The Ecuador / Peru border? Or that place where Luke Skywalker met Han Solo?

The border between Peru and Ecuador is brutal. It’s a place that you should not go to if you’re not from there, and if you are from there, you still probably shouldn’t be there. As I have found out, this border between Aguas Verdes and Hauquillas is possibly the most dangerous border in the hemisphere. Dangerous because it is ripe for smuggling, theft, assault and just about anything else you can imagine. With one wrong turn, or one too many distractions, you can easily become victim / accomplice to it all. On Sunday I, along with all of my important life possessions crossed this border….on foot. Never do this. I’ve seen a lot of neat shit on the road, and I’ve done well to counter the traveller’s paranoia, but seriously this border is messed up. You need a few horseshoes planted firmly up your ass to make it through.

The Ecuador / Peru border is completely lawless. Contraband junk comes from Ecuador into Peru, and arms and drugs go to Ecuador. Because immigration, customs, and military check points are located at minimum 5 km outside of the two towns (which join over a bridge in their main roads), you have a region that has no official presence…anywhere. This place needs a UN security force, let alone regular police.

This is a clear example for how you need, to some reasonable level, comprehensive security; an authoritative presence so to speak. All that you see in Aguas Verdes and Hauquillas are some private security guards and not much else. National police, customs and the military deal with the mess from afar. It’s that hands off, “leave the dogs to themselves” attitude that creates this place. The unwanted of both countries come here like a hive, they live by stealing and reselling the stolen wares. If it isn’t stolen, it’s probably fake and for sale too. Never do the beggars, thieves and bandits have to show their identity to anyone. Slums out number sturdy structures. Trucks being gutted and reassembled with concealed contraband outnumber the ones that are intact. The poor outnumber the not-so-poor, and, thieves out number everyone.

The towns smell like hell, and everything looks it. It’s a scene somewhere between a Brazilian slum and the apocalypse. Through the mud roads, loaded with the shit of many creatures, are the crowds with their hands out. The strong come at you with offers and threats, while the truly broken lie hobbled to the side of the road.

When I arrived in Tumbes (30 km outside of Aguas Verdes on the Peruvian side), I was met by my guide, Miguel, who really assumed, and admitted to, the role of guard…as in body guard. Where the hell outside of Iraq, or wealthy circles in Mexico City do you need a body guard? Especially when you’re me? Already the hustlers had trickled down to Tumbes to snatch the unaware, but we made a clean break to his private car. Miguel and I exchanged all the formalities, including enough information about each other, so that we knew that I was the pick up and he was indeed the pre-arranged “guardia del cuerpo.”

As we drove the 25 minutes or so to Aguas, Miguel briefed me of the reality of this place. And we continued to chat about what we’re up against even as we stopped for some cheap contraband Ecuadorian fuel. We stopped at Peruvian immigration. Miguel watched the car with the luggage, and I went into customs house. The jinteneros were thick as flies. Coming at you left and right with wads of fake bills, and trying to distract you away from their partners, even for just a moment. Getting through this with many “no gacias” and “¡no me jodas!”, I received my exit stamp, and returned to the car. Into town we went.

As we approached the center of Aguas, the pedestrian traffic overwhelmed the car. Miguel turned off the main road and went down a shady shanty-town road, and parked the car in a soccer field next to a couple of trucks that had been gutted bare. He told me that it would cost him to take the car into Ecuador, and he just didn’t want to “risk it.” As we parked a homeless kid came up to us with a wheelbarrow. We loaded my large pack on to the wheelbarrow and started to walk up the shady shanty town, and back onto the main road loaded with chaos. The kid led the way, and I kept him in arms-length, while Miguel walked behind me at my 5 o’clock. And with eyes in the backs of our heads, we walked into Ecuador.

In Hauquillas we loaded into a taxi and took 5 km down the road to Ecuadorian immigration. Quick stamp there, but of course with hoards of jinteneros everywhere. Then we were into another taxi and back to hire a van to drive 4 hours to Guayaquil. The van made it through the mess without a problem, and Miguel went back for his car. Cruising past Ecuadorian immigration, we were stopped at customs. The guard went through my packs, and upon discovery of my lap top, he demanded that I show him proof of purchase. I told him that it was two years old, and I could prove it with the files already loaded. He didn’t seem to care, but when I told him that I was not Ecuadorian and only visiting, he had to give up the song and dance.

The road to Guayaquil was without incident, and a last minute change of flight plans allowed me to get to Quito that very night. A day later, in the somewhat sanctity of Quito, I could only imagine what it must have looked like back across that international bridge. It felt like some cheesy action movie minutes before shit goes pear shaped. Fortunately it didn’t, thanks to a damn good guide / guard.

Apparently doing this by bus is riskier than with the kid in the wheelbarrow. When customs opens the buses to inspect the baggage the jinteneros are there before you are, and your bag may be long gone before you get off the bus. Hearing this from first hand accounts, I’m not at all surprised. When the buses come in, it is crowded and confusing, and the jinteneros have the advantage. But when you muster the guts to walk across the most dangerous border in the Americas, you have a fighting chance. Maybe it’s how the system works, or maybe it’s because every single mugger is actually standing back in amazement for a second saying, “Who the f*#k is crazy enough to do that?”


I didn't take photos of this historic moment, but the following links have good photos depicting the scene:

Dutch NGO

Another mad adventurer

And another

Safety of a car?