Living in Peru : your everyday companion

By A.J. Rivera

If you missed out on the beginning of the race click here.

The second day we set out with clearing skies. Before the girls arrived I borrowed an axe and a machete and hewed away at the balsa in hopes of streamlining it a little more. Unlike the previous night, that evening we had been provided a wonderful meal of fish casserole with spaghetti noodles, so we had a little more energy in the morning. The foreign teams were allowed to go first because they required more time.

In the early morning we watched as the Peruvian teams passed us. By mid morning we were cramped. Sonja squirmed every few seconds but Claudine sat poised like a lotus flower in meditation, while Linda and I shifted our bodies periodically in attempts to find a comfortable spot, but we could fine none. The skies cleared and the sun began to scorch our skin. We bathed in sunblock, but the perspiration and the riverwater quickly washed it away. We drank water, but before long the sun had heated the fluid so the lukewarm liquid stopped quenching our thirst. The more we drank the more we had to urinate, and in the Rio Amazonas you dare not pee in the water for the Candirú:

“This fish is feared to attack humans and swim into an orifice (the vagina, anus, or even the penis—and deep into the urethra). Because of spines protruding from the fish, it is almost impossible to remove except through surgery. The fish locates its host by following a water flow to its source and thus urinating while bathing increases the chance of a candirú homing in on a human urethra.” --Wikipedia

While there were many hardships we all agreed we were living an experience that we would never forget and it had its moments of pleasure. For example, when we took a shortcut through a narrow channel with the jungle only a few yards away on either side, the current ran swift so it became a picnic in paradise. The birds sang all around us, the bank was alive with vegetation and flowers, Sonja swam in the river, we ate our crackers, then some young native boys threw freshly picked papayas into the water for us to eat - a gift from the jungle. Their throw was short, so I had to swim after the ripe fruit. We ravaged the fruit.

When we came out of the quebrada, (break) channel, we hit a dead spot with no current. We fought to keep the raft moving at one mile per hour. It was like paddling through mud. Our spirits started to waiver. Claudine redirected our attention by teaching us European riddles. I wanted to hide the GPS, but the ladies insisted on knowing how fast we were going, maybe to make sure we were moving at all. After an hour of struggle, we came out of it exhausted, but Sonja started to sing American pop songs from the 60's and 70's, Linda added rhythm, and I gloated feeling blessed. We passed three teams of rafters in the next half hour.

Day two was a ten-hour day, we left at seven in the morning and arrived at five in the afternoon, a half an hour before sunset. There were a couple of rafts that came in after sunset; one had to be pulled in by the Peruvian Coast Guard.

Tamshiyacu, a small town, was our second stop. There were many stalls with food, and a couple of hostels with rooms. Cloudine and Sonja took the last room in “the best” hostel, I took a room in the second best, but it had no water for showers, so I took one in the girls room. We were in seventh heaven, food, a shower, and a bed to sleep in after ten hours of hard paddling in a hot sun. The town had a ceremony for us, but most of us were only able to attend the first part before retiring to our nests.

In town several people came up to me and thanked me for the lessons on reading the river current. I am not sure my teammates appreciated me giving away our advantage, but I went ahead and gave a second lesson on river geology and interpreting the surface water. We came in seventh place the second day, but we only lost a few minutes in the overall time so we held our fifth place standing.

Race for the Finish

A good meal, a shower, and a bed to sleep in did wonders for us, but knowing that we had made it through the toughest day and had been able to hold our standing was inspirational. On the way down to the raft, I had stopped at the makeshift kitchen; the rice porridge was not ready and would not be ready until seven; we were all under the impression that the start time was at seven, so I was not happy. Our binding had come loose, so as I waited for the ladies and breakfast, I tied nylon cord over the natural fibers.

From the river bank, with a megaphone the announcer called out, “All foreign teams are to depart at 6:30.”

The blood rushed to my head. I yelled back, “Now is a fine time to tell us. Why did you not advise us last night? People sleeping in town are preparing for a seven o`clock departure. Your own staff will not even have breakfast ready until seven.” All the people on the bank stopped working to look and listen.

In a wimp of a voice the announcer responded, “All foreign teams can depart when ready. We will time you accordingly.”

I borrowed a saw and cut away the tail end of a log that was dragging like a speed break, and then I tied the raft in a way that I could jettison two logs to make a catamaran. The rules called for eight logs, but we had noticed that a couple of teams only had seven. I had a contingency plan just in case we need it. We never did.

