The first day we got into Zabalo I decided to go hunting with the guys. We were out eight hours. No food, no water, no nothing. Armed with just my cameras I followed them through the jungle as they tracked animals without success. I doubt I was any help. I swear animals can smell gringo. In the jungle there are no supermarkets, which is a bitch when you can't find any wild boar. We ended up with some birds for dinner.
This is Bolivar Lucitante, Hugo's dad. He is always smiling and is one of the kindest human beings I've ever encountered. Here he is napping off the afternoon showers. He is an awesome guide, best canoe driver in the world, and a mean fisherman, among other things...
This is Jonas. I took this picture while he scouted for river dolphins. The canoes are all fiberglass numbers made by the Cofán. They are called "ecocanoas" and they are very popular with tourguides and other river runners who prefer them over the old, not very sustainable wooden rigs that move much slower in the water. The trip to Zabalo tkaes twice as long in a dugout than in an ecocanoa. Super efficient, sustainable, and pretty darn sexy for a canoe lover.
Near some super secret lakes in the Amazon, Rio Aguarico. A beautiful friend.
On the way to said super secret lake the outboard motor got jammed with saw grass. It took all of our efforts for two hours or so to get us freed from the floating islands of reeds and into the actual lake where we could once again motor away. Note how little river you can actually see there.
Camp Rambones (Rambo+Indiana Jones). This place was a high end tourist lodge until a few years back when it became unprofitable and was abandoned. Now the pink river dolphins take care of it as the jungle has begun to reclaim it. Bolivar, Hugo's dad, used to be hired to take tourists here. It was unreal. Everything was rotting, we set up camp inside the hollow buildings and took great care where we stepped. Marin fell through the boardwalk you see pictured here. Someone had to do it.
Death in the jungle. Piranha bones don't stay too meaty too long.
The way out of Lago Agrio (the frontier oil town in the jungle) to Quito (the high mountain capital of Ecuador) used to be hell. I remeber it taking nearly 12 hours or something ridiculous like that to get there last time I was there. One of the reasons it only takes 4 or so hours these days are because of these trucks. Moving oil away from the jungle more quickly means more money. The road out of Lago is amazing today. It is one of the best I've seen in South America. We had to stop the bus becasue a bridge was being repaired and that's when I snapped this shot. A few minutes later we were passing this truck (clearly labeled, "danger") on a blind turn going way too fast for me to want to look out the window. I'd hate to know who wins in a gmae of Bus vs. Oil Tanker though I take great solace in knowing the odds for Bus vs. Car are usually in my favor down here.
Piura, Peru. This is the day after Charles and I got into Peru. We had hell at the border and thought, "why don't we just buy a truck and drive to Argentina?" Luckily we didn't get a chance to make this owner what could have only been described as the lowest "lowball" offer ever know to man. We ended up bussing for the next 5 consecutive days until arriving in Argentina.More photos from the ranch. Sorry about the abrupt transition.
This man here is an absolute legend. His name is Balduena. He can't read nor write but he can tell you where every single cow is on any given day, how many are on which parcels, and is fluent in horse. He has been working estancia San Silvestre for nearly 20 years and knows the land better than anyone else. He is 74 and still rides a horse every single day. He is retiring this year. He taught Charlie and I loads of bad words, and to him we gave, "suck my dick," and "freaky naughty." He was one of the best teachers I've ever had, and it wasn't cause he was easy. The man is made of leather, cooks a mean guiso, and has more badass in his blood than James Dean. Proof? He wakes up to a shot of caña- cane sugar liquor that tastes slightly worse than gasoline- every morning.
The Ranch. Gotta love a perfect sunset. Every day.
Charles getting freaky naughty on Jefferson. Oh wait, he's just eating again, hahahaha!!
Me on Crash during one of the best drives we had. Crash was crazy but we liked eachother. He just loved going fast, which is fun when you're chasing down a stray cow, but kinda sucks when you're in campo sucio with spiny shit surrounding you, cutting your arms, scratching your face, branches ripping your clothes, almost getting clotheslined, bleeding from head, horse running into tree at speeds I thought impossible on horseback. Get the picture? That was Crash.
A good day to be a gaucho. Cattle in the corral. Horseback til sunset. Fresh water from the well.No more for a while. Maybe I'll pull the shots off my dSLR, maybe not. I will for sure be uploading some shots of the house in Montevideo (and inevitably a handfull of others) in the next few days.
Until then,
Sean
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