We took off from Buenos Aires and climbed out over the brown ocean, the subject of a heated discussion with a taxi driver a few days prior. "It is a RIVER, not an ocean", he said somewhat angrily, staring at me in the rear view mirror. Perhaps he'd never taken this flight or looked at a map. This was clearly an ocean and still very brown, no doubt due to the sediments being dumped into it by the Uruguay river. Within minutes we were following the river north.and there was a grid work of farms on either side, some greener than others, which eventually gave way to thick, misty jungle. Below us were Paraguay, Argentina and Brazil - fit together like a jigsaw puzzle and near the point where the three meet, a torrent of water surges over jagged cliffs to create the most spectacular falls you're likely to see in your lifetime.
You can see the falls from either the Brazilian or Argentinian side of the river. We chose the latter- no need to go through customs and potentially be forced to buy a visa. We started on the lower trail, which, as the name suggests, approaches the falls at ground level.
The park is more than just water, it turns out. There are all manner of critters - some more familiar than others. I'd heard of but hadn't seen a Coati Mundi until now. The mother and kids are cute but the males are very aggressive. We'd later have a run in with some at our picnic table just as we finished lunch. Other diners weren't so lucky, they were swarmed by a pack and had to surrender their empanadas and beer.
The Plush Crested Jays were much more serene as were the large spiders patiently waiting in their webs.
After a mile of hiking downhill, we caught a glimpse of the falls. There are a total of 275 falls, they look like a white curtain spread out amongst the jungle. They're quieter than you expect, at least from this distance.
The lower trail leads you to mid point of the falls closest to the shore.
From this close you get wet within minutes but after 100 steps of hiking back out, you're dry again.
Two of the 275 falls are actually modestly-sized and are labeled the "small falls." We later walked along the top of these and looking down, you get a whole different sense of the scale.
No matter where you look, the falls just seem to keep going into the horizon. It's hard to make sense out of them at ground level.
Looking at a map, you can see where the power comes from. The Iguazu river, almost as deep as it is wide, takes a tight right turn and is squeezed together into a narrow ribbon just as it meets the cliffs, which cut diagonally across from the left bank to mid-river. The water is forced together and up and shoots out violently.
Not that you can tell from the edge closest to shore, the water seems serene until it takes its first step off.
I stared and imagined someone trying to go over with a kayak or a barrel. I just don't see them making it. The swirl and foam don't settle until half a mile downstream.
Our final hike was to the Devil's Throat, which is reached by an elevated walkway. The entirety of river is corralled and flushed down a small circular drain.
It is absolutely deafening and primal.
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