For the last 12 months after paddling down the Napo I had been putting together ideas of a more adventurous Amazonian canoe trip. Stretching up to about a month and ideally with a partner. As plans developed I settle on a 2-3 week solo trip on the Rio Bobonaza. A wild beautiful river that heads deep into the Amazon. Despite its beauty I've never paddled somewhere so hostile. Somewhere where peoples default reaction to me was as a threat. I'm used to being the dumb white guy and that's great because nobody is threatened by a clown. Instead I was treated to a river full of life intertwined with its flow a beautiful sight but to one in which I was an outsider. After 6 days I couldn't take the fear. The sight of children running from the sight of me. The potential of some land owner finding me on their land in the night in a place where It was believed I should not be. I didn't take much footage as my presence was already intrusive enough. But it was a trip that won't be forgotten any time soon. After months of planning and only 6 days and 200km In the jungle, I was happy to be out, back in a place where I could be anonymous.
Day 1
-1.6133997, -77.6667409
Not really sure of times or distances, but that's not really the point of this trip. I'd guess only about 2 hours on the water. The day started on Ecuadorian time as the taxi was late and the boat loading was sketchy. Despite that Henri the driver did a great job getting the boat safely to the river. Gabriel's friend Javier joined me for the journey to the put-in. His family live down stream on the Peruvian side of the border and during the 3 hour drive to canelos he briefed me on the different tribal Territories and my contacts to help me pass through easily. We stopped of in Puyo on route to seek permission from the president's office to pass through Sarayaku. I was suddenly nervous, this had the potential to end my trip before it had even begun. This had to be the single most efficient government interaction I've ever had. Within 2 minutes Javier was on the phone with the President (of Sarayaku) and I was good to go. Another hour and I was at the put in and quickly underway. Within 5m I hit a sand bar and was out again. For the last 3 weeks the dry season has really been living up to its name and the Rio bobonaza was practically empty. How the larger heavier motor canoes navigate the gravel bed rapids is awe inspiring. 3 times today I had run aground and had to jump into the river to get the canoe back into deeper water. It's hot sticky work with a 100kg canoe. Though with the amount of rocks I hit today I am glad of the thick hull. The boats is beautiful on the water and has attracted a fair bit of attention with even one old chap flagging down the taxi and asking where he could get one of his own. My initial doubts of a polished turd seem to be happily misplaced. Which is good because I hadnt really been prepared for the challenges of low water. I began looking for camp spots almost instantly but was surprised to see the banks heavily populated given the relatively small size of the river. Satalite imagery showed little outside the 5 major communities. Combined with the high water mark being a good 5m above current levels finding camp spots is going to be a challenge. After exploring 3 potential sites with no success and my first beatings by impenetrable jungle I finally found a nice looking spot. My first foray was to eager and I quickly found myself waist deep in thick mud, after extracting myself and fishing out my crocs it was a good early reminder for me to move slowly. Tarp up, dinner on and in my hammock by 7pm as a brief shower passed over head dropping the temperature nicely. I'm slowly developing my camp routines and despite what in my head seamed at some times faffy everything was done with relative ease and time. I have forgotten the noise of the jungle at night and despite the chorus of thousands, I can't help but feel alone for the first time. The talk of giant anacondas in the taxi are now hard to keep out of the forefront of my mind.
Day 2
-1.6850114, -77.5689620
I struggled to get to sleep at first, I had naively presumed the river would be quiet at night. I was surprised to find boats still navigating upstream and down stream well after dark. I was awoken this morning at 06:30 by shouts of the person who's land I had camped on. Luckily they where friendly and easily contented with some hand rolled cigarettes and we shared slow conversation as I made my breakfast. He talked of wanting to buy a canoe like mine and I provided him the details.
Just as I was about to get on the water the man and his friend returned. It seemed he wanted a lift to work 20 minutes downstream. Glad to oblige and happy of the extra power and expert line choice, the morning started off beautifully. After dropping off my hitchhiker's I quickly found a beautiful waterfall tumbling 5m into the river a short walk up a side canyon. I took the opportunity to fill my water and get myself clean washing off the dirt of the first 24 hours. The day was hot and long only broken up by a short heavy rainstorm just before lunch. It was my first test of the poncho and it worked great. I planned to make camp downstream of Pacayacu, the first major community on route but the going was tough. With challenging low water lines to make at times. The challenge was made worse by man made alterations to the river course. Often the deeper channel was far from obvious. Pacayacu was a beautiful community home to the Andwa people, it's great to see lives so intertwined with the river. Watching children as young as 5 or 6 poling up the river for fun with friends. As a child grows so does there canoe moving to progressively larger dugouts as they develop. A few miles downstream a canoe passed only to return 2 minutes later. A lady shook my hand and asked me what I was doing. She seemed to think that I must return to Pacayacu with her at once. I explained I had permission and where I was planning on going and asked if I could continue. I was told that permission from Sarayaku does not give me permission to pass through Pacayacu. She seemed uncertain but allowed me to go. As I sit on the river bank writing this I'm scared to fully erect my camp for fear of soon being whisked away.
