Day 6 and 7: the last leg

Day 6.

Today was to be our final day on the water. Today I was feeling rather sore and tired, after thus far managing to remain relatively ok and energised in the mornings, I was now paying for my prior smugness!

After breakfast of egg rolls and my first cup of coffee of the whole trip (which, incidentally, was disgusting! I thought the coffee would be excellent, but alas, it was not meant to be!), we went down to the waters edge and made ready. We were keen to get going and since there didn't seem to be all that many people gathered ready for the start, we pushed off and got going ahead of everyone. Of course we had no cheating in mind, more that we didn't want to finish in the dark, and of course we were in it to finish, not for the prize money, though we clearly were never going to be in the runnings for that!

After about 30 minutes on the water we were overtaken by almost everyone! This was partly our intention, and it was great to see everyone properly, but most of all to see the hard core Peruvian teams literally flying over the water. Now these men and women were incredible. They were like machines. Their rafts were simple, 8 logs lashed together, with the fronts painstakingly shaved into perfect smooth points curved slightly upwards. They sat or kneeled on top of the bare wood and took only water as provisions, though I heard Mad Mike saying how they mixed their water with sugar before putting it into Camelbak carriers (a water carrying membrane that fits into a small backpack, with a straw that reaches round to the front for hands free drinking), so they could drink while paddling and keep up their glucose levels at the same time. Serious stuff. So with such simple rafts and also small people (Peruvians are naturally rather small), they had great floatation and very little resistance. And these guys could paddle! The speed and strength of them was really a sight to behold, and we hollered out encouragement to them as they powered past us.

We had a hard day, bickering for about an hour before we settled down. The water was awful today, like dragging ourselves through syrup, and the going was tougher not only due to the water, but also because our Josephine was sitting lower in the river that she had done so far, as the logs had become so waterlogged from two days hard at it. Still we soldiered on, with the hope in mind that we would in theory be due to reach the end by lunchtime, though well aware that a reputedly hellish mile or so would be spent against the current at the end (remember the earlier post where we tested it in a motorpowered dugout that had trouble).

Today was a lot about tactical rafting and reading the currents, which was mentally quite challenging. The sun was out on full whack again, beating down on us unforgivingly. The support boat was around a few times, giving us pointers to help us stay in the right direction for most favourable rafting, as the river here was some 3km wide, which until you sit on it, is hard to fathom. We saw a couple of people rescued and towed, presumably too exhausted to continue, or fallen victim to sun or heat stroke. The oddest thing was seeing one team almost on our horizon, towed for a while and then the boat stripped and set free. Seeing this lonely raft drifting along bare and unmanned was rather spooky, and we wondered how other rafters behind us would feel upon finding it, having not seen it be vacated as we did. We were getting a bit bored and fed up, and Beth was wishing for dolphins to come and cheer us on a bit. The dolphins were clearly someplace else but I happened to look down and sat right next to my foot was the most enormous spider I have ever seen outside of a zoo. The poor thing looked utterly exhausted, legs splayed out over the log as it recovered. It took me a while to register what my eyes were seeing until I snapped out of it and exclaimed "Holy F-ing Christ! Would you look at the size of that spider!!!" Absorbed in their paddling, my teammates didn't seem to register what I was getting so excited about until I reinforced a second time "look at this spider!!!", which was met with their attention and exclamation. I poked the spider a bit to see if it was aggressive, which it didn't seem to be. However until we reached land I didn't want to chance handling it with my bare hands just in case it nailed me and something serious happened. So I took my paddle and ushered the beastie on to the end so we could inspect her, take photos, and then position her safely on the awning mast that poked up between my feet. She settled and we named her Peg, as she was missing a leg. I was thrilled by the thought of carrying Peg safely to land and showing her off to everyone! My teammates weren't quite so thrilled (though regularly enquired as to her presence and health status as our voyage continued), so it was lucky that about then, our dolphin friends joined us to fully lift the spirits and give us encouragement.

We spent an age crossing the river as we neared the end (by neared the end I mean we had about 3 hours or so remaining!), around where we saw that raft cut loose. We knew the fork towards our finish line was towards the left and that any current present would be strongest at the edge so we went for it, little by little through that thick and sticky water. We saw a whole bunch of rafts on the horizon more on the right hand side which worried us, but we stuck with our plan and were rather relieved when we saw them finally making their way across, and we congratulated ourselves for having crossed earlier, as it was such a slog. We came across a small rig drilling for oil. There were slicks on the waters surface which were disgusting. This wasn't the first time we'd seen signs of people reaping the spoils of the Amazon. Earlier in our trip we'd passed logging vessels and other commercial river traffic, which was sobering to see with our own eyes and not just in a magazine.

