My friend Jim and I were in Guayaramerin in October 1985. We had just traveled up the Madeira River by boat in the dry season and that’s as far as we got by boat. We crossed the river into Bolivia and had a hard time finding anyone to change money from travelers cheques. I remember there were very few cars and buses and of an evening all the locals did laps around the large town square on their small motorbikes. We found the only way onward and out of there was to go to the airport and try and get on a military flight, that came in once a day. So we went there the next day to find a basic runway and an open tin shelter shed with a gathering of people waiting. We managed to get a ticket and waited. A thunderstorm came up and it rumbled , blew and rained just as the plane was heard coming in to land. It was a Fokker Friendship or maybe even a DC3 prop plane… Amongst a bit of organized chaos we scrambled aboard and got a seat each. Within minutes we were taking off , up through the thunderstorm,… lightening around us, rocking and a rolling, until we burst out into blue skies. There was the jungle laid out below us for as far as you could see with no roads, only twisty brown rivers. Eventually we saw the approaching Altiplano cliffs, and came in to land in Coachabamba, Bolivia. A truly memorable flight, and I can say I’ve truly been to the ends of the earth, in Guayaramerin.. ..where we found the locals helpful, happy and friendly. :) thank you for reading… trev K, Queensland Australia….:)