A Trip Down The Amazon

Written in 2001





Scot Walker



 
© Copyright 2026 by Scot Walker		 Photo by Gabriel Castaldini at Wikimedia Commons.
Meeting of the waters.  Photo by Gabriel Castaldini at Wikimedia Commons.

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the . I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings. The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.

After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded th


A TRIP DOWN THE AMAZON
Written in 2001 by Scot Walker

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the Rio Solimoes. I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings.


A TRIP DOWN THE AMAZON
Written in 2001 by Scot Walker

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the Rio Solimoes. I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings. The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.

After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded the speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. Fo


A TRIP DOWN THE AMAZON
Written in 2001 by Scot Walker

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the Rio Solimoes. I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the


A TRIP DOWN THE AMAZON
Written in 2001 by Scot Walker

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the Rio Solimoes. I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings. The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.


A TRIP DOWN THE AMAZON
Written in 2001 by Scot Walker

Dreamy-eyed, I put down my copy of Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels and decided then and there that I wanted to be an explorer just like him. I was ten years old at the time and could already picture myself sailing down the mighty Amazon, sleeping in a tent in the jungle and grappling with wild animals. Forty-five years later, I dug deep down into my soul and found the guts and determination to travel to the rain forest of Brazil and turn my dream into a reality.

Years before, when I had visited Egypt, the Nile was exactly as I had expected it to be: a long, thin blue line snaking through an impenetrable desert. For a few short miles on either side, paradise oozed out from the river’s edge and then … then, there was nothing … nothing but desert, sand, nomads, and desolation. The Amazon, on the other hand, was nothing at all like I had pictured it to be. Years before, while flying 20,000 feet over its delta, I watched its Herculean power as it spewed millions of tons of black Amazonian loam hundreds of miles into the crystal clear Atlantic. Now, however, I stood on the Manaus side of the Amazon and even though I was nearly a thousand miles from that delta, I had to strain my eyes to see the opposite shore.

After a wild 30-minute trip from my hotel through town, I boarded a powerboat to begin my journey and even though the boat tore across the river at break-neck speed, it still took 45 minutes to reach the opposite shore. Erase all the pictures you have ever had of the Amazon. Now substitute any scene from the movie Water World and you have a truer picture of what the Amazon is really like! Water was everywhere. There were streams, lakes, rivers, and even puddles the size of the District of Columbia -- and all were moving at their own rates -- rapidly or slowly, the mighty rivers and oozing streams flowed eastward toward the Atlantic. Some were crystal clear, some were tawdry, and others were black with silt, but they were all mixing and merging as they meandered, roared, billowed, or flowed toward the delta. And I stood in awe at the sight, wishing I had come a thousand years before, wishing I had the power, the time, the money to stay forever!

Halfway across the river, we stopped at the Meeting of the Waters where the black soil in the Rio Negro merged with the crystal clear water of the Rio Solimoes. I had waited forty-five years to see this sight and now my heart skipped several beats as I sat in a tiny boat in the middle of the Amazon watching two of its mightiest tributaries converge. I had already sailed on the Nile, the Danube, the Yellow, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, the Yukon, the Volga, the Themes, the Seine, the Rhine and the Zambezi, but now I was on the magnificent AMAZON and it was almost as if all of the other experiences had been nothing but preludes to this event.

When we embarked, I literally crawled up an extremely steep concrete ramp to reach Careiro, a small shantytown, where our Jeep waited for us. We bought Cokes and a snack and then started down a dirt road to the Araca River. This leg of the trip was about 40 miles, but it seemed longer because the road had so many potholes and ruts that it took over an hour and a half to reach the next river. Along the way I had to rethink everything I had ever learned about Brazil. I had been taught that the Amazon was a mighty river, but what I discovered was that it was actually a gridlock of massive rivers and gigantic streams. Picture downtown DC - grid locked with streets, avenues, circles and squares interconnecting and crisscrossing each other. Then superimpose that view as you sail down the Amazon. Picture Washington's streets as rivers, streams, tributaries, ponds, shallows and swamps and you have a picture of the real Amazon.

The road finally dead-ended at the Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings. The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.

After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded the speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. For the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).



After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded the speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. For the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).


Araca River where our guide, Jose and Tico the boat pilot, waited for us in a small powerboat. We spent about an hour and a half sailing up the Araca before we crossed Piranha Lake (its name was a lot more ominous than it appeared). Then we sailed up the Mamori River to Lake Juma and the Amazon lodge. Altogether, it took a total of four and a half hours to get from the door of my hotel to the lodge -- a journey of 62 miles. Along the way, the views were extraordinary! Each bend, each twist in the river, was better than the one before. (The only time I can say the same was during my trip to Transylvania when we crossed mountain range after mountain range. There, too, each vista was more beautiful than the one before.)

