A Rainforest Adventure: My Weekend in Iguazú
Iguazú Falls is an absolutely unbelievable place. Everyone needs to go there at some point of their lives. I just got back, and I'm pretty zonked from the return trip-- 18 hours in a bus!-- but it was absolutely worth it.
The National Park is about half an hour from the city of Puerto Iguazú itself, there are city buses that take you straight to the park. The "city" of Puerto Iguazú is tiny, really more of a town than a city, but it's the most urban site you'll find for miles around. The closest bigger city in Argentina is Posadas, five hours away. Puerto Iguazú barely has pavement; many of the commercial establishments are marked with hand-lettered signs. The surrounding countryside is all red earth and green plants and blue sky, and they have the most fabulous vegetation there. People have fruit trees, oranges and lemons and even little bananas, growing right in their yards, or right on the side of the road.
The Iguazú Falls National Park is vast. There are four trails, which can take about two hours apiece; sadly, we didn't get to the fourth one (Isla San Martín) because it was closed due to high tides on our last day there. But there's a Circuito Superior-- which goes over the tops of many of the falls-- and a Circuito Inferior-- which winds through the rainforest and has fantastic straight-on views of the falls; and, most spectacular of all, there is a trail made out of a bridge that takes you over much of the Río Iguazú Superior (the part above the falls) straight to the top of the Garganta del Diablo ("Devil's Throat"), where the three biggest falls out of all the 200-plus falls at that site join together in this massive semicircular waterfall.
Walking through the rainforest was incredible. The trees were all covered in vines and mosses and there were all sorts of plants I'd never seen before, and don't have names for. Within our first fifteen minutes in the park, we were beset upon by a family of coatíes, which are rodents of unusual size, really cute and covered with beautiful fur, absolutely addicted to people-food and with no qualms about walking right up to us (and climbing on my friend) in an effort to try to eat our packed lunches. They were harmless, though, and absolutely adorable. Continuing through the forest, we saw lots and lots of these beautiful crested blue birds-- I don't have a name for them, but I do have lots of photos-- and thousands of butterflies, of at least 6 or 7 varieties. The first day, we did the Circuitos Superior and Inferior, and I thought they were unbelievable, but they didn't hold a candle to the next day's hikes.
On Saturday we did the Paseo Garganta del Diablo, which took us over lovely views of the river; we saw more of the blue birds, and also giant river turtles sunning themselves on the base of the supports holding up the walkway, and the ubiquitous butterflies as well. We'd been walking for about 40 minutes when we started to hear the sound of the falls, which was like nothing I'd ever heard before-- a quiet rumbling at first, getting louder and louder the closer we got. We heard it long before we saw it. We were on the upper part of the river, the Río Iguazú Superior, which is at a higher altitude than the lower part-- the falls fall from the Superior into the Inferior; when we were approaching the Garganta del Diablo, it looked like a slash in the earth, like some god or giant had punched a hole in the world. (At that point, I remembered that I had found the myth of the creation of the falls online; in Guaraní mythology, one of their gods had fallen in love with a mortal woman who didn't want to marry him. She and her lover got in a canoe and tried escaping down the Río Iguazú, but the god-- being a god and all-- saw they were escaping and smote the water, killing the lovers and creating the falls.) When we finally got to the Garganta del Diablo and looked over, it was the most breathtaking and awe-inspiring sight... ever. The mists are so thick that the water below is invisible-- in fact, anything below is invisible-- and it looks like the end of the world. Looking over the rail and into the spray from the falls, you can almost forget anything else exists except for that white mist and that thunderous sound. You have to look up and back the way you came to reassure yourself that the rest of the world is still there. It's positively unreal.
