Each canoe carried twelve passengers, a boatman and, on one out of the three in the flotilla, Anselmo.
The outboard, in classic Amazon fashion was essential a super powered clearing saw with a propeller
rather than a blade. With little more than six inches of freeboard in a boat no more than five or six feet
wide the journey was filled with the anxious thought of what would happen if a toucan was spotted on
the side of the river. No doubt all would scramble unthinkingly to that side and the freeboard on that
side could become a negative figure. Near the bow of the canoe a notice, printed in Portuguese and
English stated: "Since July 2005 it has been mandatory to wear lifejackets on organised excursions."
Three lifejackets were stuffed on a rack beneath the partial wooden roof with cobwebs thickly splicing
them together.
Some distance up a creek the canoes were driven onto the shore of a sandy beach and the passengers
stepped into the warm water and then onto the sand. A wide track led from the beach into the forest
and there, not a hundred yards away, hanging by its tail was a Woolly Monkey which was soon to be
joined by others. A longer walk and a small clearing revealed a feeding station where one of Anselmo's
colleagues emptied out a bucket of fruit.
"This monkey - his Portuguese name means the English Monkey." A small monkey with a very red face grabbed a piece of pineapple and went up into the sanctuary of the branches above the visitors' heads. Others arrived and went, snatching food and disappearing. Mothers with young clinging to their backs and bellies scrambled higher than those without such a precious burden. Soon the Woolly Monkeys appeared leaving only the braver individuals of the smaller species to dash by and raid the cornucopia of fruit.
"Do you feed them very day?"
"Yes, we do, morning and afternoon."
"So they're tame then?"
"No, no. We have some which we rescue - unwanted or unmanageable pets and we try top rehabilitate them. By attracting wild troupes into the area we can introduce the rescued monkeys to their peers." The alpha male Woolly monkey decided that the lady with the ample chest was too close to the food and swung down in front of her with bared teeth.
"He's smiling."
"No, that's a warning, step back."
"No, look he's smiling."
The monkey swung towards her, Anselmo took her arm and pulled her back, her husband looked annoyed but it would have been hell extracting a monkey from that cleavage.
"Where is the entomologist?" Anselmo asked, "there's a beetle here."
The group parted, making a narrow path to where Anselmo stood.
"Ah, that's a Chrysomelid - a Leaf Beetle. If it has an English name it will be named for the plant that it eats. Like Rosemary Beetle or Lily Beetle."
"Does it bite?"
"Only if you're that plant."
The canoes moved the group to another small bay and a walk through more stunted forest, clinging onto the sand. From there along the top of a low cliff overlooking an inlet with brilliantly coloured waterfowl, a pair of Kingfishers and a number of blue birds, the blue of Wedgewood pottery with darker more dramatic primaries. A brilliant Birdwing Butterfly all yellows and black flew, at breathtaking speed across the path flowed by another in tones of orange and ochre.
The path was well trodden and two or three metres wide and led to a clearing with a solitary house on short stilts and a lean two where an elderly man crouched over what seemed to be a buried kiln. High, proud cheekbones and eyes as deep as pools proclaimed his heritage. He owned this land and, with his
"This monkey - his Portuguese name means the English Monkey." A small monkey with a very red face grabbed a piece of pineapple and went up into the sanctuary of the branches above the visitors' heads. Others arrived and went, snatching food and disappearing. Mothers with young clinging to their backs and bellies scrambled higher than those without such a precious burden. Soon the Woolly Monkeys appeared leaving only the braver individuals of the smaller species to dash by and raid the cornucopia of fruit.
"Do you feed them very day?"
"Yes, we do, morning and afternoon."
"So they're tame then?"
"No, no. We have some which we rescue - unwanted or unmanageable pets and we try top rehabilitate them. By attracting wild troupes into the area we can introduce the rescued monkeys to their peers." The alpha male Woolly monkey decided that the lady with the ample chest was too close to the food and swung down in front of her with bared teeth.
