Leymebamba or bust?

Yesterday I found myself sitting in a café high up in one of the mountains surrounding Leymebamba, a small town southwest of Chachapoyas. Directly in front of me was a tree full of hummingbirds, The Café owner has set out feeders in various nooks and crannies on her property and I enjoyed the sight of dozens of the wee beauties flitting to and fro.

It was quite a show, their colours mostly involving shades of iridescent blues, greens and oranges, and in sizes ranging from tiny thumb-sized to some 4-5 inches long. Long beaked and short, and one with tail feathers that were about 8 inches long.

They all made noise as they flew and the tiny ones made a hum loud enough to remind me of a seaplane taking off. The chorus of chattering and tweeting in the trees surrounding the feeders was unreal.

It was interesting to watch a hummingbird hierarchy at work. From what I could make out the mid sized blue and green birds dive bombed each other, yet got pushed aside by the orange ones, the small bright tree-frog green ones kind of snuck in whenever they could, but tiny blue guys were simply bullies… they just swooped in and kind of kicked everyone off and went to work eating.

When I shifted my gaze only slightly to the left I saw a patchwork of farms on the mountains next to us, and a little further left there was a house with some kind of grass thatching for its roof. Rolling mountain peaks rise all around me. It was a lovely spot to stop for coffee and some banana bread, and I sat there long after I had finished my snack while I tried to take hummingbird pictures. It was a welcome break.

My day had started as I let myself out of the hostal in order to catch a 6 am bus from the station a few blocks away. Formalities observed and ID checked off we went down the switchback road out of Chachapoyas and turned onto a road that would wind along the riverside and for the next few hours. We stopped every now and then to either pick up or drop off people at the various small farms and villages that hugged the space between the river and the mountains.

Found my hostel in Leymebamba easily enough, the room was large and clean albeit a bit on the musty side and paid my $6 for the night. Then I went to find a taxi to take me up to the museum that put this town on the map.

No taxis. No motocars. Hmmm.

I ask how long it will take to walk, and am told that it would be about half an hour. (This obviously from someone who had never actually made the walk.) I walked up the street from the main square for about 3 blocks and then ran out of town. I mean this place is small. Continuing up the now dirt road I pass people coming in to town, all friendly, all knowing that I was headed to the museum, seeing as that is just about the only thing that would bring a gringa here.

At a juncture I waited until someone came along and they pointed me up a road that turned into a path which apparently was a short cut to a switchback. Back on the road, I walk until another fork has me wondering where the heck am I?

The next passerby was a man headed in the same direction as me, very hard to understand, but he indicated a path that was apparently another shortcut and headed up before me. I spared a thought for the advice about not taking shortcuts, and the wisdom of heading up the same pathway as a stranger who carried a machete strapped to his belt.

With a voice in my head reminding me of all the horrible things that can happen to a woman travelling alone, I took my time and soon my travelling companion gave up trying to converse with me and was far ahead of me on what was a very steep, old, stone trail dotted with large smelly fly patties. The reward was finding myself in the middle of pretty farmland showered in old stone wall fencing and framed by a breathtaking vista of mountains. A wow moment.

When I FINALLY made it to the end of the shortcut (god knows how long the road would have taken me) I was a mere 100 meters from the museum, according to the sign at the bend in the road. And it was a nice museum, full of artifacts and the remains of some 200 mummies that had been found in the cliffs of a valley not far from town. It took me no longer than a half hour to get through the exhibits, which then had me wandering into the café across the street… and to the hummingbirds.

The walk down to the village was much quicker, and I shared the shortcuts with various individuals, donkeys and horses, and the things that rustle and skulk in the vegetation beside me of course.

Back in the main square (really? in a town this small?) someone comes up to tell me that my return bus has been cancelled for the next day. That is how small this is, everyone was on the lookout for me. I looked for food. There was rice. I tried the internet place but I couldn’t log on. I went back to my hostal and pounded on the front door until someone opened it. I went to have a shower but the hot water didn’t work. I packed my stuff and took the next bus out. My plan to hike to a local ruin was pretty much killed by the hike I had to make up to the museum anyway, I could not have done both.

The bus ride back was long, and I was too tired to be bothered when all the people across the isle started vomiting or when the nice man sitting next to me kept falling asleep with his head on my shoulder.

Sunset saw me back in Chacha, after a long tiring day. I crashed after finding food, and slept until 11pm and the planned earthquake response re-enactment… Planned mayb,e but no one had told me about it so when police, fire, ambulance and military sirens started going off I wondered just how many busses must have driven off the highway or where the plane had crashed.

What a day. Good and Bad.