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Down Amazon River by Riverboat and Raft

The four of us crouch tensely on our floating balsa raft. It was 2 AM when we heard something splash gently in the water ahead of us. The Amazon jungle looms around and above us like a canapé in the darkness. I search the waters with my flashlight, the beam falls on a dark object. 

Joe cries out, "It’s a big snake" He reaches for his machete.

Lander yells, "No, it’s too big for a snake. It has to be a crocodile swimming our way."

With sticks and paddles ready to defend ourselves, we watch intensely as the object splashes towards us. As it moves closer, we see waves splashing on a drifting log.

I was on the Amazon River to study construction methods, using resources available from the jungle. This is a dying art. We in the industrial world are used to acquiring what we want because we have money and goods are readily available. People who do not have money or access to industrial supplies, must rely on their ingenuity, craftsmanship, and knowledge of the land to supply their needs in life. If they want a house, they gather logs and palm branches. In a few days they have a thatched dwelling that cost nothing in the form of money. If they want a boat, they go into the jungle, fall a tree, and carve a dugout canoe. In one to five days they have a boat that cost nothing. If they have some money, they might buy an outboard motor or a shotgun. These people know the jungle and know how to make it work for them.

My adventure starts in Lima , Peru.

In Lima my first choice of transportation was to take the steam train up into the Andes Mountains. I found the train depot closed due to a labor strike. My ambitions were big and time limited. I had to stay on the move. Near the train station was the bus station where two buses a day left for the Andes Mountains.

Riding behind the bus driver, the mountains looked like piles of dried mud that climbed into the clouds. There is little rain on this side so hardly anything grows. The bus slowly snakes its way up the narrow road. As we gain altitude, the dull looking mountains take on a little life, brown grass.

At 11,000 feet the road hugs the side of a canyon cliff with no guard rails. Looking down into the canyon, I could see a car or truck that had gone off the cliff. They were so deep I wondered if the bodies were ever recovered. I did not see any busses in the canyon, which was encouraging. At one point, the bus met a truck on a very narrow section of the road. The truck driver pulled to the safe side of the road and got out to give our bus driver directions for passing between his truck and the steep drop-off. With much maneuvering and with inches to spare, I wondered how we stayed on the road. Looking out the side window, all I could see was the deep canyon below. The road crested at 15,000 feet. The snowcapped mountains towered even higher.

By sunset, we arrived in a copper mining town, Oroya, 12,000 feet above sea level. The bus driver let me off in front of a hotel. Inside, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace and deep soft seats around it. I thought, this is for me because it was cold.

The train to Cerro de Passo was running and steam locomotives were still used. The coach had kerosene lamps on the walls and a wood burning potbelly stove at each end of the car. I felt like I had gone back fifty years in time. At stops along the way, hundreds of Inca Indians in their bowler-type hats were milling around on the streets. There was no vegetation at this altitude and I wondered how large groups of people could survive in a barren land. Otherwise the train ride was uneventful.

I arrived at Cerro de Passo at dusk where the altitude is over 14,000 feet. Because of the lack of oxygen in the thin air at high altitudes, I was aching and shaking all over. The pain was unbearable.

I was on the noon bus going down the back side of the Andes Mountains. We lost altitude quickly and my aches and pains eased almost as fast. At 12,000 feet, green vegetation appeared. The more we dropped the denser the vegetation. This side of the mountains gets the rain. The road is a one lane dirt track. To drive here, one needs to have nerves of steel. When two vehicles meet, both race toward each other slamming on the brakes at the last minute. It is a game of "chicken." If one doesn’t back down or pull over, both drivers get out and argue about who is going to back up to where it is wide enough to pass. When driving near a cliff, our driver would cross himself. I held onto my seat, hoping that would help. Somehow I felt lucky to arrive at the next town. Busses only traveled during the day, which was a good thing. By evening we arrived in a small jungle village where the driver dropped me off at a hotel.

I sat in the lobby where people were overly friendly. They wanted me in their card game or other games of chance. I felt I better stay in my room if I want to have money when I leave this town.

The bus left at 5 a.m. I had a little trouble getting out of the hotel when the time came. There were two large barn doors closed across the exit. I did not remember barn doors, I was keeping an eye on people not doors. Two men slept next to the doors on bunks. I’m not sure what the purpose of this arrangement was. It was dark and I felt around for the way out but could not find it. I shook one of the sleepers, trying to wake him. He would not wake up. If they were guards, they were not very alert. I felt around some more and found a small door in the large one behind one of the bunks. It was locked closed with a two-by-four across it. I removed the wood and the door swung open to the outside. I picked up my bags, stepped over the sleeping guard, and wedged the door closed from the outside with the two-by-four. By that time, my bus pulled up and I was off.

I was now in the Amazon Basin where the land is flat. The jungle around us was hard to comprehend. It seemed very tame, not like the tales I had read, but then, I was looking at it from a bus window. That night I arrived in Pucallap, Peru, which is on the Ucayali River, 3,000 miles from the Atlantic Ocean. This would be the start of my river adventure.

I went down to the water front to inquire about boats heading down river. A double-decked river boat was arriving, Amazonas II. As it pulled up, two fellows dove off the boat and swam to shore. On shore the ship’s lines were thrown to them and made fast to stakes, driven in the mud. Then a gang plank was lowered but it was too short to reach to shore. They found some more boards to bridge the last gap. A large crowd of people stood along the river watching the operation, but no one offered to help tie-up the ship.