"He's smiling."
"No, that's a warning, step back."
"No, look he's smiling."
The monkey swung towards her, Anselmo took her arm and pulled her back, her husband looked annoyed but it would have been hell extracting a monkey from that cleavage.
---OOO---
There are no secrets."Where is the entomologist?" Anselmo asked, "there's a beetle here."
The group parted, making a narrow path to where Anselmo stood.
"Ah, that's a Chrysomelid - a Leaf Beetle. If it has an English name it will be named for the plant that it eats. Like Rosemary Beetle or Lily Beetle."
"Does it bite?"
"Only if you're that plant."
---OOO---
The canoes moved the group to another small bay and a walk through more stunted forest, clinging onto the sand. From there along the top of a low cliff overlooking an inlet with brilliantly coloured waterfowl, a pair of Kingfishers and a number of blue birds, the blue of Wedgewood pottery with darker more dramatic primaries. A brilliant Birdwing Butterfly all yellows and black flew, at breathtaking speed across the path flowed by another in tones of orange and ochre.
The path was well trodden and two or three metres wide and led to a clearing with a solitary house on short stilts and a lean two where an elderly man crouched over what seemed to be a buried kiln. High, proud cheekbones and eyes as deep as pools proclaimed his heritage. He owned this land and, with his
son supplemented a meagre income by demonstrating the early stages of rubber production. Latex
was poured over a branch that was rotated above the chimney of the kiln. The smoke cured the latex
and preserved it ready to be shipped out. The economy of movement as he rolled the ball of rubber
above the smoke and poured fresh latex had a grace and languid beauty.
"Here are some things that the old rubber collectors used to make for themselves in the forest," said Anselmo.
"Can you guess what this is?" He held up a brown and unsurprisingly rubbery purse very much like those semi0circular purses that open up to form a circle, one side hiding the coins and the other forming a shelf upon which old men sort their change.
"It's a purse."
"No, it's a tobacco pouch. How about this?" Anselmo held up a large test-tine shaped object. Several people tittered and two or three went red.
"Does anybody know?"
"Well it's a you know, one of those, a thingy."
"A thingy?" questioned Anselmo.
"Yes, a," there was a pause and the lady looked down at her feet, "it's a, it's a . . . "
"It's for the calves, to feed them, your poor milk in here . . "
The looks of relief were unmistakeable.
". . . it's a rubber j . . j . .Johnny." In her anxiety she had not heard Anselmo's explanation.
The looks of relief disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.
As dusk approached in its tropical immediacy the canoes took the passengers to a bar. A bar that barely floated. Five or six barrel-rafts loosely tied together, one supporting a home, one an extension, one the bar and three a seating area upon which to sip an ice cold beer and watch the sun sinking over the forest on other side of the river. Behind the bar a small child clung to her adolescent mother who served the 'beer' while a proud father converted prices into dollars or quoted them in Reals.The doted upon daughter was passed to her father and all three beamed. The trippers joined others fishing for piraña: summer time and the living's . . .
To the left of the bar the floor of the extension was six inches under water but, nonetheless the family washing hung, humidly under the shelter of its roof. A boat went by and waves would have made collecting the washing difficult. The whole deck lurched under water as a river boat went by, the owner dandled the baby and smiled, the tourists complained that their feet were wet.
Dinner was a buffet in the open sided restaurant once again curtained by rain. On the next table a
discussion began about Boca de Valeria and ended when a lady who had been arguing that the whole
village experience was 'wonderful', stood up and launch her final shot.
"You just don't understand. When we've gone they let all those creatures go in the forest." The majority smiled at her and nodded the minority were stunned into silence unsure how to parry such stupidity.
Anselmo saved the day.
"Ladies and gentlemen pay attention please." One group looked up and continued to chatter. Anselmo looked towards the roof with an expression that said: "I don't care how long I wait here - it's your time you're wasting."
"Come on you lot, Anselmo 's trying to tell us what we are doing next."