After a while, we tore ourselves away from that sight, because we had tickets to get in one of the boats that takes you out on the Río Inferior. The boats take you right into the spray of the falls, on the Argentine side and on the Brazilian side-- I was technically in Brazilian waters! (But of course they don't let you land without a visa.) Whenever there is sun in Iguazú, the falls produce so much spray that there are always rainbows; out on the river, the closer you get to the waterfalls, the more pronounced they are. Approaching the Garganta del Diablo from the Río Inferior, we saw a double rainbow by one of the smaller falls. We all got soaked to the skin, but it was really incredible. On the way back to the park entrance, we saw a pair of monkeys eating some kind of berry up in the trees, and four toucans in another set of trees.
The third day, we didn't really have time to go to the park again, because our bus left at 4:30; instead, we went to the Minas de Wanda, which is a really important gemstone mine in the area. We took a bus an hour outside of Puerto Iguazú, and got off in Wanda, which is pretty much the middle of nowhere. The mines employ a person to sit at the bus stop and hand maps to the mines to the odd tourists who come by, so we got our maps from this person and set off walking down the red dirt road. There were a few souvenir shops and a parrilla, and then just fields and farms for about a half-mile, until we got to the town. I've never seen such a ramshackle place in my life; it was the first time since I'd been in Argentina that it occurred to me that I'm in the developing world. The houses looked to be one- or two-room dwellings at best; many of them looked like they were made out of wooden planks and nothing more; many of them had holes in the sides, some of which were patched over with bed sheets. Clothes were left out to dry in the tiny yards, where chickens would peck at them; the only sounds were roosters crowing and local children playing in the dirt. It wasn't a long walk to the mine, but it seemed to me like we got a good impression of the town on the way there. The mine tour wasn't all that extensive, but we did get to see amethysts and quartz crystals and agates still embedded in the rock, which was pretty cool. Afterwards, we headed back through the town to the bus stop-- which was less a bus stop than it was a place to stand on the side of the road-- and after about an hour of us wondering if the bus would ever show up or if we'd just be stuck in Wanda, Argentina for the rest of our lives (or until we could manage to walk back to Iguazú, which is not a walkable distance), the bus finally arrived.
In short-- completely worth the 36 hours in total I spent in the bus between Iguazú and Buenos Aires. My only regret is that we didn't make it to the triple border or to the Jesuit ruins at San Ignacio Miní. But I suppose that's for next time, whenever next time may be.
The National Park is about half an hour from the city of Puerto Iguazú itself, there are city buses that take you straight to the park. The "city" of Puerto Iguazú is tiny, really more of a town than a city, but it's the most urban site you'll find for miles around. The closest bigger city in Argentina is Posadas, five hours away. Puerto Iguazú barely has pavement; many of the commercial establishments are marked with hand-lettered signs. The surrounding countryside is all red earth and green plants and blue sky, and they have the most fabulous vegetation there. People have fruit trees, oranges and lemons and even little bananas, growing right in their yards, or right on the side of the road.
The Iguazú Falls National Park is vast. There are four trails, which can take about two hours apiece; sadly, we didn't get to the fourth one (Isla San Martín) because it was closed due to high tides on our last day there. But there's a Circuito Superior-- which goes over the tops of many of the falls-- and a Circuito Inferior-- which winds through the rainforest and has fantastic straight-on views of the falls; and, most spectacular of all, there is a trail made out of a bridge that takes you over much of the Río Iguazú Superior (the part above the falls) straight to the top of the Garganta del Diablo ("Devil's Throat"), where the three biggest falls out of all the 200-plus falls at that site join together in this massive semicircular waterfall.
Walking through the rainforest was incredible. The trees were all covered in vines and mosses and there were all sorts of plants I'd never seen before, and don't have names for. Within our first fifteen minutes in the park, we were beset upon by a family of coatíes, which are rodents of unusual size, really cute and covered with beautiful fur, absolutely addicted to people-food and with no qualms about walking right up to us (and climbing on my friend) in an effort to try to eat our packed lunches. They were harmless, though, and absolutely adorable. Continuing through the forest, we saw lots and lots of these beautiful crested blue birds-- I don't have a name for them, but I do have lots of photos-- and thousands of butterflies, of at least 6 or 7 varieties. The first day, we did the Circuitos Superior and Inferior, and I thought they were unbelievable, but they didn't hold a candle to the next day's hikes.
