While in lower Colombia I had been working through my first rainy season in the field. I hadn't been completely dry for several days as I was having to make my way from village to village along the river in my small dugout with no protection. What's more, I hadn't seen the sun in well over a month. This weather affair was unknowingly starting to wear on my morale.
It was, of course, always raining but sometimes it would pour so hard I couldn't even see the riverbank five feet away! If you had no head protection, I was told, the constant drumming on your head would soon become painful, then intolerable and eventually drive a one insane. I know it would often bruise my exposed forearms. So I usualy wore a cap or booney hat to save my thick noggin...after all...one could never tell!
It was just such a day, when I couldn't see the 30-50 feet across the river, that found me hugging one river bank fairly close. This was so I could first, tell if there was a clear bank on which to beach if I needed to as well and second, not miss a village if I passed one. The first was necessary for survival and the later since native villages where not all marked on my topo map and some villages weren't necessarily permanent, anyway.
The downpoar was dulling my sense and I was zoning out in a mental nowhereland when out of nowhere I ran aground over a large submerged tree or giant branch. Doing so startled me and I tilted to one side tossing myself completely into the muddy waters and swamping my canoe. Now I wouldn't consider myself a coward or even a pansy in any respect. What's more, I am a very good swimmer (I competed in the backstroke and butterfly in HS), but I had (and have) a serious case of JAWS-Syndrome. So, unless I'm in a crystal clear swimming pool, I tend to panic in water I can't see my feet clearly.
Luckily there was a larger fishing canoe (almost a boat) passing me at the time. These two Indians quickly came over, pulled me AND my tiny dugout into their boat and we paddled on. I thanked them and gave each a Halloween portion of some year old Snickers bars that I'd been hoarding in my ruck. We became solemn sugar-brothers for life.
After helping them paddle on for about five more miles it suddenly (and I DO mean 'suddenly') stopped raining. It was like someone had turned off the faucet at Niagra Falls. The sudden cessation of the roar of billions of heavy drops of rain on your head, on the boat, into the water and through the thick forest was incredible. All you could hear was the dipping of our paddles and the soft thrum of dripping leaves along the shore. We moved smoothly out into middle of the river to be away from the mosquitoes that would soon rise.
I dug out some dry civilian clothes and took off my sandals and prescription goggle glasses (I was always losing my regular pair in the bush or water) to dry them as well when, out of nowhere, the sun suddenly broke through. Oh, Man! It was nothing if not glorious; glorious in every sense of the word!
I leaned back to place my face in the warm rays and felt a heaviness leaving my whole body. I couldn't seem to help myself. I raised my paddle to the now bright blue heaven and let out a roar of appreciation. The Howler Monkeys took up the call and the sweet peace and quiet was over. I looked back at my floating companions with a sheepish grin of apology. They just laughed and splashed me with their paddles. We made it to their village that eveing, had a great meal of fish, monkey and mangoes before the rains were back with all their former energy. But I dreamed of that afternoon over and over in my sleep that night and for many other nights to come.
It is yet another small memory I cherish from my youthful days and I'm happy that I can call it forth almost at will when needed to bring a touch of sunshine to my life or share it with others and watch their eyes light with understanding.
Is that a smile I see? Is that a friendly nod of aggreement? Then you've had your bright day on a river as well, whether water was involved or not. Hold onto it!
[attachment 11410 JOY_OF_AUCAYACU_01.jpg]
It was, of course, always raining but sometimes it would pour so hard I couldn't even see the riverbank five feet away! If you had no head protection, I was told, the constant drumming on your head would soon become painful, then intolerable and eventually drive a one insane. I know it would often bruise my exposed forearms. So I usualy wore a cap or booney hat to save my thick noggin...after all...one could never tell!
It was just such a day, when I couldn't see the 30-50 feet across the river, that found me hugging one river bank fairly close. This was so I could first, tell if there was a clear bank on which to beach if I needed to as well and second, not miss a village if I passed one. The first was necessary for survival and the later since native villages where not all marked on my topo map and some villages weren't necessarily permanent, anyway.
The downpoar was dulling my sense and I was zoning out in a mental nowhereland when out of nowhere I ran aground over a large submerged tree or giant branch. Doing so startled me and I tilted to one side tossing myself completely into the muddy waters and swamping my canoe. Now I wouldn't consider myself a coward or even a pansy in any respect. What's more, I am a very good swimmer (I competed in the backstroke and butterfly in HS), but I had (and have) a serious case of JAWS-Syndrome. So, unless I'm in a crystal clear swimming pool, I tend to panic in water I can't see my feet clearly.
Luckily there was a larger fishing canoe (almost a boat) passing me at the time. These two Indians quickly came over, pulled me AND my tiny dugout into their boat and we paddled on. I thanked them and gave each a Halloween portion of some year old Snickers bars that I'd been hoarding in my ruck. We became solemn sugar-brothers for life.
After helping them paddle on for about five more miles it suddenly (and I DO mean 'suddenly') stopped raining. It was like someone had turned off the faucet at Niagra Falls. The sudden cessation of the roar of billions of heavy drops of rain on your head, on the boat, into the water and through the thick forest was incredible. All you could hear was the dipping of our paddles and the soft thrum of dripping leaves along the shore. We moved smoothly out into middle of the river to be away from the mosquitoes that would soon rise.
I dug out some dry civilian clothes and took off my sandals and prescription goggle glasses (I was always losing my regular pair in the bush or water) to dry them as well when, out of nowhere, the sun suddenly broke through. Oh, Man! It was nothing if not glorious; glorious in every sense of the word!
I leaned back to place my face in the warm rays and felt a heaviness leaving my whole body. I couldn't seem to help myself. I raised my paddle to the now bright blue heaven and let out a roar of appreciation. The Howler Monkeys took up the call and the sweet peace and quiet was over. I looked back at my floating companions with a sheepish grin of apology. They just laughed and splashed me with their paddles. We made it to their village that eveing, had a great meal of fish, monkey and mangoes before the rains were back with all their former energy. But I dreamed of that afternoon over and over in my sleep that night and for many other nights to come.
It is yet another small memory I cherish from my youthful days and I'm happy that I can call it forth almost at will when needed to bring a touch of sunshine to my life or share it with others and watch their eyes light with understanding.
Is that a smile I see? Is that a friendly nod of aggreement? Then you've had your bright day on a river as well, whether water was involved or not. Hold onto it!
[attachment 11410 JOY_OF_AUCAYACU_01.jpg]