Into the Amazon

Canoeing down the Amazon river

Day 1

"Watch out for the wake!" - I yelled at John, without much success over the roar of the engine.

Leaving Manaus proved to be a mission. It is a very industrial city with a busy port, and receives comings and goings of many a cargo ship, which in addition to the need to be avoided send a giant wake of waves that has on more than one occasion nearly capsized us. That coupled with the fact that neither of us have ever driven a boat before, especially one with the 70s technology engine, it was a serious challenge. I was having the time of my life.

"What?" - John yelled back at me. "Watch out for the wake!" "Something I could not make out over the noise." "Never mind!" - I was sure we were going to be fine.

We came dangerously close to a number of huge cargo rigs, but eventually, finally made it across the Rio Negro to the other quieter side of the river. The plan was to set up camp as soon as we found a spot. It was 4PM, since we started a bit late, and this was a good test run to get a preview of what was to come. It felt good to finally leave Manaus.

"So you live in Manaus, right?" - said William once, a hostel owner of one of the hostels I visited John at.

Damn, but I spent 3 whole weeks in that place. A whole chapter of my life, seemingly. Now put behind. As John kept the boat roaring, I watched Manaus fade into the distance, never to be seen again.

We found a decent spot that was just on the other side of a barbwire fence, just outside someone`s land. The disturbing lack of trees on the shore prompted me to pitch my tent. John didn't have a tent anymore, and was forced to go deep into the jungle, where he hung his hammock.

Not before long, the farmers wizened up to our activities, and decided to come check us out. As they approached on their little canoe, paddling silently,I asked if it was ok to camp here. The older one nodded his head. And they were off, without a word. Well, all and good.

A campfire was started, and tuna pasta was cooked. Harmonicas were played, the gun was shot more than once at a conveniently located sheet of plywood, and we retired to rest, for it was going to be a long day when we woke up again.

I could not imagine what it was like for John in the jungle, but I heard all sorts of creepy noises from the inside of my tent. The negative side of tents, which sits quite bad with me,is that you cannot see out of it. The small waves quietly licking the shore sounded like footsteps. The rustle of leaves and grass seemed like somebody was touching my tent. In fact, one time I was so convinced that somebody was approaching, I unzipped and jumped out of my tent,machete at the ready. There of course, was nobody there, and I was rewarded with a few mosquito bites for my bravery. Soon after, I fell asleep.

A voice woke me up at around 30 minutes past midnight. It was rather distant, and I could make out only a bit of what was being said, but it was distinctly English. The man said stuff like “they only come out at night…” and “they only eat fish…” For some reason, being sleepy and all, I thought it was someone having a conversation with John. I payed it no mind and soon was again asleep.

The next morning, I asked John about the mysterious voice, and he didni`t know what I was talking about. I even went so far as to ask him if he was sure, my conviction was that strong. To this day, it remains a mystery who that voice belonged to. Probably some night jungle tour coming from Manaus. Crazy tourists… Hanging out in the jungle by night… That has to be dangerous, right?

Day 2

Upon waking, I wasted no time disarming my tent and packing up the camp. John was out of the jungle not before long, walking over with his hammock rolled up under one arm, the other holding machete. As soon as the land around us looked like we never came there, we got all of our gear into La Nina and pushed off the shore.

The engine was not started. In fact, it will not be started this entire day. Today, as all of the days coming up, were paddling days. And so up was our first challenge. The river had to be crossed back to the north bank, and we would have to stick there for the foreseeable future, until the rivers were divided again further east.

As we paddled off the shore and into the open river, I told John about my little paranoia during the night from the inside of the tent, and he told me some tales of his own.

"I was hearing all sorts of weird sounds, jungle and otherwise. It was insane, what a visceral experience!" - he was saying.

I could really imagine. Sleeping in the hammock literally in the dense of the Amazon jungle without any clearing, just right in there, hammock forced in between branches and trees, it must have been one hell of an experience. He told me tales of spiders around his little nest. At this point in time, he also didn’t have his mosquito net set up properly, but I’ll save that for a later tale.

It took us well over an hour to paddle across to the other side of the Rio Negro again, to the side where Manaus would have been, now sufficiently far away to not be seen.

