Peru, in the heart
of the Andes Cordillera, the kingdom of the Apus, the Inca gods. Forbidden mountains
where the Apus promised death to any human who dared approach. Five centuries later, the legend lives on. There is a bold handful
that defies the decree of the gods without a second thought. Among them is Juan Carlos,
who takes the Cordillera route twice a week
and not without a certain pride. To drive on this road,
you need nerves of steel. You need it in your trousers,
you've got to have balls. Be a real man,
because the slightest mistake and you're dead. Especially into the narrow
single track tunnels. In these sacred mountains,
the only way to drive is with the horn. Tunnel or no tunnel from morning to night,
Juan Carlos travels at breakneck speed. Each tunnel exit is a lottery. There could be an oncoming vehicle
or rocks from a landslide. The mountainsides
around the tunnels are rarely reinforced. You can't drive on this road
if you are scared. The other day, a landslide almost
knocked me into the ravine. When Juan Carlos takes his foot
off the accelerator, it's not because he's afraid of death. It's because of the price of spare parts. I could go faster,
but it may brake an axle. To avoid accidents,
you have to slalom between stones. Peru's rugged geography
causes drivers no end of problems. To get across the Andes,
there are a few paved roads, but winding trails that snake
to dizzying passes 5000 meters high. There are a lot of corpses
at the bottom of the ravine. Along the narrow roads, it's not uncommon
for a truck to slide into the void. Now we're done. The bus began to reverse,
but its weight dragged it over the edge and into the ravine,
40 people were killed. In Peru, they rely on shamans
to ward off the evil eye. We chase away evil spirits from the body. At the foot of the Cordillera
flows the Amazon, the largest river in the world,
in parts, some 40 kilometers wide. It's monstrous, treacherous
and indomitable waters crossed by hundreds of ships. Passengers can remain stranded
on sandbanks for weeks at a time. Trujillo, on the Pacific coast of Peru, nothing much has changed
since the time of the Incas. Today, there are surfers,
but the fishermen still use boats built from reeds
like their ancestors before them. Juan Carlos set up
his company here six months ago. The idea came from his father,
who used to take his son with him as he drove his truck. It's an addiction
his father today regrets he passed on. I've seen many accidents,
often very serious ones. Falls, car wrecks, fires, collisions. Many of my friends
have died in road accidents. Juan Carlos does more than just drive. He also buys and sells goods
for his own account. Today, he's taking an enormous gamble
by transporting 260,000 eggs across the mountain roads. They're fragile,
but the eggs are well packed. They're securely attached
and it should hold. If the truck has an accident,
it might make a good omelet. It's happened to colleagues
whose trucks have overturned. The cargo is not insured. Juan Carlos has invested
all his savings in the venture. If there's an accident,
it's almost certain his business will go under. It's a tough bet. To get to Yungay,
the town where he's to make the delivery means traveling
300 kilometers on rugged terrain. He must never slow down
or even stop overnight. Otherwise, he'll be late
for the marketplace. I usually arrive
at the market in the morning at about 7:00 or 8:00 o'clock. If I'm late, my competitors
will have sold their goods to my customers. Juan Carlos has planned everything
to his own advantage. He's stealing a five hour march
on his rivals. Just two hours later,
at the entrance to a tunnel, he's forced to stop. Two cars have collided. What have you done? It was your fault. You could have gone round that way. You could have gone that way. The accident isn't too bad,
but it's created a huge traffic jam. The tunnel has only one lane,
and by the time it's cleared, Juan Carlos has lost two precious hours. To make them back will take time. Even if he's the macho he claims to be,
he's scared of accelerating. A few weeks ago,
he pushed the engine so hard, it finally gave up
and he almost lost his life. I was on a very steep descent
and my brakes failed. I tried to stop,
but the truck had picked up too much speed and in addition,
there was the weight of the cargo. Can you imagine? If I'd been a coward
with nothing in my pants, well, I would have jumped from the cabin,
but I'd be dead, crushed by my own truck. However, I kept my composure. I spotted a large rock
