A Night Alone On The Amazon River

Post date: Dec 24, 2010 3:26:04 PM

Funny, the peace that only sunburn, sleeplessness, biting ants and mosquitoes, and thorny bushes can give you. I haven’t felt so relaxed since Bogota.

But, nothing went as planned.

My interviews with locals revealed that fishing the “meeting of the waters,” the confluence of the Rio Negro and Rio Amazonas/Rio Solimoes, was debatably illegal and very difficult to arrange transportation to. Plus, the reports were mixed about the quality of the fishing. So, I fell back on Plan B, to fish at prainha (beach) near a town across the river. People catch fish there, the boats to and from are regular, and I can camp there without disturbances from the police. At IBAMA, the Brazilian fish and wildlife service, I received no clear answers, and I was amused to find upon entry that all the staff was playing board games and eating ice cream. A regular workday? I decided to play it safe nonetheless; I’d already bought my ticket to Porto Velho, and if the boat I privately arranged didn’t arrive on time Friday (not a far shot), I’d lose out.

$2.50 got me to Prainha, an empty sand and shrub beach with a floating home/store equally devoid of fishermen or tourists. Good or bad? The owner there said, “Very few fish here.” My attempts confirmed that. All I landed were some tiny catfish, which aren’t the best big catfish bait. I used sausage to catch them. A little boy with down syndrome watched me quietly. The trend never changed that night or the next day- nothing. The beach is at a place where the river splits. The current was fairly slow. The fishing may improve during high waters. It didn’t matter; I was on my own, fishing my way.

Up and down the shore I explored, in the dark. I stepped into a mudpit that barely let me go. I broke the strap to one sandal attempting to pull free. This left me shoeless in a thorny place. I identified three types of sticker bushes to avoid, but I couldn’t see them everytime because they sometimes had branches hidden in the grass. So, I was pulling stickers from my over-pampered soft feet. I stepped on a glass shard at one point.

I finally laid down, pole in arm and line in water, as is my custom on fishing marathons, on the beach. The mosquitoes found me. Check that; the mosquitoes REALLY found me. I was inside my silk sheet, but still they bit through that. I put on my rain gear, preferring heat to bites, but my feet were still guarded by only sheet, so I put a burlap sack over my feet. My head was exposed, so I doused it with Menticol/Nopikex spray, a mixture that typically repels even the fleas. Not these guys. I snugged the raincoat hood around my head, but the buggers found the 1 cm x 1cm area of unsprayed skin on my upper lip, and I got a thick bugbite from that error. Hood or not, the mosquitoes buzzed around me, and the hood just seemed to amplify the sound in my ears. So I took the hood off, and was welcomed by the cool and nature sounds. I dumped more deet and who knows what other chemicals on my face. I watched the most peaceful, pretty night sky I’ve probably ever seen. It was a moment that I recognized where I was in the world, in the Amazon, on the river, on a beach, catfishing, alone and doing things my way, with all my life ahead of me, a wonderful life behind me. The gray clouds drifted by on a blue-black sky, highlighted by the mostly full moon. I now think that that sky was what I was there to see. Empathizing with nature is often the best cure. In minutes I was unconscious for close to an hour. The sand was packed and joint busting, so I gave up after couple hours of cursing and moments of unconsciousness. I reeled in my bait and it wasn’t even completely stripped of meat. The fish must really be somewhere else if piranha and other critters haven’t stripped it. So, I took a stroll and decided to move up to a wooden platform up the hill. There I modified my protection by draping the sheet, double layered, over my head and upper body. I never sleep with my face covered, but I did this time. The relief was fantastic; I couldn’t even hear the bugs. I slept an hour or two until a horse galloped by 10 feet away from me. Time to get up, I guess. I didn’t need people nudging me to see if I was a dead body.

I headed back to the floating dock to catch some more bait, and I was catfishing again just as the sun’s round body appeared over the horizon. Nothing there so I moved downstream a few hundred yards. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

ANTS! I don’t know why they weren’t after me last night, but during the day, they were relentless and everywhere. I desperately needed my sandals, but I doubt even those would have helped. If I stood in one spot more than a second, one then two then three were on my feet, biting. Burn! I probably looked like a buffoon, cursing and swatting my bare gringo feet. I recalled that animals like hippos will coat themselves in mud to protect themselves from sunburn and bugs. I descended the bank and plastered my feet and ankles in mud. It works! But, I sit now, a day later, with slightly swollen toes and feet that will not stop itching. Last night I could not sleep until I rubbed icecubes all over them for several minutes. My anti-itch gel did nothing at all.

Exhausted and hungry and thirsty, plus fishless, barefoot, bitten, and with little prospect for improvement in those areas, I debated retiring a night early and heading back to the hostel. Instead, I built a fire, which is always good for morale. I filtered 1 liter of water using my pump filter. Finally, I got to use it on my trip! And then it broke. The glue I’d applied in San Diego did not withstand the extra pressure built up from the sediment clogging the pores. Well, good thing now and not in a true survival situation, huh? I drank it with great thanks. I collected some more river water, a very yellow-brown water, and boiled it in the pot I’d brought. Two packs of ramen noodles later, I was a happy boy. I didn’t taste the gasoline and other nastiness I’m sure was in there. It was bacteria free, at least. 24 hours later, I’m still healthy.

I considered staying longer by asked the people on the docks if they had water, but I decided to consider the trip “enough learned” and caught the next boat back to civilization. I am sunburned and itching, but I think all of my pain and suffering over those 24 hours purged me of my irritability. I lay on a soft couch with a fan overhead and drinking water within sight. Give me an uninhabited river and a day, and I’ll return like I’ve just finished 6 months of residential therapy.