Further down river there was a very old looking boat, Elisa, that was fully loaded and seemed like it was ready to leave port. It was also double-decked but smaller than the first one. I went on board and asked the captain when he was leaving. He said, "I don’t know."

Then I asked, "can I go with you."

He said, "The food is poor, there are no sleeping accommodation’s, and the trip would take a long time. I don’t want any Americans on board my boat."

With that he asked me to leave. He must have had bad experiences with disgruntled Americans or something.

There were only two boats in town and the one that had just arrived would not leave for another week. I could not wait that long, I only had four more weeks of vacation time left. Asking someone for the best way to go down river, he told me at a British fellow built a raft a few weeks ago and drifted down river. I knew nothing about raft building and would not consider the idea. Anyhow, I didn’t have the courage.

I had only two options: Amazonas II that would keep me hanging around Pucallap for a week, or the Elisa that is leaving soon, but where I’m not wanted. After considering all the options, I decided to take a chance. I checked out of the hotel, with my bags I walked down to the river to talk to the unfriendly captain. On board, I tossed my duffel bag on deck and asked the captain how much to Iquitos. He said "$5 with meals and you will have to sleep on deck, the cabins are reserved for women and children."

The captain was in a much better mood today. I handed him $5, asked no more questions and quickly found bench space near the other passengers before he could change his mind. The 500 mile trip would take about six days.

Elisa needs some description. I did not know it at this time, but this was its last voyage down river. The old steam engine did not work but the helm and rudder did. Lashed beside the Elisa, was another smaller boat. The rudder and helm did not work, but the single cylinder, 100 HP diesel engine did work. So the two boats could not operate alone, but lashed together each compensated for the other’s weakness. It was an example of cooperation on the Amazon

The Elisa was a two-Decker. On the first deck, all the cargo was stacked, even the abandon engine room was packed with cargo. The galley was in front of the old engine room, complete with wood burning stoves, but no chimney. Smoke went all over the place. Along one wall hung pots that were soot black on the bottom. On the second deck starting at the bow was the helm. This and the rudder were the only mechanical systems that were still working. Behind the helm was the captain’s quarters. Behind his quarters were small cabins for the female passengers only. Then came the open area where everyone else lived, ate, and slept. There was a long table with a bench on each side. On one wall was a water jug that is filled with muddy water from the Amazon river ever morning. Water was easy to get. A rope is tied to a paint bucket and thrown over the side. The scooped up water is poured into the water jug. Over time, the sediment settles to the bottom and that leaves less mud in the drinking water.

There was a navy ship in town which caused the delay of our departure. We were heavily over loaded. The water line only inches from the decks. The captain, fearful that the navy captain might make him lighten his load, decided to moved his ship down river and out of sight.

The shore lines were cast off and the Elisa started down river. Soon, the captain headed the ship toward shore and became stuck in the mud. Some men jumped into the ships dinghy, an outboard powered dugout canoe, and went back up river. A small tug boat came, pulled the ship off the mud and tied up further down stream. We were not to leave until the next day.

The navy ship left at dawn. We finally got under way at mid-morning. Our captain wanting to leave quickly, did not blow his horn three times which is the custom. One passenger was left behind. Someone brought him up later in a dugout canoe powered by an outboard. Later I realized this is the custom for late arriving passengers.

On board, I met two other fellows making the trip down river. Lander, a Bolivian who spoke both Spanish and English, and Pedro, a Spaniard who only spoke Spanish. He seemed to be a servant of Lander. Lander was always telling Pedro to do something and he would do it. I asked Lander where the two of them were going. He was not sure but had plans to go into Columbia. I told him of my plans of going down the Amazon and said, "Why not come with me."

Lander said, "we would do that."

I asked about his friend.

He said, "Pedro will go anywhere he is told."

I did not understand that attitude but asked no more questions. From this time on the three of us traveled together.

The Amazon River is a lot like the Mississippi, slow-moving and powerful. Its force shifts large amounts of sand causing a sand bar to be in one place one day and in another place the next. Where the river is narrow, boats move along freely with plenty of deep water. But when the river spreads out, it becomes shallow with hidden sand bars beneath its surface.

Two men would power the dugout canoe several miles down river taking soundings, using a rope and stone weight. In this manner they would find the deepest part of the river. On their return, they would stand by the helmsman and tell him where the deep water was.

This afternoon strong head winds blew, Elisa could not make any down river progress. Being so under powered, the trip was a little more than a drift voyage. The captain took Elisa to the river’s edge where two men swam ashore. Lines were thrown to them and the ship was tied up to some trees. Thirty minutes later the wind stopped, lines were cast off and we were on our way again.

At supper we all sat at the one table and a cabin boy served the meals. Tonight we had boiled plantain (a kind of cooking banana), beans and rice with a little fish. Like the captain said earlier, "the meals were not much to talk about."

Not everyone ate all that was on their plate. The cabin boy, when cleaning up, put the uneaten portion back into the cooking pot. No uneaten food was ever thrown out.

When the last sunlight faded from the sky, we pulled over to the edge of the river and again two men swam to shore and tied the ship to some trees for the night. In a few minutes the mosquitoes found us and made life unbearable. In my duffel bag, I had a can of insect repellent. If I used it, I would have to share it with all the other passengers. Then it would be gone and would still have to learn how to endure mosquito bites. So I did not use it. The other passengers seemed to be ignoring the mosquitoes so I tried to do the same. I finally gave up, strung my jungle hammock between two posts over the railing. Inside I zipped closed the mosquito netting and was free from the mosquitoes. I lay there watching the passengers play cards by the light of their kerosene lanterns until I fell asleep.

