Lost in the Jungle (14 page)

‘Kevin came to look for you, but he couldn’t find you.’

‘Don’t give me that. The whole jungle heard me hitting that tree with the machete. How could he not find me?’

But Karl was a good-natured guy. He never stayed angry for more than a few minutes and was always easily appeased.

We prepared the fibres from the second log and rapidly tightened the loose balsa logs to the main body of the raft. Then we were on our way again. The raft was in good shape, but the river was no longer calm. It became narrower, and the terrain around us grew mountainous. The river wound around numerous bends and scarcely had a bank. Karl soon grew tense. The current carried us up against the rocks and onto the sloping banks. In many places the rapids were white and frothy.

I was in the stern, holding the left oar. Kevin was on the right. Marcus stood next to Karl in the bow. We were rapidly approaching a bend in the river a few hundred yards ahead. Farther on we could see white water and a scattering of jagged rock half-submerged in the middle of the river. The current was very strong, and there was no way that we could stop.

‘Left! Quick, to the left! Row as hard as you can!’ Karl shouted. ‘Everyone together, hard!’

‘Right!’ Kevin shouted. ‘If we go to the left, we’ll end up
on
the rocks.’

‘Shut up, Kevin,’ Karl almost went to pieces. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t a kayak, and you’re not in Oregon. Do what I tell you.’

I had no idea which way to row. I stood there holding the pole. Marcus turned to me.

‘Row, row fast!’ he screamed. ‘Watch me and do like me. Deep, like this. Put the oar in the water just like this.’ He was hysterical. His voice was shrill.

The rocks loomed nearer, and there was no way that we could avoid them. Our frantic rowing did no good at all. The raft was taking a terrible pummelling. It tilted on its side and then flopped down, rising up and down, up and down. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the ropes holding the raft together. I could hear Karl’s frightened cries but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Kevin made some reply, but I couldn’t understand him either. A minute or two later everything was calm again, the river had become smooth as glass, and we heaved a collective sigh of relief. The raft hadn’t suffered any serious damage, only the outer logs had become somewhat loosened.

‘I don’t want any more arguments out of you, Kevin,’ Karl said breathlessly. ‘Either you’re going to do as I say, or I’m calling the whole thing off. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yeah, all right. I’ll do as you say,’ Kevin replied, but only to calm Karl down.

Marcus drew to my side.

‘I’m sorry for yelling at you, Yossi,’ he apologised, ‘but it’s just that I’m pretty good at rowing. I used to row the Rhine. I’ve had a lot of experience, and I just wanted to show you how it’s done.’

‘It’s OK, Marcus. You were right to do it. Anyway, you didn’t yell at me.’

‘Then you’re not mad at me?’

‘No, I’m not mad at you,’ I said softly.

Up ahead we could see a broad river emptying into the Tuichi.

‘That’s the Ipurama,’ Karl said. ‘Let’s stop.’

The water was placid at the junction of the two rivers. It required scant effort to pull the raft over onto the sandy bank.

The Tuichi was very wide, about a hundred yards across. It was silvery blue, while the Ipurama was dark green; they mingled in an exquisite blend of colours.

Karl took the map out of his pack. He pointed to the Ipurama.

‘The Mal Paso San Pedro isn’t far now, maybe half a dozen miles, but the San Pedro Canyon begins before that. We mustn’t enter it, no matter what. It is a real
cajón
[box]. There is no shore at all there, just sheer rock cliffs on both sides of the river. What we’ll have to do from now on is stop at regular intervals and walk ahead a few hundred yards to check out the river to make sure there’s another stopping place up ahead where we can pull up before we reach the mouth of the canyon. There we’ll stop, and two of us will go around it on foot to Curiplaya.’

Karl’s plan made sense to all of us.

‘OK, then,’ he continued, ‘let’s scout our first stopping point. We’ll go through the jungle around the next bend and see if it’s possible to pull over somewhere. Who wants to come with me?’