and I pointed the truck towards it, and it stopped. It's a long night for Juan Carlos. There's no rest, let alone a break. He needs to be doubly careful
now to maintain his slight lead. Luck is against him, and once again,
a few kilometers further on, he's forced to stop. A bus has broken down
and another is trying to tow it. I need to make a loop in the cable,
then tie it on. Here we go, and then attach it. That's fine, let me put it on. In the Cordillera, buses are the only way
to go from city to city. Ancient and often poorly maintained,
breakdowns are frequent. Passengers have little choice but to wait. They should check
the state of the bus before leaving. The bus was making
a really funny noise for about ten minutes and then it just stopped. We've had it now. They'd been waiting
for more than three hours. There's nothing to eat,
there's no water and no one knows when we'll be moving again. The road is poorly maintained. There are landslides,
cars going off the side. A lot of people killed. These passengers are not willing
to go home quite yet. As they wait for the tow truck,
the drivers have managed to get the bus onto the side of the road. The road is finally cleared. By now, Juan Carlos is late. His lead has melted away
and he has no choice but to go flat out. The bumps could damage
his precious cargo of eggs. Yungay is still
another 20 minutes drive. Juan Carlos is afraid that his clients
will buy the competitor's eggs. He does his sales pitch over the phone. Hello? Yes, I'm coming. We can talk when I arrive. It's 7:00 in the morning
and Juan Carlos finally arrives just a few minutes behind schedule. He checks the condition of his cargo. Did it make it? Yes, everything is good. Sometimes you have problems,
though, don't you? Well, of course. I could've lost the cargo back there. Juan Carlos has just enough time
for a quick breakfast before the return journey
and a new shipment. Yungay, population
20,000 is one of the few towns of any size in this remote valley. As elsewhere in the Andes,
the women wear their distinctive hats, a custom forced on them
by the Spanish conquistadores. Each tribe was given a different style. It was one way
to recognize and control them. Somewhat bizarrely,
the Indians have kept up the tradition. Each kind of transport
in this part of Peru faces its own constraints. The bridges, for example, are rarely
capable of supporting more than 20 tons. Pedro checks his load of cement
is within the legal weight limits. Pedro is heading
to the other side of the Cordillera, 350 kilometers over some
of the highest peaks in Peru. His destination is Huancrachuco, the last town
in the Andes before Amazonia. Barely 20 kilometers out of Yungay,
the road turns into a dirt track. There are quite a few abandoned roads
that are no longer repaired. The government just forgets about us
poor people, we peasants. On the horizon, the white Cordillera and Huascaran, at 6700 meters,
the tallest peak in all Peru. It'll take 15 or 16 hours
to reach Huancrachuco, but occasionally
because of potholes and landslides, it can take up to two or three days. To start with, the road is easy. Pedro drives quickly and safely. As the mountains loom ahead,
the road narrows to a thin strip of dirt. It's the same track messenger's would take
in the days of the Inca emperors. Come on! Come on! When it's this narrow, I need to be able
to see clearly out of my rearview mirror. Between the ravine and the mountainside, the track is just wide
enough for the truck. This is where the path starts to climb
to the peaks, 4000 meters up. The warning signs are a reminder
of the extremely dangerous bends ahead, and the so called bend of death. I can't drive too fast
because of all these bends. The truck is heavy
and because of the poor road, if I go too fast, I could tip right over. Tipping over here means ending up
in the bottom of the ravine. Fatal accidents are common. Recently, one experienced
bus driver was careless. The incident happened here
at the top of the climb. On the so-called bend of death. He was trying to make the curve,
the turn here, but he didn't manage it
the first time, so he stopped. Then he began to reverse. Suddenly, the weight dragged him backwards
and the bus fell into the canyon, 40 people were killed. Their relatives have put the crosses
and the small altars here. A short distance further on, Pedro
stops to check the tires, but he hears an ominous whistling. Yes, I need to patch this up,
it's a puncture. I have to do it because one wheel
won't be enough for this truck. You're meant to check these things, instead you're just sitting
in the truck doing nothing. Is it difficult to change the wheel?
