Departure from Boca de Valeria was delayed by four hours due to a motor failure on the port tender
davit. Canoes bearing the usual victims hovered around the stern where members of the crew threw
down unwanted kit, clothes, oil drums and "surplus" equipment. It brought to mind the trade in nails
by the crews of both Captain Cook and Bligh's ships. Grateful for the modesty curtain formed by the
overhang at the stern it was nevertheless hard not to imagine what the now ignoble savage was
trading for these trifles of trash.
---OOO---
The tender, which was also a lifeboat (the same one allocated by the notice on the back of the cabin
door) required manual recovery which took four hours. If the motor was not repaired or replaced it
would also, because of the nature of the gearing, take nearly four hours to launch. except that in an
emergency the water would probably be getting closer to the lifeboat as each minute passed.
The usual crowd of instant experts appeared, like flying ants on a humid summer evening, around the cordoned off part of the deck.
"Why don't they just lower it again and tow it behind," suggested a self-qualified marine engineer who clearly had a place allocated in a different lifeboat
"They could lower it and give it to the villagers," suggested another with alternative lifeboat arrangements.
"Bally tricky davits. Big handle that. Needs big chaps. Little fellows these Philippinos. Maltese, that's what you need at a time like this." The Captain had made his contribution.
---OOO---
At dinner the conversation turned to Boca de Valeria."Well I went on a canoe trip up the little river with two friends. It was supposed to be $10 per head but we beat them down to $10 for all of us. They took us to another village which was interesting but empty," offered Margaret.
"Might that be because the inhabitants were all at Boca? There were certainly more people there than could be accommodated in those huts."
"Well I thought Boca was wonderful. I could have spent extra time there. Once we were held up they should have started to run the tenders ashore again," enthused Lorna.
"That would have just delayed the delay."
"Did you see those little girls in traditional costume?"
"Not too sure that was traditional dress. Very few if any had Indian blood."
"I went as far as the first little girl and her brother with the sloth and came back on the next tender," said James.
---OOO---
Dawn brought Madame Chateau and her camera but it did not bring Manaus as planned - the tender delay had pushed back arrival by four hours, encroaching on time at the rainforest lodge. Eventually the confluence of the Solimoes (as the Amazon is known upstream from this point) and the Rio Negro rivers came into site, several miles before it happened. The waters of the Rio Negro are, unsurprisingly, black or dark, milk less tea coloured while the Solimoes is the colour of milky coffee and they do not mix for several miles. The ship, midstream, steamed with water of different colours to port and starboard.
Swinging to starboard the ship entered the acid waters of the Negro and the outskirts of Manaus came into sight. A glimpse of the opera house, the floating dock brought from Scotland and hints of once great architecture from the age of the rubber barons and wealth that would have made footballers
look poor. In the boom years the wealthy families of Manaus sent their laundry to Europe, lit their
cigars with spills made from dollar bills and, in one case, watered their horses with champagne.
The delay resulted in those staying away from the ship being disembarked first. Perhaps this was
because the financial liability would be greatest from them as they had missed a significant proportion
of their time ashore. The journey to the Eco Lodge began in an air-conditioned coach.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I am your guide and my name is Anselmo. It is easy to remember: think of Elmo in Sesame Street and add an S."
For the duration of the trip there were people who called him Selmo.
Faded glories, favellas and mansions passed by as the coach threaded its way through the city. Anselmo recounted the boom bust and boom history of Manaus with its excesses and poverty. Streets were lined with kiosks and cabins selling fruit, drinks, clothes - a linear market that went on for miles against a backdrop of graffiti, on pot-holed pavements and road edges while overhead flocks of black vultures soared effortlessly on powerful thermals.
Heading out of the city through a military suburb the coach sped onto a slip road and then came to a sudden stop. It had narrowly avoided a three-toed sloth that was making its slow and near fatal way across the road. The coach backed up to allow passengers to view this strange spectacle and then stopped at an angle blocking the road. Anselmo got out of the coach and picked up the sloth which he brought aboard.
"We are very lucky, we have a good driver who missed the sloth."
"The sloth is the really lucky one," announced a wag at the back of the coach.
Cameras flashed.
"Please do not publish your photographs anywhere - the driver and I could get into a lot of trouble for doing this. I have brought him onto the coach so we can release him where there is more habitat. Development around here is dividing up the forest so the sloth was looking for somewhere better to live."
Some ten minutes later the coach pulled over once more and the sloth was released into a much larger and unthreatened block of forest.
Another ten minutes and the coach was creeping down a ramp towards the waters of the Rio Negro and stopped just short of the water, near a floating steel jetty at the end of which was a small Amazon riverboat. Porters from the boat carried luggage aboard and the passengers made their unsteady way along the jetty. Every five yards a large drum had been welded to the jetty leaving a narrow gap either side. The sun had buckled the sheets of steel which acted as an unpredictable trampoline. The sun has also heated the steel to the point where standing still was not an option in thin soled deck shoes. Eight of these chicanes lay between the start of the jetty and the boat. Eight opportunities for the passengers to test their balance or their nerve. The first passenger took hold of the top of the drum to steady himself and quickly withdrew his hand.