Just before dawn, we cast off and started our second day on the river. Getting out of my hammock, I found the mosquitoes were still biting. We stayed near shore because the that’s where the deep water is. Apparently the mosquitoes just swarm near shore and not far beyond.

As passengers, all we had to do was wait for meals. Breakfast was a strong cup of coffee and a hard bread roll. Lunch was light soup, beans, rice, and a little piece of meat. I wished I had brought some food of my own along, but then, how would I eat it... zipped in my hammock? No one else had their own food.

The cabin boy washed out the drinking water jug. There was a lot of mud settled on the bottom. After cleaning, the jug was refilled with "fresh" muddy river water. Washing dishes was not much better. The cabin boy leaned over the side and rinsed the dishes in the river. No soap was used, so the dishes were always greasy.

We tied up by a small village for the night. When we went ashore, I felt like a Spanish conquistador setting foot in the New World for the first time. Everyone in the village must have been out to watch are arrival. When ashore, I was surprised how neat and orderly the village was. The thatched roofed houses sat in a straight row. In front of every house was a burning kerosene torch. There was one small general store.

During the night, the Elisa broke from its mooring. The crew scrambled about, started the engine and tied up further down river.

The next morning the crew let off passengers using the dug out canoe. This way the river boat did not have to slow down or stop.

By noon we came to the town of Contamana. We had traveled three days now and this town was only 150 miles from Pucallpa. We stopped for an hour. Some Indians came up to us in a dugout canoe that was partly filled with water. They were selling live fish that were swimming in the bottom. Another Indian boy paddled a canoe alongside and our cook bought some tomatoes and more plantains.

As we were going down river, the ship hit a sandbar and came to a sudden stop. The Elisa went out of control, spinning around broadside to the current. We could feel the keel dragging over the bottom. Soon the ship was over the sand bar that left a big smile on the captain’s face. If the sand bar was shallower, we could have been stuck for a long time.

That night the captain tried to travel after dark. The helmsman had trouble seeing the deep part of the river and then found himself in shallow water. When he signaled the engine room, the engineer got the signals mixed up or was slow to carry them out. To make matters worse, lightning was flashing from the sky and people along the shore were shining spot lights on us, possibly signaling of shallow waters. The ship seemed to be all over the river and going nowhere. After two hours, the captain tied up once again.

I was sick most of the night. The rice and beans were getting to me. I felt like I was eating paper. Lander and Pedro had no problems with the food. I guess they were used to it.

The Amazonas II, the ship that tied up the day I arrived in Pucallpa, passed us in the morning. I wished I were on it. But then, things started to look up... for lunch we had turtle soup.

The girls used charcoal burning irons for pressing clothes. Everyone was cleaning up for our arrival in Iquitos. I took a bath like the other men. On the lower deck there is a long plank. While the ship is steaming down river, you push the plank four feet over the side, while siting on the end, you strip to your under shorts, soap yourself down and rise off with an old paint bucket using river water. If you fall off, you holler so someone will send a canoe back to pick you up. I didn’t see the women take baths this way. They must have washed up inside the cabin.

This time we sailed all night with little difficulty. The river was deep at this point.

The next afternoon the city of Iquitos came into sight. It looked like the gates of heaven with its tall buildings. All I could think of was good food and a soft bed to sleep in. Everyone was dressing up for the arrival. The Captain wore a white suits and tie. He really looked sharp.

Our arrival was different from the other stops along the river. No crowds of people. Customs and police officials came on board to check our papers.

It felt strange for three fellows, from three different countries to be traveling together. Not speaking Spanish, traveling was easier with these fellows. They interpreted for me and helped me find my way around. Lander always asked me what I wanted but never gave Pedro the same courtesy. Just the same, he always went along with our plans.

We found a clean hotel and a good restaurant and ordered a steak dinner. My first real food in several days.

The next day I went to the Brazilian Consulate for my entry papers into that country. That night a fellow from the consulate came to my hotel with the all papers. This was really service. He offered to help me find another boat going down river and told me there was a British fellow looking for one too. His name was Joe Brooks. I looked him up and found out he was the one who tried to come to Iquitos by raft. He was 23 days on the raft and two-thirds of the way when he gave up. He hitched a ride on a passing boat to get here. After talking with him for a while, he said, "I will join you for the trip down river."

Joe was born and raised in South Africa, but is very British. His travel rules are to spend five years and enter every country in the world. He did not have a lot of money, so he did not pay for transportation when possible and slept anyplace where it was free. The raft was free transportation. When I found him he was staying with the boat captain who picked him up on the river. Another favorite sleeping place was police stations. He said, "they always have a place for money short travelers. They are always checking travel documents and when they do, he asks for a place to sleep."

With the help of our friend from the Brazilian Consulate, we found passage on another boat that was going to the Peru — Brazil border. It turned out to be Amazona II, the same ship that I saw tie up at Pucallpa. It seemed that I was destined to be on this ship for part of my journey.

On board, the immigration officer went over our papers. Garcia’s papers were not in order, so he had to get off. Pedro’s papers were OK and he stayed. We set sail just after dark. Shortly I heard an outboard motor boat coming along side. Lander was on it and he jumped on board. He by-passed immigration, and I began to have my doubts about him. I felt he was running away from something.

This boat has first and second class passengers. When dinner is served, first class passengers had rice, beans and meat. We are second class and served hot tea with a bun. We slept on deck while first class had cabins. There is a snack bar where we could buy some food.