I'll take about 20 minutes. Altitude 4000 meters,
and there's not much oxygen. Any physical effort
is painfully difficult. Maneuvering a 100 kilo tire is hard. It was a stone that made this hole. Instead of 20 minutes,
Pedro and his assistant take almost two hours to repair the tire. It's very tiring,
the wheel is too heavy. However, I like this sort of work. I like traveling along the road,
discovering new places. It's good, Pedro is behind schedule,
but he's still hoping to make it before nightfall. In the Andes, the roads may be tough,
but they do at least link all the towns in the Cordillera,
apart from one. That town is Iquitos. In the jungle, in the middle of nowhere,
its 400,000 inhabitants are cut off from the rest of the world. There are no roads. The only way in is by boat and by plane. People have got used
to doing without cars here. They get around on scooters or on bicycles
that have been shipped in along the river from Yurimaguas,
400 kilometers upstream. The commercial port at Yurimaguas
is not much to write home about, but the unkempt riverbank is where the boats that supply Iquitos
with food and goods are loaded. This ship, the Eduardo sixth,
is ready to cast off. In the hold, they're loading
30 tonnes of fruit and rice. Iquitos is a sprawling town
that swallows up everything. In just two hours,
this entire cargo will disappear. Nothing will be left. In addition to food,
the Eduardo sixth also carries animals. On the upper deck, passengers, 300 altogether jammed together
in hot, sticky conditions. It's so hot. We still need to wait. There are no cabins. Everyone finds what space they can. This rope can easily come undone. You need a proper knot. Most of the passengers
pay after they've boarded. The fare to Iquitos
is the equivalent of €30, a week's average wage in these parts. Many try and sneak a free ride. There are plenty of fake tickets,
but this helps me to detect them. On board, being multi-skilled
is essential from selling tickets to piloting, Captain Raphael
does everything. He's been sailing this river for 30 years. He knows its pitfalls. Yet just last year, his boat sank,
almost taking all hands down with it. A year ago, we hit another boat and sank. The water reached the second level here. The cargo was lost in the water. Before casting off, Raphael
puts on his uniform. That's the whistle, we're leaving. Engines on, come on, let's go. Madam, put your bags over there. You can't block the emergency exit. Let me through, hoist the gangways. The ships are berthed
one on top of the other, and extricating oneself is tricky. Push it a bit, we'll get through. Go on, keep shoving. Keep going,
go on, keep pushing. That's good, we're through. It takes at least three days
to sail down to Iquitos. In the dry season,
it's even more complicated. You see that sand,
the channel is over there. The rest are all sand banks
and very dangerous. You need to navigate through the middle
where the water's deep enough. I swear you need a good eye
to avoid running aground on the sand. The pilots take it in turns
at the helm every six hours. They need to concentrate 24 hours a day. Eyes peeled on constant watch
for the sandbanks. The currents are always changing
and the Amazonian river pilots have to navigate by guesswork. Late in the afternoon,
a violent storm strikes the Amazon. The curtain of rain reduces visibility and the pilot can no longer spot
the sandbanks. He needs help to steer away through. Go this way. Keep going this way. More to the left a little more. See, the channel is gone. Turn the wheel this way. This way, it's too late. The boat is no longer in the channel. Stuck between two sandbanks,
the vessel is now firmly in the grip of the current,
unable to steer and heading straight for the riverbank. We can't get out. The level is too low,
there's not enough depth. It's too narrow,
and I couldn't maneuver. Forced to go straight. For the time being,
only the bow of the ship is stuck. It needs to be freed
before the whole ship gets bogged down. It shouldn't ever really happen,
but it often does. Now we're stuck here and maybe
we'll get stopped further down too. This will mean a long wait. Oh, well, we're delayed now. What can you do when this happens? Well, if the ship gets stuck even more,
we'll need to lighten the load and put the cargo onto another boat. It's a very slow process. We need to get back
into the channel urgently. Two sailors head out to check the depth
of the river to find a route out. All they have to measure with is a pole. Two meters, 40, they found deeper water
and after reversing, the boat is finally free. We're at two meters 40. That's it. The water's deep enough. We'll head that way. Two meters 40. Two meters 70 here. Two meters ten,
it will be enough to get through. Two meters 40. To be safe, we'll continue
to take depth measurements all night, at least for another 12 hours
and all through the journey. The Eduardo the sixth has scraped through. For now at least, there's two more days
on the river before Iquitos, their destination. Up in the Cordillera, Pedro is now
