Christine smiled. “I thought it was wool.”
They walked into the center of the village and the tribes-people came out of their huts. They were all barefoot and their toes were bent and calloused. A man held a bead necklace out to Christine. She glanced at Paul and he shook his head. “Not yet.” When the chief had greeted everyone, he went to his hut and tied a headpiece made of parrot feathers onto his head. Paul told him it was beautiful and bought it from him for thirty soles. Then he brought out several others to sell and the other tribesmen began selling their items as well. Paul walked around helping the group negotiate their purchases.
“Would you ask the chief if I can have a picture with him?” Christine asked. “They’ll love this at the dentist’s office.”
“Sure.” Paul spoke to the chief, then gave him a five-sole coin. The chief stood next to her while Paul took their picture. Gilberto and Marcos brought up several cardboard boxes from the boat, and Paul presented them to the chief, who squatted down and looked through them as Paul explained to him how the medicine should be used. When Paul finished, they embraced again, then Paul led everyone back to the boat.
When they were all on board, Christine said, “That was unforgettable.”
“Makes you see the world a little differently, doesn’t it?”
Christine nodded. As they left the cover of the trees, the rain fell on them again. Paul looked up at the sky. “At least the rain won’t last.”
“You know this?” Christine asked.
“The chief told me. He can predict the weather. Gilberto told me that in the last twelve years that he’s known him he’s never been wrong.”
“How does he do that?”
“The chief is a holy man. Every few months he walks to a special place where he communes with spirits. You noticed that the chief was waiting for us at the shore. He told Gilberto that the spirits told him we’d be here today at that hour.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I believe a lot of things I didn’t before I came down here. Besides, I have no reason not to. The Amaracayre don’t lie. It’s not part of their culture.”
Gilberto guided the boat back to the middle of the river and they continued to journey deeper into the Amazon.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“Lions, tigers and bears, oh my!”
PAUL COOK’S DIARY
Not long after their departure from the Amaracayre, the rain stopped and the plastic sheeting was rolled up from the sides of the boat and strapped to the canopy. Three hours later the boat veered from the middle of the river to the east shore, edging up to a small embankment with stairs cut into the dirt. Several Peruvian men walked down as the boat approached, carrying a large cardboard box.
“This is where we leave the river,” Paul shouted back, moving toward the boat’s bow. “We have a short hike through the jungle. On the other side is Lake Huitoto. From there it’s forty-five minutes to Makisapa Lodge.”
The men reached the boat and pulled it tight to the shore, securing it with ropes. The cardboard box was lifted over the side of the boat and Paul opened it. It was full of rubber boots.
“Listen up. It’s the rainy season, so the trail’s submerged in places. We’re going to have to wear galoshes. Go ahead and put them on.”
The boots were passed down in pairs. Christine slipped off her shoes and slid her foot inside a boot. She quickly pulled it out. “I think something’s inside this one,” she said. She turned the boot upside down and cockroaches erupted from the boot in a thick stream. She screamed and dropped it, and the bugs disappeared in the boat’s grated flooring. Paul tried not to laugh but could not stop himself.
“It’s not funny,” she said, trying to sound mad.
“I know,” he said, still laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not putting those on.”
“Here,” Paul said, lifting her boots. He first shook them, stuck his hand inside, then handed them back to her. “There you go. Just be glad it wasn’t a tarantula.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked as she pulled them on.
Everyone found their bags and carried them up the bank. At the top of the ridge was a clearing with a shack perched on stilts. A dozen chickens roamed the grounds pecking at insects.
Gilberto began walking toward the forest and everyone followed. He stopped where the forest became denser and shadow fell over the trail. Paul came and stood next to him. “Okay, campers, this is where we hike through. Remember, this is the real thing. Stay alert. Don’t change places. Keep together. We keep two machetes in front and one in back.”
“Why two in front?” Mason asked.
“Because sometimes the first hiker only wakes the animal,” Paul replied.
Several in the group chuckled nervously.
“Follow your guides, keep to their footsteps. There are jaguar, puma, vipers, constrictors, wild boars and quicksand, among other ways to ruin your day. So be smart. I promised Jim I’d bring you back alive.” Paul took out his machete; then seeing how frightened everyone looked, he said, “Lions, tigers and bears, oh my!”
Everyone laughed.
“Okay, campers, Vamos.”
Jaime and Gilberto led off, Marcos fell in to the middle, while Paul waited for the back of the line to pass him so he could bring up the rear. Christine stopped next to him. “I’m sticking with you.”
The path was well enough trodden that it was not difficult to follow, though it was mostly mud. In many places logs and thick roots fell or grew over the path, and it was crossed by an occasional streamlet. At one point the water was more than two feet deep and water spilled into the top of their boots. The thatch canopy above them grew thicker until it blocked most of the light.
“Cuidado con las anacondas,” Gilberto shouted back. “A ellas les gusta este tipo de agua.”
“Watch out for anaconda,” Paul said. “They love water like this.”
Christine said nothing but looked more anxious. Paul held out his machete. “Just stay close.”
