You know that feeling when you get up in the morning tired, not from a state of sleep, but a state of frustration, the kind that leaves you somewhat dreading the day ahead? And all of it manifested from the course of a sleepless and otherwise uncomfortable night? Well this was such a morning. It was worse for Blake then it was for me, I actually slept a little, he did not. You see, Ayahuasca keeps you awake, because it, like many other drugs, keeps your mind, or your body, fully engaged. Making sleep a very difficult proposition, even for someone like Blake, who finds sleep easier than I could find water falling out of a boat.At 8 in the morning Wilder came to our hut with two plates of food, each with a portion of Patarashka, vegetables and boiled potatoes. After finishing our meal, which actually took us some time because we weren't really hungry and still in slow mo from our long night, Wilder asked us about our ceremony. Did we have visions? what did we feel? were we ok? that kind of thing. Caesar ate nothing, he just watched and listened while smoking a jungle cigarette (pure tobacco, no chemicals, but strong as all hell)I told him I had no visions, but to clarify for the readers, I had no hallucinations, I did see many things in my mind, but not through my eyes, a distinction I make because in my own opinion, for it to be a true vision, it should be seen, not only thought about. Semantics perhaps, yes, but the most powerful psychedelic trips I have ever experienced, those I truly felt to of had visions with, were those I could not outrun by the simple closure of the eyes.I went on to say that after the ceremony was done I felt a great sadness come over me as I went through all the friends and family I have suffering back home, and all over the world, from a multitude of things really, things like drug abuse, post traumatic stress, anger issues, identity problems, broken homes, debt slavery, cultural occultism, obesity, anxiety, bipolar-ism, materialism and the list goes on..I felt their pain and their struggles to survive against the monsters that haunt them all. How lost each of them are in their own world of sadness they cannot escape. Each of these people has a history with me, moments we shared, both good and bad. They are important to me as companions in the long and unknown journey that is life. I travel the world in search of the things that will change me for the better, forge me into who I will one day become, and in so doing leaving them behind on their own.It is a new idea I've come to recently, one that has shown great promise for the dreams I have for the future. That is, to help them, I must first help myself. For no broken man should hope to successfully lead another before mending himself. This means we must walk the paths we choose, and look not back upon the choice as an abandonment of the other, but a path chosen to lead oneself into the light of your brightest future.We may not stand on the same ground or face the same trials, but they remain inside me, deep in my memories, locked away tightly but free to roam within me as well, surrounding me always, riding my shoulders when I need them to give me strength, when I use them as examples of how to be or not to be, and how to succeed when my base personality requires a certain trait to best suit the moment. It is through them that my adaptation to the ever-changing world I explore is accomplished.Due to a psychedelics ability to emulate any reality, while using them you can actually feel the physical and emotion feelings of others, not just people, but animals, insects, anything. It doesn't end there though, your mind in this state of awareness, depending on dose, setting and the type of substance, can be truly limitless. While emulating their pain, feeling their frustration, I too suffered and I thought about how much I cared for them all and want to help heal their wounds somehow. When you care, you cry, not always because your sad or angry, often because your happy, amazed at your luck, your circumstance, your role in this cosmic play you were born to fulfill. I did cry and all these reasons flooded through me readily.I related this as best I could to the Shaman through Wilder, without getting too detailed, for it would take to long and was not necessary for the Shaman to know at any rate. When I was done Caesar told us he saw the spirit of a large swamp tree surrounding us during the ceremony and that we needed to visit such a tree and pray for our friends there. So after lunch at around 3, Wilder, Moisess, Caesar, a guide, Blake and I all got into a jungle boat, a roofless canoe carved from a single tree, and hauled beside us another boat that belonged to another village at the mouth of the river.At the other side of the river we slid the boat on to the shore, dug an oar into the mud and tied the boat to it. We all got out and started walking into the jungle. There was a path there, cut through the brush, by my uneducated guess, Id say it was traversed a few times monthly at best. It was not very wide or well-defined, it was swampland so for most of the walk we trudged through murky water or mud, always minding our steps as our gum boots got stuck from time to time. We came to the tree only 15 minutes into the walk, but before we were to engage in the ceremony we walked another 15 minutes to get to a small pond with large water lilies floating around the edges.On our way back we stopped at the tree, which was a big black old growth, with large fanning roots that suspended the entire tree above the ground and into the air. An evolutionary trait many trees in the Amazon developed to survive the extreme rise and fall of water that happens every year with the coming and going rains. All around us were vines hanging from its upper branches that also dug into the swamp around it. Some vines in the Amazon are known to strangle the trees they attach themselves to and use the energy they produce to survive because they themselves cannot perform photosynthesis.Caesar, who