Deep In The Jungle Page 3
“I’d have to ask.” Ryan glanced over at his mother. “Mom?”
Wanda had been listening as she ate and now turned her full attention to her son. “Where is the tribe located?”
“It’s near the Vale do Javari Indigenous Territory,” Ben said. “About a four-hour flight from here.”
Wanda looked at Frank; she had no idea where that was.
“I’m familiar with that area. It’s usually restricted to outside tourists.”
“We have special permission,” Ben said. “As well as the proper inoculation documents. Does Ryan have his?”
“Yes, we all had to have vaccines before we traveled down here.”
“How are you planning to get there?” Frank asked.
“Floatplane,” Ben replied. “Our pilot is Miles Gifford.”
“I know Miles. He’s a damn good bush pilot.”
“So, can I go?” Ryan asked.
“What do you think, Frank? Is it safe?” Wanda asked unable to mask the concern in her voice.
Frank returned his attention back to Ben. “I take it you’re visiting the Matis.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If it’s okay with his mother, I don’t see why not. They’re a very generous people and I think Ryan would find it interesting.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Wanda said under her breath.
Frank turned and leaned in close. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
“Well, I’m trusting you.”
“It’s a once in a lifetime experience.”
Wanda turned to her son. “Sure, Ryan, you can go.”
“Thanks Mom,” Ryan said.
Looking at both Ben and Jackie, Wanda said, “Make sure nothing happens to my boy.”
“Mom, please,” Ryan said, cringing in his seat.
“We will,” Jackie said and grinned at Ryan.
“Great, after dessert, you can come over to our bungalow and we’ll show you what to bring,” Ben said. “We’ll be leaving before daybreak.”
Enzo and Murilo came back into the dining room, both pushing separate serving carts. Enzo’s held carafes filled with hot Brazilian coffee, and Murilo’s had lemon pastries, cupcakes with brown sprinkles, two bowls with whipped cream and strawberries, a plate of sugar cones, and a scoop. There were also small cups filled with vanilla ice cream and a fifth bottle of Kahlua, a liqueur derived from the coffee bean and alcohol for a topping.
Frank clinked his spoon against his wineglass, stood, and raised his glass in a toast.
Everyone picked up their glasses and turned to Frank.
“I would like to thank my lovely bride, Wanda, for agreeing to come on this crazy adventure.” He gazed down at Wanda, who looked up at him and smiled.
“To my family and our new friends!”
“Here, here,” everyone cheered.
Frank sat down and finished off his wine. He switched beverages and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Ally, James, and Kathy were taking turns building sugar cones with whipped cream and strawberries.
“If it’s okay, Mom, I’m going to see what I need to put together for tomorrow,” Ryan said, standing up from the table. Ben and Jackie had already gotten up and were tucking their chairs in.
“Am I going to see you before you leave?” Wanda asked.
Ryan looked at Ben and Jackie.
They both shook their heads.
“I guess not,” he replied.
“Then come here and give me a kiss goodbye,” Wanda said.
Ryan went over to his mom and Wanda gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He gave her a hug.
“Now you be careful.”
“I will.”
“We want to hear all about it when you get back,” Frank said, patting Ryan on the shoulder.
“Night.” Ryan rushed off, catching up to Ben and Jackie who were already leaving the dining room.
Wanda looked at Frank. “Am I silly to worry?”
“No. He’ll be fine. You want a sugar cone?”
“No, I think I’d like the ice cream cup.”
“Sure,” Frank said. He reached across the table and grabbed two cups, along with the bottle of liqueur.
“And heavy on the Kalula, please,” Wanda said, still gazing at the entryway even though Ryan had already gone.
9
Ryan silenced the alarm on his cell phone and climbed out of bed. He’d laid out his clothes the night before so as not to waste time. He quickly dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and put on trousers with elastic ankle bands to prevent bugs from crawling up his pant legs.
He made sure he was quiet as possible so as not to wake Ally and Dillon, who were still fast asleep in their beds under the white mosquito netting that protected them from the malaria-carrying pests. The netting also served as room dividers for privacy.
It was still dark so he used the flashlight feature on his phone so he could see to lace his boots. Next to him lay his daypack. Inside were a change of underwear and socks, a baseball cap, sunglasses, a first aid kit, a spray bottle of insect repellant, a toothbrush and eco-friendly toothpaste, a sealed plastic bag containing his inoculation papers and his passport, and a liter of drinking water.
He’d also packed an extra Dri-Fit shirt made of synthetic material, instead of a cotton shirt, because once the natural fabric became damp from perspiration it wouldn’t dry properly due to the high humidity, and there was nothing worse than walking around all day in a damp shirt.
He crept out of the bungalow and quietly closed the door behind him.
Ben and Jackie were waiting for him with flashlights at the end of the catwalk.
“The plane should be here at first light,” Ben said, taking the lead as they headed down the walkway.
Rays of sunlight began filtering down through the trees, so they put away their flashlights.
