Up the Amazon and Madeira rivers, through Bolivia and Peru

by Edward D. Mathews

During the afternoon, Don Bello being a short distance ahead of my canoe, I saw him take aim at something near him on the bank; but his gun missed fire, and he beckoned to me. However, before I could get fairly up, a fine deer ran down the bank and rapidly up again. Having my double barrel in hand, I fired with B B, but was out of range. The deer was as large as a good-sized English sheep, and I much regretted that we did not manage between us to secure him. During the evening I consoled myself by making the best rifle-shot I ever made, or probably ever shall make, killing a pava from the opposite side of the river, the bird being at the top of a tree probably 100 feet high, and the river being more than 150 yards in width. Certainly the Winchester rifles do make extraordinary good shooting; but such a shot as this was, of course, a chance that will never occur again to one.

On the 29th the river, which during the last three days had been very fairly favourable for navigation, again appeared full of old timber and snags; we therefore made very slow progress, having to make many delays on account of the heavy cargo canoes, which drew from two to four feet of water, requiring to be partially unloaded in many parts of the course travelled over to-day. Our lighter passenger canoes, or montarias, could have got far in advance of the cargo craft, but we should not have gained time by doing so, for the probable result would have been that we should have been kept waiting an unconscionable time for the cargoes at the Coni, while the crews were fishing and otherwise delaying, as they invariably do when out of the sight of their patrons. Upon one occasion, when they overtook us, we found that one of the men had just been stung by a “raya” fish, the wound being in the heel. The man was suffering a good deal of pain—about as much, I judged, as that caused by a scorpion’s sting. I gave him a glass of cachaça, with about thirty drops of chlorodyne, to dull the pain; and as we had no ammonia available at the moment, I advised him to bathe his leg and foot freely with urine. The raya of these rivers appears to be much smaller than that of the coasts of Venezuela, where I have seen them nearly two feet square; while these are rarely more than six or eight inches square. The bite or sting is here, consequently, not so much to be dreaded as that of the rayas of Venezuela, which cause a wound that might be thought to have been caused by a severe cut from a jagged knife; while on these rivers the wound is invariably a punctured one only. In Venezuela the wound is considered to be very dangerous, and people rarely recover from it, while here it appears not to have much more effect than the sting of a scorpion or centipede; but that is bad enough, and painful in the extreme. The offensive weapon of the raya is placed at the root of the tail, and is, perhaps, three or four inches in length, by about a quarter of an inch in width. The sides are serrated, the points of the teeth being set at an angle, with its apex towards the end of the sting, and thus, when this probe is driven into whatever the fish is attacking, it enters readily; but when it is withdrawn, the teeth scratch and tear the sides of the wound, doubtless depositing at this time the poison, which is probably injected through small channels along these teeth in the same way as the rattlesnake and the cobra di capella inject their poison down a groove in the under side of their fangs. As the fish is flat and of a dark brown colour, it is at all times difficult to detect; but it is more especially so on the stony beds of the upper rivers, where the men, who have to wade barefooted over the shallows, are always in danger, the rayas being in great abundance. A good stout pair of thigh boots is, however, a perfect preservative from the attack of this venomous fish.

On the next two days, the 30th and 31st of July, our toilsome journey was continued in a constant battle with the shallow water and stockades of dead wood. During a mid-day halt, one of the Bolivian merchants, who had a number of tiger skins as part of his cargo, opened the packages and spread the skins out on the sandbanks, to have the dust and insects beaten out of them, as well as to air them—an operation that is very necessary, as the skins, being fresh, are soon damaged if left packed for any length of time. The trade in these skins seems to be a favourite one, the best sale for them being in La Paz, where the Quichuan Indians pay a long price for them for use on their feast-days. When dressed in these skins, and their heads adorned with macaw feathers, they are supposed to represent the wild animals of their country’s forests. These tigers or jaguars are of good size, and must be splendid beasts when alive, as some of the skins are fully five and six feet from the root of the tail to the tip of the nose, with dark and lustrous spots that give them a very handsome appearance. From the large trade in these skins, it would seem that these animals are very numerous in the forests and on the pampas of the Beni, and it seems strange that throughout the journey we did not meet with any of them, although their footprints were always met with wherever we landed.

