Falling for Nature : Destination: South America : The falls shake the earth with an unrelenting roar like some wild, trapped hurricane. : Spectacular Iguazu Falls straddle the border between Argentina and Brazil, and it’s hard to decide which side is more beautiful

I was standing on Argentine soil at the confluence of two rivers, the Parana and the Iguazu, both thick as soup with muddy red soil carried down by recent rains. To the left lay Paraguay, where some men were launching small fishing boats down at the waterline. Straight ahead was Brazil, looking lush and green as I had always imagined. Behind me stood a monument with three flags marking the joint border between once hostile nations now linked by trade and cultural ties. And by tourism.

Twelve miles upriver is one of South America’s major attractions: Iguazu National Park, which straddles the border between Argentina and Brazil and annually draws half a million visitors to what many think are the most spectacular falls in the Western Hemisphere. And there’s more nearby. Up the Rio Parana, gigantic Itaipu Dam sits with authority between Brazil and Paraguay, and tourists learn it’s the world’s largest hydroelectric facility. (When completed in 1982, the dam flooded Sete Quedas--eliminating a waterfall said to have rivaled Iguazu in splendor.) Later, they will be packed off across Friendship Bridge (Puente de Amistad) to the eccentric Paraguayan town of Ciudad del Este, a frenzied collection of shops jammed with cheap electronic gadgets and a rather wicked whiskey called Old Smuggler. Argentines go there for bargains; others may find it a curiosity.

El Hito Argentino, as the three-nation lookout is called, lies at the far end of Puerto Iguazu, a pleasant but seedy town like something out of the Graham Greene novel “The Honorary Consul.” There are money-changers and souvenir shops and a couple dozen hotels and residenciales catering to visitors, who mostly get around on big gleaming excursion buses made by Mercedes-Benz AG in Brazil.

Instead of joining the herd, I found the main bus terminal, where I jumped on a rattling local bus with wooden seats going out to the falls, Cataratas del Iguazu. Working the bus’s awkward floor shift while smoking incessantly was a reed-thin young man with what I thought were Teutonic blue eyes and hair the color of straw. He spoke Spanish like a native, however, and later I learned he was called el polaco, and descended from a family of Polish immigrants.

Puerto Iguazu lies at the extreme north of Misiones province, a narrow finger of Argentine territory jutting up along the Parana river between Paraguay and Brazil. The region derives its name from the string of Jesuit missions (depicted in the film “The Mission”) that two centuries ago formed the core of a clerical empire as large as France. During the past few decades Misiones has received repeated waves of European immigrants, including a few suspicious characters after the last World War who appreciated being able to hop from one country to another at a moment’s notice.

On the outskirts of town we passed the road leading to the bridge over the Iguazu river. Dozens of trucks loaded with Argentine vegetables, mostly garlic and onions, formed a long queue to one side as they awaited customs clearance into Brazil, a process that, I was told by one truck driver, can take up to 24 hours. There was another logjam of buses and private cars making the excursion to the Brazilian side of the falls, into their segment of the park, called Iguacu National Park.

The two parks have separate administrations but cooperate on most matters. One notable exception is the clattering tourist-loaded helicopters flying into the gorge on the Brazilian side; in deference to its rich wildlife population, Argentina bans them. There’s a perennial debate among visitors over which side has better views and access, with the consensus being that Brazil has the better panoramic view while Argentina offers a closer, more intimate look at the falls.

Nearing the park on the Argentine side I saw a cloud of butterflies--one of 25 varieties here--flash past and seemingly vanish. There are 430 species of birds in the park: toucans with their huge colored beaks; noisy, yellow-breasted bluebirds called urraca ; endangered species such as the wild turkey and royal condor, and ordinary swifts and ospreys, the black birds that have become the park’s symbol and are seen nesting beneath the falls.

Moreover, there are about 60 species of mammals, including sleek jaguars, long-snouted and aggressive coati, capuchin and howler monkeys, hog-like tapirs, several types of puma and deer, armadillos, anteaters, giant otters and alligators. None are considered dangerous and they roam freely in a huge protected area of about 135,000 acres on the Argentine side alone. The park is carpeted with more than 2,000 varieties of trees and plants: wild orchids and carnations, ferns and mosses of infinite variety.

We entered the park’s reserva , a small section adjacent to the falls where limited touristic facilities are allowed, and which, unlike the park proper, is off limits to commercial development. (Ironically, a major road plows right through it.) I stopped off at the Centro de Investigaciones and met Rob Whipple and Jim Stanford, two Peace Corps volunteers working at the park but who were about to be transferred out.

“Unlike the normal focus on basic infrastructure and teaching people how to brush their teeth, the Peace Corps in Argentina focused on environmental education. Foresters, wildlife biologists and parks people were involved,” Whipple told me, as we walked along one of the park’s many nature trails. But the program was in the process of closing down after just two years, when I was there last September. This was due to high operating costs and “PC politics,” according to the pair.