‘Not me,’ Kevin whispered so only I could hear. ‘I hardly ever agree with Karl about anything. I’d better not go.’

‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I don’t know the first thing about river rafting.’

‘One of you has to go,’ Marcus insisted. ‘I can’t walk on my feet in the shape they’re in.’

‘I’m not going,’ Kevin said stubbornly.

‘Me neither,’ I repeated.

I don’t know if we intended to torment poor Marcus, but that’s what we were doing.

Karl butted in. ‘What’s with you guys? You don’t expect me to go by myself, do you? I’m only here because you were so hot to go on this trip.’

I relented. ‘I’ll go with you, Karl.’

We entered the jungle and kept the river on our left. The terrain was level and the foliage less dense than in other places we had been. Karl didn’t have to use the machete as we were able to work our way around and under branches.

What actually happened next, however, was unclear, though it must have been the turning point of the entire trip. As I recall, Karl turned suddenly and said something like, ‘What the hell are we going on for anyway?’ He muttered as though he were thinking aloud. ‘I must be out of my mind to risk going into the canyon. No one has ever done it. And what if we miss our stopping place and are swept into it? We’ll all be killed. That’s what.

‘What’s the point? There’s nothing for me there. Nobody’s going to award me any prizes for doing it. So why should I?’

He seemed to catch sight of me then for the first time.

‘Give me one good reason,’ he said, this time aloud and straight to my face. ‘I don’t have the time. It could take three or four days to reach the mouth of the canyon. I won’t make it back to La Paz on time. Why should I louse things up with my uncle? I told you in the first place that I only had one month. That month will be up in exactly four days.’

He stopped and stared at me.

‘That’s it, Yossi. I’ve made up my mind. I’m heading straight back from here. I’m not going any farther. If you want, come along with me. If not, go on without me. I’m going back in any case.’

Apparently I offered no objections, and Karl continued.

‘Look, what did you want out of this trip anyway? To spend some time in the jungle? Terrific, we did that. We walked from Asriamas to Río Cocus and back. You wanted to raft down the river. We’ve done enough of that. You’ve seen what it’s like. Why should we go on? It’s just more of the same. If we turn back, we can have a few days’ rest, put a camp on the riverbank, do some hunting and fishing. Marcus will have the chance to rest and take care of his feet. We’ll eat well, bathe in the river. That’s the life. That’s the real pleasure. Not a crazy trip down the river, risking our lives for nothing.’

The truth is, I was convinced.

‘I’m with you, Karl.’

We headed back without scouting the river at all.

‘I’m sure that Marcus will want to go back with us,’ Karl continued. ‘I don’t know about Kevin. He’s stubborn, but he won’t have any choice. He can’t very well go on alone.’

When we came back to the raft, Marcus was sitting, warming his red feet in the sun.

Karl repeated his reasoning and summed up, saying, ‘So what do you think? Yossi has already agreed. Marcus?’

‘I agree,’ Marcus replied.

‘Kevin?’

‘OK. We’ll go back,’ he answered softly.

Karl got the map out.

‘We’re here, at the juncture of the Ipurama and Tuichi rivers. It’s almost impossible to return to Asriamas; it’s at least a week’s walk. The most logical alternative is to follow the Ipurama upstream. There is a village called Ipurama at the head of the river. It only makes sense that if we follow the river, don’t lose it, we’ll come straight to the village. We can put up a good, sturdy camp and spend three or four days right here. We’ll use up the heavy food: the bananas and the yucca. I’m sure we’ll find game here. When Marcus is able to walk, we’ll start hiking. Within two days at the most we’ll be in Ipurama. There’s a trail from Ipurama to Apolo. We’ll rest up in the village and rent a few donkeys. We’ll ride to Apolo, and from there, no sweat, we’ll catch a plane to La Paz. We’ll be back in less than a week after we leave here.’

‘Are you sure we’ll make it to Ipurama so easily? Has anyone ever taken this route before?’ Kevin asked.

