Rivers through the Selva

I was rousted in a vivid dream by a dear friend into the early morning - too early. I sat in bed listening to the day begin and drank my dear cold instant coffee. My boat would not be leaving until noon time and would have preferred to kill my time sleeping. I knew this was not to be a two day pleasure cruise up the Rio Apurimac in a three person wide 75 foot long river taxi with cargo and live stock. But it promised to be interesting! I packed up my things, prepared the bike, bought my passage for 90 soles, then left my stuff for the chickens to watch.
I have become less nervous about theft especially in places like Puerto Ocopa. Everyone in town knows that is the gringo's bike and filthy worn bags. So any thief is immediately recognized and no one likes thieves. Besides people are inherently honest - what comes around goes around. I went to get breakfast two buildings down at the hospedeja and ended up having eating with, Paco Sanz, an Ashaninka guide, that had been all through the Amazon basin. He led international scientific expeditions into very remote areas that required guns to protect from marauding tribes that would steal everything and kill you if they had the chance - resenting the intrusion. I put on my anthropologist and got him telling stories and he really fired me up to return - I have his card. I had heard his name and his stories confirmed my previous research. I sincerely believe adventure is as accessible out my front door as a continent away but the Amazon is huge and so untouched . . .
The boat was loaded via the slick steep path to the river's edge where boats were tied up waiting. Because I was going the farthest my bags went in first where I would be seated at the back of the boat. The loading process was up and down slow. Months of toilet paper, 50 kilo bags of rice, engine parts, a new stove, liter of Inca Cola, a few chickens, supplies for living in a place without roads. The boat was first and fore most a taxi service for people living in remote places along the river. My bike was loaded last at the front of the boat and I was assured not to worry and I did not . . . much. I had a little concern when a squealing pig was loaded in at one point. I pictured thrashing feet in my spokes but the little porker quieted down. Realistically, I have done worse hauling my bike through the mountains, thrashing through the jungle, laying it down on the pavement at 30kph or mousetrapping into dirt embankments. And in the end what can I do, so why worry . . . but I did let them know I was watching.

Finally, the double 40hp outboards were fired up and we pulled away from the bank into the fast flowing Rio Ene. I quickly realized these are not the most comfortable seats.
Periodic military outposts dot the river to control narco-trafficking . . . but they don't have boats? So not sure how that really works but they have huge ass guns. However, we pulled into all of them to have paper work checked and they showed interest in the cargo only once.
With the initial excitement of departure people looked around but most quickly turned to the newspaper, divided up and passed around, or fell asleep. I talked with the guys sitting next me and the Ashaninka gentlemen in front of me, one of whom had been to NYC for and international congress of indigenous peoples, however the roar of the outboards made actual conversation difficult.
I occupied myself watching activity on the river from fishing with cast nets to giant log rafts navigated by multiple small motor boats to keep them in the main channels. To my left was roadless Amazon jungle all the way to the Atlantic. To my right alta selva to the Andean foothills The river is broad but swift moving with limited navigable channels as it braided through the sand bars. I was impressed with the young guy steering the long narrow boat along eddy lines and through class 2 rapids as we moved upstream. Especially, how the 40hp outboards periodically cut out and he siphoned gas from the large drum directly behind me with his mouth all while steering up the heavy current. The captain was upfront periodically checking the river depth, indicating stops, organizing cargo and passengers, while his wife took care of the paperwork. I, too, eventually fell asleep to the drone of the motors and rocking of the narrow boat.
Periodic homes and small communities were situated high off the river banks and were often hard to see beyond a thatch roof poking out of the canopy. Bamboo sticks stuck into the sandy banks indicated where homes were located connected to the banks by narrow sandy paths. Local boats were often three or four log rafts that could be seen collected on the banks.
The boat stopped often for people to unload or to load up. People waited along the shores to flag the boat with large sacks of cacao or just a brief case as they removed their shoes, rolled up their dress pants and waded out to climb in the boat.
The first day we went late into the dusk and I started to catch glimpses of the Andes. Upon reaching our night time destination of Porvenir night had fallen. The boats stop at night because night time navigation is too dangerous.The community was a small collection of two story wooden homes, a couple basic 5 sole hospedejas, and a few tiendas from pharmacy to hardware to basic canned goods. And a telephone so if someone got a call people yelled there name over a speaker system while a generator supplied basic electric service. All gathered around a dirt courtyard. I walked up the bank with everyone else to get dinner, fried rice and duck, and sat with the same guy I had been riding with all day. Oddly enough the television was showing a forest fire disaster flick starring Marky Mark in English . . . As we sat eating dinner I got to meet the mayor of the town. But as a non constituent he was not really interested in the gringo - he was a busy guy as I saw him talking to numerous folks usually about "the road." As you can imagine having a road is a big deal and everyone wants one - the key to "development." I discovered that there are many paths and rudimentary roads but nothing suitable for trade . . . but may be interesting on the single speed 29'er in the future. I decided to forgo the dubious comfort of the hospedeja and sling my hammock on the boat. The full moon night with a cool breeze along the river and the sounds of the jungle seemed preferable to a night of music, television blaring, farting, snoring. After establishing my sleeping arrangement and talking briefly with my fellow boat mates, who referred to me as "maestro," I walked up the river bank to find a beer.
Directly above where the boat was tied some guys were drinking beer in small shack on the river bank - a bar that is. I am often a little hesitant about walking into these situations because you are never sure what you will encounter. Peruvians are generally curious about foreigners and the last foreign tourist they had encountered was a German 2 months earlier. Four guys were sitting there two log drivers, the bar owner, and a guy passed out in his chair, along with a sober young woman. I just wanted to buy a beer and go swing in my hammock but they passed me the beer and insisted I join. The bar owner was a friendly Huamangino (a person from Ayacucho) with a smattering of English phrases he liked to use and one of the log drivers was to drunk to be coherent. But they were all recent migrants. Porvenir is a new community like many in the region established by colonos, or colonists, from the Andean plateau looking for land. The amazon basin is experiencing an influx of migrants from the highlands spurred in part by new roads. The actual population growth rate of Peru is not that high (1.2%) and only in 1981 did the population equal the population of pre-Spanish conquest. I was hoping to learn a little Ashaninka but they only knew how to say cheers - "miro." All were there for economic reasons and reminded of the tension between colonos and indigenous Ashaninka. I talked with some Ashaninka and we they are generally wary of colonos tending to keep their distance moving deeper into the jungle. After an hour or so I was able to beg off and go to sleep - besides they were all rapidly losing coherence. Experience priceless - cost zero.
The next morning started early as I was roused from my hammock a little before 5am by loading passengers. I moved to my position at the back of the boat to mix up a little instant coffee while we moved through the early morning fog. We moved up river for the next 7 hours in the usual pattern of loading/unloading, however the river banks seemed to be getting more settled and commercial activity increased like this river side market or the woman who sold me lunch then tried to sell me her beautiful young daughter.However, the river bank was not what you would call crowded . . .
We reached our final stop around 2 or 3 in the afternoon but my day of travel would only be half over. This is a pretty good taste of 15 or so hours of river travel.