When I woke this morning, there was heavy fog. The ship tie up to some trees for a while. When the fog lifted, we were on our way.

Life on this boat was uneventful, everything ran smoothly. The river is about a mile wide and very deep. We were so far from shore, we would not see anything of interest along the river, just water.

The next morning we arrived at Costilla, Peru. This was the destination on our ticket. Amazonas II only operated in Peru and this was the last town near the border with Brazil. We got off and went into what was the village. There was nothing there, except for twelve grass shacks. No stores, nothing. Joe and I told Lander we were going back on the ship and see where it was going. This couldn’t be its last stop, there’s nothing here. Lander and Pedro said, they were going to stay and go to Columbia, which was on the other side of the river. Lander needed to get his papers straightened out.

Soon Amazonas II continued its journey down river. Joe and I were glad we stayed on board. Perhaps we were just confused about the route. But then we came to a small tributary, the ship went up river. We Could see the town of Benjamin Constante in Brazil, further down river. We didn’t want to go up this river and we didn’t know how far the ship was going. Up ahead we saw a lumber mill and a small barge anchored in front. As the ship skimmed next to the barge, Joe and I grabbed our bags and jumped on it. Once on shore, we roamed around the sawmill looking for a place to eat. It was afternoon and we had not eaten anything that day. Not only were there no places to eat, there was no one around. So we sat down and wondered where we were and what we were going to do. The captain of the Amazonas II found us after tying up the ship after we jumped off. He explained that they came here to take on a load of lumber before going back up river. They normally don’t go any further down river than Costilla. He said, "there is no place to eat here, come on board and have lunch. After lunch one of the men will take you back down river in a dugout canoe to Benjamin Constante."

We decided that was the best offer we had all day.

Benjamin Constante was sleepy little town built on stilts on a river bank. The sidewalk was also on stilts with stores and homes on either side. We were walking down the boardwalk looking for the customs office. It was hot and Joe didn’t have his shirt on. A man stopped us and told Joe to put his shirt on. Joe said, "no."

A policeman was summoned who told us to come to the police station. He explained that it was required to wear a shirt in town. Joe asked, "is there a place in the police station to sleep?"

He said, "yes," and took us past a row of small jail cells to a room in the back. The room was bare. I could swing my jungle hammock and Joe could lay out his bed on the floor. The policeman said, "this s the international room, lots of world travelers sleep there while passing through."

The next morning, Joe and I walked along the river where lots of boats were tied up. We asked every boat owner if they were going to Manous, our next destination down river. No one would speak to us. They only shook their heads "no." Then we asked if they know of anyone. Again a "no" head shake. Perhaps they did not understand us. Joe or I did not speak Spanish and Lander and Pedro weren’t with us to translate.

We went back into town where we met a German fellow who said he has been trying to get out of town for a week now. Not very promising.

Then we looked up our policeman friend and asked him about boats to Manous. He said, "one should arrive in 30 days."

I said, "we cannot wait that long."

Back roaming around town, we found Lander and Pedro. They had arrived during the night and have been looking for boats also. I don’t know how they got here. But one thing is certain, if they couldn’t find a boat, there were no boats.

I suggested that we buy a large canoe and paddle down river. Again we walked the river front asking all boat owners if they know where we could buy a canoe. We got the same head shaking answer, "no." Still, no one would speak to us. Perhaps they were suspicious of us for some reason. We never found out why we were treaded like that.

Joe said, "I am going to build another raft and go by himself, if necessary."

I said, "we want no part of it, so Joe took off."

I really wanted to go with him, but didn’t have the courage to say yes. With all the problems of this trip, I seemed to be forgetting my purpose for coming here, to learn how to use the jungle resources.

Lander, Pedro, and I went to a cafe for lunch. While eating, I said, "If Joe leaves on a raft, we will wish we were with him. Why don’t we go and help."

Lander said, "OK."

I asked, "What about Pedro?"

Lander said, "He will go."

I said, "You did not tell him of our plans."

Lander said, "He will go,." and he did.

When we found Joe, he had already found some balsa logs. We asked if we could all go together. He agreed.

We cut seven balsa logs twenty feet long. Then we lashed the logs together with vines from the jungle. Joe engineered the project since he already built one raft. We built it long and narrow, 20’ by 5’, so as to have some control. By dark the raft was finished. It had no roof, only an open deck.

Building this raft turned out to be a high point of my studies. All along the river, I had been taking notes and making drawings of building and boats that were held together with materials found in the jungle. With proper techniques and ingenuity, strong usable structures are possible. The basic techniques are: notching, lashing, and driving hard pieces of wood through soft pieces of wood. For roof and sides, palm branches are woven or just laid flat. A roof of palm branches is not only dry, it keeps the inside very cool. Buildings in the jungle that have a tin roof are very hot inside. The tin roof radiates the heat to the inside.

We now had our raft.

Each of us put one dollar in a kitty for supplies. We bought:

4 pounds of rice, 2 pounds of yuca, 4 pounds of sugar, 2 pounds of coffee, 4 pounds of dried fish, 1 stalk of plantains, 1 loaf of bread, 1 pound of salt, 1 pound of lard, 2 pounds of rope, 2 pounds, of nails, 6 fish hooks. Total cost, $3.70

After buying our supplies and putting them on board, we shoved off. It seemed word spread around town about our adventure and everyone was out to watch us leave.