On Saturday we did the Paseo Garganta del Diablo, which took us over lovely views of the river; we saw more of the blue birds, and also giant river turtles sunning themselves on the base of the supports holding up the walkway, and the ubiquitous butterflies as well. We'd been walking for about 40 minutes when we started to hear the sound of the falls, which was like nothing I'd ever heard before-- a quiet rumbling at first, getting louder and louder the closer we got. We heard it long before we saw it. We were on the upper part of the river, the Río Iguazú Superior, which is at a higher altitude than the lower part-- the falls fall from the Superior into the Inferior; when we were approaching the Garganta del Diablo, it looked like a slash in the earth, like some god or giant had punched a hole in the world. (At that point, I remembered that I had found the myth of the creation of the falls online; in Guaraní mythology, one of their gods had fallen in love with a mortal woman who didn't want to marry him. She and her lover got in a canoe and tried escaping down the Río Iguazú, but the god-- being a god and all-- saw they were escaping and smote the water, killing the lovers and creating the falls.) When we finally got to the Garganta del Diablo and looked over, it was the most breathtaking and awe-inspiring sight... ever. The mists are so thick that the water below is invisible-- in fact, anything below is invisible-- and it looks like the end of the world. Looking over the rail and into the spray from the falls, you can almost forget anything else exists except for that white mist and that thunderous sound. You have to look up and back the way you came to reassure yourself that the rest of the world is still there. It's positively unreal.
After a while, we tore ourselves away from that sight, because we had tickets to get in one of the boats that takes you out on the Río Inferior. The boats take you right into the spray of the falls, on the Argentine side and on the Brazilian side-- I was technically in Brazilian waters! (But of course they don't let you land without a visa.) Whenever there is sun in Iguazú, the falls produce so much spray that there are always rainbows; out on the river, the closer you get to the waterfalls, the more pronounced they are. Approaching the Garganta del Diablo from the Río Inferior, we saw a double rainbow by one of the smaller falls. We all got soaked to the skin, but it was really incredible. On the way back to the park entrance, we saw a pair of monkeys eating some kind of berry up in the trees, and four toucans in another set of trees.
The third day, we didn't really have time to go to the park again, because our bus left at 4:30; instead, we went to the Minas de Wanda, which is a really important gemstone mine in the area. We took a bus an hour outside of Puerto Iguazú, and got off in Wanda, which is pretty much the middle of nowhere. The mines employ a person to sit at the bus stop and hand maps to the mines to the odd tourists who come by, so we got our maps from this person and set off walking down the red dirt road. There were a few souvenir shops and a parrilla, and then just fields and farms for about a half-mile, until we got to the town. I've never seen such a ramshackle place in my life; it was the first time since I'd been in Argentina that it occurred to me that I'm in the developing world. The houses looked to be one- or two-room dwellings at best; many of them looked like they were made out of wooden planks and nothing more; many of them had holes in the sides, some of which were patched over with bed sheets. Clothes were left out to dry in the tiny yards, where chickens would peck at them; the only sounds were roosters crowing and local children playing in the dirt. It wasn't a long walk to the mine, but it seemed to me like we got a good impression of the town on the way there. The mine tour wasn't all that extensive, but we did get to see amethysts and quartz crystals and agates still embedded in the rock, which was pretty cool. Afterwards, we headed back through the town to the bus stop-- which was less a bus stop than it was a place to stand on the side of the road-- and after about an hour of us wondering if the bus would ever show up or if we'd just be stuck in Wanda, Argentina for the rest of our lives (or until we could manage to walk back to Iguazú, which is not a walkable distance), the bus finally arrived.
In short-- completely worth the 36 hours in total I spent in the bus between Iguazú and Buenos Aires. My only regret is that we didn't make it to the triple border or to the Jesuit ruins at San Ignacio Miní. But I suppose that's for next time, whenever next time may be.