Feb. 28, 2006- Tips
(Photos:Me holding sloth,
Piranha fishing,
Villagers)
Our alarm clock was Judi Cope who knocked on our common wall this morning. One of our alarms has a dead battery and our back up is not loud enough.
I hung the laundry bag outside our cabin on the designated hook. Immediately after I shut our cabin door Edgar, our steward, picked it up. I think he was lurking. Of course he’s working for tips. He pointed out that when he made up our room he folded the towels into the shape of a dog as if we wouldn’t notice.
One of the tips for survival on this trip was that our cameras and binoculars should be stored in the bathroom with the door closed. If they’re in the air-conditioning the lenses will fog up and stay foggy for about half an hour when they hit the humid outside air.
Up Close
This morning our skiff went up a small tributary in search of piranha fishing sites. John, one of our group, wouldn’t wait. He’d schlepped his fishing gear from the States and began trolling immediately. He caught as many fish as I did without a pole: none. Vegetation blocked the way so we turned around and settled for villagers in dugouts hawking handicrafts and offers to let us pose with their pet sloth, capybara, and red-tailed boa. Before we knew it they’d boarded our skiff and we were mingling, haggling, and stroking the fauna. I held the sloth although I thought it was a stuffed toy until I felt its rapid heartbeat. It was totally motionless. Several held the boa while I viewed them from what I considered a safe distance. Even though they’re not poisonous, boas do bite. There were no mishaps and we managed to untangle ourselves from the villagers and they from us with all parties waving and smiling and no ugly international incidents to report.
Flying along in our skiff threading through the tall reeds I was reminded of the many trips we’ve taken in the Everglades. But this river has one deterrent the Everglades does not. If men urinate underwater here there’s a needle-nose fish that follows the stream of urine and works its way up the urethra. Once in place it puffs up. Ouch!
Aside from numerous birds the first sighting in the wild today was mine until I realized I’d found a family of domesticated pigs. An odor David called “eau de swamp” wafted up and became oppressive whenever we slowed. To paraphrase, there’s nothing like the smell of methane gas from decomposing vegetation early in the morning. To me it smelled like diarrhea.
While we skimmed over to see the lily pads Louise gave us a lesson in reed blowing. Many became proficient and we plan to challenge the mute band to a play-off tonight. The lily flowers are another of many transsexual plants we’ve seen in our travels. The white flower blooms at night and is attractive to beetles that crawl inside the petals. The petals enfold the beetle for 24-hours as it eats the pollen. At that time the flower turns pink, becomes male, and opens to release the beetle to spread the pollen.
We pulled up to a settlement and climbed ashore to visit with a family and see how they prepared toasted farina over an open fire. To heck with the farina: one woman let us hold a two-week old saddleback tamarind monkey. At another spot we docked to watch the production of sugarcane rum made at a family still. They call it Buffalo Breath Moonshine and I think that’s being kind. We didn’t taste it. The smell alone closed my throat and set me to gauging the distance to the nearest bush. The production of the rum is legal and it’s sold by the barrel-full to bottlers who dilute the 120-proof rotgut with water. Jesuits introduced firewater to the villages and the Portuguese furthered the addiction when they used it for trading. There’s a very high alcoholism rate in the Amazon.
David took a turn at the press feeding stalks of sugarcane into a mangle where the juice was squeezed into a vat. The resulting liquid looked like cow cud after the fourth chewing. The kids dexterously handle the generator and are technically proficient at the entire process. How over-protective are we of our children?
Afternoon Delights
We set out at 3:30PM hoping to change our luck and find some piranha. As we tooled along the surface of the water I wondered what was going on underneath. We found out shortly when a fresh-water gray dolphin breached the surface. Due to a high concentration of tannic acid and silt in the river there is zero visibility and they have evolved away their vision. No sooner did the gray disappear than a pink dolphin emerged. They’re unique to the Amazon and also cannot see. As we observed the small dolphins at play two orange butterflies began to circle our boat. It was really still and we could hear the rustle of the reeds. Something was there but we couldn’t see it. The movie Anaconda came to mind. Our group is a riot and someone started singing anaconda to the tune of Anatevka from Fiddler on the Roof.
We pulled into a cove and wended our way through the reeds. One of the crew took out a machete and I had a flash of Hotel Rawanda. But he was only going to cut down small trees that were preventing the boat from entering piranha territory. As he hacked we realized that the bark was covered with ants (not fire ants) and they were fleeing his lops into our boat. The people on that side stood as a unit and I thought we were about to do a Columbian coffee commercial and capsize. They whacked away with their hats and we joined in the stomping until we were satisfied we’d vanquished the invaders.
If we had to survive as piranha fishermen (and women) we’d starve. Ron was the only person to catch a tiny one. I had one on my line two times but it got loose. They mostly nibbled the bait. It looked nothing like the ones in B-movies that devour whole cows. This one was small and silver with a red stripe on its belly.
Things are more active in the animal world as it cools off. On our way back to the boat at 6 P.M. we spotted flocks of parrots and red howler monkeys. Several North American birds were seen and we introduced Eric to the term “snow birds” and explained how we applied it to people. Squirrel monkeys showed off their aerial prowess as they cavorted high above us. At one point they all dove down into the heavily leafed refuge of a nearby tree. We wondered what had set this behavior off. It’s what they do when there’s danger. Could it be us?
Our “experience” before dinner was a lesson in concocting Pisco sours. Even if I loved them I wasn’t going to drink another one. It’s made with raw egg white. We joked that they tasted just like chicken. That’s been a running tag line with our guide, Eric. That’s his answer whenever we ask how something tastes. When we asked him how chicken tasted he said it was much like guinea pig.
Good Night
We’re tied up across from Nauta, a town of 30,000. It’s at the end of the 97.2 km long and only road from Iquitos. Tomorrow we’ll visit a village and bring gifts for the children. Amazonians are very aware of potentially creating a beggar culture and don’t take kindly to giving money to the kids. They even cautioned us about not paying to take a photo, which is common in other areas.
The sun was setting and the clouds seemed to be latching on to each fading ray. They glowed, shimmered, and reflected the orange, red, and yellow even as an evening storm approached. That’s when I had an epiphany. I decided to give up all hope of being cured of the crud by way of a miracle and started taking Cipro.
Toby