"Blimey that's hot."
He tried again, edging carefully around the obstruction. His wife took her sun hat and using it as an oven glove went to use the drum as a rail, the deck buckled beneath her right foot sending her left foot up, she gripped the drum more tightly for balance and discovered that it was not actually welded to the deck. Stepping back just in time to avoid being thrown into the water she regained dry land but had created a wider path to the left of the first drum. Six people took advantage and filled the space between the first and second drums. Anselmo spotted the predicament and sent the porters back to the jetty to move the drums to one side, understanding that it would otherwise take an hour or more for the party to board.
"Eurgh! Get it off me, get it off me. It's huge," was accompanied by flapping arms and shaking head. A handsome metallic blue beetle, no bigger than a large marble sat contentedly deep in her ample cleavage.
"I'm not touching it. It might bite," said her powerfully built husband with all of the gallantry of the villain in some Victorian melodrama. "Hey, you're the bug man, you get it."
---OOO---
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I am your guide and my name is Anselmo. It is easy to remember: think of Elmo in Sesame Street and add an S."
For the duration of the trip there were people who called him Selmo.
Faded glories, favellas and mansions passed by as the coach threaded its way through the city. Anselmo recounted the boom bust and boom history of Manaus with its excesses and poverty. Streets were lined with kiosks and cabins selling fruit, drinks, clothes - a linear market that went on for miles against a backdrop of graffiti, on pot-holed pavements and road edges while overhead flocks of black vultures soared effortlessly on powerful thermals.
Heading out of the city through a military suburb the coach sped onto a slip road and then came to a sudden stop. It had narrowly avoided a three-toed sloth that was making its slow and near fatal way across the road. The coach backed up to allow passengers to view this strange spectacle and then stopped at an angle blocking the road. Anselmo got out of the coach and picked up the sloth which he brought aboard.
"We are very lucky, we have a good driver who missed the sloth."
"The sloth is the really lucky one," announced a wag at the back of the coach.
Cameras flashed.
"Please do not publish your photographs anywhere - the driver and I could get into a lot of trouble for doing this. I have brought him onto the coach so we can release him where there is more habitat. Development around here is dividing up the forest so the sloth was looking for somewhere better to live."
Some ten minutes later the coach pulled over once more and the sloth was released into a much larger and unthreatened block of forest.
Another ten minutes and the coach was creeping down a ramp towards the waters of the Rio Negro and stopped just short of the water, near a floating steel jetty at the end of which was a small Amazon riverboat. Porters from the boat carried luggage aboard and the passengers made their unsteady way along the jetty. Every five yards a large drum had been welded to the jetty leaving a narrow gap either side. The sun had buckled the sheets of steel which acted as an unpredictable trampoline. The sun has also heated the steel to the point where standing still was not an option in thin soled deck shoes. Eight of these chicanes lay between the start of the jetty and the boat. Eight opportunities for the passengers to test their balance or their nerve. The first passenger took hold of the top of the drum to steady himself and quickly withdrew his hand.
"Blimey that's hot."
He tried again, edging carefully around the obstruction. His wife took her sun hat and using it as an oven glove went to use the drum as a rail, the deck buckled beneath her right foot sending her left foot up, she gripped the drum more tightly for balance and discovered that it was not actually welded to the deck. Stepping back just in time to avoid being thrown into the water she regained dry land but had created a wider path to the left of the first drum. Six people took advantage and filled the space between the first and second drums. Anselmo spotted the predicament and sent the porters back to the jetty to move the drums to one side, understanding that it would otherwise take an hour or more for the party to board.
---OOO---
"Eurgh! Get it off me, get it off me. It's huge," was accompanied by flapping arms and shaking head. A handsome metallic blue beetle, no bigger than a large marble sat contentedly deep in her ample cleavage.
"I'm not touching it. It might bite," said her powerfully built husband with all of the gallantry of the villain in some Victorian melodrama. "Hey, you're the bug man, you get it."
Before all of the possibilities had been considered he added with just a little edge, "and mind what
you're doing." The beetle burrowed a little further.
"Aaaargh, quick quick."
"It won't hurt you. It's fine," trying to buy some time in the hope that the beetle, a chafer of some sort by the way, would decide to move on to a more normal resting place.
"Get on with it man, can't you see she's terrified. She wasn't the only one.
A deep breath, careful aim, a look over the shoulder to ensure that the red faced lady was not on this excursion and the beetle was plucked from the fleshy abyss.
"Oh thank you." Her relief was palpable but the ordeal was not quite over. She reached forward with powerful arms, pulled her rescuer into herself and rewarded her St George with a kiss square on the lips.
"Oi, that's enough of that," growled her husband. They went to the bench seat at the stern of the river boat and together knelt looking out over the stern. The beautiful beetle wriggled to escape from the hand that had so cruelly plucked it from its rest. It hesitated just long enough for a photograph and then set off towards the couple. From this viewpoint, had it had human eyes it was presented with two large rear ends one partially exposed in the manner of a builder and revealing itself to be hirsute.