This was to be a drift voyage. I figured that the current is two knots. If we drift 24 hours a day, we should cover 50 miles a day. In 14 days we should complete the 700 miles to Manous. By sunset, we covered six miles. We had not reached the Amazon River yet. So much for planing.

We stopped so Lander could cook supper. While eating, a fellow coming down river stopped to talk. When he found out what we were doing, he told Lander and Pedro all the dangers of a raft trip. He spoke in Spanish. Joe and I did not understand all that was said, but we understood enough. We wanted him to shut-up and leave.

After the traveler left, Pedro said, "I do not want to travel at night."

Lander and Pedro were then making the rules, no night drifting, stay near shore, watch for snakes. We argued that we had to keep going day and night. That was our first argument of many and the first time Pedro had an opinion.

I had a time problem. I have only two more weeks vacation time, when I have to be back on my job at the Panama Canal. Also, I had little Brazilian money and a few US dollars. All the rest was in travelers checks and there are no banks to change money. So I needed to get to Manous before time and money ran out. I told Lander, we have to keep moving 24 hours a day.

When we finished eating, we continued our journey down river. We could hear lots of noises in the dark. Frogs and crickets along with other jungle creatures that were not familiar to us. There were loud splashes from time to time. It was usually a mud bank sliding into the river. The mud is undercut by the river, then falls in.

The Amazon is constantly shifting. It silt’s on one side while cutting away on the other. No matter how large the hill, the river in time will bring it down. This is how large trees fall into the river. So along the cutting side of the river, there are lots of fallen trees anchored in strong currents. Hitting anchored trees in the strong currents can sink ships and rafts.

Joe and I argued with Lander and Pedro continually, trying to keep them at ease. Finally at midnight, Joe and I gave up and tied up near an Indian house. Lander and Pedro went to the house to sleep. Joe and I stayed on the raft.

Note: Indian houses do not have sides. Only a thatched roof and a raised floor.

Before sunrise and before anyone was up in the house, I checked sleeping bodies and woke Lander and Pedro.

At 5 AM we started our drift down river, then it started to rain. We had two sheets of plastic that we wrapped around ourselves. It kept us dry for a little while, then the wind blew and rained harder. The waves were washing across the deck, so we were getting wet from below also. We finally gave up trying to keep dry, wrapped the plastic around bedding and paddled to shore.

We saw some dugout canoes tied along the shore and decided to stop there. To anchor the raft, we pushed long stakes between the logs of the raft into the mud below. The anchoring system worked well.

We followed a path back into the jungle about half a mile when we came to an Indian house. These houses have no sides, just a thatched roof and a floor made of small logs, resting on stilts, three feet above the ground. The Indians invited us in out of the drenching rain. We introduced ourselves from four different countries. They were very impressed. We had not eaten anything and they must have sensed we were hungry. They gave us smoked fish, hot yuca, and bananas for breakfast. After eating, they showed us their possessions from the industrialized world. A peddle operated Singer sewing machine, shot gun, and an American dollar bill. An Indian lady was drying clothes on a large sheet of metal that was hanging over their cooking fire.

We told them of our arrival by raft and that it had no shelter. We asked where we could find palm leaves to make one. An Indian said, "I will be right back" and ran off into the jungle. Soon he returned with a palm leaf shelter on his back. It was the right size for our raft. He had it by his house and gave it to us. I and two Indians went to the raft. The Indians drove six hard wood polls into the balsa logs and propped the roof on them. Everything fit perfectly. I thanked them and gave them some coffee.

The others did not come, so I went back to the house to see what was holding them up. They wanted the rain to stop first. By noon the rain stopped and we were on our way again. We were given more bananas and some yuca.

Joe made a fire place at one end of the raft, so we could keep moving while fixing meals. Now we were in the middle of the river and no fire wood. There were plenty of fallen trees anchored in the mud. All we need to do is grab some branches as we drift by, so I thought. We paddled to where the raft would drift into a tree. Lander was complaining about something.

I said, "Stop arguing and grab the branches before we drift by."

Just as we were reaching for a branch, we hit a submerged limb that suddenly stopped the raft. Joe went flying into the water, the rest of us were thrown on the deck, grabbing for something, so we wouldn’t go in also. As Joe climbed back on board and said, "I don’t know how to swim."

I wondered what he was doing on a raft if he didn’t know how to swim. We then realized how powerful and dangerous the current is and decided it was wiser to stop along the shore for our fire wood. After gathering wood, we built a nice cooking fire.

Again, just before dark, two men came to us by canoe and told Lander and Pedro of the dangers of the river. This time they did not get as scared, but they were concerned. Joe and I had been keeping the raft near the center of the river. When the visitors left, Lander said, "we have to stay near shore."

I pointed out that there were more dangers, such as fallen trees, near shore that the center. If the raft went under a low limb, we would be wiped off the raft. After more arguing, Joe and I said we would stay near shore. Joe and I took the first watch and let the others sleep. As they slept, we moved the raft to the center of the river.

About 1 AM, we suddenly found ourselves near shore, seemly caught in a large whirl poor. In the darkness, it is easy to imagine lots of things. In reality, our raft drifted into a counter current and headed into fallen trees. We woke the others and they helped paddle away from the trees, the raft bumping the last tree we saw. This time we all paddled toward the center of the river. Joe and I said it was our time to sleep, Lander and Pedro took over the watch.

When Joe and I had the watch, we stayed quite, saying very little, and enjoying the serenity of the night river. When Lander and Pedro took the watch, they argued and paddled and argued some more. After about an hour and I was almost asleep, getting use to the noise, when the mosquitoes hit us. We woke to find the raft near shore. I asked "what is going on."