"Here are some things that the old rubber collectors used to make for themselves in the forest," said Anselmo.
"Can you guess what this is?" He held up a brown and unsurprisingly rubbery purse very much like those semi0circular purses that open up to form a circle, one side hiding the coins and the other forming a shelf upon which old men sort their change.
"It's a purse."
"No, it's a tobacco pouch. How about this?" Anselmo held up a large test-tine shaped object. Several people tittered and two or three went red.
"Does anybody know?"
"Well it's a you know, one of those, a thingy."
"A thingy?" questioned Anselmo.
"Yes, a," there was a pause and the lady looked down at her feet, "it's a, it's a . . . "
"It's for the calves, to feed them, your poor milk in here . . "
The looks of relief were unmistakeable.
". . . it's a rubber j . . j . .Johnny." In her anxiety she had not heard Anselmo's explanation.
The looks of relief disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.
---OOO---
A tantalus is a thing which locks away and prevents access to someone's heart's desire. The rainforest
achieves just that - glimpses of things seen and beyond the camera's eye. The rest of the walk offered
things that were evanescent, wraiths of dreams that were so nearly real. As Heller said presque vu -
nearly seen: seen but not seen, heard but not heard; seen and heard but barely registered - images in a
mist of perception - experiences in memory and reality. Every sense tickled and stimulated: a glimpsed
butterfly there and then a bird, brilliant and mysterious, followed by a cry in the canopy - too, too
much to take in. The only way of understanding this wonderful place would have been to have
inherited a knowledge, been the recipient of understanding to have evolved in the environment.
As dusk approached in its tropical immediacy the canoes took the passengers to a bar. A bar that barely floated. Five or six barrel-rafts loosely tied together, one supporting a home, one an extension, one the bar and three a seating area upon which to sip an ice cold beer and watch the sun sinking over the forest on other side of the river. Behind the bar a small child clung to her adolescent mother who served the 'beer' while a proud father converted prices into dollars or quoted them in Reals.The doted upon daughter was passed to her father and all three beamed. The trippers joined others fishing for piraña: summer time and the living's . . .
To the left of the bar the floor of the extension was six inches under water but, nonetheless the family washing hung, humidly under the shelter of its roof. A boat went by and waves would have made collecting the washing difficult. The whole deck lurched under water as a river boat went by, the owner dandled the baby and smiled, the tourists complained that their feet were wet.
---OOO---
"You just don't understand. When we've gone they let all those creatures go in the forest." The majority smiled at her and nodded the minority were stunned into silence unsure how to parry such stupidity.
Anselmo saved the day.
"Ladies and gentlemen pay attention please." One group looked up and continued to chatter. Anselmo looked towards the roof with an expression that said: "I don't care how long I wait here - it's your time you're wasting."
"Come on you lot, Anselmo 's trying to tell us what we are doing next."
They fell into a resentful silence, probably planning an incident behind the bike-sheds.
"In twenty minutes those who wish can come on a river trip looking for caimans and hearing the sounds of the forest at night." Forest noises were already making it difficult to hear him even now in the restaurant without sides. The rain stopped and, covered in DEET, wearing long trousers and long sleeved shirts about three quarters of the group arrived on the landing stage. Each canoe had a crew of two: the boatman and, standing on an unstable platform at the bow, a lamp man armed with a searchlight powered by a car battery with intermittent connections. The canoes set off and the lamp men swung their lights to and fro.
"There, look you can see his eyes." All but one passenger slid to the port side. The odd man out hung out as to starboard as far as he dared like a dinghy sailor on a trapeze.
"Sit back. Sit back," the boatman cried as a few pints of water slopped aboard.
"But we couldn't see anything."
"There will be some on your side soon.. Look there." A pair of small yellowish eyes glinted near the shore. "
I couldn't see him"
"We will find some you can handle."
"Won't they bite."
"Just little baby ones."
