by Pam Withers
We waved as she took off on the riverside trail.
“Nice girl,” Henrique said, watching her.
“Hands off. She’s mine,” I joked, which prompted laughs.
We stopped regularly to scout, play on the waves, and look around. She’d warned us not to walk into the fields on the far side of the river, claiming it was planted with land mines. I figured she just didn’t want us to trespass on private property.
The rapids were more continuous now, but no more difficult. I tried to imagine Gramps here as a young man, paddling with his teammates in their canvas kayaks, so much less maneuverable and durable among these rocks. I was thrilled he’d allowed me – even sponsored me – to come finish what he’d abandoned. I only wished he’d been more specific on what had made him give up the run. I couldn’t imagine my grandfather being intimidated by locals who wanted to run him off. Not for long, anyway.
I despise taking time out from paddling to enter the smelly villages up here in our ever-present quest for additional food. At least they have given us no trouble. They’re shy, quiet, industrious people, even if appallingly backward. – Malcolm Scruggs
——
Less than an hour later, the river took us towards something giant and manmade on the left bank. As we drew closer, I counted a bunch of enormous, concrete-edged holding tanks. After lifting our boats from the water, we saw the tanks were filled with flitting trout.
“Eight trout tanks,” Tiago observed.
“This is where we meet her, right?” Henrique asked.
“Yeah,” I responded. “Can you imagine all the work it took to build these tanks?”
“Especially without concrete mixers or bulldozers,” Tiago agreed.
We pulled off our paddling jackets and settled onto the grassy bank to sunbathe when we heard the giggle of toddlers.
“Hi, kids,” I said as Myriam and the twins appeared with fistfuls of figs they’d clearly been picking in the woods. I dug into the waterproof storage bag in my kayak for a chocolate bar they could share. The kids mobbed me and soon chocolate covered their hands and ran down their chins. Myriam, Henrique, and Tiago chuckled as we watched them.
Henrique pointed at the tanks. “This is a serious operation. Are the fish for eating or selling?”
“Both,” Myriam said with pride. “Our community spent days building them. They will earn us much money soon.”
“I believe it,” I said.
She dipped a cloth into the river and used it to clean the twins’ hands and faces. Then she pulled some pellets from a woven shoulder bag and poured some into the children’s outstretched palms. I lifted my own palms towards her with a kidlike smile, and she rewarded me with a handful. Henrique and Tiago shrugged off an offer to join us, but watched as we leaned over the wire fence that surrounded the concrete tanks and let the feed drift down from our palms.
We were observing the feeding frenzy when a plane’s engine sounded. I lifted my head and squinted into the clear blue sky, framed by forest branches.
“It smells so fresh and clean up here,” I murmured, trying to sight the plane.
Myriam looked up, one hand shading her eyes. As the engine’s noise grew closer, a small plane came into view – a white single-engine turboprop, flying low. Just as I was thinking that the twins might like to see a plane, Myriam picked up Freddy, shoved him into my arms, scooped up Flora, and started running.
“Follow me!” she screamed.
Myriam was my guide, so I followed her upriver, off the path, as Freddy stiffened in my arms. I glanced back once, astonished to see Henrique and Tiago sprinting in the opposite direction, toward the village. As Myriam, the twins, and I ran, trying not to stumble, I looked up once to see the little plane eject lines of cloudy white smoke, like a giant comb with thin teeth dispersing gently through the air. I’d seen planes spray crops on farms near home. I’d also seen planes spray fancy colored smoke at air shows. This was nothing worth worrying about, I reassured myself, as some of the white smoke drifted down on us.
We came to a rock wall, with steps gouged into its side. I followed Myriam up the steps. Not ducking low enough, I banged my head at the entrance to a nifty little cave with a bird’s-eye view of the river and surrounding landscape.
“Where are Henrique and Tiago?” she asked, breathing hard.
“They headed to the village.”
“Oh. It’s a little farther, but that’s okay.” She looked downriver for a moment, then lay on the cave floor and gathered the twins to her. I spread myself full length on the hard rock beside her, waiting for an explanation. Flora started to cry. Freddy moved closer to his big sister.
