The air was hot and humid, and I woke up thinking that it rained the whole night and the road which goes through Bolivia is a dirt road.
And here I am at the crossroads. Guess which road I have to take?
I have a break, eat a late breakfast and ask the locals about the state of the road. One man tells me: “the road is OK, and there is a police station at the border”. Reassured, I take the dirt road and within minutes I am in the jungle.
There was nothing around, no house, no village, and for sure no car was passing. I keep on pedalling, but the police station was not appearing. I became a bit impacient, so I check my GPS, which tells me I am already in Bolivia. I tell myself “just go five kilometers more, and then see what happens”, but in the back of my mind I knew I was past the point of no return. All of a sudden a station of the Peruvian police appears in the middle of the bush. But wait – this is no border control point, and the policeman cannot stamp my passport. What to do? I talk to him and we reach the conclusion that he can write me a laissez-passer which can serve an a sort of an exit stamp. He writes the document and shows me the path to the police station on the Bolivian side. I arrive there, but to my surprise this was a not the Bolivian police, but the Bolivian navy (in the middle of the jungle above all!).
Here I explain my situation, and am issued a laissez-passer with the Bolivian navy stamp, to serve as an entry-visa replacement. Now within the law I continue my route through the jungle. There was nobody around, and the nature was impressive. I saw monkeys, an animal which looked like a combination between a rabbit and a hedgehog and a colony of leafcutter ants.
From one point on the road became bad and muddy, and I had to push the bike. Even so, the mud was so gluey that it was building up on the wheels and blocking them, so I had to clean it by hand every five minutes.
The road was going slowly up and down through jungle and once in a while some houses appeared here and there.
I finally reached the village of Nareuda, where I was invited to camp by a very nice Brasilian family living there. After setting up my tent and taking a shower, I was offered açai juice, which I drank for the first time in my life. After this we watched the Brasilian news, and this great day ended with an invitation to dinner.