The canoes went off in different directions and beached. Shining the torch onto the water's edge revealed six or seven caiman between forty and seventy centimetres long. They were stunning, glistening, busy miniatures of their parents which can geo to a metre and a half in length.
The lamp man jumped onto the shore and secured a fifty centimetre specimen whig was passed from passenger to passenger. Most were thrilled, one or two clearly thinking that they were disappointed that it was not full sized. After drifting for a while listening to the music of the forest played by cicadas, crickets, birds, monkeys and frogs the boatmen started their motors and the canoes headed between the walls of sound back to the landing stage where the three groups compared their experiences. "They were beautiful, so alive, so alert."
"You were lucky, we didn't see any."
"You must have done. There were lots of them.
"No. We just saws few little lizards."
"Were they in the water?"
"Yes but they went on the sand as well."
"Those were caiman."
"No they weren't. Caiman are like crocodiles; big."
Anselmo passed around a fine specimen that had been brought back.
"Were they like that?"
"Yeah, a bit."
"Has everyone seen it and, if they wanted to touched it? Good then I will let him go along the shore here."
"See, I told you they let them go in the village. Don;t know what you were fussing about."
In the hotel bar The Yorkshire Farmer asked "Would you like a beer our lad? Thirsty work all this bug
spotting I'd guess."
"Yes please, that's very kind, thank you."
"Dos beers please," to the barman.
"It were just like lamping, wont it? Except as if father rabbit comes after thee he won't eat thee like a big one of them buggers might. "
Several rounds of Scotch later the world was put to rights and it was time for bed. There was a pre- dawn canoe trip in three hours.
"In twenty minutes those who wish can come on a river trip looking for caimans and hearing the sounds of the forest at night." Forest noises were already making it difficult to hear him even now in the restaurant without sides. The rain stopped and, covered in DEET, wearing long trousers and long sleeved shirts about three quarters of the group arrived on the landing stage. Each canoe had a crew of two: the boatman and, standing on an unstable platform at the bow, a lamp man armed with a searchlight powered by a car battery with intermittent connections. The canoes set off and the lamp men swung their lights to and fro.
"There, look you can see his eyes." All but one passenger slid to the port side. The odd man out hung out as to starboard as far as he dared like a dinghy sailor on a trapeze.
"Sit back. Sit back," the boatman cried as a few pints of water slopped aboard.
"But we couldn't see anything."
"There will be some on your side soon.. Look there." A pair of small yellowish eyes glinted near the shore. "
I couldn't see him"
"We will find some you can handle."
"Won't they bite."
"Just little baby ones."
The canoes went off in different directions and beached. Shining the torch onto the water's edge revealed six or seven caiman between forty and seventy centimetres long. They were stunning, glistening, busy miniatures of their parents which can geo to a metre and a half in length.
The lamp man jumped onto the shore and secured a fifty centimetre specimen whig was passed from passenger to passenger. Most were thrilled, one or two clearly thinking that they were disappointed that it was not full sized. After drifting for a while listening to the music of the forest played by cicadas, crickets, birds, monkeys and frogs the boatmen started their motors and the canoes headed between the walls of sound back to the landing stage where the three groups compared their experiences. "They were beautiful, so alive, so alert."
"You were lucky, we didn't see any."
"You must have done. There were lots of them.
"No. We just saws few little lizards."
"Were they in the water?"
"Yes but they went on the sand as well."
"Those were caiman."
"No they weren't. Caiman are like crocodiles; big."
Anselmo passed around a fine specimen that had been brought back.
"Were they like that?"
"Yeah, a bit."
"Has everyone seen it and, if they wanted to touched it? Good then I will let him go along the shore here."
"See, I told you they let them go in the village. Don;t know what you were fussing about."
---OOO---
"Yes please, that's very kind, thank you."
"Dos beers please," to the barman.
"It were just like lamping, wont it? Except as if father rabbit comes after thee he won't eat thee like a big one of them buggers might. "
Several rounds of Scotch later the world was put to rights and it was time for bed. There was a pre- dawn canoe trip in three hours.
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