The girls arrived without eating breakfast. We pushed off. I went to turn the GPS on and realized I had left it on the support boat in my backpack. Back to shore we went. I ran back on the clay and silt slope back to the boat, but in my hurry I stepped bare-footed on rebar protruding from a cement block. Yes, on the first day of the race my sandals had disappeared. The rod pierced the skin, but I did not say anything, not wanting to delay us any longer. We were already the last to leave. It was painful for everyone to watch the rafts disappearing before our eyes.

We struggled to catch up, but the competition was smarter now and was riding the current better than ever. Finally I stopped the crew to rest and eat breakfast. Again we watched the other rafts leave us behind, but the small break and the food helped us. We had become a new team. We could now control the raft with precision. Linda controlled the starboard side so whenever the nose drifted left she would turn it right. When ever we needed to turn to the portside, Claudine would take control. “Just call me lefty,” she would say with a self-satisfying grin on her face.

The sun was hotter than ever. Sonja’s face and back were bright red, even with Super Block, SPF 55. My legs, not accustomed to being exposed were frying and a large patch of skin peeled off. Sonja would jump into the muddy water of the Amazon regularly and Claudine and Linda poured water over themselves. Again we caught up with the trailing rafts. Two attempted to slow us down by blocking our passage-- all in fun—or was it? We got past them and gained on the next raft. We caught up to them but were in need of a break, so I asked the ladies to start talking to the other team. A second later Sonja was in the water, so was a member of the other team. We could now rest without loosing our position. We passed them a few minutes later.

Linda and Sonja took over the GPS and would call out our speed. Their stamina and competitive spirit took over. “We are not going to let anyone pass us,” they would say. An afternoon head-wind came up; now the other teams could not find the current, but we could. So we gained on another raft. The waves grew larger and heavier riverboats passed more frequently leaving large wakes. If hit broadside, a large wake had the potential of pulling our raft apart.

When a large boat approached I prepped the team. “We are going to turn sharp into the wake. On my command. Secure your gear. “The boat came near us. Linda was concerned. At the last moment, the boat veered a little giving us more space. “Now” Claudine dug her paddle in, Sonja and Linda paddled harder to swing the raft around and I pulled the nose. The wake hit us head on; all the logs rose up in unison on the crossbeams with no pressure on the binding. All the gear was pushed up and landed back on the raft. Our legs had been refreshed by the wave and our spirits rose again with joy. We were little children having a great time playing in the creek.

In the wind we passed one more raft, but this time the other rafters had changed their strategy. They no longer attempted to pass us. They just followed us waiting to make their move, but by then, our team was in high spirits and had rhythm. We ate our avocados and bread, drank our warm water, sang and laughed. One team got tangled in fishing net; another went into the wrong channel and had to come back out.

We finally made it to the mouth of the Nanay River and now had to paddle 500 yards up stream. The GPS went from 4.5 miles per hour to .9 miles per hour. What an ugly way to finish. The counter current pushed us back, we pushed back, the current never tires but we were worn out after three days and our final energy quickly drained. Then a trailing raft entered the Nanay, and Linda exploded like a firecracker. Sonja dug deep showing more strength and persistence than she had ever done. Claudine´s quiet demeanor now became that of an officer in combat. We paddled as if we were struggling for our lives. The rafts full of younger stronger competitors, that had followed us for half the day now started to pass us. “We have cumulative time,” I would say between stokes, we are still ahead. That last hour brought out everyone’s inner character and like steel under the forge became as sharp polished swords.

We came in ninth place that last day, but we were first in our minds and hearts. We had pushed our envelope. We were on top of the world, we were elated, and as Linda said it best for all of us, (we) “felt young and strong.”

We came in fifth place overall. We celebrated with the whole group. There were no losers in this group. No one got voted off the island.

But as quickly as we came together, as it is when traveling, we parted company. Claudine went into the jungle with a guide to visit a remote tribe. Sonja has also gone off into the jungle with new found friends to consult a Shaman. Linda has returned to her computer to respond to 558 e-mails from her students. And I have now concluded my adventure, returning to the States tonight on a flight out of Iquitos.

The blood in my veins has been replaced by the Amazon River’s *muddy water and its current will now run in my soul till I die.

Complete Results and Standings

* Editor's note = The Amazon River is Turbid, not muddy. It's due to high levels of minerals in the water making visibility about 2 or 3 inches at times and it's color is "muddy brown".

Click here to read about another of A.J.s amazing adventures