on the toughest part of the journey for his truck,
a succession of mountain peaks, forcing him to constantly alter his speed
and let the clutch in and out. The abuse is wearing out the engine. On the dashboard, there's a warning light. The radiator is overheating
and the needle's in the red. That's not right, look, it's heating up. It's over 98. There's a hole in the radiator,
there must be a leak. Now we'll need to keep
stopping to add water. The good news, though,
is that in these mountains, there's plenty of water everywhere. It's spring water. It's like cooling fluid. Come on, we need to get on
if we want to arrive today. I can't hang around here anymore. Soon there's another problem. It can't climb anymore. The overheating
has damaged the engine, and Pedro can't figure out
what's causing it. Luckily for him in the Andes,
the drivers help each other out. Hi, how's it going? Listen, my engine's rolling over nicely,
but it can't climb. It keeps stalling. That's the diesel oil. That's probably dirt
and it's blocking the filter, and that stops it
going through the engine. Okay, thanks very much. If that's all it is,
it can be repaired in the next village. If it's more serious,
then it's an end to the journey. After the next bend, there's a bridge. It's one way of checking
whether the truck is not overweight. This is risky
because some of the planks are rotten. We could fall through,
it could collapse. I'm 19 and a half tons. Five hundred kilos under the limit. Nevertheless, crossing is risky. The key is to get across
without shaking the planks too much. By about 10:00 at night,
he finally finds a garage. In these remote mountains,
it's not good to break down and the mechanics work day and night. It's the moment of truth
for Pedro's truck. This is what there was. The diesel was filthy,
the dirt blocked the filter. Even if there are so many problems,
what can I do? It comes with a job and you accept it. I need to make a living. I think that's better now. A little further up in the village,
there's an unusual commotion that's blocking the traffic. Thousands of people are marching
to the sound of drums and flutes. All are heading to the same place. The valley of Qoyllur Riti. They've come from all over Peru
to take part in the largest pilgrimage in Latin America. The celebration of the Virgin Mary
and Viracocha, the Inca sun god. 100,000 faithfuls have undertaken
to travel for three days and nights to pay homage to them both. Among the dancers are the Ucucus who according to legend,
are half man, half bear. The mock fights represents
their strength and resistance to pain. Bizarrely though,
their voices are far from virile. They're high-pitched. Tradition has it they disguise
their voices to avoid being recognized. However, not all are here to dance. The majority of the pilgrims
trek up the mountainside for hours without flinching
to reach a small sanctuary. Only a few pilgrims are allowed to enter
and implore the gods of Qoyllur Riti. People visit the sanctuary
of Lord Qoyllur Riti because he can perform miracles. Many people believe
he can make them healthy, get them a good job,
and many other things. Those who can't enter
can always visit the miracles market. I'm selling houses, cars, land,
who wants some? The fact is, the woman is selling dreams. Rectangular stones symbolize houses,
the toys, cars. Purchasers believe they might see
their wishes come true within 12 months. Here are the fake documents
for buying a car. Here's the receipt, sales certificate,
driving license, and the tax sticker. You can get a car with these. Fake US dollars, to be precise,
bought in this fake bank. $30,000 for $0.30. At that rate,
a make believe house would cost about €4, twice the daily income of the Indians. Need a solicitor? This way, this Indian couple
have just purchased a house. The fake solicitor
officially registers the sale. Who is the buyer? Holgey Almeria. We're also buying land. Have you really bought it? Yes, but the papers are a joke. In addition to couples,
there are also students here to buy entry diplomas. Will you actually study? Oh, yes, to get a place,
you need to leave your wish to the Lord. That's why he's buying his admission,
so his wish can come true. Of course the wishes come true,
if you believe in it and have faith. The last day of the pilgrimage
is the most important. Only the privileged can carry the crosses. After hours of climbing,
they'll reach the glacier 5600 meters up and that much closer to the heavens. Whether their gods are Christian or Inca,
the Qoyllur Riti faithful hope their prayers will be heard. To Pedro, who is delivering cement,
it's one thing after another. He's got another 350 kilometers to go,
but he's been on the road for two days already
and his trip seems interminable. To avoid the rainy season,
turning the route into a swamp. Workers are surfacing
the roads with stones. To Pedro, what they're doing
is a waste of time. Why are they putting stones down? They'll need to take them up
because the weight of the trucks will shred the tires like razor blades. The Stones might also cause
