Dear Diary

We leave the jungle paradise of Chuchini and continue west. At the gas station in Trinidad we use our new ID to fill up for the first time. No one cares that the guy on the card is someone else entirely, and with a big grin, I tank at a third of our previous cost.

We come again to a toll station (peaje) and then a police checkpoint, but there are no difficulties. I only ever show the Aduana and the license of the car in my name. Nevertheless, these constant controls in the country are very annoying.



We reach a ferry that is supposed to take us across the mighty Rio Mamore. We don’t have to wait long before we’re guided down a sandy track to the shore. I can hardly imagine how it should be passable here in the rainy season. The ferry itself consists only of very old boards and an outboard motor.

Vehicles are transported here at regular intervals to one side or the other. And that on barges that appear to be both badly assembled and totally rotten. Yet somehow they hold up.




While the ferryman lays down, chewing on his coca, the whole construction begins to sway. Two more cars made it onto the “boat” and are supposed to make it across the Rio Mamore. On the other bank, our ferryman spontaneously shovels a driveway out of the sand for us.

Remarkably, it works, we don’t drown, but come out unscathed. Passing a few huts with shops we get back on the slopes and after a few kilometers we have the impression of being the only ones in the wilderness again.



The street is impressive. It looks left and right of us as in the deep Pantanal. Small waterholes line up to the horizon and capybaras, alligators and waterfowl frolic peacefully on the banks.

A family of capybaras sneaks leisurely across the street in front of us and is not afraid of ending up in the cooking pot or as a road kill,



At a bridge over the Rio Tijamuchi I hope to see pink river dolphins, as some are said to live here. We stay here for an hour but only see small caimans. Then we continue along the road called “Jesuit Route” due to some missionary enclaves.

We find a place for the night by a lake near one of these missions called San Ignacio de Moxos.




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