We were anticipating the bus ride to take a little longer than it did, so we ended up getting into the small, ramshackle town of Trinidat at about 4:30 in the morning. Obviously, nothing was open, so we made ourselves comfortable in the bus station, and just waited.
For Jo and I, Trinidad was just a stopping point on our way to Rurre. Patti, however, was planning on staying in Trinidad for a bit before hopefully getting herself on a boat and doing some river travel. Even as it got later in the morning she didn't feel comfortable going to find a place to stay by herself, so Jo ended up escorting her at around 6:30. Patti was a nice girl and all, but she was a bit clingy and we weren't too torn up to see her go.
As for Jo and I, we only planned to stay long enough to get a bus ticket. Trinidad is not a very interesting town, and we weren't sad to be glazing over it so quickly. We got tickets for a 9:00 trip to Rurre and we figured we would be leaving soon enough. We packed our bags on the bus, pausing to notice how old and decrepit the thing looked. But we both figured the Trinidadians knew what they were doing, and everything would be fine and we would be off soon enough.
How wrong we were.
We left on time, which was promising. But we only traveled for about three minutes before the bus pulled off the road. We figured it would be a quick stop and we would be on our way, but not so. The driver got off and another man came back with him and they seemed to be fussing over the gear shift. Turns out the bus had stopped being able to reverse, so it wasn't safe to drive. So now we had to return to our original starting spot and wait to see what our next move was.
We were told that another bus would be coming, but it turns out that whoever had started that rumor was a liar. We quickly realized that, unless we found another bus leaving Trinidad, and soon, we would be stuck here for the night. Our time was precious, and this was an option that we wanted to avoid at all cost. To make matters worse, it had started raining when our bus broke down, and now the rain was getting stronger.
We got our backpacks and a refund and headed towards the market to see if there were any more busses leaving Trinidad. On the way, we both got soaking wet. It really was coming down hard by this time.
Turns out that we didn't find a bus, but we did find a camioneta (truck) that would take us to Rurre. We bought tickets for 150bs apiece and waited for our ride.
By this time, it was pouring as hard as I've ever seen it pour.
Our camioneta did eventually come. We got in the back and thought we would be leaving soon, but this wasn't to be the case. Apparently, we were waiting for more people and wouldn't be leaving until the rain subsided a bit. It would have been lovely if someone had told us this, but as it was we were left to wait in the back of the truck for an hour, wondering what was going on and passing the time by watching the street flood into the market across the streets.
We eventually left the truck to ask what was going on. It was only then that we were told that the truck wouldn't be leaving for awhile. So, we went ahead and took the opportunity to have a bite to eat.
Finally, finally, it stopped raining. The torrential downpour had left the streets flooded, but at the least the driver would be able to see the road. So we loaded up. Really, really loaded up. Whoever the dumbfuck was who sold the tickets thought it would be a good idea to pack the truck so tightly with people that there was hardly room to sit down properly. I mean it was really, really crowded. There were sixteen people in the back of that truck, when really there probably shouldn't have been more than ten. We weren't too terribly bothered by the uncomfortable arrangements at first (as always, trying to go with the flow and not come off as pretentious Americans,) but our patience for the ridiculous overcrowding quickly wore out. But more on that later...
First let's talk about river crossings. We had to cross several rivers along the way. In order to get on the rickety looking ferries, everyone had to get off the camioneta and board the ferries after the truck. Which was much more difficult than it sounds, considering the thick, sticky mud that we had to walk through.
At the first river crossing, we had to wait for a van that had gotten stuck in the mud to be towed out of the way. The second river crossing went quicker, although it was no less muddy.
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| This is one of two roosters who were along for the ride, just like we were. |
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| This river dog made sure to stick around in case its master needed help with something. |
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| Waiting to board. |
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| This part of the trip was actually fun. Not too soon after this, things started getting a lot less fun. |
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| This cutie kept calling me "Tia," and insisted that I take her picture. |
Up until this point, it had been muddy. And crowded. And slippery. And uncomfortable. But we were okay. It was soon after we crossed the second river that the novelty of the situation started to wear off.
So, here's the thing. The torrential downpour earlier in the day had taken a heavy toll on the roads, which were not paved and now six inches deep in thick, sticky mud. The truck had a hard time getting through such a mess, and kept slipping and sliding all over the road. This would have been alright if it weren't for the fact that everytime the truck swerved, everyone in the back was sure to get someone leaning painfully into them, or maybe be pushed into the iron bars that were lining the sides of the truck.
As if the situation couldn't get any more hellish, everyone was soon enveloped in a thick swarm of mosquitoes, which hovered around us like an evil, black, bloodsucking cloud. Jo and I had bug spray in our packs, but it was so crammed that we couldn't get to it because there just wasn't enough room to maneuver our packs from under our feet. When the truck got stuck enough to need to be dug out, we took the opportunity to exit the back and grab our bug spray and pass it around to everyone like it was crack at a party in LA. We were all grateful for the relief, but there were so many mosquitoes that it was inevitable that we would continue to be pestered, even though we continually reapplied.
I am not trying to be a debby downer, but that trip was the most god-awful ride either of us could have imagined. We were driving along at a snail's pace because of the thick mud, we were being crushed and bruised by the overcrowding, we were covered in little spot of blood from where we had slapped at engorged mosquitoes, and there was no relief in sight. The ride kept going on and on and on...
Another truck, who we nicknamed "Ol' Blue," ended up being our travel buddy for almost the entire way. We would take turns getting stuck in the mud, but would always reunite later down the road. It was somehow comforting.
It was a shame we were so miserably uncomfortable, or the scenery would have been much more enjoyable.
After hours and hours of this, we stopped to pick up a portly young fellow, missing his front teeth and completely surrounded by the biggest swarm of mosquitoes you can imagine. He waved us down. He was in the middle of nowhere, walking towards town because his motorcycle had broken down and he had nothing to do but walk. He seemed cheerful enough, and even though we were all wondering where on earth he was planning to put himself, he hopped onto the back of the truck and stood there like a plump bumper ornament. He ended up standing like that for a good four hours. He didn't seem too bothered by the situation, even though everyone else in the truck was completely miserable. For some reason he reminded Jo and I of Tommy Boy, so that became his nickname.
The road we took really did seem like a road from hell. I cannot tell you just how miserable it was. Jo and I vowed to never, never, NEVER complain about any form of public transportation ever again, because nothing could ever be as bad as this. At one point during the night, our friend Ol' Blue broke down and we stopped so our driver could help. The truck restarted for awhile, but then broke down again as we drove away. I can only hope that those poor people were able to figure out the problem and get into town for the night.
More than twelve hours after we departed, we finally got dropped off at a small town in the middle of the night. We were exhausted, sore, bruised, and so incredibly frustrated at the way things had turned out, but also so glad to be off that damned truck.
We ended up sleeping on a bench at the bus station, promising ourselves that we would never put ourselves in such a position again.
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