had been smoking the entire day, blew cigarette smoke all around us, in our clothes and into our faces, making us lower our heads so he could blow smoke into the crowns of our skulls, using his hands as a tube as he blew while chanting with each exhale. He asked us to gather all the positive energy we could and then place our hands on the tree and pray, and so we did. For 10 minutes my mind raced through all that I had thought of and felt in the night, and I asked the spirits of Ayahuasca and of the tree to send all our energy of love and compassion, hope and strength to all our friends and family, but mostly for those friends of ours who are truly lost, truly in need of change. We finished our prayer and left the swamp returning to camp.For dinner we had a plain noodle soup and plain rice, which is much different without being cooked with salt, a truly bland starch is hard to swallow, so we got a lime and squeezed it over it, when that wasn't enough we used a jungle orange, which is actually green and tastes much less fruity than the orange ones were used to, it was a process we would come to repeat almost every meal while at the retreat. When dinner was finished we retreated to our hut in the woods and waited for the Spaniards to come, who can made a deal with Wilder and Caesar to have a one night ayahuasca ceremony. I stayed awake just long enough to hear Caesar begin chanting and then dozed off, my mind lost in the heavy air of sleeplessness and strained emotional faculties...
Money Matters
It is the morning after our first ceremony in Iquitos. We skip breakfast and are met by Wilder, the man who brought us to the Shaman and told us about the opportunity his company offers in the first place. He got us a Tuk Tuk and rode behind us on his motorbike. We lost track of him along the way but thankfully I recognized the alley of the Shaman and instructed the driver to turn off on to it. We even managed to recognize the Shamans house, even though it was all very dark when we arrived there the previous night. We went inside and waited for Wilder to arrive. After 20 minutes of waiting I communicated as best I could with the Shaman that I thought he had lost track of us and driven ahead thinking our driver would keep going passed the alley, which indeed he would have, had we not told him otherwise. The Shaman called Wilder and he joined us soon after confirming my suspicions.Together with the Shaman and Wilder as our interpreter, we talked about our experiences with the Ayuhuasca the previous night. Then they discussed how long we should spend in the jungle. Wilder wanted to know how much time we had to spend and foolishly I think we said, ¨As long as it takes¨ something you just don't say to tourist companies before making a deal with them. Always know how long you´ll commit to. We had talked about doing 2 months before even arriving in Peru but I wasn't really serious about it. Blake however said flatly that 2 months would do to start. Wilder looked at us intensely for a moment, confirmed what we said, turned and told the Shaman. With a few exchanges, which I took to a rescheduling of his life calendar for the next 8 weeks, everything on their side of the conversation ended. We thanked the Shaman and returned to the main part of the city and had lunch at Texas Rose with Carolina. Then we went home and slept in our bunk beds until 5pm. Wilder came at that time and took us the offices of the company;You can find the lodge details here: http://www.tripadvisor.com.au/HotelReview-g294315-d3514228-Reviews-RenacoLodge-IquitosLoretoRegion.htmlWe walked inside the office and he asked us to have a seat. He went into detail about everything we would see, showed us on a map where we would be going in the Amazon and then showed us some pictures of the lodge and some animals. Salesmanship tactics differ slightly everywhere in the world but well and truly Wilder is good at selling ideas to people, and we were eager to be sold, a truly dangerous combination. After a little more posturing he hit us with the price. $750 a week, we laughed a little and told him it simply wasn't possible, at that price each of us would have to commit to $6,000 dollars for the 2 month duration, in a place we had never been, under circumstances we did not know, something I was not going to do no matter what Blake wanted.I made a flat offer of 1500 a month, which comes out to $375 a week. Wilder looked less than happy with this amount but I knew how things here go, the price a Peruvian would pay for something like this would still be even lower than that, and were now in the slowest part of the tourist season, deals can be made. Blake however wasn't ready to give in so easily and offered them $1750 a month for the experience. I didn't like it, but accepted it because I was ready to fulfill our purpose here, even at extra cost, which Blake made clear to me was the least of his concerns if it meant healing himself, a notion I agree with in and of itself, but cannot fully endorse without proper assurance of success, I've always been a stickler for money its true, but because of this, I've always been able to buy what I needed and travel when I wanted. Blake's counter offer seemed to turn the tide in Wilder's mind and he excused himself from the table to "speak with the boss" A classic sales tactic that anyone buying a car will know all too well.Wilder came back and said that because we were friends with the boss's daughter he would accept our offer. $3500 a month for 2 people, it's more than I wanted to pay, but like Blake said, "It's a once and a lifetime experience, and for something like that, its not that much money." Blake tried to get money out of the Bank but it would only give him $200 at a time and in soles not dollars, so he asked his parents to Western Union him some money. In the meantime I would front him the money to pay for the trip. We had dinner with Carolina and returned to the hostel to think about what we had just signed ourselves up for...