They said, "we are stopping for the night."

We had another long argument. At this rate, we would never get to Manous. The mosquitoes helped settle this one. Joe and I said we will take the watch until dawn. They said OK, as long as we stay near shore. Again we agreed. When the others fell asleep, Joe and I went back to the center of the river that was free of trees and mosquitoes.

Early in the morning, it rained a little, but the rest of the day was very nice. We washed clothes and dried everything. There were no crew problem all day. We had time to listen to the sounds of monkeys roaring in the jungle which sounds like thunder.

This morning Lander shot his pistol at an Indian paddling a canoe across the river. I hollered "What are you doing?" He said, "I am trying to hit the canoe." I told him to put the gun away and he did. I was wondering if Lander and Pedro were running away from a crime. Now I feel certain they were. Where and when?... I had no idea and did not want to provoke another crime scene.

The Amazon river has many islands. So many at times that mile wide river is broken up into many small rivers, some no more than 100 feet wide. We drifted with the current with no choice which side of an island to go on. We didn’t know which side was the best anyhow. Generally, the currents kept us in the fastest part.

We are almost out of food and needed to resupply. About noon, we were coming out from behind an island, when on the far side of the river we saw a town. We paddled like mad, trying to get to shore. But the current was fast and carried us past the town. I was fully dressed with clean clothes, shoes, and ready to go into town when I slipped and fell overboard. I went under water so fast I did not know what happened. I looked around and only saw muddy water. I finally let go of the paddle and came to the surface. For a moment, the fellows on board were wondering if I was coming back up again. We finally tied up about three miles down stream from the town.

There was a trail along the river that made walking back to the village easy. The scenic path took us high above the river. As we were approaching the village, we passed many large abandoned cinder blocks buildings. This was one of the many towns built during the Second World War for collecting and shipping natural rubber. This was another semi-ghost town. We saw some thatched houses where Indians lived and found one small store. The Indians would not sell anything. They did not seem to have much themselves. The people just stared at us and little kids ran and hid. There was nothing left to do but return to the raft.

About 9 PM, we saw a thunder storm approaching. We tied up where we thought we saw a house just inside the jungle. We followed a trail, trying to locate the house during flashes of lighting. Soon the sky turned the rain loose and we were soaked. Fear of becoming lost, we returned to the raft. Then the storm was all over and we were soaked. We took most of our clothes off and the mosquitoes swarmed over us. We paddled back to midstream where it was free of bugs. No one slept much that night.

At daybreak, Joe started a fire and cooked breakfast from what little supplies we had left. A hot cup of coffee really warmed us on the inside. Later in the morning, we stopped and cut some palm branches for the side of the shelter. This offered some protection from the weather.

After dark we saw a town on a hill, lighted with electric lights, the first we have seen on our raft trip. We paddled to shore only to find we were on an island and a branch of the river was between us and the town. We paddled around the island to the town, climbed the river bank to find a group of people playing banjos and singing. There was a small store where we could buy all the food we needed. After stowing our supplies, we continued our drift down river.

Now, everyone agreed that we need to keep moving 24 hours a day and that we should stay near the center of the river. We were becoming better organized at standing equal watches. Each man would have a two hour watch. But tonight, the rain broke up the watch system. We all sat under the tiny shelter until the storm passed a few hours later.

The river changes character as it flows to the sea. When the sun came up, we found ourselves on a river almost two miles wide and we were in the center. We needed fire wood. Both shores were so far away, it seemed impossible to paddle to either side. There are strong currents that seem to keep us in the center. We finally gave up trying to paddle to shore. Without a cooking fire, we could not eat. Stores only carried basic produce, no canned or other ready-to-eat meals.

That afternoon, the town of Santo Antanto came into view. Lander was getting tired of this trip and wanted no more of this raft. Joe and I were not interested in going to town because it was so far away. Lander and Pedro paddled for two hours until they gave up when the town was up river.

Late in the afternoon, Lander hailed a passing boat. He asked if they would take us down river. The man said "no," but drifted with us, eating his lunch, while Lander talked.

After a while, he agreed to take us. His boat was a large 35 foot dugout, powered with an outboard motor, and had a cabin on it. He said he was going down river for three days and gave us the impression that we could find another river boat at his destination. We transferred our supplies to the dugout boat while drifting together.

I hated to leave the raft because we were learning how to get along. The raft is the best part of the this river trip. We were learning its moods, temper, and its dangers. So why did I get off. I did not want to continue the trip alone and I assumed Joe wanted off too. Also, I did not have that much self-confidence. I found out later that Joe really wanted to stay. He and I could have continued the journey together.

That evening, our new captain went up a small river and stopped for the night. He sells and trades supplies to people along the river. Simple basic items such as fabric, sandals, flashlight, batteries, kerosene, and gasoline. We watched as he traded or sold three shot guns. We slept that night on the deck.

Early the next morning we headed down river. There was no food on board, so the captain motored near shore and threw a cast net. It was loaded with fish every time he pulled it in. He scaled them and threw them in a pot of boiling water. When done, he took them out and we ate the meat off the bones, throwing the rest overboard. That was our breakfast and lunch.

At noon we passed our raft. It was still drifting down the center of the river. I thought about getting back on board. We had stripped it of supplies, giving most of them to our new captain as payment for our transportation. It would be difficult to restock in the middle of nowhere and most of our money gone, should we be at a village.

After dark, our captain went up another small river and tied up for the night. There was nothing around but jungle. He told us to get off his boat.

