Lost in the Jungle

by Yossi Ghinsberg

  ‘Yossi, come here, quick!’ he screamed excitedly.

  The line was quivering; he had hooked a big fish, powerful and quick. I grabbed the line but didn’t have enough to give the fish any slack. I gently tried to slow it to a standstill. Now the battle was on. I took in a little line, and he took it back. I knew that the fish was strong enough to break a line of this thickness. I reeled it in a few yards; it pulled back with a fantastic burst of energy. The line resounded with a shrill hum. I gripped it tightly. The fish let up a little, and I took in a few more yards of line, and then the fish tried a new tack: it swam quickly toward me, making the line go slack, and then suddenly sprang out of the water with a tremendous leap. It was beautiful, covered with golden scales, about a yard long. We let out cries of admiration.

  ‘Dorado!’ Karl called out. ‘It’s a dorado, the best fish in the river.’

  ‘That’s my fish. I caught it. Give me back the line. Yossi, give it to me now,’ Marcus whined.

  ‘It’s not your fish,’ I yelled furiously. ‘It’s food for all four of us. Get out of my way now.’

  Karl tried to calm Marcus down. Kevin was taking pictures; he caught every move I made.

  After about fifteen minutes the fish got tired. I reeled it in, almost to the shore. Finally, when it was about six feet from the bank, Karl jumped into the water, grabbed hold of it, and tossed it up onto the sand. It was enormous, glinting golden in the sun.

  ‘Nice going, Yossi,’ Karl crowed, and slapped me on the back.

  Karl took good care of us as usual. He wanted us to enjoy our dinner and made a cucumber salad with garlic and lemon. He had collected the fat from the fish and melted it in the pan to fry slices of plantain.

  Dinner was served. We all held our bowls in our laps and busied ourselves eating. The fish was delicious, white, tender, and boneless. Marcus sat on a log at a distance from the rest of us. He looked depressed. I went over and sat next to him.

  ‘I’m sorry I acted like a baby,’ he said, ‘but I’ve never caught a fish before, and I wanted to land it myself. I know it was stupid of me. I apologise.’

  ‘Forget it, Marcus,’ I replied. ‘I owe you an apology, too. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I wasn’t just trying to show off. It’s just that I knew we needed the food. I mean, all of us would rather eat fish than monkey.’

  ‘You’re right, Yossi. I’m glad that we can talk. I don’t know what to do. Kevin is so hostile to me.’

  ‘He’s just in a rotten mood because we aren’t going to be going on down the river. It’s hard for him to accept the fact that we’re giving up and going back.’

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ Marcus said, ‘I would just as soon go on, too, even if it is dangerous. At least we wouldn’t have to walk. I don’t know if I can take a long walk.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Karl says it will only take two days. Then we can get mules to go on.’

  ‘Maybe so, but Karl also claimed that the Indian village would only be a five-day walk, and he was wrong.’

  Later, Karl and I remained alone by the fire.

  ‘So, what did I tell you?’ he asked contentedly. ‘Rest, good fishing, good hunting, good talk under a moonlit sky. As far as I’m concerned, you can’t beat it.’ He paused. ‘Weird, isn’t it, how the three of you ended up here with me? Three characters: Kevin – fuerte como tres hombres [with the strength of three men]; you – adventurero; and Marcus – turista, tipico professor.’

  The next day Kevin systematically pumped Karl for every last detail about the mal paso and canyon. Karl was happy to answer his questions in order to prove how reasonable and logical his decision to turn back had been. He marked the approximate location of the canyon and the dangerous pass on the map.

  Marcus harboured suspicions that Kevin wasn’t asking all those questions out of idle curiosity. He asked me about it privately and said that if we were planning to go on by raft, he would seriously consider joining us.

  ‘If you two are going on together,’ he said, ‘it could be very risky. Three pairs of hands are better than two.’

  ‘I don’t know, Marcus,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what Kevin has in mind.’

  Later, when I told Kevin that Marcus wanted to join us, he objected vehemently.

  ‘He can’t come. He would ruin everything. There’s no getting around it, we’ll just have to tell him that we don’t want him along.’

