Seven hours later there was no movement, however the whole deck was completely rammed with around 200 people bustling around, kids screaming and sh*tting everywhere, people walking in the shit and spreading it all over the ship and not a centimetre between each hammock, not to mention people setting up camp underneath of us and every other spare scrap of floor; we were ready to pass out, it was literal squalor. Peruvian people often seem to have a lack of either care of awareness of other people's space generally but here it was magnified to the extreme as we had women pretty much laying in our hammocks with us, letting their kids swing on them and people actually sneezing and wiping their hands on us. By now we were at breaking point. There was no air and no hope. Just when it couldnt have gotten any worse, everyone started taking down their hammocks and packing up to leave the boat, seemingly all knowing something we didn't. We asked around and found out that there was something wrong with the boat and we had to move to a different one! Disgruntled and close to tears with the humidity and weight of our stupid bags we reluctently climbed up the wooden plank onto the next boat. To our delight however we had been put on the top deck which had plenty of space and cool air flowing through from the open flanks. The delight didn't last long however on the realisation that the boat wouldn't be leaving for another 24 hours! Having no choice we tied up our hammocks and settled down for what would be the longest journey of our lives so far.
Thirty five hours after we had first stepped foot on the boat, there was finally some movement from the engine. You could hear the collective sigh of relief all round as we retreated out of the port and headed down river in the pitch black. This would be an adventure of sorts that was for sure and just to spice things up and keep me on my toes I had cronic food poisoning from some ceviche I had eaten the day before.
The next four days were a rollercoaster of crippling illness (having to pretty much set up camp in one of the only 2 toilet cubicles for the whole deck of people) levelled out by insanely beautiful Amazonian scenery constantly panning past like an episode of David Attenborough right in front of our hammocks. There was a sense of camaraderie from everyone on board, all going through this surreal experience together, sleeping next to complete strangers in such close quarters and sharing all of the amazing sights together. I even had a mini nail salon going for all the little girls and we were pretty much full time baby sitters some days. We met some lovely people and equally some really annoying people who played their terrible music full blast from there phones all night with no care for the whole room of people trying to sleep. In the dead of night was the only time of complete peace and stillness. Everyone was seemingly asleep and the boat silently glided down river with only a torch to guide the way. The stars were incredible at this time, you could see the milkyway so clearly and the sounds of the jungle on both sides of us made it all the more magical. The sunsets and rises were out of this World and the boat kept stopping off to deliver provisions to gorgeous small Amazonian villages the whole time; letting the people on to sell fresh fruit. We felt so lucky and in the end the illness was outweighed by the experience and knowing that it would probably be a long time before we would have the privelage of doing something like this again.
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