“Anti-narcotic police,” she said, still panting.
“Huh?”
“They spray the illegal coca fields up here – and don’t care if it hits us too.”
“What’s coming out the back of the plane?” I asked.
“Poisons that make the coca plants shrivel up and die.”
“Oh.” I looked at Flora and patted her head awkwardly as she sobbed. “What does it do to people?”
“Nothing, according to the officials,” Myriam said, placing gentle hands on Flora’s tear-streamed face and leaning close to examine the little girl’s eyes. That’s when my own eyes started itching.
I was still bare-chested from when I’d been sunning along the riverbank. Looking down, I brushed white powdery residue off my arms and chest. Within seconds, I felt a rash forming on my skin. I looked at Freddy, who was rubbing reddened eyes, and at Myriam, who was wiping the twins’ faces with water from her water bottle.
“Get it off you,” she urged, dabbing water on her own face after she’d treated her siblings.
“I’m glad you and the twins have long sleeves on,” I said, pointing to where my arms and chest were turning patchy red.
She nodded vaguely and watched me brush more white dust off my skin. “We have to get back to the village.”
“But …” I started, then held my tongue. There wasn’t going to be any more paddling today if this was some kind of emergency. Watching us kayak more rapids or advising us what was downstream was the last thing on Myriam’s mind.
I made my way down the steps on the rock wall gingerly, Freddy’s arms wrapped around my neck. Then I lifted a hand to help Myriam, who was carrying Flora down the last few steps. I kept my grip just a second longer than I needed to. Myriam didn’t seem to notice.
We walked silently to the trout tanks, where Myriam paused. I looked over the tanks’ fence. “What the heck?” I said.
The fish were jumping like crazy and swimming erratically in circles. I watched some big ones all but throw themselves against the sides of the holding tank, as if desperate to escape.
“Look, the ones at the top are dropping like pebbles to the bottom,” I observed.
“Chocolate,” Freddy said, pointing at fish in the tank beside the one Myriam and I were examining. Myriam and I brushed shoulders as we leaned over to look where he was pointing.
“They weren’t that color before, were they?” I asked. It was as if the blood vessels of the translucent fish had turned chocolate brown. Eerie. They don’t look one bit appetizing, I thought.
“They’re poisoned,” Myriam cried. “We’ll lose them!”
She looked so despondent that I slipped an arm over her shoulders. “Maybe it’s just temporary,” I said. “Maybe it’ll be okay.”
She shook my arm off and stared coolly at me. “What do you know about it? We’ll starve without those fish.” With that, she picked up her bike, loaded up the twins, and rode off. I was left standing there, feeling stupid. It wasn’t my fault a plane had sprayed their mountaintop.
I turned to look at the three kayaks, all lightly powdered. The village was only a few minutes’ walk and I knew the way, so I picked up the three kayaks, rinsed them in the river, and stashed them in some brush. Then I headed briskly back to the village.
The men were gathered in a circle around the fire pit, t
alking fast. I was relieved to see Henrique and Tiago there with them, but less pleased to see my friends directing a stream of questions at the villagers. The women and children, some crying, were sprinkling water on the leaves of the plants in their garden. Myriam was with them, ignoring me. I looked towards the men, where I caught Alberto’s eye. He pointed at me and said something to the men. Great, what now? But this time, his look wasn’t unfriendly. He strode over to Myriam, reached for her hand, and spoke to her while pointing to me, then to the Brazilians.
She pulled her hand away, but followed him over to me.
“You said you and your kayakers have lots of food in your backpacks,” she said, not quite meeting my eyes. “Alberto thought–”
“Of course we can share it,” I said, relieved that no one was going to kick us out of the village.
“Most of our garden crops will die now. Maybe the trout too. People will go hungry,” she explained.
“They don’t need to go hungry. We have–”
“Alberto and I saw coca leaves being trimmed on a plantation near here. We knew that meant the owners were expecting a spraying, so we covered some plants in our garden. Otherwise things would be worse.”
