Iguaçu

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The Iguazú Falls, rivaled only by Vic Falls in terms of sheer magnificence, are situated right on the three-pronged border between Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. One more day of Portuguese lingo and then back into hispanohablante territory. I got into Foz do Iguaçu and, a further three buses later, was at the hostel, a Hi De Hi-esque campground/holiday resort replete with cloudy pool and strategically placed wooden flamingoes. Rise and shine campers. Simon and Dave, from London and Dublin respectively, had also just arrived, so within the hor we had hopped back on a bus – the first of three more – headed for the Brazilian side of the falls. Entrance paid, all aboard yet another omnibus, this one strangely reminiscent of Jurassic Park, a double-decker with a sunroof stretching from front to rear and a somewhat worrying onboard commentary: the lady speaking either had the driest sense of humour I´d yet come across in a Brazilian, or the ironic juxtaposition was totally lost on her as she happily told us “not to feed the coatis, as they can bite and have been known to have rabies. Have a nice day”.

Our first view of the Falls was, quite simply, spectacular; it also seemed only to enhance the Prehistoric feeling the bus ride had given me. We were stood on one side of the river canyon, surrounded by exuberantly lush tropical vegetation; facing us from across the valley was a curtain, or rather curtains of white water plunging their way over the lip and a good 40 metres down into the canyon below. Hundreds of vultures, God knows why, were circling overhead. It felt like The Land that Time Forgot. Breathtaking.

Yet that was only the beginning. The trail then led another 2km along the canyon edge, at times taking us through fantastic jungle where we saw reams of iridescent multihued butterflies, or borboletas as they´re known in Portuguese. I´m yet to find a language where the word for butterfly isn´t a cracker. Try Basque for example: pimpilinpauxa! Millipedes slunk their way along the floor, while more than a few of the (questionably rabid) coatis crossed our path. So used to humans are they that they´ve abandoned their natural instincts and now seem to survive on solely the contents of the trail´s numerous bins, classy animals. Nature´s ultimate scuttlers.

Every couple of hundred metres the thick jungle would recede and we´d find ourselves looking across at the Falls; we followed the cliff as it curved round, leading to view after magnificent view of the cataracts across from us, until finally the valley opened out. Both in front and across from us the Rio Iguazú, at this its widest point, poured 60 metres over the rock face, thundering down into the depths. Just ahead was the famed Garganta do Diabo, the Devil´s Throat, a vast hissing, broiling cauldron rendered virtually invisible by the clouds of mist thrown up.

A walkway took us along the lip of a section of the cataracts, allowing us to look down into the spray-filled valley below. A rainbow arched itself around and under the viewing platform, enveloping us in it´s technicolour embrace. Amazing. And this was just the Brazilian side – we´d been reliably informed that the Argentinian side upped the ante considerably.

Back to Holiday Camp to soak up some rays and then, Simon and Dave´s idea not mine – obviously – go for a run, my first in five months. They reckoned around 10km would do it. After 3 I realised I wasn´t going to make it if I didn´t turn around. So I did. 6km was plenty for my out of shape pins.

Up bright and early the next day; the weather, however, was definitely not so bright, and looked like it was going to get worse. We hopped in the minibus with our jovial Argentinian driver and headed across the border, stopping at the halfway point on the bridge to take the obligatory ´hey I´m in Brazil…..aaaaand now I´m in Argentina´snaps 🙂 At the entrance to the Park it began to spit; 15 minutes later, as we waited for a cheesy tourist train to take us onwards, the heavens opened, tropical style, forcing us and all the thousands of other tourists to seek shelter. After seeing the Falls in blazing sunshine the day before, we were now going to be treated to the other end of the spectrum.

After about half an hour the deluge ceased enough to allow us to carry on; before long we were wandering along the Circuito Superior, a fantastic trail of raised walkways that took us from lip to lip of countless stretches of the Falls, while all that separated us from the raging impatient waters were the metal grilles of the path. One good side to the epic quantities of rain that day was that the amount of water pouring over the Falls was staggering, having seemingly doubled from the previous day. Thrillseeking colonies of small birds clung to the walls either side of the curtains of water, winging their way through the mist and spray and then back again, as if just for kicks.

The rest of the day, occasional heavy soaking aside, was cracking. After the Circuito Superior we descended to the Circuito Inferior, which took us down to the foot of the Falls, whence their true power was fully revealed. Amazing. We caught a boat across a 100m stretch of water to Isla San Martín, sandwiched between the two forks of the river downstream from the Falls. Vultures perched ominously in the trees, whilst yet more walkways led us to within a few metres of churning, crashing deafening whiteness.

The highlight of the day came after lunch: the Garganta del Diablo as seen from the waterfall lip itself. The walk to get there, across over a kilometre of raised walkway that took us across the waters of the Rio Iguazú, revealed the vastness of the river. It was eerie too, given how placid the water seemed that was flowing below our feet, that within a few hundred metres it would plunge over the Falls.

When we finally reached the end of the walkway the scene was breathtaking, unlike anything else. The waters picked up speed and, in a massive horseshoe crescent, changed from blue-brown to seething white, before cascading over the edge and down into the mist-obscured abyss. I was suddenly taken by a strong urge to jump, to throw myself out into the chasm: probably just as well I didn´t. It felt like standing on the edge of the world, the sight that would undoubtedly have greeted you if the world had turned out to be flat. I stood there spellbound, mesmerised by the power, the deafening roar, the hypnotic patterns traced by the flow of water as it hurtled downwards.

Incredible. Time to go though – I had a date with Paraguay.