I said, "You agreed to take us three days and it is little more that one day."

He did not argue, just said to get off.

I said, "There is nothing but jungle out there."

He said no more. He meant business and we got off.

We followed a trail that went into the jungle, looking for a place to sleep. We were mad by the way we were treated when we walked into a small village. A lot of people crowded around us, carrying kerosene lamps, and demanding to see our passports.

We asked, "Who are you to be asking for our passports?"

Then they wanted to know how we got there and where we came from. We told them by boat.

They said, "There is no boat."

Then we told them we were tourists traveling down river.

They said, "Tourists do not come to this village. What are you doing here? Show us your passports and we will show where you can sleep."

We said, "We will not show them to a mob of people. We will show them to authorities only."

This went on for half an hour, everyone getting angrier and nothing accomplished. One man ended the stalemate by saying, "Follow me, I will show you where you can sleep."

He took us to a house that was under construction. It had a floor and roof, but no sides. We were laying out our sleeping gear when a small group of men with kerosene lanterns came by and asked to see our passports once again. We had calmed down by this time and did what they requested. They looked over our papers and left. We had bedded down for the night when the same group of men came back and talked among themselves for a long time. Then they left. We were sure they were trying to decide what to do with us.

As we woke up this morning, lots of people were standing around the house staring at us. Lander told them to beat it and they did. We packed and left as fast as we could.

We had no choice but to start walking along the trail by the river. After a while we met an Indian and asked how far is it to the next town. He said, "the next town, Porto Afonsos, is a few miles down river. A sea plane stops there twice a week."

"That’s where we want to go," I said.

The Indian said he would take us in his canoe.

Porto Afonsos was a small village with one small general store. We bought a can of roast beef, built a cooking fire beside the store and fixed our lunch. In time we found the people were very friendly.

The seaplane came that afternoon, but it was filled. I had been on this trip five weeks now and had to be back on my job in six days. But I was in the middle of nowhere with only $10. cash. Traveler’s checks have no value here. A plane ticket to some place in either direction cost $4.50. A bargain, even in 1963.

That night we were trying to cook some rice on an open fire. A lady came by with a meat, macaroni, and yuca dish. This was the best meal we had in days. For the next four days, she came by twice a day with something for us to eat. We were glad for her help. The people must have farms back in the jungle. In the store, there is no food other than canned corned beef hash.

The first two nights, two men kept guard over us. They sat just outside the open shelter that was beside the store. When they were convinced we were just travelers who became lost on the Amazon River, they did not guard us anymore.

The general store had a good view of the river. We could see up or down the river at least five miles.

Joe said, "If I see the raft, I am going to take a log and swim out to it."

I replied, "The river is too wide and fast here. You will be miles down river before you get back to shore."

The raft never came during the day time. It may have passed after dark. A small boat stopped on its way up river. We did not want to go up river. The seaplane stopped again going down river, no space available.

Finally a boat stopped, going down river. Joe, Lander, and Pedro got on. I told them I had to be back at work in three days, so I was going to keep trying to get on the sea-plane.

On Friday, the sea-plane stopped, going up river. At this time, I did not care if I went up or down river, I wanted out. Anyplace is better than here. Space was available. I paid $4.50 for my ticket to Benjamin Constante, 300 miles back up river. On board they passed out box lunches. I was hungry and it seemed like the best meal I had ever eaten. Most of the passengers were air sick and did not eat theirs.

In Benjamin Constante, I found the plane was going to make a five minute flight to Leticicia, Columbia. That ticket cost $2.50. I still have change from my last $10. in cash.

In Leticicia, Columbia, I grabbed my bags from the back of the plane and went walking to town. I checked into a hotel and the clerk said he would take traveler’s checks. I once again had money.

I must have missed the customs office when getting off the plane. My problems started when I tried to buy a ticket to Bogota. The airline would not take traveler’s checks. I went to the bank, but they said I needed my passport which was back at the hotel. After getting my passport, the bank gave me some money. I went to the Brazilian Consulate for an exit stamp from Brazil, then to Colombian Immigration for entry stamp into Colombia, and a transit visa. I then went to the police station for clearance and then to the customs office. The plane was leaving the next day and I needed to get my ticket that night. I had two days of vacation left. The next plane was a week later. I went back to the ticket office and it was closed. Then I found their freight office and they sold me a ticket.

Saturday morning I was on a cargo plane loaded with frozen meat that was setting on pallets down the center of the plane. Live parrots running all over the place. The passengers sat along the sides on fold-down seats.

In Bogota, I bought another plane ticket to Panama City for the next day, Sunday. Monday I was back on my job at the Panama Canal. I must have lost a lot of weight, several friends told me to see a doctor. After a checkup, the doctor said there is nothing wrong that a few good meals will not take care of.

I now felt I had the knowledge and confidence needed to start working on my next adventure, the Liki Tiki.

Dear Bob,

I thought you may be wondering what happened to your late traveling companions of the Amazon trip. Well, as you see by my above address, I eventually got out of the Amazon mess, but only just.

When we left you at Porto Afonso, we landed in more trouble in Fonteboa. We got there the next day and immediately started looking for a boat out, but as expected, there were none. Meanwhile, when walking about the town... most people hid behind closed doors. We must have looked a cutthroat bunch I suppose. The first night we slept in the attic of an American missionaries house. We were just about to doze off when... you can guess it... the Chief of Police arrived at our bedside and demanded our DOCUMENTS. So we showed them. Then everything seemed to be OK. We said we would leave the next day.