  ‘We can’t do that. He gets his feelings hurt so easily. We’ll have to find some other way.’

  Dissuading Marcus turned out to be rather simple. Marcus hadn’t given up on catching a fish. He sat on the bank of the Ipurama trying to hook a minnow. I went over to him.

  ‘You were right, Marcus,’ I told him, ‘Kevin really does intend to go on with the raft. It would be too big of a disappointment for him to just turn around and go back to La Paz. He told me just now.’

  ‘Does he intend to do it alone?’ Marcus asked, marvelling.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘and I think it’s crazy, a good way to get killed, but he’s just plain stubborn, and nothing will change his mind. If he tries to do it alone, he doesn’t stand a chance. He’ll never make it alive. So one of us has to go along to help him.’

  ‘Only one of us?’ Marcus asked. ‘Why not both of us?’

  ‘Well, I’d just as soon go back with Karl. I’ve had enough walking in the jungle and enough of this river. I’m ready to head back, but if I have no other choice, I’ll go on with Kevin. Two together could make it, and I’m not about to let him commit suicide. The truth is, however, I’d rather you go. Your feet hurt, and you’d be better off on the raft than walking anyway. Why don’t you go on with Kevin, and I’ll go back with Karl?’

  ‘No way,’ Marcus protested. ‘I’m not going anywhere with Kevin by myself. You’ve seen the way he treats me. I’m really sorry, Yossi, but there’s not a chance. I’ll go with Karl.’

  ‘In that case I guess I’ll have to go with Kevin.’

  Everything was settled.

  I hurried off to find Kevin and proudly tell him how I had conned Marcus into doing as we had planned. Kevin looked thoughtful.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘now we can lay our cards on the table.’

  We went over to Karl and told him that we were planning on going on alone.

  Karl was more than fair. He wasn’t angry and didn’t try to change our minds. He was just worried and warned us of the dangers we might encounter.

  Kevin asked him for a straight yes or no. ‘Is it possible to make it through the canyon?’

  ‘I’ve already told you about the cajón. There are two rock faces rising straight up on either side of the river. Once you’re in there, there’s no way that you can stop. The current will take you straight to the dangerous pass.’

  ‘What’s so dangerous about it? Can we make it through?’ I asked.

  Karl scoffed at the idea. ‘Not a chance. Four skilled balseros wouldn’t even consider attempting it. And there’s only two of you. It would be suicidal. It’s called Mal Paso San Pedro for good reason. Do you know who San Pedro is? He’s the guy that stands at the Pearly Gates. And that’s just what they meant when they named the pass after him. Anyone who enters the mal paso can expect a personal encounter with San Pedro.’

  ‘How is it that you know so much about it?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘I’ve bypassed it over the mountains by foot and seen it from above. When I did it three or four years ago, there was a trail already cut, so it was pretty easy going. The trail was a year old, but I could still use it. By now it’ll be all grown over, and I doubt that you’ll find any trace of it.’

  ‘Is there any way to tell where we should even look for the trail and how far we can go by raft?’ Kevin asked.

  Our original plan had been to come to the mouth of the canyon, dismantle the raft, and put it back together on the other side.

  ‘Just the two of you won’t be able to do that by yourselves. The only thing you can do is to stop before the
canyon and just leave the raft there. If you make it past the pass, you’ll come to Curiplaya. There won’t be a living soul there this time of year. The miners go home at the end of the dry season by raft. Every year before they leave, however, they chop down balsa trees and leave them to dry and be ready for the following year. Once you make it to Curiplaya, all you’ll have to do is find some panchos and put together a small raft from the dry logs. From there on, the river is nice and smooth, and you shouldn’t have any problems.

  ‘If you do build a raft in Curiplaya, don’t forget to cut down balsa trees to replace the ones you take. It isn’t hard work, and it’s only fair to the villagers. If you like, you can even pan for a little gold in Curiplaya. If you have a good look around, you’ll find digging tools and bateas. The miners leave everything there. And there’s also a banana grove there and good fishing.’

  Kevin had little patience. ‘Karl, stick to the point. How will we know for sure where to stop before entering the canyon, and where should we look for the trail?’