Day 3
-1.7656090, -77.3964690
No visits last night and a surprisingly good night's sleep. The full moon is bright and I have good visibility almost all night. I woke up at 0530 to an overcast cool morning with low mist floating through the trees. I was on the water by 07:30 eager to make it past Sarayaku today. The morning miles breezed by with a light stroke and a comparatively cool air. As I got to the outskirts of Sarayaku just before lunch the sun came out. I watched a group of 4 or 5 play on the bank. They ran away whilst I was still some 200m upstream. I passed through the town quickly and without incident only seeing young children on the river bank. On the outskirts of town I passed my first boat of men, they seemed relatively happy to see me. The same can be said for most of the boats I passed today. A pleasant relief from the fear and mild hostility I was shown upstream. It did a lot to calm my nerves knowing one of the most challenging hurdles had been safely navigated.
Sarayaku is the home of a large kichwa community of around 1200 people spread around 7 main community centres. For the last 30 years the people of Sarayaku have fought strongly against the destruction of their ecosystem fighting against Argentine oil companies and the Ecuadorian government they have been able to protect and preserve their 135,000 hectares of ancestral land. For the Sarayaku people, the rivers, mountains, lakes and subsoil are spiritual spaces and sources of life, knowledge and identity. Everything that forms kawsak sacha (living forest) is intertwined. As a result, the Sarayaku, when managing and planning the future of their territory, focus on livelihood strategies for both current and future Kichwa generations. Self governed and with its own justice system the community in 2018 has declared Kawsak Sacha as a living and conscious being.
Although the upper reaches of the Rio Bobonaza are predominantly Kichwa and Andwa territory, The route over the next few days would begin to take me through a multitude of other tribes including Andoas, Shiwiar and Achuar. Some tribes famed for producing fierce warriors in defending there land against the Spanish and more modern invaders.
Back on the river however one of the numerous small rapids had caught me off guard. Suddenly I was pinned. I quickly hit the deck and stabilized the boat. After taking stock I delicately placed one foot on the bank. The not unsubstantial flow was eager to flip my canoe. With one foot in the boat and the other on the bank I heaved hard hoping I could get the stern clear or the root knot whilst maintaining its edge and trying to jump back in. Everything went smoothly but I treated the little ripples with more respect after that. Taking to standing up long into the approach to be sure of the deepest channel. On a couple of occasions I was grateful to watch a motor canoe come upstream and demonstrate the line. After clearing Sarayaku I began to think about making camp. Homes have become more spread out and the river changes from huge cliffs and waterfalls to dense plantations with little sign of life. Already happy with my days miles I took the afternoon slowly floating looking for suitable camp spot. around 15:00 I had spotted a nice beach worthy of camping. The hammock rigging required a little engineering but it seems to be holding up in the current storm. I've been at camp 3 hours now and I've yet to be passed by a motor canoe. In hoping tonight will mark the start of more relaxed travel. Mentally that is. Physically my body is adjusting to the miles but I'm loosing a lot of water through sweat. Despite drinking over a gallon today my urine is showing signs of dehydration. I'm currently experiencing the most consistent rain I've had on the trip so far. Hopefully it can put a little bit of water in the river to smooth my run down. So far none of the tributaries have offered any possibility for upstream travel due to the low water. despite that, Rain still makes me nervous in Ecuador. I've witnessed a couple of rivers flash and heard many stories from friends, I've also seen the footage of last year's flooding in Sarayaku which left 9 dead. On my own it's hard to keep these things off my mind. So it's time to check out and read a book.
Day 4
-1.8930500, -77.2699270
I'm starting to notice patterns in my mood. My day always starts well. I hit a slump as the sun comes out around 12 It gets to a point where all I can focus on is the ache in my back (relieved for short stints by paddling stood up) and then I start looking for camp. My list of requirements for the perfect spot is becoming longer. All in an effort to alleviate the night time anxiety. Once I decide on a spot my mood is instantly lifted. And normally it stays this way until evening. Then as darkness falls in my hammock the thoughts of a snake biting my bum come back into my head and the rain on the tarp makes me doubt just how high above the high water line I have camped.
