“You’ll have to wait until July”, my guide shouted, “because the waters will be gone and we can traverse the land better”

I thought of possible options, including returning to the UK to work 7 days a week to replenish money for 3 months, skipping this section of the trek and continuing from Porta de Moz, to return here in July, or even taking up the offer of free accommodation in Pesqueiro for three months in return for helping build a house. But I had to continue somehow, and the only way I could do it was to swim. My guide said “you are b####y crazy! But it’s a good idea!” So swim I did.

I’m at one of the lowest points of this expedition – geographically speaking, I hasten to add – and the phrase ‘stuck in a rut’ sums up this last month. The engine is running fine and the wheels are frantically spinning, but I’m still basically in the same area. I changed the route over and over again, then had to turn back a few times, and then made the difficult last-resort decision to risk swimming a total of 31 kilometres to the next two big towns (Melgaco and Portel). This was done while trying to avoid giant cargo ships, floating debris, Boto dolphins, pollution, lightning, fishing nets, river pirates, dangerous tidal currents and whatever else lurks beneath, and was necessary so I could say I had traversed the route without the aid of a boat. Then I had to find and wait for guides, re-organise kit, and organise money and accommodation 3 or 4 times over. I feel as though I’m in a bit of a rut.

Traversing flooded forest when the ground below the water is still reasonably firm is possible, but the tidal forests here have what they call lama. It’s basically mud up to waist deep below the flooded surface, and as you try to walk with a heavily loaded backpack, you’re at times thigh deep in water so that when your foot sinks into the lama and the roots below, you get sucked under and have to pull yourself up with all your God-given strength to release your leg. In the meantime, the weight of your pack topples you over, twisting your back and your whole body sideways into the black murky water, where you hope you aren’t going to land on your razor-sharp machete, twist your ankle, or be grabbed by an Anaconda. You grab hold of anything you can to help you pull yourself up, without thinking about where you’re placing your hands. In the meantime hoards of mosquitos take advantage and start attacking any exposed skin – face, neck, arms, hands, ears – as you desperately try to get back up. Once you’re standing and relieved that no injuries have been suffered, you fear your next step. Your waterlogged pack seems to weigh twice as much as before, and after two or more careful steps forward, bang, you’re down again. Then it starts raining so heavily you can’t hear what your comapnion is saying or shouting. The forest becomes dark and claustrophobic, the wind picks up, and you can hear trees creaking and moaning, and branches snapping. A massive crack of ear-piercing thunder and flashes of lighting momentarily illuminate the surrounding forest…

I’ve come to the conclusion that the rainforest has been pretty good at protecting itself for millions of years, right up to the invention of motorised cutting tools, vehicles, boats and of course-insect repellent.

After scouting different areas and talking to residents in different communities, and reviewing the limited topographical data I have, I think and hope I have found a traversable route.

I swam the 3.5K across the Baia do Portel (everything! from the town goes into this bay) from Portel to the proposed new start point yesterday, April 5th. Onwards and upwards.

 

Header photo
This large painting on the wall of the hostel I stayed at in Breves will always remind me of this part of the trek. I stared at it for hours while trying to figure out different possible routes.

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Drying and producing farinha. We came across many of these processing houses.

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One of many gigantic cargo ships that pass every day. Rio Buiuci, Pará, Brazil

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Everaldo & son- a boat builder at a friendly river community we stayed at. He escorted me for two days in one of his amazing wooden hand-carved boats as I swam to Melgaco. A highly intelligent and interesting character full of life, he is now learning to build large aluminium passenger boats at a workshop in Breves. He wants his own company. Rio Carnajuba, Pará, Brazil

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Hand made for catching freshwater shrimps every day. We ate a lot of shrimps. usually mixed with rice. Rio Buiuci, Pará, Brazil

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Making the baskets to catch freshwater shrimp. Rio Buiucu, Pará, brazil

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Preparing the shrimps for cooking. An everyday task here. Rio Buiuci, Pará, Brazil

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This pet parrot has lived at this river house for 28 years. It loves crackers, and we tried to teach him the Whats App notification whistle.

Rio Carnajuba, Pará, Brazil

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Me eating one of the many diffrent natural foods that we encountered.

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Evolving ideas…. Always tie empty water bottles to devices when in a boat. I learned this after dropping my GPS in the river then spending hours trying to recover it from the river bed.

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Pan and zoom map to see more detail