Demarcation Diaries
4 September 2001
Good morning, all!
We got underway this morning about one hour ago. It is cold here
in the Amazon at night, a light dew covers everything, my blankets
are slightly wet, my hammock is damp. I had a long night's sleep
last night after an unusual day yesterday.
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After I wrote my last update on September 1st, we were having
another early evening of watching for jacare (alligators)
along the shore, when we all felt a series of three small
bumps. A few seconds after that, we were stopped dead in the
middle of the river. For me, it was my first time running
aground. |
We arrived yesterday to a small town called Carauari. I had visited
here one year ago, during high-water season. At that time, the
entrance appeared to be about 150 feet across. Well, now things
are different. The 25-30 foot difference in river height has only
left an entrance that is at the most 10 feet wide, and the water
is only about one or two meters deep. There are steep hills on
both sides of the entrance, so it is like entering a secret passage,
you cannot see the other side until you get there.
A few of us were sitting on the Savio, which we had stopped
at the entrance to the canal, waiting for the next shuttle
to town. All at once, we saw a huge head pop out of the water
near the canal entrance. So far for me, it was the biggest
alligator I had ever seen down here! He was quiet, moving
slowly with the current in the general direction of our boat.
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Now, we have heard, and seen, that these alligators are not attracted
by people or by boats. It wasn't long until we saw what this giant
reptile was interested in. There was a small river boat approaching
the canal entrance that had a load of pigs on board, making pig
noises. For Mr. Alligator, a tempting lunch. And that was it,
for sure. He floated slowly and deliberately toward the small
river boat, and in our direction also. It looked like it was going
to be a good show!
The next thing that happened shocked us all out of our Disney
mentalities. The driver of the small boat came out onto the deck
with a rifle in his hands. When we all saw this, we started to
yell, in English and Portuguese. He hesitated two times, but then
came out a third time as the boat came right next to the beautiful
animal, and pulled the trigger, hitting the gator apparently dead
on.
You can imagine how upset we all were, it happened so quickly,
and the gator disappeared underwater.
This show initiated a heated discussion amongst our crew as to
why this happened, what was the purpose of killing this animal,
did it have to happen, were any people in danger really. We are
still discussing it.
Much to our amazement, the alligator surfaced again at the canal
entrance and seemed to be renewing his lunch search. This was
10 minutes later, the small river boat was long gone, and we just
watched as this huge animal seemed to have just been scratched.
But, who knows how bad he is injured. Like many situations here,
we are left guessing the outcome.
On Sunday night, we had a chance to go into the town of Carauari
and mingle with some local people. The entire crew had a chance
to dance a bit of Forro, the local music, mixed with the popular
music that comes from the States and is played all over the world.
It was a nice, relaxing night out, and it was capped off nicely
by a 15 minute boat ride under full moonlight, through the foggy
bay that sits right under Carauari.
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We spent the day Monday unloading more fuel to leave for
our plane and helicopter during the project. Carauari will
be one of the stops on the way to the Deni land. We also loaded
up on water, this will be the last place we can get clean
water for a long time. From now on, we will be using iodine
pills to treat our drinking water that we take from the local
rivers. |
The last two nights, we have had two amazing rainstorms. The
clouds seem to rush in like they have a mission. The wind starts
to blow, we have to cover our sides because the wind blows sideways,
aiming all the rain right at our hammocks!
And then, it doesn't just rain, it pours. No, it dumps. We have
to watch our small aluminium boat, because it rains hard and fast
enough to sink it in a few minutes.
We have taken advantage of these rains to take showers, wash
our clothes, and wash the boat from all the mud we have been taking
on. It's a wonderful, welcome rain.
Everyday here, it seems like the Amazon is just throwing things
at us. Jacare here, mosquitoes there, rainstorm here, low river
there, super hot sun, humidity and then cold, chilly nights. It
is as if the life that does survive here deserves its place here,
because it earns it. And, everyday, I feel like a young guest
in an ancient land. It feels like the habits of the Amazon are
as old as the planet, and I am being allowed a small glimpse,
from the relative safety of a riverboat. It makes every curve
in the river exciting, every sound from the forest worth listening
to.
As I sit here this morning, I hear the voices of the captain
and a few of our group talking at the breakfast table. The sun
has already dried up the morning dew, but the humidity keeps the
damp feeling in the air.
Steve from Sweden is sitting next to me writing an update to
his country, and I know the rest of the crew is on the deck above,
marvelling at another 25-shades-of-green day. We are due to arrive
at the final station point for the Savio tonight. Until then,
I am heading for my morning Matte and to get into the sun to dry
myself!
Good-bye for now!
Bryan
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