Suddenly I wasn't feeling right at all. The sun was too much. I started to feel fuzzy in the head, my hearing was going, my body felt heavy, and my breathing was increasing rapidly. I didn't say anything to anyone for a while in case I could let this phase without embarrassment, and I started drinking more water and resting from paddling but it wasn't enough. The sun had hit me full on from the front and slightly to my left side, and I was about to pass out. I swivelled in my chair to face the inside of the raft so my back was to the sun, and took the scarf from around my face to get some air. I dipped my hat in the water to cool my head and removed my gloves to dip my wrists in the river, and I told my teammates I needed a few minutes. I recognised that I was suffering from heat or sun stroke. I also realised I had the signs of an approaching panic attack, I'd lost the feeling in my feet and had pins and needles in my hands and shooting up the side of my face, and was about to hyperventilate. My team halted in the water and helped me get more water down me with rehydration powder in, we all ate a snack, and I stuck my whole head under the water a few times, which cooled me and helped to slow my breathing. After what felt an age but was probably only about 15-20 minutes I suddenly came round and was ready to go again, apologising for the delay, but of course my wonderful friends were calm and reassuring and noone batted an eyelid- in between taking snaps of me wobbling about and dunking my head of course! We had resumed our journey and had not 15 minutes passed when Fyf suddenly went very quiet. She had been hit as well. No my friend Fyf is Scottish through and through. She is a tough bird, and I am unaccustomed to seeing her ill in any way and I knew this could be a sensitive moment. We talked to her to try and get a response- she was pretty unresponsive, probably having all the same thoughts I had been experiencing shortly before, but probably not recognising the feeling of exactly what was happening. We encouraged her to get some layers off and get her arms in the water but were rather unsuccessful in getting her to comply, though she would take water so we kept calm and fed her plenty of water and managed to get her wrists in the water eventually. I didn't fancy physically helping her get her hat and things off like I would have done with anyone else, as I felt there was a chance I might get a punch in the eye, so we kicked back and waited. Just as with me, she suddenly came round and felt a lot better, reporting all the same symptoms as I had just experienced. I was so glad she felt better and also secretly relieved that I wasn't the only one to flake out- proof that we were in some extreme conditions and that I'm not just a wimp!

The sun was dreadful. As with the previous day the sunscreen was going on about every 10 minutes but still my burning fingers caused me great discomfort and were rather distracting. We inched ever closer to the end. We were seeing more boats along the side of the river and passed several enormous flat tankers that looked designed for piling containers on top of. They sat moored at the rivers edge, some three abreast. We were sticking to the left hand side as much as possible and as we skirted a cove of these vessels we saw a group on men on top of the outmost tanker we were approaching all shouting and waving frantically for us to steer to our right to keep away from the moored ship. Of course that was our plan and we were bemused as to why they were getting to excited, until we got closer that is...

Under the sloping front of the ship was a raft, as in a raft race raft, being sucked and smashed against the undercarriage of this huge metal monstrosity. They'd paddled too close and been sucked under by the current. It was a wreck. Terrifying in fact, completely flattened, and we couldn't see its crew. As we skirted round, the police and rescue boat were there hugging the side of the tanker near the front to get close to the raft. As we continued past we fished a hat from the water, and later a shoe... scary. It was the first moment of the trip where we really thought, "wow, we are doing something quite dangerous here". We found out after that the rafters had jumped ship with plenty of time to be rescued from the water and all got through it safe and unharmed. Ironically we noticed that inside the label of the straw hat we recovered it read "Lucky Brand".

When we hit the current at the end it was simply awful. We had to pass a few small tethered boats and round a tight and short bend to the left. As we approached we watched another team battle against the current, hopelessly stuck on the spot for an age before they broke through. We were almost on top of them, hanging back as much as possible before making a break for it, but getting knocked slightly off course by another raft behind us, which sent us bucking and spinning as we fought against the dreadful rip current that was threatening to carry us out and away. We fought and fought before turning in and managing to grab a hold of the boat at the edge where we originally started. We took a breather, discussed out plan of action and then went for it. "IN! IN! IN!" We dug deep and strong, hollering our chant and screaming encouragement pulling our paddles and feeling that perhaps we were getting somewhere, desperately trying not to lose hope, but rapidly running out of energy and the will to go on, as we realised we were slowly getting sucked backwards.