The deeper into the forest they went, the less talking there was, the chatter replaced by the sounds of their steps and of unseen things moving in the foliage around them. At one point Paul stopped and crouched down next to a tree. “Look at this.” He ran his hand across four large gashes in the tree. “This is new. A jaguar was cleaning his claws.”
Christine glanced around. “Should we be nervous?”
Paul stood. “No. Jaguars usually attack solitary things.”
After about forty minutes the trail began to slope down slightly as the lake came into view. The trail ended in a steep embankment and below them were several canoes bobbing in the muddy green water.
As Gilberto descended the incline, there was a sudden splash as a startled crocodile fled into the water.
“What was that?” Christine asked.
“Nothing,” Paul said.
Gilberto gingerly stepped to the back of one canoe, then motioned for everyone to follow his lead. One by one they carefully filed into the boats, sitting on wooden planks two across. Christine sat near the front. A large spider suddenly ran across her leg and then Joan’s. Both women shrieked.
“They’re harmless,” Paul said calmly.
When everyone had boarded, the oars were distributed among them and they paddled off toward the southern end of the lake. The sun fell to the tree-rimmed horizon and the last spears of light sparkled in the water like liquid gold, then vanished, leaving the rippling water dark and menacing. Twilight was brief and the light faded quickly. The two boats stayed close together, moving forward against the dim silhouette of the trees. Nearly an hour later a faint electric light could be seen in the distance.
“Makisapa,” Marcos said.
“We’re here,” Paul said.
As they approached the camp, the muffled sound of an electric generator grew louder. The first canoe slid up to the dock and Jaime climbed out and tied the boat to a mooring. Suddenly
a man wearing a white shirt and Levi’s appeared on the shore. Paul shouted out to him and the man walked down the dock’s wood planks. A monkey was wrapped around the top of his head, with its hands around his ears and its tail curled around his neck. “That’s Leonidas,” Paul said. “And his friend is our camp mascot, a baby makisapa monkey. Its name is Maruha.”
“It’s so cute,” Christine said.
Paul put down his oar and held out his hand to Leonidas, who pulled them in.
“Hermano,” Paul said.
“Es un placer volver a verte.” It’s good to see you again.
“Es un gusto volver a verte. ¿Está lista la cena?” It’s good to see you too. Is dinner ready?
“Sí.”
When everyone was on the dock, they gathered their bags and walked to where a steep dirt stair had been cut into the side of the mountain. Gilberto and Leonidas led the group, holding their flashlights to light their steps. Lizards scampered up the dirt walls, and dark shadows jumped around the trees leading up the path. At the top of the rise the ground leveled off and they could see the whole of the camp. Oil lamps burned to light the path and several thatched-roof bungalows were visible.
Paul led them to the comedor, the largest of the structures, and the camp’s central gathering place. They went inside. The comedor had a kitchen and a spacious dining area. The tables were thick rounds sawed from a tree trunk and sanded smooth. The roof was thatched and the windows were open but covered with thick screens. The room smelled of tomato sauce and garlic.
“I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Paul said, “so get something to eat, then we’ll assign bungalows and go over a few rules.”
Leonidas’s wife, Rosana, was the camp’s cook. She had laid out two great pots of cooked spaghetti, and a large saucepan of spaghetti sauce. There was a basket of garlic bread and two whole watermelons, with cold spring water to drink.
The group lined up at the table, filling their plates to capacity. When everyone was seated and eating, Paul addressed the group.
“First, there’s plenty of food. So don’t be shy about seconds.”
“How about thirds,” Mason shouted. Everyone laughed.
“…or thirds. Welcome to Makisapa Lodge. Our stay is short but we’re going to have a lot of fun. For your own safety there are some rules you need to abide by.” Paul lifted a laminated sheet of paper. “Rule number one. Do not play with or tease any snake. If you find one near the lodge, let one of the staff know about it immediately. Be smart. The Amazon snakes tend to be more aggressive than snakes in North America, and most of them are venomous.”
“What do you mean by tease?” one of the teenage boys asked.
“Don’t try to catch or poke them or throw things at them.”
“Yeah, I was going to do that,” Joan said.
“Rule number two. If you leave the lodge area, do not go out alone and always have at least one machete with your group. You can get one from any of the staff. I repeat, never go out alone into the jungle. Especially at night. The vegetation is thick and it’s easy to get disoriented. You could get lost just thirty feet away from camp. And there are things out there you really don’t want to meet.”
A teenage girl raised her hand. “Do dangerous animals ever come into camp?”
“Sometimes. Earlier in the year Gilberto had a puma walk through the middle of camp. Fortunately they didn’t have any groups here at the time. In the unlikely event that you encounter a jaguar or puma, back off slowly but maintain eye contact with a dominant stare. Whatever you do, do not run. It triggers the chase instinct in them. And trust me, you can’t outrun one.”
He again looked at the list. “Rule number three. We’d prefer that you not swim in the lake. There are crocodiles along most of the shores. There are also piranhas, electric eels, leeches and anacondas. You’ve all filled out your liability release forms, so it’s your choice. But consider yourself warned. We’d like to have you come back with us, preferably in one piece.