To say that the lodge was unique is an understatement! It sat on a raft built of four-foot thick balsa trees. Facing the lake, there was a large two-story hut-like structure. The upper room was a screened-in dining room. The lower portion was an open greeting area, bar, lounge and embarkation point for our jungle trips. The owner, designer, manager had planned and built everything perfectly in order to fit into the ecological surroundings. The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.

After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded the speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. For the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).


r the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).


The rest of the raft consisted of a kitchen, 17 bedroom, 3 lavatories and 3 showers (also with sinks) and the owner’s quarters. Each bedroom door opened unto a two-foot wide outer deck, giving the impression of living on a houseboat. There was no hot water and the electric generator was only turned on during the dining, conversation hours from sundown to about 11 PM.

Dinner the first evening consisted of chicken and fish -- both excellently prepared. I shied away from the raw fresh vegetables to avoid tourist disease, but ate them later in Salvador Bahia and Rio with no ill effect. After dinner I went alligator spotting with my fellow tourists, an Argentine with his two children. We boarded our small powerboat and sailed along Piranha Lake shining our flashlights up and down the shore trying to spot the pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at us. Alligators, our guide Jose, told us, are blinded when you shine a light in their eyes. To prove his point, he had us shine our lights on a baby alligator while he stuck his hand into the water and grabbed it. Feel yourself sitting next to me … a non-swimmer without a life jacket -- in a powerboat narrowing avoiding trees that grow from the depth of the river, cruising across Piranha Lake in the middle of a starless, moonless night, shining flashlights along the distant shore, seeing dozens of pairs of tiny red eyes staring motionlessly back at you. That's the glory of the jungle!

After another rousing evening of conversing in a half dozen languages, I called it a night and headed to my room. My eight-by-six -foot bedroom contained a single bed, a sink, a small shelf for clothing and a fan. There were no closets and the room was barely big enough to turn around in, but considering the amount of time I needed to spend in it, it was more than sufficient. At night, however, when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to get out my flashlight, stumble out my door, turn right onto the narrow and wobbling deck, walk through the bar/lounge area, continue to the right, walk down another bobbing two-foot wide deck and then turn right past the kitchen. How can I describe the experience? The jungle skies were overcast. There was no light except a feeble ray shining from my flashlight. I walked tenuously, praying I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake as the raft bobbed back and forth. Sleepily, I nearly crashed into a support beam in the common area. My tired eyes tried to focus on the heaving raft below me. The monkeys chattered in the trees. When I ultimately found the toilet, I didn't dare think about my journey back to my room.

A FRIGHTFUL JUNGLE WALK

I slept fitfully. All night long, I heard the monkeys scampering across the rooftops. After breakfast, I went for my jungle walk, which was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of the trip. As I watched Tico and Jose hacked their way through the forest and I thought about the men, women and children who had been hacked to death in countless civil wars. Then, just as I got used to the sights and sounds of the jungle and started to lose my fear of the machetes, the ten-year old Argentine boy was stung by wasps and became hysterical. By the time his dad calmed him down, I was more than edgy and faced my next obstacle -- how to drag my 56 year old body up a thirty-foot high embankment into an almost impenetrable jungle. Forget Walt Disney and all the things you've ever read about the rain forest. This was the real thing: A jungle so thick that our guides had to hack a path for every step we took. Then, just as I started to relax and enjoy the scenery, something happened that totally freaked me out. Jose grew very quite and almost whispered, “watch out for snakes, especially black or brown snakes -- because they are poisonous. If I say run," he continued, “run and don't ask why because if you get bitten by a snake, you will have to be transported to Manaus, otherwise you will die." I knew that the trip to Manus would take hours. And I could imagine dying an agonizing death on the way back. I've visited 60 countries and want to visit more, but as much as I love Brazil, I wasn’t ready to die -- not just yet!