August 1st. The river appears to be wider than ever, being at least 500 yards in width, and running very strongly. We are now six days on this river, and instead of its decreasing it grows wider, but it is also much shallower—so much so that, what with the shallows and dead wood, it would be quite impossible to take up any kind of steamer. At mid-day we saw four large otters (“lobos”), and I sent a ball amongst them from about 500 yards distance. It seemed as though one had been hit, for there was a great commotion amongst them, and only three were seen afterwards, though the body of the wounded one did not turn up, probably being carried away by the strong current; the other three made for the shore and were lost in the bush. In the afternoon my montaria was very nearly upset; for we were pulling hard against a strong current, when it mounted a sunken pole, and, swinging round, the rudder broke clear away. Drifting down stream, we managed to get hold of a stump, and, passing a rope on shore, hauled up to the bank to effect repairs. In any little accident such as this, the principal danger seems to be caused by the men themselves, who, instead of sitting perfectly still, get excited and rise from their seats, and as the canoe sways about, they disturb the equilibrium, and one is fortunate indeed if an upset does not occur; therefore, the first thing for the patron to do in any accident is to shout at the men to keep their seats, and, if necessary, enforce his orders by any means at his command. To-day the “marigueys,” “carapanas,” and mosquitoes made their appearance again, the lower part of this river having been very free from these pests; but as the nights have got much warmer, owing to the cessation of the south wind, the increased temperature may have brought them out.

August 2nd. The morning start is now obliged to be deferred until full daylight, as the numerous shallows and other obstructions render it impossible to travel in the dark. Just as we were starting we saw a small canoe pass rapidly by us on the opposite side of the river. There were three men in it, who were the first of the Yuracaré Indians that we had seen. We called to them, but they would not answer or come over to us. These Indians do not use bark canoes like the Caripunas and Pacaguaras of the rapids, but dug-outs of a very narrow and long description, much similar to those used by the Cayubabas of Exaltacion.

High mountains in the south now made their appearance, being probably the ridge shown on the maps as running from the Chapari towards the Chilon and the Rio Grande. The tops of these hills were in sight yesterday afternoon, but this morning whole ranges come into view, following one another far into the interior, the summits of those farthest off being lost in the cloudy atmosphere.

On the banks of this upper part of the river, the large kind of bamboo grows in abundance. This very useful tree is here called “taquarembo,” while in Venezuela I recollect it is called “wacwa,” and this difference of names given to things in Spanish-speaking countries causes great confusion of ideas to travellers. Bamboo is not found on the Amazon or on the Madeira, as it seems to require a dryer and higher land.

Soon after starting we arrived at the mouth of the river Coni, which enters the Chapari on its right bank. The port of Coni, where we finally leave our canoes and take to the road for Cochabamba, is about six leagues from the junction of the Coni with the Chapari, which changes its name above the junction to San Mateo. The Coni is a small river about 100 yards in width at its outlet, and so shallow that we had to drag the canoes over the bar, which we had no sooner overcome than fresh shallows obstructed our progress. Indeed, so unsuitable for any navigation is this river, that the whole of this day and the two following ones, the 3rd and 4th of August, were occupied in one incessant struggle with the shallows, so that the six leagues (eighteen miles) from the mouth of the river to the port occupied us for three entire days. These shallows are dignified by the name of the “cachuelas,” or falls, of the Coni, but they are properly speaking “corrientes,” or rapids, running over long banks covered with loose stones brought down from the mountains during the floods; and as the whole course of this river is one constant succession of these rapids, it is surprising that it has been selected by the Bolivian traders instead of the Chimoré, to arrive at which the road from Cochabamba would only have been some four leagues longer.