Today was good. Peoples response to me now on the river is consistently positive. I had a good laugh with some children hiding below the gunnels of their canoe, and once I was a safe distance away they shouted "gringo" after me. The river is also becoming more remote with only a few houses and small balsa and banana plantations fighting for territory between the wall of jungle and the ever moving river. There's no doubt that there's an abundance of wildlife around me both under my boat and in the trees around me. Most go unseen and only sensed. Often the mind fails to comprehend what could be making the sound. As I floated down a flat stretch I saw the trees in front of my on the river bank begin to clatter. And suddenly a huge stampede of boar erupted from the the undergrowth and splashed into the river. The 100 strong team made short work of the river crossing before rumbling off into the jungle on the opposite bank. I made a mental note to add "boar safe" to my list of campsite criteria. 1 on 1 I might fancy my chances. But 100!? My food barrel wouldn't last 2 minutes and I would be running straight for the nearest large tree. Anyway, egg fried rice for dinner. All is quiet in camp.
Day 5
-1.9813150, -77.1226770
Ithe demands of the trip are beginning to get to me. The idea of a flight out of the jungle from Montalvo sounds really appealing right now. Beyond that point things are only going to get more wild and remote.
Last night I didn't get to sleep until gone midnight, I was unable to get my brain to switch off. I also noticed a 10cm long hole in my hammock that needed repairing first thing in the morning. I'm glad I took the time rather than choosing to ignore it because tonight's camp is a bit of an ant city. The day started off with rain showers before turning overcast for the remainder of the morning. Good canoeing weather, I treated myself to 2 hours of Spotify to try and lift my mood. It worked well and by 10am i was cruising along nicely with a smile on my face. As I passed through Terese Mama it seemed the whole village had turn out for a community fishing trip.
Reading after the trip I found out that these would be done only once or twice annually to ensure its done sustainably. The whole village would hunt together and evenly store and share the takings.
There was 25-30 canoes poling up and down the river over a 300m section 3 to a canoe with the whole family taking part. I watched a small boy track and spear a fish after his dad's demonstrations. It was a truly beautiful sight that could have been hundreds of years old. The only thing to ruin it was me, floating through the middle of them. Every boat asked where I was going. Some added warning, others asked if I had permission, whilst others just scowled. One man was raising his voice after me but I kept my rythm. I had seen more people in that 200m than I had on the whole river so far and it was obvious I was not wanted. After lunch I spotted a skinny dog on the river bank, it let out the most heart wrenching howls and gave chase with me along the bank. After about 500m I stopped and gave him a tin of tuna, he tried getting into the canoe but I couldn't do it. Where would I take him? His odds are no better with me. He chased me for miles after that swimming across the river multiple times and still howling. The sound cut me deep. I cried hard then, Great big sobs. I fealt better after a good cry and decided it was time to start looking for camp spots again. With houses becoming closer together again and the river banks becoming steeper it took a long time to find an appropriate spot. I also didn't want to run the risk of accidentally making it into Montalvo before finding a spot. And that's how I ended up in ant city. Despite the ants it seems to have everything else going for it. So I will reserve judgement until tomorrow. Fingers crossed it will be a short paddle into Montalvo. I think I will report in at the military base first and tell them of my intentions.
Day 6
-2.0619600, -76.9633350
Well fuck what a morning. About 5 miles north of Montalvo I got picked up by a branch of the Ecuadorian military. They stopped me on the beach and started questioning me. As I was questioned other men began searching through my gear. The attitude was relatively relaxed but they said I needed to come with them to Montalvo to conduct an investigation. As we arrived at the military base a lady was waved down heading upstream in a canoe, it was Sylvia a leading politician in Montalvo. I was questioned again now in front of around 20 soldiers armed with spears whilst other where armed with phones to video it all. After an hour of talking and apologising for not seeking permission to travel through the Montalvo district I was told that I must leave on the flight that would be arriving in 30 minutes. By this point I was okay with that. I was more than ready to leave the jungle.
