The troll who slept on the bridge, and trolling nature while at it

Sleeping in the middle of the bridge over Rio Negro

Is setting up a hammock and sleeping on top of a bridge in the middle of a tropical river during the rainy season a good idea? I definitely think so.

I have decided to leave Manaus for a short period of time to go across Rio Negro to the other side of the bank and find a beach. I knew one by the name of Praia do Açutuba, which is about 30km from Manaus.

I went out nice and early with a mind of walking there. It was a beautiful day, slightly overcast, plenty of shadow to hide the sun, a hint of rain in the air. This was a pleasant break from the previous 5 days of sweltering heat, during which it hasn´t rained even once, and this was after all the Amazon.

And so I walked, and I walked, and then I walked some more, and after about 3 hours, I have arrived at the foot of the road that was the bridge across the Rio Negro.

The Ponte Rio Negro is a magnificent sight to behold. Spanning over 3.5 kilometers in length and over 150 meters altitude at its highest point, this cable-stayed bridge was not to be trifled with. So I was going to walk over it.

After pushing past some taxi peddlers who wanted to inflict upon me the horrible fate of never having to walk over this brilliance of architecture and engineering, I made my first steps up.

This was going to be amazing. After ascending up a little, I took frequent stops to take in the river below me, now seemingly large distance away. I could see the port workers going at it, some water stations, and the boats, like the one I took to get to Manaus, seemingly as tiny as toys. But this was nothing compared to how awesome the middle of this bridge was.

As I approached the 50% mark, where all of the cables come to join together at the center, there was a little tiny platform that was away from the road, about 3 or 4 meters above it, and blocked from view of one of the huge columns.

The view from this point was absolutely fantastic. The river to the west of the bridge spanned more than 5km across. No wonder the early Portuguese explorers called the Amazon the inland sea.

I decided to take a small break just here. Taking out the yerba mate, generously gifted to me by Alejo and Valentin, 2 Argentinians I met on my way to Manaus, I prepared some mate, and drank about 3 cups, looking out into the vastness of the river.

The other side of the bridge. This huge shadow is the column behind which is the platform.

The mate was very refreshing after 4 and a half hours of walking. The more I sat there, the more I began to notice the corner between the fence on the platform. It if didn´t look hammockable, I didn´t know what was.

The breeze felt amazing against my skin, and it was already 3PM, running into the 4th hour of the afternoon. The sun was orange on the west side of the horizon. So I did what any reasonable person would have done in my place. I stashed my bag, ran back down to a supermarket I saw on this way here at the foot of the bridge, bought some cereal, a bottle of water, and a chocolate bar, made my way back up, this time without trouble from the taxi peddlers since I didn´t have a large bag with me, and indication that I was going somewhere, and resumed my position in the middle of the bridge.

I made my lunch of the chocolate bar and a soda called Tonic Antarctica, which was a name too good to pass on in the tropical heat of Manaus, and went about to hang the hammock.

My hypothesis was spot on. If this isn´t the perfect place to hang a hammock, then I really don´t know what is.

So, on top of a bridge, hidden from view of passing traffic, with the mighty Rio Negro below me, I settled into my hammock and spent a good 2 hours reading my copy of Harry Potter y el Prisonero de Azkhaban (in Spanish, from my time in Buenos Aires).

As the evening fell, there were a lot of people passing by, running, doing exercise, stretching, the usual after work activities. They didn´t seem to mind me there in my hammock, and some of them waved hello as they passed.

The sky began to look dark with clouds, and it was possible to see lightning in the distance.

After having a conversation with a woman who was chilling there from her run to the top of the bridge, and drinking some mate, I decided to use the outside part of my tent as a tarp to protect against the rain. It was very large, and I didn´t have any trouble covering all ends of my hammock. I tied it to the poles of the fence, and to my bag, which I placed on the other side of the hammock.

I didn´t bother with a mosquito net. I had read previously that a mosquito, a malaria transmitting one anyway, of the anopheles genus, can only fly up to 100 meters in their life time. And I was pretty sure they didn´t breed in the middle of the bridge. And since I was well more than 100m in any direction on either side, I thought it was pretty safe.

As the darkness fell, the rain started to fall, people disappeared, and I went into my hammock. It was very cosy, the sound of rain hitting the tarp, a mild tropical wind, I fell asleep in no time.

I awoke in no time as well, to the noise of the tarp flapping very very noisily against wind, torn from my bag, over the side of the bridge! I was also getting soaked with the downpour that was happening, like as if someone was pouring buckets of water inside a wind tunnel. The tarp was tied to the fence, but the wind was so freaking strong that it lifted my bag, the tarp acting like a parachute now, and the whole thing was flapping over the bridge!

Holy shit! As I quickly jumped up from my hammock, it went flying as well, relieved from my body weight.

I struggled to pull the tarp along with my bag back on the correct side of the bridge. It was a real test of endurance to then fold my tarp somehow so that it would stop thinking it was a parachute.

It was a real storm, with lightning on all sides of me, the sounds of thunder echoing and threatening to tear the sky as the nitrogen atoms split in chain reactions, and buckets of water being dumped on me from above. It hasn´t so much as trickled rain in more than 5 days, so of course it would have to storm on the specific night I decided to sleep outdoors. Typical.

After the rain passed and the wind seemed to have calmed down, I dumped the water from out of my hammock, and decided to give sleeping another go. It was still pretty warm, so being wet wasn´t so much a problem. I didn´t bother with the tarp this time, since there was no reason at this point. It was about 11PM.

The night was calm and after some time, I fell asleep again. I even imagined my hammock and clothes dry a bit, or maybe that was a dream. Then the downpour resumed. The wind returned, and even through my tarp wasn´t around to exaggerate it, I was now full on swinging in my hammock and my bag threatened to fly even without being attached to a parachute.

Also, it started to be cold. Really cold. The wind wasn´t warm and tropical anymore. It was ice, chilling to the bone. The rain was also cold. I lay there in it for about 15mins, but as it only intensified, with the sky being almost perpetually lit up by lightning and thunder threatening all hell to break lose, me being frozen to the core, I knew I couldn´t continue just chilling (no pun intended) in my hammock.

I untied it from the fence while still lying in it, for I knew getting out would almost certainly blow it away, and folded it up while sitting on it.

I packed my back as well as I could, given the conditions, tied a strap to the fence just in case after stuffing it full of wet clothes, and got the mate out and my harmonica.

My hat, the one that I had in the side pocket of my bag was missing. Carried away by the Amazon. I stood by the fence, buckets of water being dumped all over me, and poured some mate from my thermos, the water still being hot. I passed the remainder of the hour staring out to the river, shielding my eyes and mate from the water, for the raindrops were as huge so as to fill a decent sized bowl with just one. The river down below sported waves fit for surfing.

As I stood there in the storm sipping mate, playing my harmonica in duet with the wind, my soacked jacket flapping with the rain, I felt on top of the world. And while I didn´t get much sleep that night, and the next day would consist of trying to dry literally everything I had with me, it was all worth it. And to prove my earlier theory, there wasn´t a single mosquito out. And as such, this was my encounter with Ponte Rio Negro.

Of course I could have just kept on walking and crossed Ponte Rio Negro like everyone else, without getting caught in a storm and risking getting hit by lightning at the altitude of 200m in the middle of the river, without sleeping in my hammock on top of a bridge, but then where would be the story to tell, nay?