the tires to burst, which is what happens next to Pedro. Stone gets in between the two tires. You see, with the pressure,
it will burst one of them. Usually the driver
doesn't even realize it. Changing tires
in these conditions can be dangerous. If you inflate a tire and this part
of the rim is not properly placed, it could come off and hit you in the face. These metal bars provide protection. A lot of drivers and mechanics
have been hurt or killed by the wheel rims breaking their necks. Pedro has another 60 kilometers to go. The hardest part. What time is it? 2:38. Well, we might make it
by 8:00 or 9:00 p.m if we don't stop. It's unwise to drive here at night. There are bandits
in these remote mountains. They could block the road
with rocks and then rob us. Until recently,
this region was a stronghold of the Shining Path Maoist guerrillas. They fought the authorities
for almost two decades to impose a communist regime. When their campaign ended,
not all the guerrillas returned home. Some have become highwaymen. Recently, they'd held up a trucker
on this stretch of road. It's now midnight and Pedro
has finally reached his destination. He gets lost inside the village. In Peru, signposts are rare. The parish should be that way. I don't know which way to go. I think we'll sleep here
and we'll find my way tomorrow. Pedro took three days
to cover 350 kilometers, an exhausting journey
which earns him less than €5. It's day two of the Eduardo
the sixth trip on the river. The 300 passengers rush
into the restaurant at the same time. On the menu are meat, rice and bananas. There's only one person serving,
so it could be a long wait. No, it's not great, but it's all there is,
otherwise, what would we eat? There are so many people that those
at the end of the queue will go hungry. Eduardo the sixth is the river omnibus. It stops in every remote hamlet,
which is welcome news for the villagers. They can make a few pennies
by trading with the passengers. Their life is hard, they're a long way
from towns and commerce. Then you know their hills
and they live off hunting and fishing and eat bananas, mainly. Dozens of women
gather to sell their wares, such as grilled lava kebabs
and more expensive goods too. The small parrot is €3. It's against the law to sell those. People buy them and take them to Iquitos. The police might confiscate them
so they drug them and hide them in their baggage. The monkeys, parrots, and parakeets
are all sold as pets, but not the coati. It's a baby, it's very small. The coati is much prized
for one thing. For it's small bone and it's penis. You put several in a bottle
and mix it with schnapps and you get achuni. Old men drink it
for its remarkable effects. It's better than Viagra. Ancestral remedies not just to invigorate but as cures too. Along the river medicine is rare, so the native Indios
turned to healers, the shamans who invoke the spirits to ward off evil. As with this small boy
suffering from malaria. The doctor couldn't help him,
and it will take two or three sessions to make him better. My father healed this way,
and my ancestors too. The shamans get their skills
from the plants in the forest. This is ayahuasca,
which is a creeper with mysterious power. It's been used since time immemorial
when there weren't any doctors yet. It's the only ingredient
he was willing to reveal. The rest remains a secret,
especially since the wrong dose could prove fatal. If you use too much,
it might make you mad. It's like a short circuit. Many people have died, but we healers know
what the right dose is. The shamans are more than healers. Thanks to the mystical creeper,
they have other powers. This man wants his wife
who left him to return home. This young
Indian woman wants to get pregnant. The third patient
has painful stomach cramps. Before the ceremony,
each of them has to swallow a bowl of a magical extraction. The immediate effect
is to make the patients vomit. Then they fall into a hypnotic state. Ayahuasca is so strong
it provokes visions. You can communicate with jaguars,
tigers, anacondas. These animals can draw out
the illness within the body. The sickness is like a black smoke
loaded with negative vibes. The plants acts like a magnet
on this man, for example. It attracts the woman,
so the couple can be reunited. That's the power of ayahuasca. May God bless you. The Eduardo the sixth
is due to end its journey. It's been a hard trip. This is where two tributaries
join the Amazon and this is where it becomes
the largest river in the world. Now we're on the Amazon,
the most unpredictable river in the world. You can see the power,
see the whirlpools down there. If the boat's overloaded,
those could suck the boat in and sink it. That's why we need to be careful
when we navigate these waters. By the end of the day,
they can see Iquitos. Journey's end. Go to K 19. Sorry, careful. Mind the gangway. Every week, a dozen boats like the Eduardo
the Sixth supply Iquitos. For the town without cars,
the river Amazon, despite all its dangers, remains the only link
to the outside world.
