DAY 16. STORMY WIND

By the time I woke up, there were even more termites on the boat. In some places they had even made tunnels out of bits of wood and earth. Well, it would be foolish for me to expect that they were going to leave the boat willingly.

Firstly, I isolated the stern of the boat from its bow by applying insect repellent to inner part of the hull. This will keep them from running from one end to the other to avoid my eviction effort. They do despise that white liquid – it works well. Then I started with the bow of the boat. I lifted the lid off the storage compartment and saw an incredible number of termites – thousands, not hundreds. They had already set their pathways all around. I had to make a choice: it was either me or them.

Some of the termites were travelling in a straight line heading for the very tip of the boat’s bow: either to replenish their supplies or to escape. However, there was a wave waiting for them there. The river is unpredictable, all that stuff, huh. The first batch of termites was washed off into the water, much to the delight of the little fish that accompanied me. The invasion army lost some soldiers. This battle was won, the only thing left to do was for me to win the war.

It took an hour and a half to clear the boat of most of the termites. Only small groups remained. Do you know what actually killed them? Their collectivism did. Over and over again, they ignored common sense and went to where their fellow ants had disappeared. They would get caught up in a new artificial wave and march to their deaths like fodder. There was even a curious moment when one of the termites turned round halfway through the journey, as if trying to stop the others and block their way. He seemed to realise something, but they did not listen to him and rushed forward, because unity is more important than data to this species. It cost them their lives. This kind of reminds you of all the wars, doesn’t it? It is a shame that the termite who showed awareness of the danger and tried to save the others fell with them in the end.

It is breakfast time. I am having farinha with sugar and bananas. It would seem like I should be fed up with it by now, but no, it is really good indeed. I put my lifejacket under my feet to keep them dry. The sores on them are much better, by the way. The blisters are almost healed again.

I continue my experimenting with the tent. The rainy days were replaced by hot, sunny days, so I fixed my raincoat to the frame to provide the shade. Then I washed all my clothes and hung them up to dry. The salted fish are drying as well. What a lovely day. I am taking a breather today.

A macaw butterfly landed on my boat to take a sniff of my salted catfish. Apparently, it liked the dish so much that it lost its fear. I even managed to get it sit on my hand.

As soon as I wrote down in my diary that sunny days replaced days of rain, a headwind came up. I had to sit deep in the hull (I am sitting on my life jacket, so it is still comfortable) and paddle along the channel without any current. The centre of gravity is lower this way, so it is much safer. Besides, I made a backrest out of a board. Now I can lean on my back and catch my breath if I need a break.

At some point my quiet channel picked up speed and crashed into the mainstream of the river. The two currents mixed, and I lost all chance to manoeuvre effectively. I had to hold the oar with both of my hands to paddle. The wind picked up, and with it the waves grew higher and rougher.

For more than fifteen minutes the river held me in the same place, and with all my strength I paddled – just so that the boat would not turn sideways to the incoming waves, or they would flip it over. The water was bubbling around me like in a boiling pot, and I was thrown back and forth, unable to move neither to the bank or back into the channel. I was stuck. At some point, half a hundred metres away from me, the waves took on an absolutely terrifying look; I realised that if I did not get out of the trap right now, I would be in much trouble.

I sat as deep into the hull as it was possible and started paddling as hard as I could. The oar seemed to get stuck in the water, caught in the current, and my tent only made the situation worse. It was only 100 metres to the bank! The whirlpools swirling around, I threw my last strength to make a leap for it, but I was carried backwards. I pulled the oar out of water and put it across the boat to have some rest – I leaned on it, exhausted. I cannot. I cannot do it. By the time I caught my breath, I was back to square one. How much longer could I go on?

The situation took a turn for the worse. The waves began to slam into the sides of my boat. I, balancing during the terrible rocking, completely removed the tent, which was flopping in the wind. I threw it over my belongings so they would not get wet. There was already about ten centimetres of water in the boat. The level increased with every missed wave. Sometimes I managed to scoop up a couple of cups and pour them out.

No-one can help me here. A second breath, a third breath. A ship passes by, pulling a barge. The crew watches in horror as I am thrown over the waves, but they cannot help me – they themselves were unable to enter the channel. I see them turn round and aim at the bank. Thanks to their cover, the waves subside a little. I am mustering all the strength I have in order to escape from the centre of the boiling river. The ship has broken the oscillation of the waves, making my job easier. Half an hour later I found myself half a hundred metres from the other bank, as my exhaustion did not allow me to reach the opposite one that I had initially aimed at.

I pick up speed and head for the bank. The bow of the boat merrily breaks the rolling waves. They are insignificant in comparison. The worst is over. The bank is close. I am saved.

I do not know how long I spent in that nightmare, but I have managed to dock. It is only 2:00 in the afternoon, but I am done for the day. I need to rest and eat something hot. I will resume my trip tomorrow. Now I will dry my clothes and get some wood for the fire.

The big cargo ship that I encountered on the river waited out the storm and went downstream again. It even gave a signal to me, ‘It’s all right! Let’s go, old tramp!’ Heh. This is the spirit of solidarity among sailors and seafarers.

Finding firewood for the fire was quite an undertaking. The bank is very marshy, but what is worse – everything that touches the ground gets soaking wet. The solution was simple: I should look for firewood above my head, not on the ground. There are branches that broke and fell, but did not reach the ground, caught in the vines. Who would have thought that firewood also grows on trees here.

Remembering my termite-infested morning adventures, I gutted the termite nest I came across on the bank and collected its inhabitants into a bottle – as my fish trap. Now I am sure some small fish will appreciate it, because termites are a treat. I set the trap up in the water and set off to explore the surroundings with my machete and compass.

I could not walk deep into the jungle. For some time, I walked along a small stream and hoped to find a lake, but thick bushes made the path inaccessible. I encountered a few butterflies, which seemed to hover in one spot like dragonflies. They were not afraid of humans at all. Maybe they are as curious to meet me as I am to meet them.

Now I am back. Having a campfire was not an option in the long run, as it started to rain again. I decided to boil my green bananas in Amazonian water. As I have already mentioned, locals grow two kinds of bananas: ‘maduros’ are eaten ripe (they are very sweet and have a well-rounded shape), and ‘platanos’ are green (when boiled, they resemble mashed potatoes). One can also fry the latter type to make chips. I boiled my green bananas some more until they turned yellow. I savoured a taste. They were delicious.

I went to bed, having checked the mosquito net for holes, as I had been bitten the previous night. This time I fixed it a little differently – I drove some nails into the planks in the corners of the cabin and stretched the net inside the frame, thus completely eliminating the threat.

I woke up to a strong rocking motion. Apparently, a passenger lancha (a large ship) had passed by. It caused high waves. It is scary to hear them coming at me while I do not know how big they are. Even though I pulled my canoe out quite significantly – it took me three attempts and wearing a trench in the ground – I still got a little wet from one of the waves. Well, that happens sometimes.

30 April, ~41 (618) km covered.