Thankfully, some locals on the moored up boat on the corner threw a rope that I managed to grab, and with my right foot hooked under the support beam joining our catamaran raft in the middle so as I wouldn't be wrenched from the raft, I was able to pull us in. Our wonderful rescuers jumped from boat to boat to help keep us to the shore and we were able to move on to the next part of the cove, though still under strain and with the water working against us. Unbelievably, our spider, Peg, had also survived the ordeal. Seeing the waves smash up I'd been shielding her with my foot and she'd reversed a little way up the mast from her original position of sitting head down with her forefeet dipped in the water. We were almost there. We proceeded with extreme caution, paddling like mad across each little gap of water (against the current still) making for the next anchored boat that we could cling to and take a breather. Difficult at one point, as a couple of extremely aggressive and scary looking dogs went for us, trying to reach us from their floating platform and threatening us not to come near while they were defending their patch. At one point I thought one was going to make a jump for it onto our craft. I was thinking, just what we need! Rabid dog attack while we struggle away on the water almost drained of all our juice! It was quite distracting really, and luckily Fyf was able to snap me out of my absorption by shouting at me to carry on paddling. At that point, while battling against the tide, rapid dogs, and out fatigue, we lost the spider. The water was rushing between and over the logs at the front of the panel I was sitting on and I remember glancing down at my feet frequently to check her and seeing she was clinging with just her hind 2 legs and her front was swirling in the water. She was clinging on for grim death, just as we were. I realised it was getting serious and was desperate to lift her out but couldn't take my hands off my paddle for how important and urgent the paddling was at this point. I was going to just chance in and grab her with my hand but before I had chance, I looked down and she was gone. She had given up and been swept away. That was when I lost it. I felt just like that spider, knocked about and exhausted on the water. I felt my hope and purpose slide and a rush of emotion sweep over me. We were so close we could see the end, a gathering on the beach ahead, but we felt so far behind. It sounds silly, but that spider riding with us had somehow become my focus and inspiration for making it to the end. That’s what it's like when you do this kind of thing, the smallest things seem so much greater than they really are, and the simplest of moments become ritualised and revered, a day seems like a lifetime. Once again I started to lose the feeling in my hands and I bit my lip trying to fight the impending anxiety attack and not burst into tears, though I'd utterly had it. I could feel my team mates were somewhere close to how I was feeling too, but probably holding it together better than I. Fyf who was riding alongside me saw my face change and everyone was great talking encouragingly to help me keep it together and just keep going. I could hear Beth sniff behind me and knew she was close too.

Finally we were there, kids were in the water pulling our raft in, people milled around and cheered for us. I felt so relieved, bewildered and overcome by it all. I staggered about in the shallows unsure of what to do. Maunel, our faithful driver from our days in Iquitos had come to meet us- he gathered our things and ushered us in while people took photos and I tried desperately to hold my face and composure together. We hugged each other and made our way up to where everyone was gathered having lunch (incidentally it wasn't lunchtime anymore, but about 4pm- we had been on the water paddling for about 8 and a half hours), and sharing adventure stories. I took 5 to perch on a wall slightly away from the gathering under a huge restaurant building and try and sort my breathing out and pull myself together. One of my friends brought me over a tamale- a bunch of yellow rice with an olive and something else all wrapped up in banana leaved and cooked. I thought I wasn't hungry but as soon as that food was in my hands I pretty much shoved my face right in it, did away with the fork and just shovelled the delicious hot grub in. I also had a drink that was as sweet as coke but tasted of liquorice. It was really delicious and I could feel the sugar coursing through my veins replenishing and refreshing me. I was feeling better already, and then spotted a toad in an irrigation gutter, which perked me right up! I picked it up and saw it was missing a foot! Two limbless animals in one day! I mingled a little, and waited for the prize giving, though was aware that Jordan and his team had still not made it in. I'd been waiting for them to pass us all day as we'd not had an encounter on the water yet. Knowing we were one of the slowest rafts, and with all we'd seen and been through that day I was worried. Then from our higher vantage point, I saw his raft rounding the bend on the horizon, into that horrible rip that we'd gotten caught in. I watched them in the distance, struggling, and once more thought of everything we'd been through on this most epic of adventures.

