Sunday, eh? Day of rest, apparently. Bit annoying therefore to be woken up at just gone 1am, rather than the more customary 5am. Not due to animals or jet lag or owt though, but the absolute pummeling rain. It's an incredible sound to behold, yet somehow manages to get even harder while we're both awake. Helen takes a look out of the window and sees that we're essentially living under another waterfall, for now. Blimey eh?
Back to sleep and a lie-in though. We've got basically nothing planned for Sunday. The river tour and jungle walk are the big hitters here, and if you're a bit more adventurous you can go kayaking or canoeing on yer own 'n that but we're not and we don't. Instead, after a lovely breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup Helen goes to wake up the folk at the local spa and get a 1hr massage, while I write up Saturday.
Headphones on and concentrating on the iPad, I almost miss the excitement as two people capsize their canoe. These waters have crocodiles and caiman in, don't forget. I'm not sure they're tourists, and there doesn't seem to be a vast amount of panic. They both manage to swim back to their vessel, and one crawls into it. A lone lass in a wooden boat sidles up alongside and the other one clambers inside. Then there's a lot of talking and handwaving and after a while they all float serenely past the deck. No-one but me seems to really be of the opinion that what just happened constituted mild peril.
Lots of planes come and go, which surprises me but probably shouldn't. When Helen gets back I mention it, and we both conclude that perhaps there are a ton of week long package deals set up by agencies or the lodges directly, which fly people in on a Sunday and out the following week. Who knows?
I am disappointed that Greggs is shut.
The village cab rank.
Loving the hand painted tripadvisor sign.
There are rusting old pieces of logging machinery, to reflect the 40s-70s industrial past.
The national park is at the southern end of the village.