The two men described some of the park’s problems, such as raw sewage being pumped into the river by the big hotels, wild animal poaching and proposed development projects, including a golf course and system of gondolas extending across the falls that some feel could ruin the natural panorama. A local environmental group called SOS Cataratas blocked the projects temporarily, but agreements have been signed and construction will probably begin within the next few years.

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Sometimes the encroachments of civilization can be quite pleasant. The Hotel Internacional Iguazu, where I stayed in modern luxury, provides excellent accommodations, food and service in a truly splendid location overlooking the falls. After the throngs of camera-clicking tourists depart each afternoon, hotel guests have the falls practically to themselves, and a moonlit stroll along catwalks above the raging waters must be about the most romantic walk anywhere in the world.

The Brazilian side boasts a marvelous hotel called Das Cataratas. With pink walls and tile roof, high-beamed ceilings and massive studded doors, this colonial-style building exudes Old World style and amenities, including a separate billiards room and outdoor dining amid luxuriant tropical gardens. A series of paved walkways directly in front of the hotel leads to inspiring views of the falls.

In 1541 Spanish conquistador Cabeza de Vaca and his men became the first Europeans to view and chronicle what natives called Iguazu, from the Guarani words I (water) and guazu (great). This is not hyperbole when speaking of these awe-inspiring cataracts, higher than Niagara and more than two miles across. The falls mark the abrupt end of a volcanic flow where basalt meets a sedimentary plain, but the edge of the precipice is uneven and the water does not fall in a continuous curtain as it does at Niagara and other places. The falls are actually a string of about 250 different falls on both sides of the Brazil-Argentina border, and collectively they shake the earth with an unrelenting roar like some wild, trapped hurricane.

The eye of the storm is a section of the falls called Garganta del Diablo (Devil’s Throat), where the volume is cranked up a few decibels and the foamy white spray rising from the abyss made my camera laughably inadequate. Ever since the old walkways were washed out by floods, Garganta is reached from the boat landing, Puerto Canoas, via a small skiff seating eight or 10 people. (I paid about $5 for this ride.) But slicing through the stiff current, I couldn’t help wonder which direction we would float if the outboard motor suddenly cut out. There seemed only one way to go, and I didn’t like the prospects.

Interestingly, the previous day I’d been unable to make the excursion because the river had receded in the night. There are five dams upriver on the Iguazu, and Argentines like to blame the Brazilians for controlling the flow a tad selfishly. (The Brazilians I spoke with blamed nature, saying it all depends on the rainfall.) But it’s no laughing matter for locals; during a 1978 drought, the river dropped to a trickle and tourism plummeted.

Argentina’s premier national park (one of 23 in the system) opened in 1932, and the old hotel now replaced by the Internacional (and just a few hundred yards away) has been converted into a park center with modest displays on flora and fauna, a couple of restaurants and some shops. Seated outside on mats, coffee-dark Guaranis in colorful garb play music and hawk souvenirs between sips of mate tea, a pungent herb related to holly that is steeped in a gourd and ingested through a kind of rigid straw. It’s been consumed passionately all over Argentina since the days of the gauchos.

Here, too, you can rent hats, raincoats, rubber boots and umbrellas: all items that might come in handy when exploring the falls. This I could do at my own pace without the constraints of an organized tour or talkative ranger. The few trail signs were disorganized and confusing, and I found myself lost in a strangely pleasant fashion.

For despite their worldwide fame, undeniably justified, Iguazu Falls remain largely unspoiled by the trappings of mass tourism. Here, nature is allowed--at least for the present--to go on doing what it does best.

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GUIDEBOOK

Iguazu Falls,

Naturally

Getting there: No airlines fly direct to Iguazu National Park. From LAX fly to Sao~ Paulo, Brazil, on Varig, United or American, and connect with flights to the town of Puerto Iguazu on Varig or Transbrasil. Or fly Aerolineas Argentinas from LAX to Buenos Aires and take a connecting flight on Varig to Iguazu. Lowest round-trip, advance-purchase rates start at about $950.

Where to stay: Hotel Das Cataratas, Foz do Iguacu, Parana, Brazil; in the park; double room with breakfast $75-$150 per day; from the United States, telephone 011-55-455-232266, fax 011-55-455-741688.

Hotel Internacional, Parque Nacional Iguazu, 3370 Prov. de Misiones, Argentina; in the park; double, including breakfast, $100 to $200 per day; tel. 011-54-757-20748; fax 011-54-757-20311.

Hotel Esturion, 122 Av. Tres Fronteras, Puerto Iguazu, Prov. de Misiones, Argentina; good modern hotel on the Argentine side, overlooking the river in town (about 10 miles from the falls); double, including breakfast, $75-125 per day; tel. 011-54-757-20020.

Where to eat: Both hotels, Internacional and Das Cataratas, have excellent restaurants in a variety of price ranges. There are no other restaurants within the parks, but there are many of all types and prices in other hotels in the towns of Puerto Iguazu and Foz do Iguacu.

For more information: Argentine Government Tourism Office, 5055 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 210, Los Angeles 90036, (213) 930-0681.

Brazilian Consulate Trade Center, Tourist Information, 8484 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 711, Beverly Hills 90211, (213) 651-2664.