Luckily I didn't hear, see, feel or smell any snakes, but I did see several animal blinds where the natives hid in the evening as they hunted. I’m sure the blinds were built by poachers, but I didn’t say anything. As we continued through the jungle, Jose pointed out various trees, including the beautiful rosewood tree. He even cut off a piece of the bark. (I have an antique umbrella stand made of rosewood, so it was amazing to see what the tree looked like in its native habitat). As he stood there, Jose told us about how endangered many of the trees were, but he kept jabbing at the trees with his machete -- hack, hack, hack. I guess he didn't think it would hurt the tree. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't; nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the trees. Jose also showed us the Brazil nut tree, which grows to be 120 feet tall. The trees produce huge coconut-sized shells and each husk produces 14 or 15 Brazil nuts. Jose cracked open several and we all tried them. They were more like coconut -- sweet and white, so unlike the yellow, bitter ones we get at home. Jose told us that the agouni, a rodent, was the only animal with strong enough teeth to cut through the outer shell of the Brazil nut husk. Then he showed us an example of the hole the agouni had made. Later, Jose who grew up in the jungle and was quite a woodsman, cut down a bamboo fern and made a crown, a fan, and a toy snake for the Argentinean children. He then made several ashtrays from the Brazil nuts for the adults.

The jungle terrain was rugged and Jose had to hack through the overgrowth so we’d be able to take our tiny mincing steps into the vast wilderness. We sidestepped a mound of termites, examined the various fauna and tried to avoid the insects. I once read that 60% of all the world’s insects are in the Amazon rain forest and now I believe it! I also noticed the water marks on the trees. The Amazon ebbed and flowed 40 feet or more from the dry to the wet season, which explains why we had to climb up a 30-foot embankment from the dry season “low” river to reach the rain forest. I learned that there were two types of forest in the Amazon. One forest grew only on terra firma -- the Brazil nut tree, for example. But, there was another forest that grew only in the river. Often when we canoed or power boated along the rivers and tributaries, we’d skirt around the trees growing out of the river. The scene was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Imagine being on a boat -- with the river 10, 20, 30, 40 feet deep as you glide through their branches. It was eerie and unworldly.

After lunch, I took a 3-hour siesta. It was unbearably hot. I wouldn’t want to guess the temperature, although I've read that it reaches 120 degrees. And, of course, even though there was electricity, the owner only turned it on in the evenings. So we slept each day from about noon to three. And I mean -- I slept soundly.

In the late afternoon, we boarded the speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. For the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).


e speedboat and went on a reconnaissance cruise to look for wildlife. Our first stop was the island directly across from the lodge. There we hand-fed a pet monkey. An alligator had eaten one of his legs and when the staff heard the monkey screaming, they rescued him from the jaws of the alligator. They then nursed the little monkey back to health and set him up in his own private sanctuary.

That evening we went piranha fishing and caught eight fish that we took back to the lodge and ate for dinner. And yes, of course, they tasted just like chicken!

Just before dinner, three new groups of travelers arrived. The first was a Swiss family of four. The second was a single man from Austria and the third consisted of a group of two Brazilians. Within a few minutes, we determined that German would be the language of the evening. It's my second language and one of the Swiss boys spoke both Low German (Swiss) and High German. The Austrian, of course, spoke German as his native language. The English and Portuguese guests spoke no German, but I volunteered to translate. WHAT A NIGHT! Mario, the young man from Switzerland, translated his parents’ and brother's Low German into High German and I passed on the information in my self-taught Portuguese. Then, of course, I had the difficult job of translating Portuguese into High German. My understanding of German is good, but speaking it is another matter. Believe me, we had a lot of laughs that evening. [I don't think I've had as much fun since I sat with a dozen students in Marrakech in 1989. On that occasion, too, we used German as our common language -- even though the group was French, Spanish, American, and Italian.]

At 10:30, we called it a night -- knowing we’d have early adventures awaiting us in the morning. I slept well this time, knowing that the sounds on my rooftop were merely scampering, monkeys, foraging for food and having fun!

MORE AMAZING ADVENTURES

Today was a very special day. The three Argentines went off in a canoe and Tico, the Austrian and I went in another. The canoe looked as if it would sink at any moment and I had seen several of the other tourists floundering in them. The bow was barely three inches out of the water and I shook so much when I got in that I forgot to take my camera. The canoe sank another two inches when I boarded, leaving a lip of about an inch or so above the water line. Believe it or not, I, the intrepid adventurer, was terrified! Actually, my fear went beyond terror. I had nearly drowned when I was a boy and I had barely passed swimming class in college. I was respectful of the water as they say. I knew when to pray to Neptune, magnus deus Neptunus noster defenderus (Great god Neptune defend us).

