Amazon 3.0 Part Three -- Getting Onto Amazon Time

Amazon 3.0 - Part 3 - Getting Onto Amazon Time

June 24-26

What day was it? I’d been on Iguana four days and had lost track of time. I asked Lucho what day it was and he said Saturday. But Lucho had it wrong also and he was in charge of the trip. It was Friday. When I told Lucho I’d lost track of time he responded “That is a good thing.” I may still be on the Orinoco but am definitely on Amazon time.

Why am I here? It started by looking at some maps, wondering if I could take this back door through Venezuela into the Brazilian Amazon. Then I read Alexander von Humboldt’s account of his travels on the Orinoco and Casiquiare into the Rio Negro in 1800 and was hooked. And there is the mystery of the Casiquiare itself - the only river in the world that connects two river systems, that actually crosses a continental divide. Water that goes into the Orinoco exits into the Caribbean. Water that goes into the Rio Negro flows into the Amazon and eventually into the Atlantic. But some escapes from the Orinoco to form the Casiquiare which flows into the Rio Negro. Thus the world’s largest system of rivers is connected to the world’s third largest river system. Many European scientists, in spite of the reports from trappers and Jesuits, thought a river across a continental divide was impossible and refused to believe it until one of their own, Humboldt, confirmed it with his own eyes. And with his own blood - the Casiquiare and parts of the Orinoco are among the most mosquito-infested regions in the world.

The next question was how to do it. Travel guide books either ignored the region entirely or implied one would have to mount a major expedition to travel through it. My inquiries on travel forums turned up nothing. Of the Puerto Ayacucho-based tour agencies listed in Lonely Planet, only one had a website, Selvadentro (selvadentro.com). At first glance it looked a difficult proposition - I would need about eight people to be able to mount a trip through the region. But I was in luck. Natalia, co-owner of Selvadentro (and Iguana) sent me an itinerary of a trip that was not listed on the website. Once a year they mount a 20-day trip from Puerto Ayacucho to São Gabriel da Cachoeira. And they do it even if they get no paying passengers in order to get Iguana overhauled in São Gabriel! They would be leaving Puerto Ayacucho on June 24 - barely a week after I would get my spring quarter grades in and be officially retired.

The trip actually starts in Samariapo, about 80 kilometers upriver from Puerto Ayacucho. Humboldt got there by having Indians drag his huge dugout canoe, called a bongo, up and around the rapids. I got there by road after Lucho picked me up at the Orinoquia. Samariapo (Photo #1) is on the Rio Maipures, just before it enters the Orinoco. As the major port on the upper Orinoco, the place where cargo and people would have to be unloaded to go by truck around the rapids to Puerto Ayacucho and the navigable lower Orinoco, one would expect it to be of some size. They would be wrong.

We loaded ourselves and our luggage into an aluminum boat with a powerful Honda outboard (Photo #2). Lucho called it his voladora - flyer - and it was indispensible. Iguana was anchored across the small inlet and looked like many of the smaller riverboats I'd seen plying the Amazon on previous trips (Photo #3). But there was no other boat like this 17-meter riverboat in the harbor and, as I would soon realize, nothing like it in all of the Venezuelan state of Amazonas. Lucho and Natalia purchased it in Manaus about four years ago and it clearly sets Selvadentro apart from any other tour operator in Amazonas. But there were many bongos in the harbor - some with canopies, some without -- including Selvadentro’s which would accompany us for much of the trip (Photos #4, 5, 6). Selvadentro’s bongo, about the same length as Iguana, was the traditional type, made of one huge log. There were also bongos built up of plywood on a frame and many built of steel, but to traditional bong dimensions and shapes. Traditional bongos must have some considerable weight and my first thought on seeing one was how difficult it must have been for the Indians working for Humboldt to haul one of these things up those rapids. Now they have motors - usually fairly large Honda, Yamaha or Suzuki outboards.

Iguana’s cabins accommodate up to eight guests. There is a master cabin shared by Lucho and Natalia and their two boys, Kai and Kamil (Photo #7), plus other places where the crew sleep. Harrison and I would be the only guests for the first half of the trip. Four other guests were to join the trip later, flying into the landing strip at the village of Culebra.

Many of the characteristics of the region became apparent shortly after we entered the Orinoco. There is its impressive width in most places (Photo #8). Where it narrows considerably or where there are many islands the current picks up speed and, in some places, there are small rapids (Photo #9). At one point Iguana needed the extra boost of the volador’s outboard to make enough headway to steer. At those times it was obvious we were going upriver.

Like the Amazon itself, the Orinoco carries a lot of silt and usually looks brown, although its appearance varies widely with the light (Photos #10, 11). Of course it rains a lot in the rainforest, but there are what we in the Pacific Northwest call “sunbreaks” as well, so rainbows are common (Photo #12). Then there are the things in or on the trees. Vines and epiphytes were covered in the previous blog post. There are various types of insect nests, many large enough to be seen with the naked eye while inching by on Iguana (Photo #13). And many birds, although few are large enough or stop long enough to be captured by a fairly modest telephoto (70-300mm - Photo #14). I saw many kingfishers, called Martin Pescadores here, but they flit at a furious pace and I still have no useable photos of them.

But few people. This is a thinly populated region. We occasionally pass a bongo or a small canoe (Photo #15). Now and then a small settlement, usually just a few families (Photo #16). After two days we arrived in San Fernando de Atabapo (Photo #17). It is actually on the Atabapo, a black-water river. One characteristic of black-water rivers which we will come to appreciate is that they have few mosquitos. At first I have some hope of finding internet access, but quickly realize the power is out. Lucho and Natalia tell me it is usually out. San Fernando was the capital of Amazonas until Puerto Ayacucho was built in 1924. For some time, including much of the rubber boom, it was ruled by a tyrant - Jose Tomas Funes -- who virtually enslaved the Indians, forcing them to work as rubber tappers. A plaque in the Plaza Bolivar marks the spot where Funes was fusilado - executed by firing squad (Photo #18). The plaza also contains the obligatory statue of Simon Bolivar and is bordered on one side by the church (Photo #19). The riverfront was busy with the coming and going of bongos, but there was no other boat anything like Iguana (Photos 20-23). It would be weeks before we would see this many people again.

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