Beth was anxious to get back and sort out our rooms at the hostel, as though we'd made a reservation where we'd stayed before, we knew the place would be booked up with rafters that night and wanted to be sure of our accommodation. So we loaded our stuff onto the back of Manuels motocab, and also that of his assistant driver, and we sped back into the city. Fyf and I had our old room, and hit the shower- towels had been left out on our bathroom for us, unlike when we stayed there before. Real towels! I can't describe the delight I felt when I saw those towels. Using a proper shower with gushing water and soap, and shaving, and drying with a proper towel, was marvellous!! We put clean clothes on and met with Beth and Shane in the foyer to discuss our plan of action- Beth and Shane wanted to do some emailling before the finishing party at La Noche on the front at 8pm. Fi and I were up for heading straight down there. In the foyer we bumped into Jordan, who had literally just arrived! He had told me he'd be booking into my hostel so we could spend the last night together, but I was unsure of whether he'd manage it, so was pleased as punch to see him there. We caught up and chatted briefly in his room before he hit the shower and Fyf and I went down to the bar for a well earned beer. We sat at a table outside among the street kids trying still to sell us jewellery and such, and we called a few of our new friends to join us and share stories. Soon Beth and Shane arrived and we got some food in, and finally Jordan found us to join the celebration, while the race organisers announced congratulations and speeches over the microphone, which was passed around for people to speak if they wished.

Despite everyone wanting to get on the beer (which came in enormous double size bottles), it was funny to see that people didn't stay out that late, and there were a multitude of bottles left behind on the table, from which only a single glass of beer has been poured before the drinker gave up and had to retire, it was just too much! Soon it was just me and Jordan left sat at our table, drinking more of that wine, and the left over beers. A huge beetle flew onto my lap and we admired it crawling on my hand before it flew off my fingers back into the warm, fragrant night. It was a wonderful moment. We headed back to the hostel and I checked in with Fyf before joining Jordan again so we could stay up late drinking more wine and talking and wrestling before finally falling asleep tangled up together.

Day 7: Goodbye Iquitos, hello Lima

We woke early, but had a little time before Manuel would collect us at 7am to take us to the airport. I was delighted to learn that Jordan as well as several of the other rafters would be on our flight to Lima! We headed out for a coffee at about 6am and there was Manuel, already waiting! Now that is dedication! We went to a bar called the Yellow Texan Rose, or something to that effect. I wished I'd discovered it sooner! It was an aladdins cave of dusty artifacts, stuffed animals and weird curios, with bar stools made from western saddles and stuff to look at covering every surface including the ceiling. We sat under the awning outside and had coffee- it was good!!! Good coffee! Exactly what the doctor ordered, and I really enjoyed the moment we took to do that.

Back at the hostel we met my lot and we all jumped on motorcabs to the airport. An exciting drive at that time in the morning as the city was getting going, flying past the colourful breezeblock buildings, taking in all the sights for the last time, riding with Fyf, both of us probably feeling that feeling of wanting to remember it all and how we felt and everything we had shared together, reminiscent of our last couple of days in Africa together some 5 years ago.

I sat with Jordan on the flight and we talked and talked, also knowing the end was near. We were due to drop our gear off at Bethyns freinds house where we were due to spend the night, report my mugging/stuff theft to the police to get a statement for my insurace, and then spend the day mooching about the markets. I was glad for my new friend to be joining us too, and felt closer than ever as we perused the souveniers and curios the friendly stall holders hawked as we passed, while Jordan charmed them with his excellent Spanish and friendly manner. I picked up an alpaca hat for my sister before we taxied back towards our "home". I was flabbergasted and full of love and respect for my friends when they promptly gave me directions to the house and then instructed Jordan and I to go get coffee together to say our goodbyes, and set off in the opposite direction! We looked at each other, not believing our luck, and found a cafe, opting for one out of a choice of two, that had a name translating as something cryptic and appropriate, yet that I forget exactly what it was now. We took black coffee and shared a slice of carrot cake and wondered how to articulate what we were feeling. After a couple of hours, the evening was closing in and I had to head back for dinner. We said our goodbyes and Jordan said he would meet me at the airport to wave me off, and my heart swelled.

The lovely family we were staying with (teachers who Beth had met while living and working out here for a year not long before we came out here) made us a delicious dinner of salads, corn, bread and butter (and meats for everyone else) followed by sweet cakey zucchini bread. Afterwards we sorted out our kit and all fell asleep on the floor in her kids playroom.

Day 8: Homeward bound

Beth and I got up at 4.30am, and picked up by taxi at 5am. Fyf still had a couple of weeks in Peru to head north and do some hiking and also the Inca trail, and Shane had some business to attend to in Cusco, for his and Beths lacrosse venture in the country. We felt rough and ordered Papa Johns pizzas to eat with coffee in the airport foyer while we woke up and waited for Jordan. My heart sank realising we were going to get called to head through security. We had told him our flight was 7.30am when it was in fact at 7am. Typical! Finally we could wait no longer, and with regret, we heading through the doors to check in. We sat on the plane to Miami both feeling rather empty. We got a drink at Miami and then took another flight from there to London heathrow, which marked the end of our incredible journey.