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We woke up at 5:45 a.m. and packed our bags. We went out of our bunkhouse and met all of the kids. Craig played frisbee with them. The women were in the kitchen hut prerparing our breakfast. It was a nice simple snack which could be eaten quickly on our way out of camp. We ate something they called "baloñas", which are fried green plantain balls with cheese inside. Yum! They were delicious! The Waira Churis supplemented this breakfast with a hot drink of lemongrass mixed with oatmeal. It was a good breakfast for jungle energy.
We took some pictures of the kids as the Waira Churis packed up their things. It was Monday, and we would be moving on to the river kayak portion of our trip, while the Waira Churis would be heading back to their houses and lives in Archidona town. We said our goodbyes to Carlos, who would stay behind closing up the camp. We told him that we liked what he and his family were doing with their camp, and that we would write about it on our website. Much to our surprise, we found out that Carlos is 63 years old. He seems much more youthful.We hope that his children and grandchildren continue to pass their traditional customs down to future generations. It was difficult to say goodbye. It always seems like as soon as we start to get comfortable in a new situation, it is time to move on. I felt like I hadn't really made a great impression on this portion of the trip (between my poor performance on the jungle hike, and injuring my fingers trying to swing from a vine), but I had certainly gained appreciation and respect for the knowledge and skills that allow these people to not only survive, but thrive in this challenging environment. Their knowledge of traditional medicine had healed my fingers miraculously in less than 24 hours. I was no longer worried about infection in the moist jungle environment; my wounds had dried nicely. When Maria and the kids were ready to go, we started the walk back to the road. Maria was carrying a basket on her back, and Lorena the parrot rode on the rim. Tony the adorable fuzzball of a puppy accompanied us as well. Dogs Oso and Kushni had stayed behind at camp with Carlos. It took about half an hour to reach Arturo at the truck. The white truck was back, having been repaired. A part internal to the alternator had been broken. They had even fixed Craig's door handle, so now he could open his door from the inside. We said our goodbyes to the Waira Churis, thanking them for their hospitality. It had been a fun couple of days. It was a 45 minute return drive to Archidona, and Maria rode with us in the truck. The rest of the family would return to town on foot. We felt a little bit guilty leaving them there, but we knew from their prowess moving through the jungle that they would make it home in no time walking by road. We dropped Maria off at her house and then continued on our multi-hour ride to Coca. When we arrived in Coca, what we found was a dingy dirty little city, an outpost for the oil industry. The air was heavy with the smell of oil. Oil as a natural resource is a double-edged sword. The modern world's dependence on oil makes it a valuable commodity. But its extraction and transportation comes ast a horrible cost to the environment in the Amazon River watershed. And then there are the vulnerable native populations of the area, who are suddenly tempted with large sums of money to participate in industry which will ultimately destroy the pristine jungles which had provided for their subsistence lifestyle for generations. I had done some reading on the subject prior to our trip. Joe Kane's "Savages" details the struggles the Huaorani people in this area have had with oil companies, the Ecuadorian government, and NGO's around this complex issue. The irony was not lost on us as we stopped to fill up the truck with cheap gas, and used the rest room at the gas station. As we drove through town, Arturo and Felipe were looking for Ñame, our 16-year-old local Huaorani guide. He was not at the appointed meeting place, but we kept driving. Craig and I wondered if this was a problem, but Arturo and Felipe clearly weren't worried. As we drove through town, a car overtook us and out jumped a teenager wearing a Galapagos T-shirt and jeans. Arturo pulled over to pick him up. We were introduced to Ñame, a smiling shy young man who, it turns out, often works with Felipe and Arturo when they guide in this region. He would accompany us on our kayak adventure and teach us about his people's culture. The five of us would kayak down the Shiripuno River (a tributary of the Amazon) together over the course of the next three days. We would camp for two nights on the riverbank, eventually emerging at the Shiripuno Lodge. We drove an hour and a half more to reach our kayak put-in on the Shiripuno River. There was a small oil pipeline following the river at the roadside. The oil is heated in the pipeline, to keep it flowing quickly. We could feel heat emanating from the pipe. There was a little shelter bbuilt over the pipeline in one spot. It looked like it might be a little covered bus stop or something. We noticed that the pipeline ran along the road almost like a guard rail. It was way too easy for an errant car or truck to smash into it, causing an oil spill which could easily contaminate the river. Maybe this wasn't too much of a threat here, on a small dirt road, but these pipelines ran along other roads in the area where cars travel at highway speed. With all of the viehicles and heavy equipment who travel in and out of Coca, it's a definite risk. Arturo put two