It was an especially foggy day, and the waters were as calm and level as a silver grey mirror. Occasionally, there were river dolphins jumping out of the water, making for a magical sight.

"Once upon a time, in a small river village, during a heavy rainfall, there came a blond man into town. He was a stranger, and every maid was fascinated by him, for he was as handsome as a prince who has come out of a fairy tale. He talked to many a lady and charmed them with his unquivering wit and an impressive knowledge of the river. This the folk found to their surprise, for he was a stranger never seen before, and yet no one dared to question him, for his charm wove like a spell on the villagers. The young man asked one of the local ladies of the town to accompany him to the river, for it was time for him to leave. Doubtless, she was not able to resist such a proposal. As they walked off, a deep fog came over the forest and the river, and then after a while, the rain had stopped. Nobody has seen the mysterious blond man again, nor the lady he took with her. Sometimes, her friends claim to see a dolphin in the river that eerily reminds them of their lost friend, though quite in what way they can never tell."

That was the way John told the story of the river dolphins. I was familiar with it, but in a slightly different manner, where the dolphin takes on an appearance of a beautiful dark haired woman, and charms men to follow her into the river. The concept was the same though. Seen under the right angle, dolphins are wonderfully mysterious creatures. There they were, jumping out of the water, always keeping ahead of us and La Nina, as though guiding the way. We did actually follow them for a while with our paddles, as they led us slowly along due east.

At this point, since the motor was not in use, we have decided to cast the fishing net into the waters, to see what could be caught. This was no easy feat, as neither of us had the remotest idea of how to properly do it. However, after some fumbling around, it seemed to be well spread and in the water.

It didn’t however catch anything in the first 15 nor 20 minutes. The wait would, unfortunately, be quite a lot longer than that before we had our fish. Sitting out on the mirror-calm waters of the Amazon surrounded by thick tropical fog was the definition of serenity, if there ever was one. One could meditate for hours on end in the calmness of it.

Or could, if it wasn’t time for lunch. And it was! We set out to look for a suitable shore to park and have a bite to eat, which would be pasta cooked over a campfire, with some tuna and a hot sauce. Ahh, glorious camp food! We found a shore with some open area, and parked La Nina.

After packing up everything and chucking it back into the boat some 40 minutes later with our stomachs pleasantly filled, we set our rowing again. It was very calm and paddling is not such tiring a work, especially when motivated by the sheer natural beauty that was our surroundings, and so another couple of hours like this have passed. At this point, it was drawing towards the evening, and time to find a good spot to camp.

I said a good spot to camp, didn’t I? Well, we spotted an oil rig in the distance. That’s right, a fucking oil rig! In the middle of the river, some kilometers away. Nothing better than a little rogue stealth camping, I thought. John seemed to agree. We would tie the boat up to the rig, and find a place somewhere between the rails to tie up the hammocks. It was also situated in the middle of the river, so mosquitoes wouldn’t be a bother. 100 meters to either side, remember? In any case, to the oil rig was our course.

However, as we got closer to it, it seemed to be moving out of our way. At first it seemed an illusion, but then it became more apparent. It was literally trying to dodge us as we approached, moving to the other side of the shore.

"No way..." - I thought to myself, as my levels of excitement fueled by anticipation to pass a night on an oil rig came crashing down, slowly realizing that it was not to be. So we shifted course away from the oil rig, and went towards the shore. Luckily, the first spot looked somewhat like an orchard, with perfect trees situated in a valley full of knee high grass, and it was perfect for a hammock. As we parked the boat, and as I went over to scout the place out, I heard John yelling behind me with excitement.

"A fish! We got a fish!"

I ran back over to the shore to discover that we indeed had ourselves a piranha tangled up in the fishing net. Ohh, but was that good news! Needless to say, we had ourselves a feast that night. This is also the first time our grill came into play as an object of significance, but I shall elaborate on this point in due time. We grilled our little piranha on that grill over a fire, and ate like two guys who just caught their first fish after rowing the entire day on the Amazon!

"It is extremely bony" - commented John.

And it was. There were perhaps more bones than there was meat. But I think neither of us really cared about that, given our level of hunger and overall enthusiasm in consuming our first caught piranha. After we ate, we slept away the night peacefully in our hammocks until dawn.