Choquequiro - Final Ascent
Getting up early as usual, our invisible patron showed himself at last as we were putting our tent away. The cost for our stay upon his land was 33 cents. As we slowly marched up the mountain, thoughts of our final destination for the day spurred us onward. A final photo shoot, this time with a group of young people, stopped us as we reached the lookout point for the mid-valley. They shared bananas with us and we argued the fine points of organic littering, due to Blake dropping his peel on the ground, and we were off once again.Once we made it to the house on the edge of the mountain, the one with the elderly couple who let us stay in the cow flats,we got a KR lemon soda, we wanted Sprite but no such luxury was afforded us. It was a sad consolation prize, especially since it has aspartame in it but it gave us some much-needed energy so It wasn't all bad.While we were there a group of 3 hikers came, 2 from Australia and one from Germany. We gave them the advice we were givin, plus whatever we thought they could use as food for thought. They thanked us and went onwards down the trail towards the ruins.We waited an hour and a half for a taxi and took it back to cachora. The driver asked for 10 soles each but I saw the others give 5 so I did the same and the old man accepted it without a fuss. When we got to the taxis waiting in town the driver tried to charge 10 each for us, thinking it was a rip off we refused. Another driver exited the nearby cafe and said the same price, explaining that it was not possible to exit the same road we came down on for some reason and that we would have to go a longer way to the top. So we agreed and drove what truly was a longer way back to Raymond.When we got there we waited alongside the road for a local bus to come. Blake became impatient and wanted to take a taxi Curiwassi. Just as he said this a taxi driver who had been sitting on his hands on the other side of the road, offered to take us there for 5 soles each, we unanimously agreed and joined him in the car. A short while later and a few extra passengers picked up along the way, we reached Curiwassi. From there we got in a van and were taken back to Cusco for 15 soles each. We were stopped by the police and our driver had to go into the police station but quickly rejoined us and continued on.A little while later we passed a semi that hd flipped over on the road, several workers were engaged in trying to dig out the undercarriage in order to get it back on its wheels. When we finally returned to Cusco, we entered the first nice restaurant we saw and had the most expensive meal for either of us so far, 2 pizzas, 2 lemonades, a mushroom soup, and a mixed salad. Blake had bought a 2 litter bottle of sprite at the convenience store outside and used that to refill our lemonades, The servers were a bit puzzled at how our drinks magically reappeared every so often, but maybe they'd seen such things before, it was a backpackers haven after all.Next we went into an internet cafe and discovered that our airfares to Iquitos had never got through and that we would need to visit an official Avianca office to rectify the matter. We returned to our couch surfers house, watched the Bourne Ultimatum in spanish with Luiz, with a bag of classic Lays potato chips and ice cream to share.