‘Perhaps the villagers have come down here to fish. I don’t know, but even if no one has ever done it before, it couldn’t be simpler. The river will lead us straight to the village – ’

‘Take a good look at the map,’ Kevin interrupted him. ‘The river branches out in three different directions. How can you know which one of them the village is on?’

‘Once we’re that close,’ Karl answered, ‘we’ll surely find a trail. Look. All three branches of the river intersect the trail to Apolo. It’s a very wide path. You can’t miss it. It’s only a two-day walk from there to Apolo.’

Kevin studied the map carefully and raised no further objections. We started setting up camp. Karl was extremely thorough this time. He assiduously sought a dry, level area, slightly higher than the river, and diligently cleared away every rock, weed, and root. Then he took me with him to look for strong, straight stalks of bamboo and branches. He wanted to remove the
panchos
from the raft and use them to tie the tent poles together, but Kevin wouldn’t let him.

‘You aren’t thinking of going on by yourself, are you, Kevin?’ he asked warily.

‘No, of course not,’ Kevin answered, ‘It’s just a shame to wreck the raft. For sentimental reasons.’

Karl laughed. ‘All right. I’ll find some vines in the jungle.’ Once the tent was up, we set the pack with the food in a dry corner, got a fire going, and rigged a pot over it. Everything was splendidly arranged, and we got down to some serious rest and relaxation.

I decided to have another go at fishing. I found a tree growing right out of the Ipurama, near the place where it met the Tuichi. I sat there under the tree trying to catch a minnow. They nibbled but didn’t bite.

I decided I should take my shoes off to give my feet some fresh air. Once I had my shoes and socks off, I could see countless tiny red dots all over my feet up to my ankles. I knew that this was how it had started with Marcus and that I had to treat it right away before it spread. The mosquitoes buzzed around my bare feet. I put my socks back on and went on fishing. Kevin found me there.

‘Where’d you disappear to? I’ve been looking for you,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea: let’s you and me go alone.’

I couldn’t believe he was serious.

‘I’m sure that we could do it,’ he continued. ‘The current does all the work anyway. Listen, I’m no idiot. I have no intention of getting myself killed.

‘Think about it, Yossi. Why did we come on this trip anyway? Karl promised us an Indian village, which was supposed to be the highlight of the whole thing, but we never made it there. Do you remember how he blathered about all the wild animals along the river? Alligators in lagoons. Gold-mining camps. The village of San José, where he lived. What didn’t he tell us? All we have left is rafting down the river. Now he’s calling that off as well. How long have we been on the river? Less than two whole days. For that I came on this trip? Gave up going home for Thanksgiving?

‘I thought that this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And what do I find? That it was all for nothing.’

I hesitated. I had already resigned myself to going back, but Kevin rekindled my spirit of adventure.

‘We can do it,’ Kevin said. ‘We can go on alone.’

As Karl had promised, our holiday at the river junction was the best part of the trip so far. We enjoyed surprisingly clear weather. It was the end of November, and by the beginning of December the rainy season is usually in full force.

‘That’s another good reason for going back,’ he had insisted. ‘Try to imagine what it’s like getting caught in a rainstorm. Apart from being unpleasant, it’s dangerous. The river floods its banks, and the current gets even stronger. I’m amazed that we’re having such good weather.’

On the second morning at our makeshift resort Karl and I took up the shotgun and machete and went hunting.

‘We’ll walk a little way up the Ipurama,’ Karl proposed. It looks as good a place as any, and we can look around for a trail to take when we start walking.’

We walked upstream for about an hour, plodding through the jungle. We saw neither machete marks nor broken branches and could only surmise that no other human beings had passed that way.

Unexpectedly we heard a loud roar.

‘A jaguar! A jaguar!’ Karl shouted.

I looked about, scared out of my wits. I couldn’t see anything, but the roaring grew louder, and other, no less ferocious voices joined in a chorus of snarls.

‘No, that isn’t a jaguar,’ Karl changed his mind. ‘It’s a big howler monkey, a
maneche
. Their cries are deceptively similar. Look, up in the tree.’