Turning up the heat

The thunderous wall of water seems to vaporise before it hits the plunge pool 60 metres below. From the viewing platform above the Devil’s Throat the river seems sedate in its passage towards the precipice, slowly flowing around islets of vegetation, barely a few feet deep. Fish swim lazily from rock to rock seemingly oblivious to the commotion less than twenty metres downstream. As the water flows over the terminal face of the falls the light refracts through the gentle curve of the fall before it reaches the vertical and dissipates into millions of individual droplets. As they fall further they form an homogenous meld of foaming white water that crashes into the plunge pool below, frothing and seething, sending a billowing cloud of vapour high above the falls.

The Devil’s Throat is the showpiece of the Iguaçu Falls, but there are several falls that match it or surpass it in power. What makes Iguaçu unique is the breadth of the horseshoe and the panoramic sweep of the falls. From the Argentinean side it is possible to see several aspects of the falls and you get a real feel for the sheer size and majesty of the spectacle. Well marked paths cut through the jungle guiding visitor to all the best viewpoints and a small train carries passengers to the walkway at the top of the falls. The humidity and heat of the jungle hold the perfume of the jungle plants close to the ground as the oppressive heat of the midday sun smothers the low lying canopy of vegetation. Copious butterflies flit from tree to tree searching for moisture and nectar, each variety seemingly seeking to out compete the next in the colour stakes.

The fact that we got to the falls at all was an achievement in itself. A group of local residents, exasperated by the governments lack of funding for education had taken to the streets and blockaded the one arterial route that links the town to Falls and the airport. Traffic was backed up all day and the picket lines were locked down. Luckily, on our way out we had reached the picket before they had enough critical mass to stop us crossing, however, our bus was not able to cross so we resorted to a mixture of hitchhiking and walking to get to the falls. On our return the traffic tailed back several kilometres and the barricade was watertight; no amount of talking and gesticulating could get us through. As we baked under the full force of the sun the mass of pedestrians grew and the clamour to get through increased until it was decided by the protestors to open the lines to pedestrians to ease the pressure. The legacy of civil disobedience in South America is longstanding and protest is a natural extension of the process of negotiation; whether it is parents demanding better education, water taxi drivers demanding more money or farmers challenging the onerous tax burden on their produce, demonstrators remonstrate in the loudest possible terms.