camp chairs in the shade and provided us with a lunch of ham, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches and orange Gatorade. Meanwhile, he, Felipe, and Ñame prepared the gear. We felt guilty about not helping, but they told us that it was our vacation and that we should just relax. It was extremely hot in the tropical sun, and we savored the refreshing Gatorade. The guys loaded coolers, tents, water jugs, our bags, etc, onto a large double pontooned supply raft. The reality was, if we had tried to help, we would have just slowed them down. The three of them worked together like a well-oiled (no pun intended) machine. Arturo was usually the captain of the supply raft. But he had had to wake up super early this morning in Quito and drive all the way out to Archidona to get us. Felipe decided to give Arturo a break and captained the supply raft himself. By the time we hit the water, it was 2:30 p.m. Felipe gave us a quick brush up on paddling technique (don't use your elbows) and we got into our tandem kayak. Ñame and Arturo were each in single kayaks. The kayaks were hard-sided and had comfortable back support. We were pleased with the boat that would be our means of transportation for the next three days. As I started to paddle, I forgot about my injured fingers. The sangre de drago worked asa second skin. We thought that we would bake in the sun on the river, but in actuality, the temperature down on the water was quite pleasant, and we soon cooled down. I had packed away my regular camera in a waterproof bag, using our waterproof Vivitar in the kayak. It probably wasn't necessary, though. The water was very calm; there was no whitewater here. There was a small current which helped to propel us along. The river itself was probably only about 30-40 feet wide and there were a lot of trees which had fallen into it which we needed to navigate around. The water level was really low, and at one point we got stuck on a sandbar. Before we even had a chance to call for assistance, Ņame was right there to give us a push and get us on our way once again. We pulled over at a sandy bank and took a dip in the water, getting our lower halves wet. Then we got back into our kayaks. Our Gatorade had turned to hot tea in our water bottles from the strong sun. It was no longer refreshing to drink. A couple of times, we rounded the bend of the sinuous river and came across a part where the wind blew leaves down onto the river, and the leaves floated along with us on the current. The clouds took on a tangerine color as the late afternoon sun lowered in the sky. There orange and pink sun reflected in gently flowing the river water. After a pleasant few hours of paddling, we turned one of the many bends in the river and saw a traditional Huaorani house and a woman at the river. It was like something out of TV, and it seemed to come out of nowhere. We were already starting to feel isolated from civilization, and we would be going deeper into the jungle over the next two days. Several minutes later we arrived at a nice beach where we would set up camp. Although to us it seemed that we had gotten a late start, Felipe told us that this is where they usually camp on night one of this expedition, and that we had already actually paddled 21.6 km. We pulled out of the river on a nice beach at around 6 o'clock. Ņame and Arturo immediately set up the mess tent and started to cook a nice dinner for us on their camp stoves. As Felipe said, 'No spaghettis! Arturo cooks real food. And a lot of it. You wonīt be hungry with Arturo around!' Felipe helped us to set up our tent and he also set up a bathroom tent further down the beach. It was quite a luxurious camp, and it came together very quickly. You could tell that Felipe, Arturo, and Ņame had done this part of the trip many times before and it went like clockwork. It got dark only minutes after camp was complete and dinner preparation was already underway. The timing couldnīt have been better, and we marveled at how well it all seemed to flow. Soon some young Huaorani boys showed up. Felipe said, "They live around the bend. They smell the food. There will be more soon." Arturo and Ñame worked together to cook us up a delicious and elaborate meal in the mess tent. The first course consisted of freshly popped popcorn and vegetable soup. Next was the main course of fried tilapia, French fries, white rice, and salad. Everything was delicious. There was way too much food, and we gave the leftovers to the Huaorani boys, who gobbled it up happily. There were no insects bothering us, and the evening temperature was pleasant. We chatted at the table in the mess tent, enjoying our first night of camping on the river. It was like camping with friends, but it was hard to believe that we were truly here, in the Amazon. This was an adventure we had dreamed about. Arturo served prunes and cheese for dessert. Felipe teased him that clients never like it. We hoped to be the exception to the rule, but unfornately, we didn't like it either, While walking on the sand en route to the bathroom tent, Craig and Felipe both got bitten by something on the foot. It really stung and we immediately scoured the area with our headlamps to try to see what it could have been. We thought we saw something that could have been a scorpion. That was disconcerting. We were glad that our tent had a floor. We went to our tent and went to bed at 10 o'clock. We slept well on our nice comfortable ThermaRest camping mattresses, resting our heads on our inflatable airplane neck pillows. View Larger Map |
         
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