Knowing I was leaving soon I allowed some of the men to take some of my things. I shared out my food supplies with the group and talked and joked with them until the plane arrived. The plane landed soon after and after lugging my gear across the runway I was told the plane was full. No problem, we would wait until the next flight on Monday. The 2 military canoes where dismissed by Sylvia and we shook hands all round. After 10 more minutes of waiting around Sylvia suggested I paddle her down into Montalvo. As we floated the 2 miles downstream we talked and she began to warm up to me and also my paddle… As we arrived she told me I had her permission to continue! just don't stop and don't talk to anyone.
What normally would have been a stroke of luck now seemed far from it. I think she just wanted rid of me. I didn't know what to do. I looked at her and said okay and pushed off once again into the flow. I stopped 1km downstream to asses the damage. I've lost most of my lunchtime provisions all of my gasoline, my poncho, Gabo's wellies and my machete. I can't safely continue on without these things or even cook a hot meal even if I had wanted too, I could possibly find more downstream at a premium but what's the use? I'm scared and want to get home. Since she's already got 1 paddle off me I will wait here for awhile have lunch and gather my thoughts then return into town and offer sylvia my canoe in exchange for helping me get out of here. It's almost 2 now. The paddle back upstream in the sun was arduous. And took a good 30 minutes. Who knows where I got such grandiose ideas of a 3 week trip traveling up and down river from. Anyway, I found Sylvia in Montalvo and explained the situation. she was a bit upset about the missing items but it wasn't a problem. She didn't like the idea of me staying in Montalvo until Monday but said I could stay at her house until the next flight. I casually asked her where she was off to as I caught her as she was leaving her house. She told me that she had some jobs to sort out before heading to canelos that evening in a motor canoe. I didn't think I heard right, she said she had an office meeting in Puyo in the morning. I was looking forward to the little prop plane flight and getting to see the river by air. But I can't turn down such a good opportunity. I quickly jumped at the chance to accompany her Travelling up the bobonaza by dark is sure to be an interesting trip.
Day 7.
The return journey
Sylvia woke me up at 02:30. I grabbed my bags and walked the 500m down to the river with her. After 5 minutes into waiting I decided to snuggle in for a nap. I awoke again at 05:30 as the sun began to come up. During this time Sylvia had disappeared. So I sat content waiting for the canoe. At 06:30 she returned with the owner of the canoe. Apparently he had slept in. At around 50 Silvia wasn't to impressed with sleeping on the river bank especially when her beautiful home is only half a km away. I was told it would be just a 5 hour journey upstream back to canelos. I couldn't make that maths work in my head as I was sure it must be a good 150km by my reckoning.
It's now been 7 hours on the water and we have still yet to reach Sarayaku. I think it will be another 3 hours until we reach the road head but I should still have no problems making it to Tena tonight.
Guess I was wrong about making it to Tena to tonight... After an engine replacement and 7 more hours on the water we finally arrived in Canelos at 8pm. Missing the last bus by an hour. The last 90 minutes in the dark might just be the most scary of the trip. Running rapids blind in the dark at low water is some seriously sketchy shit. I took point for most of the afternoon switching to poling the boat upstream when the river got to shallow for the canoe.
The procedure was to gun it flat out up the bottom of the rapid until the propeller needed lifting to clear the rocks. Hopefully the momentum would carry us to the top. If we shallowed out or the flow was to strong or technical however I would jump to my feet and plant the pole, holding the canoe from sliding back before poling it up to the top of the rapid where the propeller could be dropped again into the deeper water. In the more technical rapids the captain's wife would also jump out and push the canoe from the stern
I felt pretty shitty about my boat skills on the way down stream watching how everybody else navigated the river with ease. Today I realised I was just seeing the good bits. Even the guys that live on the river fuck up their lines every now and then. This afternoon we fully lost control mid rapid. The propeller hit a rock stalling the engine and we proceeded to float back down the rapid sideways at quite some speed surrounded by strainers and in the middle of a thunderstorm. My first attemped at poling failed as with my first snub the pole snapped in my hands, it was great to see the smiles on the crews faces once things where back under control.
I've been sat on the bank for 30 minutes now whilst Sylvia works out our next moves but my legs are still bouncing with the adrenaline and fatigue of the day. on 2 occasions we where very close to capsizing hitting rocks at full speed in the dark causing the bow to jump up a good few feet in the air as we glanced off left or right. Poised like Gollum with my pole in the front of the canoe ready to spring into action at a moment's notice the last miles went by painfully slowly putting my BA on for the only time of the trip...
I was out there in 66 in the service RM when the locals were striping the hardwood we use to follow the logging tracks we were there for over 3 months at a time we did not know England won the World Cup for a month But great memories
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