  ‘Take it easy, Kevin,’ Karl laughed. ‘Yossi, you’ll have to watch that he doesn’t go over the speed limit on the river.’

  He marked our position on the map he had drawn and drew a line representing the Tuichi.

  ‘This is the river. From here on it’s rough going, but if you’re willing to risk going by raft, it will save you two days of walking. You can’t miss the mouth of the canyon. You’ll see a big island covered with tall trees right in the middle of the river. On your left you’ll see a narrow shore. That’s where you have to stop. Don’t forget. When you see the island up ahead, start pulling over. If you have any trouble, dive into the water and swim for it. Don’t, under any circumstances, go into the cajón.’

  ‘OK, Karl. Don’t worry, we won’t,’ Kevin said, clearly exasperated. ‘So that means we raft down till we come to the big island. There’s a shore on the left bank. Is that where the trail will be?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘How long will it take us to get around the canyon?’

  ‘It all depends. About two days if you find the trail. If it’s completely overgrown, it could take you a lot longer.’

  Kevin thought for a moment, then turned to me and asked, ‘How does it sound to you, Yossi?’

  ‘My grandmother could do it.’ Karl and Kevin began dividing up our equipment.

  ‘You obviously will need the machete,’ Karl said. ‘Otherwise you won’t be able to build a new raft. We will probably have a hard time getting through the jungle without it, but we can make do with the knife. As for the shotgun, you need – ’

  ‘We won’t be needing the shotgun,’ Kevin broke in, ‘but we’ll take the fishing line and hooks. You take the shotgun and ammunition. We won’t have any time for hunting, and anyway the ammunition is likely to get wet in the river.’

  ‘OK, fine,’ Karl agreed. ‘If we’re taking the shotgun, then you can take most of the food. I’m sure that Marcus and I will find plenty of game. You can take the nylon sheeting too. It’ll help keep your equipment dry. We won’t be able to set up camp without a machete anyway. We’ll take the pup tent,’ Karl concluded.

  Karl and Kevin went over each item together in this way. We hadn’t yet touched the monkey meat. Karl gave us that except for two small slabs. The lighter presented a problem, for we had only one left. Kevin and I retained possession of it, but we left them ten of the twenty matches we still had and half the paper for striking them. Kevin gave Marcus those of his possessions that he had decided not to take with him. He gave him his precious rolls of exposed negatives with the hundreds of pictures he had taken during the past month along with the accessories to his camera and the tripod.

  ‘They’ll be safer with you,’ he said to Marcus.

  That afternoon Kevin went out to get the feel of the river. He swam downstream and came back on foot through the jungle.

  ‘It’s not so good,’ he told me. ‘Just a quarter of a mile downstream there’s already a dangerous pass. I hope we won’t have any problems getting past it.’

  ‘No sweat,’ I said. ‘If we’re going to have an adventure, let’s do it right.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Kevin scolded me. ‘I don’t intend to take any unnecessary risks on this trip. I know just how dangerous a river can be. While we’re on the raft, you have to listen to me and do just as I tell you.’

  I’ve replaced one tyrant with another, I thought to myself, though I knew he was right. I had been silly, but it was only to hide my fear.

  Karl was up first as usual and roused the rest of us. He wanted to get an early start.

  The atmosphere was fraught with tension. Marcus fussed with his backpack. Karl joked around a bit, trying to get his spirits up, without a great deal of success. Finally they were ready, each with his pack on his back. Karl had the shotgun, and a knife dangled from his belt in place of the machete he had left with us.

  ‘Well, that’s that. Time we were going,’ he said. ‘I’d rather walk on the opposite bank, since Yossi and I have already been a ways upriver on this side without coming across any traces of a trail. We might find one on the far side. So now would you be good enough to take us across the river on the raft so that Marcus won’t get his feet wet.’

  ‘That’s my only hope,’ Marcus said. ‘As long as my feet stay dry, I’ll be able to walk. If they get wet again, all of the skin will peel off.’