“What can I do, Myriam? What can I do to help besides donate some food?”
“Alberto says you’re good at carrying a heavy pack.”
I turned to look at Alberto. He said something positive about me? Of course, I had boasted about that to him. “You need me to carry something?”
She looked at me uncertainly. “Alberto would like you and your friends to go down to town, buy some food with money Papá gives you, and bring it back in your packs.”
“On our own? No mules?” I regretted the words the minute they were out of my mouth.
“We need the mules and all the men to save the crops,” she said. “Alberto thinks you’ll remember the way.”
I stood there staring at her. It had taken Alberto and us kayakers half a day to get up here. It might go faster without the mules, but we’d lose an entire day of paddling, not even counting the time it would take to buy stuff in the market. At least my buddies’ better grasp of Spanish would help that. And carrying up heavy packs would be a total drag, and we might get lost.… I looked at Freddy and Flora, realizing for the first time how skinny they were. All the kids here, adults too, were skinny. Starving, almost. And the plane had just poisoned most of what food they had.
“Sure,” I said.
Myriam relayed my answer to Alberto, who passed it on to the men.
“No problem,” Henrique said as Tiago nodded beside him.
Myriam’s father, who seemed like some kind of leader here, laid a light hand on my shoulder. He handed me a pitiful number of coins for buying food and explained what they especially needed. I shook my head, calculating that Gramps would have wired me more money by now.
“Gracias,” he said.
“No problem,” I answered, echoed by my friends.
Alberto hovered near Myriam, smiling at her like she was some kind of hero for putting me and the Brazilians up to this. Henrique, Tiago, and I moved towards our backpacks and started handing out the food we’d counted on to get us down the Furioso. Elderly women lined up barefoot and somber to collect it, their eyes thanking us.
CHAPTER TEN
Miles below the calm stretch that moves past the village, the river picks up again. Big challenging rapids for several miles. We had to have our wits about us. Finally we approached a sharp bend, beyond which I thought I could hear a thundering waterfall. Tomorrow we will find out, but tonight I returned to camp exhausted and feverish. Once we get past the waterfall, I anticipate a half day of very challenging paddling to reach the point where the Furioso joins the Magdalena. Must sleep now, feeling a little off. – Malcolm Scruggs
“Feeling a little off?” I echoed. “Exhausted and feverish?” But the next entry said nothing about being ill, or about his companions abandoning him. I double-checked the next entry’s date: It was for the following day. I’d read the next paragraphs a hundred times because they were so exciting – his account of being chased away by angry villagers, being forced to abandon his kayak, and deciding to return home.
But Abuela had never mentioned a chase, and she was clearly mistaken about him being ill for a long time. She’s old, I reminded myself, probably forgetful. And it was a long time ago.…
“Was it a waterfall?” I had asked Gramps back at home.
“I never found out,” he’d said, eyes full of regret. “Those savages never gave me a chance.”
“You couldn’t sneak back and finish the river, Gramps?”
“It was time, Rex. Time to come home. We’d been in South America for four months, had accomplished numerous first descents, and your grandmother was expecting your mother anytime.”
“Oh.” I liked that he’d wanted to get home to be with his family. But I knew him well enough to not fully trust the answer. For the first time, I wondered if Gramps had lied in his journal. Had the river served up too many impossible rapids? Is the Furioso River truly runnable? But if he knows it isn’t, he wouldn’t have let me come, right?
So the illness Abuela claimed he’d had might have been one evening’s fever. Then what? Had he and his teammates fought and separated, or had some Indians really threatened them? Or had he and his team racked up so many first descents that they could afford to leave one? The journal entry after the chase scene merely documented his trip home. Then the diary ended – no more helpful information about the river and its rapids.
Once the guys and I finished our grocery-buying spree and got back up to the Furioso, then we’d be relying on Myriam, our instincts, and whatever scouting we could do.