“Rule number four. If you want to fish for piranhas, we have lead-coated fishing line, but have one of the staff remove the fish. Piranhas can bite even after they’re dead.
“Anything else?” He looked at the monkey on Jaime’s head, “Oh, yeah, rule number five, no monkeys allowed in the bungalows. They have a knack for destroying whatever they touch. Especially Maruha here; she loves to eat books. Any questions?”
Joan raised her hand. “Are we going to get out of here alive?”
“They haven’t lost anyone yet. But remember, this isn’t a theme park, it’s really a jungle out there. Err on the side of caution. You’ll notice that, unlike El Girasol, everything here is enclosed. Primarily for your own safety. You’ll hear all sorts of noises at night, mostly birds and insects, but larger animals as well. We are intruders in an active ecosystem and potentially a part of the food chain.
“This time of the year you need to be especially wary of the fleas and mosquitoes. One night I got more than one hundred and seventy bites. So in addition to your mosquito netting, be sure to use repellent and flea collars. If you forgot to bring repellent we have extra.”
Another hand went up. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“Whatever you want. There’s an island right across from us that we’ll row out to in the morning and hike through. Mostly we’ll just relax. After working as hard as you have, I know most of you could use a little R and R. We have a saying here: there are no clocks in the jungle. We eat when we’re hungry, sleep when we’re tired and the comedor is always open.
“Okay, one more thing. Jim sent you a treat.” He reached behind the counter and brought out two brightly colored boxes. “Hostess Ding Dongs. One for each of you”
A loud cheer went up.
Paul handed one of the boxes to Gilberto, and they threw out a foil-wrapped cake to each person.
“Your bungalow assignments are on this sheet,” Paul said, holding a clipboard above his head. “When you finish eating, get your things and get settled in for the night. The generator goes off in two hours. If you have any questions, I’ll be here in the comedor.”
Christine brought Paul a slice of watermelon.
“Thank you.”
“It’s very sweet,” she said, sitting next to him. “I love watermelon.”
“Me too.” Paul took a bite, wiping the corners of his mouth.
“What bungalow am I in?” Christine asked.
“You and Joan are in Guacamayo,” Paul said. “Turn right outside and follow the path to the second building.”
“And where are you?”
“I’m on the other side of the camp in Vampiro.”
She stood. “Would you like to come by for a visit?”
“Actually, I had other plans for you. I need to meet with the staff, then I’ll be over.”
Christine smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
I took Christine out to the lake, hunting crocodiles by moonlight. She returned to camp exhilarated by the experience. We never feel more alive than when our existence is uncertain.
PAUL COOK’S DIARY
The Makisapa Lodge consisted of nine bungalows connected by a network of paths lit by tiki lamps. The buildings looked as Christine had imagined them, constructed from dark hardwood cut from the surrounding jungle. They each had a thatched-palm roof, a front porch and a large screen window. Inside the huts there were three beds each with a mosquito net tied in a massive knot and suspended from the ceiling above it. There were two electric lights—one in the middle of the room, the other in the bathroom. The bathroom had a curtain instead of a door, a shower, and a porcelain toilet and sink. There was only one temperature of water and that was whatever the jungle provided. The shower’s drain emptied beneath the hut. The room was clean but smelled of petroleum oil.
“What’s a guacamayo?” Joan asked. “Sounds like a chip dip.”
Christine grinned. “I think it’s a parrot.”
; Joan untied her mosquito netting, letting it drape down over the bed. “Ever slept under a mosquito net?”
“No,” Christine said. “I’ve never even been camping.”
“What do you think that smell is?”
“Maybe it’s jungle wood.” Christine leaned against the windowsill and looked out. The teenagers were in the middle of the compound aiming flashlights at monkeys hanging in the trees.
“It’s hard to believe it’s winter at home,” Christine said.
“I’m not missing it. I hope there’s a raging blizzard.” Joan sat on her bed. “So what’s the deal with you and Paul?”
The question surprised her. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. It’s not a whirlwind like Jessica and Jim, it’s just kind of…sweet. Besides, he’s a fine-looking man. If I were twenty years younger and twenty pounds lighter…”
Christine sat back on her bed, eager to change the subject. “I wonder how Jessica and Jim are doing.”
“We’re lucky that boy’s still alive.” She squinted. “What’s that on your arm?”
Christine lifted her arm. “Oh, I got some mosquito bites. There were a million of them in Puerto.”
“You better use more repellent.”
There was a knock on their door.
“Come in,” Christine said.
Paul stepped in. He was wearing his fedora, and a camera hung around his neck. “Evening, ladies. Is everything okay with your bungalow?”
“Fabulous,” Joan said. “Except for the smell. What is that?”
“The wood’s treated with motor oil. It discourages the termites. There are more than ninety-one species of termites out here.”
“Fascinating,” Joan said facetiously.
“Sorry. I’m really a jungle geek. Anyway, it also protects the wood during the rainy season, and it helps to keep the mosquitoes away, so triple benefit. You’ll get used to it.”
“I kind of like the smell,” Christine said. Joan just looked at her.
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