´Twas the Falls before Christmas

Trip Start Oct 13, 2007
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Trip End Jan 10, 2008


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Flag of Brazil  ,
Monday, December 24, 2007

After another free camp (beside a servo this time), we moved through the ruined missionary settlement, San Ignacio Mini, a world heritage site and one of several Jesuit missions (reductions) from 400 years ago, when Jesuit Missionaries set up these villages, converting and protecting the native population from the Spanish and other tribes, while growing these villages into small cities of commerce, education and craft.

From here, it was noticeably more humid as we arrived in Puerto Iguazu in the far north-east of Argentina, the site of the Iguazu Falls and National Park, and three way border with Brazil and Paraguay.

To attempt to describe the falls in a few sentences would betray the majesty, the sheer breadth, the many unique elements of the 273 different falls plunging over the edge amid a deafening roar (For more dramatic recreations of Jesuit missions and the real Iguazu Falls, see Roland Joffeīs 1986 film, īThe Mission`(http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091530/) starring Jeremy Irons and Robert De Niro).

Fortunately, the next day when we visited the Falls, the weather had cleared completely, leaving the powerful sun at its summer solstice singeing our pasty flesh, but also providing perfect views of the Falls from all angles. 

Our first day, we walked around the Argentinian side above, below and across the falls, and sped into the Devilīs Throat on speed boat, getting completely soaked but refreshed and quickly drying in the sun.

Another long walk extended along a platform 800m across the river to the top of the Devilīs Throat, looking down at this natural phenomenon just metres from the drop.
We returned by slow boat, floating silently down the river, spotting toucans busying themselves in the upper reaches of the forest, their bright over sized beaks betraying their attempts to remain hidden, before hopping on the returning mini-train winding its way through the trees back to the entrance of the park.

We then crossed the nearby border into Brazil and the considerably larger border town,  Foz Do Igaucu, a relaxing afternoon at the campsite pool, and a new language to confuse those just beginning to get the hang of Spanish.

The following day was once again spent at the falls, this time on the Brazilian side where some visited the bird park, some flew over the falls by helicopter, and others ventured once more into the falls, where from the Brazilian side, there was a close-up view of the Devilīs Throat from below and directly in front. The rest of the afternoon was spent resting at the top, overlooking the breathtaking drop of the Devilīs Throat, contemplating.........

Leaving behind the incessant border crossings for good and driving further north into Brazil towards the tropic of Capricorn, it became even more apparent that any proficiency with Spanish would be useless with Portuguese, and given my Portuguese isnīt what it used to be, I rapidly searched to the depths of my increasingly messy backpack for my untouched Brazilian Portuguese phrasebook and began reciting the absurd nasal sounds that make up this initially very confusing language.

We soon arrived in Bonito, a delightful little town just south of the Pantanal, where we would be spending Christmas Day. Our campsite, 6 km out of town, fortunately backed onto a cool river, a welcome respite from the stifling sun and humidity.

Bonitoīs surrounding area is home to the cleanest rivers and most stunning caves in the world, and our first day was spent snorkelling through rivers with 35m visibility! Through some scientific miracle (possibly involving calcium carbonate) the rivers are crystal clear and we were not permitted to wear any sunscreen or insect repellent in the water, lest it damage the fragile ecosystem and ruin the major tourist attraction of the region.

Thus, resigned to our fate of singed calves and hamstrings, we put on our wetsuits and snorkels, and with underwater camera, dove under the surface. The clarity of the water lived up to its reputation and we spent the next two hours floating with the current downstream alongside schools of baby fish sucking from the river bed under the direction of their parents, all within armīs reach as varieties of others nonchalantly swam past in front of our goggles.

Christmas Eve for most was spent lazing about the campsite preparing for the next day, though Tony and Adrian went on the cave diving tour, abseiling 72m down into the cave and then scuba diving below the surface.
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