Meanwhile when we walked about the town! most people hid behind closed doors. We must have looked a cutthroat bunch I suppose.

The next day we didn’t find a canoe. This was our only way out. So, not having left town, that night the cops came for us and helped us get our baggage off the boat where we had left it, and so Lander runs ahead and takes the pistol out of my ugsack where he asked me to keep it because he was scared now that the cops would search our bags as they were pertty well scared too and I expected them to pull out their guns at any moment.

They marched us back to the police station, a rotten wooden shack with a leaky roof. On the way Lander tries to drop the pistol in a ditch but was seen by a cop who goes back and as it was now dark apparently sees the thing in the grass because he shined his flash where it was. I heard the cop say to another, "Yes, they have everything, guns, cameras etc." I suppose they thought we were some kind invaders entering Brazil, although frankly, I cannot see what there is to steal except maybe some salted fish and farina. So we slept in the police station.

The next day we spoke to a guy who had located a leaky canoe about 18 feet long with a cover in the middle. He wanted $12. We had to pay because we wanted out of there pretty bad what with one thing and another.

Curse the day we ever got off the balsa raft Bob, we could have reached Manous otherwise.

So this canoe had one paddle and we got in, and in a hell of a hurry too and shoved off. Well, the thing leaked like a sieve and had been stopped up with rags and worse still, just plain mud. We had to bail furiously to keep afloat. We pinched the 3rd paddle.

We got to a house that night and the rain came down hard. Next day we were all set to go when someone said our canoe was gone. The cord had snapped because the canoe had taken on water and sunk so breaking the cord which was rotten. I think the canoe had been sunk for the last 10 years in the river, by the way. So a guy went to look for it and by luck, found is sunk in shallow water. Well, we had a hard time floating it again. We lost two paddles.

Lander cursing like a madman.

It was tiring work paddling with sticks after this. We lasted five days and what with storms, waves, and not being very welcome to take shelter in someone’s house, and finding the canoe sunk each morning, we had a rough time.

We ate salt fish and farina.

We got nearly to Tefé and a guy who had a boat said he would take us to Manaus for $5. each. So we went, a lousy trip, more fish and farina (starchy roots) and slept in a smelly hold.

In Manaus we were lucky to get a large passenger boat to Belem, after waiting five days in an abandoned boat in the harbor. I left Lander and Pedro outside Belem, hitching to Brazilia. They had $5 on them and Lord knows what the future held for them because to me, it looked pretty black.

I have been through Brazil, Bolivia, Argentina, and now go to Santiago, where I hope to get a ship to Australia as my funds are down to $60.

Hope you are fit, all the best,

Joe Brooks

24th December 1965

Dear Bob

You must think I have forgotten all about you by this time or come to a sticky end. I have done neither, only I have been temikly lazy about writing letters. As you can see by this letter I am back in Cape Town and am busy replying to all my friends in various parts of the world. This is a gigantic task.

I am wondering of course what you did with the catamaran in Tahiti and whether you were able to make the voyage at all.

I was working for three months in Australia and trying hard to save a nice sum to carry on with but it was a bit costly to live in Sydney. However, I did another cheap canoe trip down the Murrumbidgee and Murrary Rivers in Auosie in Canadian type canoes borrowed from a friend in Sydney. The trip took three months and I covered 1,600 miles. I started at Gundagai and reached the Murrary Mauth at Goalwa just south east of Adelaide. Did a lot of fishing on the way and kept a supply of fresh meat on hand by shooting pigs, kangaroos, rabbits and duck as I floated along. This was a great trip and I had not problems as we experienced on the old Amazon such as lack of food and scared Spaniard's or crazy Bolivian's. That reminds me, did you ever hear from Lander or write to him? I recall that you had his address in Lima, Peru.

I left Australia May 20th this year for Japan aboard the P&O Liner "Arcadia." We made a short call at Manila which was interesting although very dirty in the streets. honking did not impress me much, also very dirty.

Japan of course is my favorite country by far. I cannot remember meeting such kind, polite and happy people as the Japanese. I yearn to go back and in fact I intend to go back in March 1967 and work over there as an English teacher. I also have a girl friend in Hokkaido whom I care for. She seems to like me too and we write regularly.

I met Fritz a German in Tokyo and as we were going the same route as far as India, we began traveling together. The ship "M.M. Laos" called at Saigon for two days and we had a spree. The city itself seems quite enough although anything could happen suddenly.

At Singapore we disembarked and then hitched northwards through Malaya and into Siam. We spent three weeks in Bangkok before going over to Phnom Penh in Cambodia. We ran into severe rain storms in this area which was our bad luck. Still it was an interesting area to travel through, however poor the people were. The food of course was mainly rice and only vague qualities of meat and other foods which we are used to eating. The fighting in India stooped the air flights into that country for six weeks so I was unable to go to Calcutta and then travel in the Himalayas as I would have liked to do. I then went to see the original bridge on the River Kwai (rebuilt) and found it, of course, unlike the film version.

I decided to take a flight home from Bankak so I stopped over in Bombay and then flew by turbojet to Salisbury, Rhodesia, after which I hitched down to the Cape. It was a real anti-climax being back and I am not enjoying the place much. It is very dead and out of touch with the things overseas.

Anyway Bob old sport, I hope you are well and your folks too. When you have time please drop me a line or two. All the best for the New Year. Maybe well meet in Japan one day.

Best wishes,

Joe

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Copyright 2003 by Robert L. Webb
Goose Creek, South Carolina, USA