Up the Amazon and Madeira rivers, through Bolivia and Peru

by Edward D. Mathews

After breakfasting about mid-day, we tried to pass under the high red cliffs called “As Penhas Coloradas,” which rise straight up from the water a height of perhaps 100 feet. The current runs very strongly under these cliffs, and we found it impossible to pass underneath them, there being no foothold for the men to pass with ropes; and there are no bushes available for the “ganchos,” or long hook-ended poles, which are of great service all through the journey. We had, therefore, to cross over to the left or Brazilian shore, and thereby lost all the ground we had gained since breakfast; and we got across at 3 p.m., just in front of where we had started from after breakfast. We had some good sport with the pavas before nightfall, four of them falling to my gun; and about 5 p.m. we arrived at a very strong corriente, where, to my great joy, one of my Bolivian friends had left three men to assist me. With this extra help, we were able to overcome the current by paddles only, and arrived at the sleeping-place before dark.

CHAPTER XII.

The rapid of Araras—Farinha and sardines for supper—Difficulty of treating the Indians successfully when they are sick—The current of Periquitos—Arrival at the Rabo do Ribeirão—The Bolivian Indian’s chaunt at night—Passage of the Rabo do Ribeirão—Quantity of farinha consumed by boatmen, in the form of “shebee”—Canoe aground in the bay below the main fall of Ribeirão—The river Ribeirão—The portage of Ribeirão—Curious marks on rocks.

The following morning, the 18th, another very early start was made, and at daybreak we heard a gunshot from the other side, and knew thereby that the Bolivian patrons had crossed over to the other side, to which I accordingly made haste to follow; but we soon had to recross, on account of strong currents amongst the islands that are below the rapid of Araras. These constant crossings of the river cause one to lose much ground, as in mid-stream the current always takes one a considerable distance down stream, and it requires very strong pulling even in a small canoe to cross from bank to bank in a straight line. After coasting round the islands we finally went over to the right bank again, and ascended the rapid by one rope’s length of hauling for about eighty feet, so that this cachuela was, in the then state of the river, passed very easily. It is said that when the river is dry it should be ascended on the left bank at this rapid, but at full river there is a very heavy “olada,” or wave, on that bank. We got to another of the engineering stations, called “Barracão das Araras,” about half-past eleven, and called a halt for breakfast; but before we could get our meal cooked, a heavy storm of rain fell and put out all the fires, so that we had to eat our food in a half-cooked state. A soup with farinha, rice, and onions, in a semi-raw condition, is not the most palatable of dishes, but a good appetite never fails one up the rapids; so we make the best of circumstances, and thinking ourselves lucky even to get a half-cooked breakfast, paddle on till 5 p.m., when the rain again bothers us, and we pull up for the night, and content ourselves with a dish of wetted farinha and sardines for supper. Many people would fancy this but a poor repast, but I found on many occasions, when perhaps time or circumstances did not allow any cooking to be done, that I could satisfy my hunger very well indeed with these homely articles. The mode of preparation is very simple indeed: take a bowl full of farinha, and pick out the small sticks and lumps that are always found in Brazilian farinha, and then moisten with sufficient water to make the grains soft but not pappy, break up three or four sardines and mix them with the farinha, pouring a little of the oil over it as well. The dish is then ready, and wants nothing but good appetite for sauce.

The next morning, the 19th, was damp and dull, and we started somewhat later than usual, the men being tired and downhearted with the rain. My Canichana, Candido Cayuva, passed a very bad night with the ague—and I do not wonder at it, for he must have got thoroughly wet through during the day—and, indeed, it was a miracle that he did not die during the night. He complained last night of pains in his chest, and I gave him twenty-five drops of chlorodine, and some arnica to rub where the pain was most violent. He felt much better after this, and I found out this morning that, feeling so, he had, like a madman, bathed at nightfall in the river; consequently he had a strong return of fever during the night, and it was indeed wonderful that he survived. So difficult is it to treat these Indians with any chance of success, for at any moment they will commit some foolish act that may carry them off at a moment’s notice.

We arrived at the corriente of “Periquitos” about half-past ten, and although the cachuela was rather fierce, and the wave somewhat high, we passed the canoe safely up the right bank without any very great deal of trouble or danger. We kept on at work till seven in the evening, when we got up to the last corriente of the “Rabo do Ribeirão,” and, arriving after dark, had to make the canoes fast in a most awkward place, where they bumped on the rocks all night in a wretched manner, so that one got very little, if any, sleep.

Besides being kept from sleep by the constant bumping on the rocks, we were treated by our men to more than the usual nightly allowance of chanting. The Bolivian Indians of the Beni, having been civilized by the Jesuit missionaries, are exceedingly superstitious, and when on a dangerous journey are very regular with their nightly orisons, the refrain of which forms a prayer to the Virgin (“a livrar nos siempre de todo mal”) to “deliver us always from every ill.” These words are sung to a rather solemn chant, and as many of the men have very fair voices, and not at all a bad idea of harmony, the singing at night, if one be not too near to it, has a very soothing and pleasant effect. The passage of the rapids of Ribeirão, being considered both difficult and dangerous, accounts for an extra allowance of the chanting the night before the first corrientes were ascended.

The passage of the “Rabo,” or tail, and the main fall of Ribeirão occupied us three whole days and part of the fourth. The Rabo extends for about five miles below the real fall, and is a succession of whirlpools and currents, extremely dangerous to canoes either on the upward or downward journey. The downward journey is by far the most dangerous, as the canoes have to be steered in full course through the boulders and rocks scattered over this length of the river, which here has an average fall of about four and a half feet per mile.

At daybreak on the 20th we commenced the arduous ascent, and by breakfast-time had overcome eight severe corrientes. The next one was about three quarters of a mile in length, being one continued current, running possibly about eight miles an hour for the whole distance. We failed to get to the top of this corriente before dark, and had to dodge inside a sandbank, which fortunately afforded a resting-place for the night.