Choquequrio - The Guidance of Guides
Setting out for the ruins at 6am and leaving Blake's large pack in the dutch's tent, with only the detachable fanny pack to carry, we quickly ascended up the mountain. It was still a challenge for me, I wasn´t exactly tip-top shape after the nights festivities, but still I progressed much more fluidly than before. After a couple of hours we made it to a stream running down from the high mountains and decided it was likely safe enough to fill our now empty water bottles with, better this we thought than pay the 14 or 16 soles for a new bottle at the next camp.A short distance later we passed a wooden gate with old flip-flops nailed into it for hinges and began walking on a dirt path passing land that had recently been cleared for growing food of various types. Then we came upon another wooden fence, where there was a
nother old woman walking between mud brick buildings. She spotted us and came to the gate, opening it with a noticeable glimmer in her smile. ¨Where are you from?¨ she asked in spanish. California we replied, ¨ahh the United States!¨ again in spanish. Welcoming us to the table she asked what we would like and we ordered soup, Blake with an egg and mine without.Seeing all the wild chickens about, happy and free, Blake sighed audibly and said in a condescending manner, ¨danny you know if there was ever a time to eat eggs it would be here and now¨ Seeing the truth in his words and in the situation, knowing how badly my muscles needed rich proteins to rebuild themselves, I agreed and joined the lady in the hut to increase our order of eggs. After all, I´m mostly a vegetarian because of my disgust with the corporate farming done in the States, and these chickens look like they've never seen the inside of a cage in their entire lives.The soup was angel hair pasta with carrots and potatoes, totally delicious, and the eggs were just as great, opening them up they were a dark and rich orange, even more so than those I remember from Germany, but that's probably just my 3 year absentee biased showing through the cracks of my memory. We thanked the lady very much for the meal and continued on up the mountain. Very shortly after that we made it to the guides house were we paid the 37 soles each to get in. I left my water there, but we still had 2 bottles left. The ruins could be seen from this part of the mountain, but we still had to hike another 20 minutes to reach the first of the terraces lining the hills.Deciding to go to the very top of the lookout first we made it to the rounded turret that looked out over the entire valley. At the end of the circle there was a sign that read, Casa do sacridol or something like that, I thought it was the house of sacrifice but that's not the translation so I can't really say. Anyways, we went down the hill to the house and got on top of the wall where the roof used to be, setting up his speakers, Blake bumped the music and we danced along the edges to the beat. At this time we were the only people in the ruins.Upon returning to the main part we met up with the dutch couple and shared travel stories. They had already been traveling for 7 months and were set to go for another 7, going next to California, Hawaii and then Japan. We asked them if they had heard about Ayahuasca and they asked if it was another hike in Peru, we explained that it was a Shamanistic plant and they quickly dismissed the idea, stating that they were tired of everyone assuming they were into drugs because they were from the Netherlands. Then they told us a story about their relative who thought he could fly on drugs and jumped off a building, becoming extremely sensitive to all stimulus in his legs, even the wind on his legs could cause extreme pain. "If that happened to me I'd just have the doctors chop my leg off and attach a bionic one." said Blake, I mostly concurred..We wished them well and headed back to the hut for more soup, and more eggs. The ruins were nice after all, but we were more interested in the pain in our bodies and the promise of returning home to our warm, dry beds in Cusco. My water bottle was just where I left it, I grabbed it and shortly after we were back at the house. This time there were two Peruvians also sitting down at the table. We joined them and introduced ourselves. The older one spoke English well and explained that he and his friend were guides for the Choquequrio ruins. Both of them were drinking some murky liquid that filled a pitcher on the table. "you want to try?" they asked. It has alcohol? I questioned after smelling the stuff. "no, no, it is all natural!" Blake and I both partook and turned to each other with a knowing glance, "it may not have alcohol but drinking it will get you drunk," Blake said aloud.Blake ordered 2 more pitchers and we very quickly got to know our new friends. They explained that what we were drinking was chicha, an ancient maze beer drank by the Incans in their own time. A pitcher was 4 soles or $1.33 it was incredibly smooth and barely tasted of alcohol, but it was most definitely getting us all drunk. The two had already had 3 or 4 pitchers before we arrived and were very open and relaxed. The younger one would interrupt whatever conversation we were having every so often and apologize for his lack of English skills, the more we drank the more frequent the apologeze became, eventually to the point of his elder taking him aside and making clear we understood his lack of communication skills, whether in English or any other form and that he should complete the experience in a slumped state of silent bliss.The elder guide suggested we descend slowly and reach the camp above the river on the other side leading back to cochora, where there would be much fewer miquitos and it would be cooler. We thanked them for the advice and for sharing the experience and descended slowly as he suggested, which was a little difficult for how loose we were in our steps, which is precisely why he suggested it. By the time we made it to the bottom it was already getting dark, but we pressed on, hoping to meet his suggestion and make it to the next camp.We had to use a headlamp in the final stretch of the climb, and when we made it to the camp there was no one there to meet us, only a dim light hanging from the inside of the hut, we called inside to greet whoever was there, but no reply was given. We went around the hut and on to one of the terraces and set up our tent, it immediately began to rain. By this time I was already showing signs of a cough, I tried my best to drink plenty of water and unfortunately did not cover myself well enough, leaving my feet and arms exposed to the many insects I allowed to enter our leaking, REI garage sale tent..