  Once we had taken Karl and Marcus to the opposite bank of the Ipurama, we all shook hands. Karl commented jokingly that he hoped we wouldn’t be fishbait by this time tomorrow. Then he gave us a final warning: ‘Stay together, no matter what, even if one of you is hurt and can’t walk. Don’t ever leave the other behind in order to go for help. If one of you gets hurt, do anything you can to make it to the riverbank and wait there. Whoever is uninjured will take care of the other and get food for him until help arrives. As long as you stay on the riverbank there’s always the chance of help arriving.’ Karl promised that if we didn’t arrive in Rurrenabaque by the fifteenth of December, he would notify the authorities and make sure that they came looking for us.

  ‘We’re still good friends,’ Marcus said to me in parting. ‘I’ll be waiting for you in La Paz. Do you remember that little teahouse where we used to sit talking? I’ll take you there. We’ll sit and be friends like we used to be.’

  ‘That’s right, Marcus,’ I answered. ‘We’ll get out of this jungle. Back in the city we’ll be friends just like before.’

  ‘I’ll be praying for you. I promise that if you’re not back on time, I’ll go to the Israeli embassy. I’ll do everything to make sure that they come looking for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Remind them that I left a note there describing our route.’

  ‘Don’t be so worried,’ Kevin reassured him. ‘We’re planning on surprising you and making it back to La Paz before you do.’

  Karl burst out laughing. ‘You’re full of shit, Kevin,’ he said.

  We once again shook hands, and Marcus said, ‘See you in La Paz. God be with you. I’ll be praying for you. Goodbye.’

  They turned their backs on us and marched away. Karl confidently led the way. Marcus trudged after him but turned around for one last glance at us before he vanished from sight entirely.

  Chapter eight

  THE ACCIDENT

  Kevin broke the silence. ‘Get a move on, Yossi. We still have a lot to do.’

  We crossed back to the other side of the Ipurama and set to work. Kevin uncoupled the four logs we had added to the raft in Asriamas. Then, using panchos the way Karl had taught us, we tied the logs to one another to make a smaller raft.

  ‘This,’ Kevin explained, ‘will serve as our life raft. We’ll fasten all of our equipment down to it.’

  We bound the small raft tightly to the centre of the larger one using the ropes and leather strips that Marcus had left us.

  ‘The main raft will take all the knocks from the rocks, and if anything happens to it, all we’ll hav
e to do is to chop the straps with the machete, and the life raft will be set free. We just jump onto it and use it to get ashore.’

  It sounded reasonable to me.

  Kevin emptied the backpacks and rearranged our possessions. In the larger of the two packs he put the bulk of our equipment: the pot and utensils, the sheets of nylon that served as tenting, his extra clothes and sandals, the large stalk of bananas, and the smoked monkey meat. He lined the smaller pack, which he called the life pack, with a waterproof rubber bag. Then he filled the bag with the first-aid kit, the map of Bolivia, the two green mosquito nets, Dede’s red poncho, the flashlight, the lighter and matches, and his camera along with an extra lens and film. He placed our documents and what money we had into a watertight metal box. I reluctantly took my wallet with my uncle’s tiny book from my pocket. Kevin was watching me. He carefully, wordlessly placed the wallet into the metal box. Finally we fitted the rice and beans into additional waterproof bags. Kevin cinched the mouth of the rubber bag tightly shut and closed the pack over it. To the top of the pack he tied two large, sealed tin cans to keep it afloat if it should fall from the raft. He placed the entire pack into a nylon bag, which he filled with balsa chips to make it buoyant. The packs were tied firmly to the life raft, and we were ready to go.

  We combed the camp area one last time, but we hadn’t forgotten anything. Kevin was very thorough. He kicked through the blanket of leaves that had served as our ground cover and poked through the charred remains of the fire. Nothing was overlooked.

  Excited, my stomach fluttering, I boarded the raft. Kevin stood in the water, gave the raft a good shove, and then jumped up beside me.

  ‘Everything’s going to be just fine,’ he assured me. ‘Just remember what you said yourself: your grandmother could do it. And one other thing: keep alert and pay attention to my instructions.’

  ‘You’re the captain,’ I answered.

  I wanted to believe that Kevin knew what he was talking about, but at that moment I was pretty nervous. The current seized the raft, and Kevin instructed me to change the pole for an oar.