DAY 51. HANDS UP! POLICE!

I woke up in the middle of the night because I was itching all over. I realised that the source of the itch was my back. There were dozens of bites on it. Inside my tented cabin space there were a lot of mosquitoes flying around, attacking my face like junkies looking for a dose! They have surpassed all my expectations today by getting under the bed before I sealed the tent! How ingenious of them. There is no net below me to protect me from guests that come from that direction. I was fighting the mosquitos for what seemed like ages, constantly falling asleep and waking up. No matter how hard I tried to seal all the holes, the mosquitoes somehow found new ones. I hate them.

It is 5:00am, and I am awake. My head is splitting with a headache. This is not a good morning. I am angry at those mosquitoes for depriving me of sleep. I hurry to check the fishing net, hoping a good catch will cheer me up. It is like a lottery. I see that the net was swept to the bank by powerful waves, and a couple of its sections were tangled. There is a fish! It is one small catfish, but it is a whole one, not half of it like last night. That is progress indeed.

While I was untangling the net off the tree near the bank, I was attacked by ants. They were all over my neck and tangled in my hair. They were looking for the most sensitive places to bite, and they did find them, tiny little rascals.

It was even more ironic that mosquitoes kept me awake all night, ants attacked me in the morning, and then gnats came for me on the water. What a combo! Luckily, the gnats did not stay long. I think they found no unbitten space on my body and took pity on me.

How I would have liked a couple days of domestic comfort. I am exhausted mentally, obviously the poor sleep is taking its toll. Fortunately, I have almost recovered, there are only 1030 kilometres left, which is less than a third of the way. I will manage.

The bananas I bought a couple of weeks ago in Nuevo Pebas have started to ripen quickly. I must eat them as soon as possible. I am glad at the double rations, of course, but I realise that soon my diet will include bare farinha if my fishing performance does not improve.

At the entrance to another channel, I again encountered some powerful whirlpools. It is an amazing phenomenon – when your boat is carried by a two-metre giant, it feels like the water is parting underneath you and you are plunging into the abyss. You try to paddle, but your oar can get no traction, no matter how hard you try. One trick helps: I put the oar at the beginning of the whirlpool, as if switching it off at its source; the water calms down, and the river lets me go.

The small channel was supposed to be joined by an even smaller river, but the wet season changed everything. The supposedly tiny Jutai River turned out to be a serious blackwater river – a kilometre wide! My channel with its muddy sandy yellow water disappeared in these cold clear waters. I like this kind of river better; it is what I am used to back home. I was about to reach the first major settlement in this region called Jutai. People told me that I must be especially careful after I pass it.

A little before I reached the settlement, I was approached by a man in a canoe who at first did not look particularly trustworthy. After talking for a bit, I learnt his name – he called himself Dogosh. He took a photo with me for his relatives in the local community. Well, maybe there is so little news here that my mere appearance is already interesting gossip. Once again, he warned me that it was dangerous for me to be in this part of the river and said goodbye. Which place in the world is safe, however? In some countries, they take your life for a phone and in some countries, they destroy your life for a word you said.

I tried to buy some hot food in Jutai to brighten my spirits, but Sunday is sacred in South America. Almost all the shops in the harbour were closed. The next village is 136 kilometres away. Well, I am moving on. I would love to have some borscht or pilaf now! Eh, dreams, just dreams.

I went down the river and the murky waters of the Amazon once again digested the clear waters of the Jutai tributary. I was lying in my boat, enjoying my afternoon siesta, when suddenly I heard the sharp roar of a motor behind me that seemed to come out of nowhere. “This is it”, I thought to myself.

A tented boat with three people on board slowly approached from the stern side, but my attention was caught by the muzzle of a gun that was pointed directly at my face. I automatically raised my hands and put on a sincere smile accompanying it with a greeting in Spanish as if there was no gun at all. Interestingly, at that moment I felt no paralyzing fear, nothing unusual at all. My perfectly clear thoughts dictated my behaviour. Apparently, I had already visualised this situation dozens of times in my mind – the way I would act in case of such an encounter.

“Police!”, shouted the man without lowering the barrel of his gun. I cannot say I believed him, but nothing mattered at that point. He has got the gun: he decides who is a thug and who is a cop around here. I did my best to show him that I was no threat and I would cooperate.

One of the officers came over to my boat and started going through my stuff. The other one asked me if I had any drugs or weapons on board. No. I had nothing. After turning over and messing up all my stuff, the officer left the boat with obvious frustration and the muzzle of the gun disappeared. I was wished good luck. Heh. There are indeed a lot of pirates, they said, but not in the 500 kilometre stretch as I thought, but all the way to Koari. It is over 700 kilometres of wasteland! Well, I cannot control these things anyway. The police crew left me, hurriedly moving away.

Looking back, I can say with certainty that was no police. An acquaintance of mine works for the Brazilian Military Police in Manaus which is the capital of the Brazilian Amazon. I already mentioned her in my diary back in Iquitos. So, when I later told her about my suspicions, she explained to me that only two types of police units patrol the river: they are either special forces troops who go out on the river during a river clean-up operation, or military police with a crew of six or more people with full body armour and automatic weapons. A gun and civilian clothes like in my country are out of the question, because bandits associated with drug trafficking always have serious weapons and are not ceremonious.

After a couple more hours I heard a boat behind me. Is it them again? A motorised canoe was heading towards me from the direction of the settlement, and I could clearly hear its engine rumbling. When it reached me, the owner was surprised to see me alive and turned its course back to the village. I managed to stop him and introduce myself. I found out that his name was Sebastian. It turns out that he wanted to get the empty boat, thinking that its owner had been killed by bandits. Is that considered normal around here? I was reading my book and lied down, that was all. He wished me good luck and left. Yeah, one cannot expect any good from this wilderness.

Shortly before sunset, when I was ready to celebrate the mark that only 1000 km of my journey remained until I made it to the finish line, the sky frowned upon me, and a strong wind started to blow. In fact, it was a beautiful gift! The air got fresh, all the gnats and heat were blown away. It started to rain. I cooked my usual portion of farinha. The only thing that remains for today is to find a bank to camp for the night. Or at least a good place to tie my boat.

The river itself chose the place for me, as the wind drove me to a huge tree. With some machete work, I managed to get to solid ground. I missed the feeling of walking on dry land without it collapsing into nothingness underneath me. I even thought about making a fire, but it was raining and everything was wet. The river had left this temporary domain not long ago, and now it was the forest’s turn to rule the land.

I fished with a rod a little, as there was no place for my net. As a result, I caught four small badre fish. I let them all go and took a shower in the rain. I cheered up a little, but I feel that I cannot fully satisfy my hunger. I am paddling too much, and bananas are not enough. I need some big, tasty fish. There are almost no nets on the river, the locals prefer to set them on the lakes nearby.

Well, that means that I need to find a lake. There I can accomplish two important tasks: to replenish my fish supply and to find a crocodile at last! The nearest lake on the map is called Uará; it is located 174 kilometres downstream. Luckily for me, it is connected to the river so I can enter it directly by boat. On the map, the lake is only 5-7 kilometres long, but obviously that changes during the rainy season. That is just what I need. All that is left is for me to get there!

4 June, ~53 (2178) km covered.