I asked Tico how long we'd be gone and when he said two hours, I agreed to go for fifteen minutes. If I couldn’t handle it, I said, he’d have to bring me back. We immediately set out across the lake. Again, I was scared senseless. We had no life jackets and I couldn’t swim more than a few yards. Should I tell him or just fake it? I honestly couldn’t decide. Within a few moments, however, we reached a small stream, which looked low enough to wade in case of emergency. We listened to the Argentines singing and chatting in front of us, but when we came to a fork, we took a different channel, and paddled quietly into the forest. Within a few minutes, we saw cream color woodpeckers, parrots and two cappuccino monkeys. Later we saw a red-tailed squirrel. We also saw a scarlet macaw and many banded aracaris (toucans). Then we saw an agouni -- the animal that cracks the Brazil nut shell and eats the nuts. The Austrian spotted him on the ground and we pulled very close and watched him eat for about 20 minutes. It was amazing! I very seldom observe animals in their natural habitat. I have a small steam in my backyard and once watched a beaver swim upstream -- that was beautiful -- but sitting in a canoe, in the middle of the Amazon jungle, watching an animal crack a Brazil nut husk with its teeth and then devour the nuts inside … that was as close to heaven as I have ever come!

Later, we saw an anteater high up in a tree. We paddled to the shore and literally jumped out of our canoe as we shook the tree to watch the anteater race upwards. Tico said it was one of the few times he’d ever seen an anteater. When we got back to the lodge, I realized that I’d spent over four hours in the canoe -- and wished it had gone on forever. My real joy, however, was that I sailed with the Austrian naturalist instead of the singing Argentines, who later admitted that they didn't spot any animals at all. For once in my life I was kind and didn’t tell them that their singing scared away half the animals in the rain forest.

In the afternoon, we boarded a small powerboat that quickly became a water taxi as we picked up several natives and took them to their homes. There are no roads in the Amazon rain forest, so the only means of transportation is the river. If you don’t own a boat, it’s imperative that you have a friend who has access to one. So, we ferried several strangers here and there. Then we went to Jose’s home. His mother has a wonderful house, called a caboclo, which was built entirely from jungle materials, including its new straw roof. She didn’t pay for the land. She doesn’t pay taxes. She had a maniac field, coffee bushes, orchards, cows, goats, chickens, vegetables – and even orchards! The house, which was built on stilts, was high up from the river. There were no windows -- just openings. I didn’t ask about monkeys or snakes or insects. There were several pet dogs and cats, however and I imagined them jumping in and out of the windows all day and night. The family even owned a small houseboat, which was docked at their own private pier. What a life! And people want to leave Brazil. I wonder why!

After a short visit, we picked up Jose’s wife and sister-in-law and went to an Indian village to watch a soccer game. Tico, our boat pilot, joined in the game while I sat in the grandstands drinking a Coke and flicking my eyes from the gorgeous rainbow in front of me to the players on the soccer field. For the first time in many years, I felt worthy to be a human being.

THE TREK BACK TO MANAUS

I left for Manaus at 6 AM the next morning. At first, everything went well as we sailed across Lake Juma to the Mamori River to Piranha Lake to the Araca River. The skies were bright and sunny even though we had had a torrential downpour the night before. Our pilot slowed down as he neared each house, and I thought he was a taxi driver looking for fares. Then I realized he was driving cautiously and politely. The straits were narrow and our boat had a large wake. He wanted to make sure the wake didn’t disturb his neighbors by upsetting their boats or disrupting their bathing and washing.

The boat ride was, in short, wonderful, but when we got to the road, our problems began. A soaking rain had washed out the road the night before we got three. We were ferried across the river, but a truck took off just before we did and, of course, it got stuck in the mud. It was stuck for over twenty minutes and our driver became more and more frustrated. He knew we still needed to cross the Amazon, drive through town and reach the airport for our late morning flight to Salvador Bahia. So, we backed part way down the hill and waited. When several dozen men finally pushed the truck out of the mud, we tried to get to the top, but we had already gone up part of the hill and had lost our momentum, so we, too, got stuck. It was at that moment that I was most thankful that I had worn my jungle boots since we all had to get out and push. Several strangers volunteered to help and within five minutes, we were back on our way - on a slightly drier road. As a reward, however, the car-pushers were allowed to climb aboard and ride with us to Manaus. We got stuck a second time and again, we all had to get out of the truck and push. This time, I slipped and my boots and jeans were covered with mud. We picked up our next group of car-pushers-who-wanted-to-go-to-Manaus and I counted four men, two women and three children riding along with us as our guests. It took us nearly six hours to get to Manaus and then we had to drop off the Argentines to their downtown hotel before we could head off to the airport. The Austrian was visibly agitated, but he didn’t say anything as we raced to the airport for our boarding passes. We reached the tiny airport at Manaus with just a few minutes to spare before I headed off to Salvador Bahia (where I saw Paul Simon) and Rio de Janeiro (but I’ll save those stories for another time).



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