This system of long curves or windings extends along the whole course of the Putumayo, and it is to be observed in most of the large rivers of the Amazon basin. It is this that makes the Putumayo so wide and shallow and accounts for the numerous sand islands thrown up in mid-stream. In low water the channel cut out by these everchanging currents must be strictly followed by all steamers and launches in order to prevent grounding.
At eleven o’clock we stopped and had lunch, which I had cooked previously while Perkins was performing the rôle of boga, on a nice shady playa on the right bank. Here I managed to kill a good-sized turkey, and, after continuing about two hours, I got another, so that for dinner we had an excellent meal, the chief pièce de résistance being roast turkey. This operation concluded, we tied up the canoe securely, and instead of building a rancho both went to sleep in the canoe under the pamacari. It was a little crowded, but we got along all right and passed the night quite comfortably.
At about six o’clock the next morning we resumed the trip, and a couple of hours later passed the mouth of the Quebrada San Miguel, a large tributary, almost as large as the Putumayo itself, on the right bank. It was here that we first made the acquaintance of a gigantic buzzing bee that followed us for hours, flying about Perkins’ head in such an irritating manner that he split our best paddle in a vain endeavour to kill it. This he finally succeeded in doing, but the deceased’s place was soon taken by others, who kept at poor Perkins until nightfall. They did not trouble me, probably on account of the smoke from the fire burning in the pot I got in San José.
At midday Perkins took an observation for latitude, and found that we had just passed the Equator, being then a few minutes south of the Line. In order to celebrate this occurrence we both got outside of a good dram of aguardiente; we had made a successful “dash” to the Equator, to employ the Polar term.
Soon we came to a place where the river divided into two arms, or brazos, a large and a small one. We chose the latter for the sake of the shade and the better chance of shooting game. As we slowly made our way through the narrow brazo, the branches in some places joining over our heads, the calm beauty of the luxuriant vegetation and the intense silence of the forest, broken only by the occasional shrill call of some brilliant bird or the howl of a distant tribe of monkeys, combined to make us think we were in some fairy land.
Emerging at last from the shady arcade of the brazo, we again entered the main river, and at one o’clock reached Montepa, the last village of the Cionis, situated upon a steep knoll on the left bank. It consisted of eight or ten little bamboo huts, very similar to the other Cioni villages already described. Here we stopped a couple of hours and had a long talk with the capitán, who seemed to think we were very brave in making the trip without bogas, and as a token of his admiration offered us each a drink of mazata. After collecting a few more souvenirs we were about to depart, when Perkins suddenly spied an enormous catfish, which, after the inevitable haggling, we purchased. This reminded us that we had plenty of fishing-tackle ourselves, so we resolved to test our angling abilities that very night.
Taking a most affectionate leave of the worthy capitán, whose extreme friendliness was doubtless inspired by our aguardiente, we resumed our descent, and continued for a couple of hours, when, reaching a convenient island, we stopped for the night. While I prepared dinner Perkins shot a few small birds, which seemed to belong to a species of dove, as bait, and, after our meal was over, we rigged up a couple of lines and began fishing. Soon I felt a nibble at my hook, and when I thought the fish had it well digested I pulled and had the satisfaction of landing a fine big catfish. Perkins soon caught another, and presently we had a good number of the handsome big fellows.
In the morning we enjoyed an excellent breakfast of fried fish, after which we again set out. The river now became enormously wider on account of its division into several brazos, some of which covered great distances before rejoining the main channel. Large islands, covered with the prevailing dense vegetation, commenced to appear with great frequency, while tributaries of all sizes continued mingling their contents with those of the main river. In fact, the whole country was becoming a complete network of brazos and quebradas, so intermingled and so numerous that it was often difficult to distinguish the one from the other. This continued all the way to the mouth of the river, and is common to nearly all the great streams that empty into the Amazon.
Here we began to observe the boto, dog-fish or pira-jaguar,[79] of the Indians, a huge fish often more than two metres in length, which plays about in schools in many parts of the river. They would flop awkwardly about, close to the boat, apparently quite at home with us. A rather peculiar custom of theirs is that of gasping and snorting violently, as though disgusted about something. Its flesh is not edible—at any rate, the Cionis will not eat it. This fish is also known as the dolphin of the Amazon.
During the whole day we suffered heavily from the suffocating heat, for the burning rays of the equatorial sun shot down upon our unprotected backs with a seemingly intentional fury, and not a breath of air stirred all day. Our thirst was astounding, but, luckily, Materón had insisted upon our taking along a quantity of limes, which now came in very handy to alleviate it.