Amazonian adventure part four - the cargo boat

The Amazon has barely any roads (probably a good thing from an environmental perspective). Here, the river is the way people and goods travel from place to place. Dozens of cargo boats ply the wide, muddy expanse of the Amazon, calling in at remote indigenous villages that would otherwise be beyond the reach of civilisation.

Cargo boats depart daily from the regional centre of Iquitos, heading downstream to the tri-border with Colombia and Brazil and upstream further into Peru, to places which eventually link with the country’s road network. Besides cargo including sacks of rice, crates of fruits and vegetables, electrical goods and even livestock, the boats take passengers on their two upper decks.

We travelled for three nights and two days to Yurimaguas, where there are buses that run to across the Andes to Peru’s coast. Let’s be clear – this is no luxury cruise with plush cabins, big buffets and on-board entertainment. The passenger decks are big empty expanses with hard metal floors. You bring your on hammock and string it up on the rails running along the length of the deck.

Crowded downstairs second class

Downstairs is much larger, and absolutely packed to the gills with people, with entire families squeezed into a single hammock space, their mountains of baggage, food and even pets. We spotted one lady cradling a baby howler monkey in her hammock, while another was breaking up bread to feed to her pet green parrots she had stashed under one of the benches. In the background, we could hear the chirping of baby chickens.

The top deck was smaller, less crowded and more airy. It cost just 10 soles ($3) more so the decision to string our hammocks (purchased the day before at the markets) upstairs was a no-brainer. We were basically the only foreigners on board, apart from a couple of weird French hippies and a friendly girl from Argentina.

The much more spacious top deck

This is not a journey for the impatient. The boat stopped all the time – it is the only supply line and transport option for the remote villages in the area. People on the banks waved plastic bags to gain the driver’s attention. Some of the villages looked extremely basic, with no electricity and only a few rickety thatched huts, while others were much more solidly constructed and had power lines and a central plaza.

Throngs of hawkers awaited the boat’s arrival at some of the larger stops, pushing their way on board and roving around the rows of hammocks trying to offload their goodies in plastic buckets balanced on their heads. There were drinks in plastic bags, gelatine desserts, popcorn and flavoured rice wrapped in banana leaves.

Calling in at a small village

Besides the occasional interruption of a stop along the way, the journey was blissfully relaxing. We spent the lion’s share of the time idly swinging in our hammocks, watching the beautiful rainforests and rustic villages pass slowly by. Unlike travelling on the ocean, the river was as smooth as silk, making it easy to read, play cards, watch movies on the computer and of course, catch up on the blog!

I was a little worried that we wouldn’t be able to sleep well with up to 50 people in quite a confined area, and especially in a hammock. Fortunately though we seem to be getting used to the hammock-as-a-bed concept, and have worked out a way to sleep diagonally in them so you can have your back as flat as possible and not wind up with your shoulders scrunched together. And being on a moving boat, there was no need for claustrophobic mosquito nets.

Waking up in the hammock looking out on the passing jungle as the early morning mist lifted out of the trees was quite surreal. The width and shape of the river varied wildly throughout the journey, sometimes being over 1km wide while at other times we passed islands, channels and junctions with other rivers.

It was a great opportunity to mingle with Peruvians and practice Spanish, who on the whole were really friendly, especially a man who ran a group of schools for indigenous kids in a remote area who was really keen to chat.

However, some seem to have very different ideas on personal space. We had nabbed hammock spots on the end of a row, which we thought would give us more room for our stuff (and for Adam to stretch out his legs). Instead, people grabbed hold of his hammock and bumped into him every time they walked past, even at night time when he was sleeping, so he was being constantly bombarded by people. People weren’t shy about pushing in front of us in the meal or bathroom queues either.

Peruvians also don’t seem to understand the concept of bringing music into public places. People around us had mini stereos, which they cranked with strains of their favourite music – accordion folk music, Christian rock and a weird, manic brand of Peruvian pop, sometimes from the minute they woke up, which was shortly after 6am when the breakfast bell sounded.

All up, the three-night trip cost 80 soles ($27) each, and included meals and water (which we purified just to be on the safe side). Meal times were hilarious - I felt as if I were on some kind of floating prison or boarding school. A bell would ring five times, after which a mad rush would ensue as people clamoured to the kitchen to avoid waiting in a long line.

The food was reasonable, but usually contained a massive proportion of rice, with just a small piece of casseroled meat, beans and potatoes and the obligatory mushy broiled plantain, a regular feature in Central American, Colombian and Peruvian food. One time there was spaghetti with a nice sauce and piece of chicken, but even that was served atop a mountain of rice.