I lifted my empty backpack onto my shoulders and was waiting outside our hut for Henrique and Tiago, when they appeared with sleeping bags tied to the bottom of what looked to be fully loaded packs.
“Hey, we’re supposed to hike down with empty packs to collect the food,” I said as my stomach tightened.
“Rex, we’re not coming back up,” Henrique said, fixing his eyes on me and standing firmly in the doorway. “We’re quitting. We think you should, too.”
“What? I thought you were having fun. The river’s been fine. We’ll have it knocked off in no time.”
“It’s nothing to do with the river. We just think it’s too dangerous around here – you know, the land mines and soldiers and all.”
My mouth went dry. I should’ve been expecting this, but I’d been ignoring the signs.
“Bullshit. You flew all the way here. You agreed. A deal’s a deal, and you know I wouldn’t have come without backup.”
“Rex–”
“We haven’t seen any trouble. You’re letting a bunch of ignorant villagers scare you!”
“Ignorant?” Henrique’s face took on a dark look. “You’re the one who doesn’t speak Spanish, and you won’t listen even when we translate for you.”
“Myriam didn’t say it’s unsafe. And Jock encouraged us.”
“You’re paying them, you idiot,” Tiago spoke up. “What else would they say?”
I felt my face drain of color. My pulse quickened. They were right about that. I’d never let myself admit it. Am I being stupid? Naïve? Are we really in danger? But even if we were, we were already here. So why not finish it? Why not get out of here by river instead of by hiking alone, without Alberto or anyone else to protect us?
My jaw tightened. I had to fight for this trip – my dream, my only chance to conquer the Furioso. And, anyway, like Gramps said, it was a small window of opportunity. Some other kayaker would come scoop it up if we didn’t do it now. I couldn’t return to Gramps and Mom as a failure. And I needed these two for safety on the river.
It took me only a split second to decide on a different tactic. “You’re chickening out of the canyon. You don’t think you can handle the Class V.” That sounded childish, even to me.
“I told you he wouldn’t listen,” Tiago add
ressed Henrique.
Henrique directed a long, hostile glare at me. “We’ll walk down with you,” he finally said. “And we’ve left money with Alberto to return our kayaks by mule when he can. I’m sorry, Rex, I really am. But we agreed based on outdated government information. If the Furioso were in a safe area, we’d stay, honest.”
I felt my entire body sag.
“Don’t try paddling it by yourself, Rex,” Tiago added, studying me to assess whether I was crazy enough to do that.
“Like you’ve left me any choice,” I said bitterly. “I’m not quitting.” I drew myself up and spun around so my back was to them. “Besides, I just promised to bring them back some food. Something you two assholes don’t even care about. Let’s go.”
We were a sorry threesome that morning, a silent column almost the entire trip down. I made some stabs at trying to change their minds. They exaggerated the information they’d supposedly gotten from Myriam’s people to try bullying me out of carrying on. They didn’t know me, or my family history, well enough.
We made it down the mountain in record time. The minute I caught sight of the road where the buses ran, I snatched Alberto’s hat off my head and stuffed it into my empty pack. Myriam had made me promise to wear it until we got to the road. She’d said soldiers were more likely to hassle a white boy than a Latino. Hassle, schmassle. I can handle myself.
“Internet café, then the market?” I suggested.
“Sure,” the guys said stiffly.
We ducked into the Internet café, where I was relieved to find that Gramps had wired me more money. Not as much as I’d requested, but enough to cover the second shopping trip with some to spare.
“You need to bargain harder with those locals, Rex,” his e-mail read. “Don’t be a wimp; don’t go spending my hard-earned money foolishly; and don’t expect any more.”
I thanked him and assured Mom I was fine and that my teammates and I were enjoying the river, which hadn’t been difficult at all so far. While Henrique and Tiago were finishing up, I scooted over to the money-wiring place. Then the guys joined me at the market and bargained ruthlessly to help me collect the supplies. They even donated a bunch of money toward the stuff. Clearly they were suffering some guilt for not carrying food back up. Should I really abandon my first descent? I could decide after hauling the food up. I would not decide before then.