain the dry dirt turned into slush and caused part of the road to collapse. The bus driver had made his round earlier in the morning (before we arrived), however, now because it was getting too late he didn’t want to risk getting stuck in the mud after dark.  We were beyond frustrated at this point and out of options.

Fernando was making calls back and forth to the next village over (which was still well over an hour away by car) to hopefully arrange something. By a stroke of luck he managed to find someone willing to drive over to pick us up. After a while we quickly realized that they had sent out three motorcyclists (the only people they had available) to pick us up. It was almost sunset when they pulled up, three young guys and their nicely decked out motorcycles. As we began to gather our gear the motorcycles posed a new problem…we had too much gear. One at a time we jumped on the back of the motorcycle, with our massive 90 liter backpacking packs, along with our day packs, camera gear, camping stove, tents, and food. I still don’t know how we managed, but we managed to sit on top with as much stuff as we could carry and held on for dear life. This was the most unexpected part of the trip, but it was definitely the most fun. Zooming through the jungle on the back of motorcycles as the sun began to set was breathtaking; words cannot begin to express the emotions and beautiful scenery we encountered on that trip alone. We rode over parts of streams, and through the darkness we could see fireflies on the road and through the dense landscape of trees.

It was quite an adventure. We then reached a critical point where the road was washed out because of the rain. My fiance, Denise, and her driver were the first ones to drive up the steep road over the hill, we would then follow along their same path. They made it to the top with no problems. My driver and I were second to go up. Etching our way slowly up the road my driver couldn’t control the weight and we slid off to the side slamming down into the thick wet mud. I was covered in mud. I jumped off and began to walk up the rest of the way. My driver eventually made it to the top, but he was not happy…his motorcycle was covered in mud. We jumped back on the motorcycle and rode off before Fernando and his driver made the climb. We rode into a wide stream where he turned off the engine and told me to get off. He then began to quickly clean off the motorcycle in stream. It was completely dark and I could barely see a few yards away as I stood still in the middle of the 2-3 feet high stream. Denise and Fernando finally caught up with us, so it was time to get back into formation and continue on our way back to Salvación. Once we arrived I managed to find a water hose and broom next to the hostel we were staying in and I washed as much of the dirt from my boots and clothes as I could. I was exhausted. The past few days were too adrenaline-filled and I felt my body needing a long deep sleep on a bed, any would do. Usually any noise would keep me awake throughout the night but that night I slept like a baby.

The final day in Salvación consisted of a tranquil walk through the park.  The three of us visited a nice little area where we got to see a lot of the wildlife and biological ecosystems that exists within this region. We sat on a balsa wood raft and went gently floating down a quiet oxbow lake. It was peaceful, quiet and far removed from any outside distractions. This is what life is all about… the tranquility you could feel beyond the mere ripples on the water being felt up your spine awakning some weird primitive comfort that we all secretly long for. In this moment in time nothing else existed. There was nobody for miles, and it was just the way we wanted. I knew after this it was a long journey back home but for that brief moment in time, I just wanted to keep my mind quiet and remember everything as it was, pristine and vibrant.

Back Home

Fast forward some day later; I arrived back in the states in perfect health. The one thing that worried me most were botflies, a type of fly that would lay flesh-eating maggots underneath the skin. After traveling into the Amazon some people are known to have gotten these flesh-eating larva underneath their skin (and even eyes). They usually go unaware when slowly they start developing bumps on their skin in which case the only other option is to pull them out. Thankfully, that didn’t happen to me, however, after I got back I reached over to open my retainer case when out flies out the biggest mosquito you could imagine. My heart dropped as I suddenly thought back to all those horror movies when whole plagues start off from incidents like this: Guy goes into the jungle, brings back a contaminated animal or rare disease and boom, people die. I quickly ran to grab a towel and clogged up the space underneath my door. I then spent the next 20 minutes trying to hunt that thing down. It was either her or me, and I sure as heck didn’t want to go out as ‘patient zero’. In the end I killed it, but man what a scare. So my warning to future travelers is to be extremely careful what comes out of the jungle with you, because you never can tell!