"Oh please God no." The prayer was answered as the beetle swung away from its possible destination, turned back inboard and landed on the arm of a completely unperturbed lady who sat and admired its beauty.
The riverboat arrived at the Eco Park where all that could be seen was a forest lined, silver sand beach
with three thatched umbrellas shading rustic chairs. Red, a red of such intensity that it seems to have
no shape, flashed by, a dragonfly. The forest at midday was too hot for much else to show itself but
time and time again the dragonfly swooped across the deck of the boat. On a half submerged tree to
the left of the beach and landing stage a kingfisher waited patiently. Less brilliant than its european
cousin it was nonetheless impossible not to bring the phrase to mind: "Kingfisher catch fire while
dragonflies draw flame."
The delay at Boca caused by the dodgy davit meant that the morning had been lost and so, before checking in the party descended on the open sided dining hut for lunch. Sadly familiar dishes, other than some unnamed amazonian fish were in plenty but the complementary bottle of chilled water was even more welcome. But more welcome, even than the water was the harlequin toucan that flew out of the surrounding forest and settled on a tree in the small garden that lay next to the restaurant. Cameras appeared and the mass of cruisers dashed across for a better view. A number leapt from the restaurant onto a flower bed and, deservedly two of them found that they had jumped onto attractive but thorny plants. Others stampeded towards the now startled bird. Notably seven or eight of the party of thirty remained seated carrying on with that essential cruisers activity, packing away food. One fellow neither ate nor dashed for the toucan. He sat staring fixedly at a scantily clad young lady eating with her husband at the other side of the restaurant. The toucan, unhappy about the attention flew, leaving those who sought to capture it in cameras to find their way back to their tables where they continued with their lunches except for the two who sat removing thorns and the fellow who was lost in his reverie.
Perhaps it had been mean to take some photographs before telling others about the toucan but perhaps not.
Then it began to rain. The rods of water drew a curtain around the open sides of the circular dining room and the garden and forest disappeared. The young couple, who were not from the cruise party, got up to leave and walked out into the rain. This would have been too much for the lecher if his wife had not put her hand o the top of his head, twisted it around too face forward and away from the object of his desire, and then tilt it down towards his food.
"That's enough Stanley. Eat."
"Aaaargh, quick quick."
"It won't hurt you. It's fine," trying to buy some time in the hope that the beetle, a chafer of some sort by the way, would decide to move on to a more normal resting place.
"Get on with it man, can't you see she's terrified. She wasn't the only one.
A deep breath, careful aim, a look over the shoulder to ensure that the red faced lady was not on this excursion and the beetle was plucked from the fleshy abyss.
"Oh thank you." Her relief was palpable but the ordeal was not quite over. She reached forward with powerful arms, pulled her rescuer into herself and rewarded her St George with a kiss square on the lips.
"Oi, that's enough of that," growled her husband. They went to the bench seat at the stern of the river boat and together knelt looking out over the stern. The beautiful beetle wriggled to escape from the hand that had so cruelly plucked it from its rest. It hesitated just long enough for a photograph and then set off towards the couple. From this viewpoint, had it had human eyes it was presented with two large rear ends one partially exposed in the manner of a builder and revealing itself to be hirsute.
"Oh please God no." The prayer was answered as the beetle swung away from its possible destination, turned back inboard and landed on the arm of a completely unperturbed lady who sat and admired its beauty.
---OOO---
The delay at Boca caused by the dodgy davit meant that the morning had been lost and so, before checking in the party descended on the open sided dining hut for lunch. Sadly familiar dishes, other than some unnamed amazonian fish were in plenty but the complementary bottle of chilled water was even more welcome. But more welcome, even than the water was the harlequin toucan that flew out of the surrounding forest and settled on a tree in the small garden that lay next to the restaurant. Cameras appeared and the mass of cruisers dashed across for a better view. A number leapt from the restaurant onto a flower bed and, deservedly two of them found that they had jumped onto attractive but thorny plants. Others stampeded towards the now startled bird. Notably seven or eight of the party of thirty remained seated carrying on with that essential cruisers activity, packing away food. One fellow neither ate nor dashed for the toucan. He sat staring fixedly at a scantily clad young lady eating with her husband at the other side of the restaurant. The toucan, unhappy about the attention flew, leaving those who sought to capture it in cameras to find their way back to their tables where they continued with their lunches except for the two who sat removing thorns and the fellow who was lost in his reverie.
Perhaps it had been mean to take some photographs before telling others about the toucan but perhaps not.
Then it began to rain. The rods of water drew a curtain around the open sides of the circular dining room and the garden and forest disappeared. The young couple, who were not from the cruise party, got up to leave and walked out into the rain. This would have been too much for the lecher if his wife had not put her hand o the top of his head, twisted it around too face forward and away from the object of his desire, and then tilt it down towards his food.
"That's enough Stanley. Eat."
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