They reached the wharf and walked onto the dock stretching out over the brown, silt-rich water.
Soon, Ryan heard the drone of a distant airplane. Gazing up at the flamingo-colored sky, he saw the navigation lights of a small aircraft as it made its descent and the two pontoons splashed down. The single-engine floatplane skimmed down the center of the river and, after reducing its speed, taxied over. The pilot shut off the engine as the plane drifted up to the end of the boat dock.
Ben reached out and grabbed a strut under the belly connected to one of the pontoons to temporarily moor the plane.
The pilot, Miles Gifford, pushed the side door open. “Morning everyone. Climb aboard.” He wore a brown leather bomber jacket, Ray-Bans, and khakis. An unlit stogy was wedged in the corner of his mouth and looked like a permanent fixture, like a cowboy with a blade of grass.
Jackie stepped up first and climbed into the seat directly behind the pilot. Ryan got in and sat in the seat next to Jackie. They put their bags on the two seats behind them while Ben got in and closed the door. He sat in the copilot’s seat.
“I see you brought a guest,” Miles said to Ben and Jackie.
“This is Ryan Rafferty,” Jackie said, making the introduction.
“Nice to meet you, son,” Miles said and shook Ryan’s hand.
“You, too,” Ryan said. He looked about the cockpit and passenger interior, never before having been in an aircraft of this type. “What kind of plane is this?” he asked the pilot.
“You’re sitting in a de Havilland DHC-2 Beaver, built in 1967. She’s a single prop with a Pratt and Whitney 450-horsepower engine, cruising speed around 150 miles per hour. Normal range is 450 miles but as I often take clients on long hauls, such as what we will be doing today, I’ve made some modifications and added a larger fuel tank. She may not purr like a kitten but she’s one reliable bird. Harrison Ford has one of these.”
“You mean the Star Wars actor?” Ryan asked.
“One and the same. Better buckle up. There’s headphones on the armrest,” Miles said and faced the controls.
Ryan put on his headset and cinched up his seatbelt.
Miles reached up and made adjustments to one of the throttles on the console on the dashboard. By the way he kept fiddling with the lever, Ryan guessed he was controlling the mixture, as each time he moved it, the engine would run marginally smoother.
Miles wrote in a small three-ring binder, then closed it up and stuffed the notebook in a side compartment on his door. He checked the dials and gauges, made a few calibrations, then throttled forward, putting both hands on the yoke which was attached to another similar-looking stick in front of Ben, seated in the copilot’s seat.
Ryan looked out his side window and watched as they sped across the water. Before he knew it, they were airborne and he was looking down at the treetops as the floatplane flew over the interior of the rainforest.
“Bet you never thought you would be doing this,” Jackie’s voice said into Ryan’s headset.
He looked to his left and saw Jackie smiling at him.
Ryan grinned back. He gave her a thumbs up. For the first time, he wondered if Jackie and Ben were in a relationship. He had never seen them act like boyfriend and girlfriend.
He liked the idea of getting to know Jackie better.
The last time he was this excited, he’d just bought his ’71 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. Oh, how he loved that car. He settled back in his seat and gazed out his window at the misty cloud cover hovering over the rainforest.
In just a few short hours, he and the others would be landing in a place few people were ever allowed to go, and he would actually be getting to meet a reclusive tribe of Amazonian Indians.
Sure beat Disney World.
10
Wanda couldn’t believe how hard the rain was coming down as she watched the deluge through the dining room window. It was like they had suddenly been hit by a typhoon. A stand of water had quickly accumulated down near some of the pillars supporting a nearby catwalk. The rain was so forceful, it looked like the surface of the large puddle was being pelted by machinegun fire.
“Never rains like this at home,” Wanda said to Frank sitting across from her at the table along with Ally and Dillon. They were having an early breakfast before starting their day.
“The rains here can be torrential but they don’t last long,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’ll clear up soon and we can go for another hike.”
“Can I go on the zip line?” Dillon asked, picking at a tapioca crepe with little enthusiasm.
“You’re too little,” Ally said. She was enjoying a piece of cheese bread.
“I’m tall enough to ride the Giant Dipper,” he protested.
“A roller coaster is different.”
“Not fair, you got to go.”
Ally turned to Wanda. “Mom? Can you help me out here?”
“Dilly, your sister’s right. The zip line is way too dangerous.”
“Don’t worry, Dillon,” Frank jumped in. “Where we’re going today, there will be plenty of danger.”
“Really?” Dillon said, unable to contain his excitement.
Wanda gave Frank a concerned look.
He merely winked back.
When Wanda turned and looked out the window, the rain had already stopped.
***
Everyone wore ponchos because walking through the jungle after a heavy rainfall was similar to strolling through a building being doused by a sprinkler system. Water droplets continued to cascade from the treetops, funneling down large fronds and dripping off the leaves, though two-thirds of the moisture never reached the ground, evaporating back into the air to form the next barrage of rain clouds.
James, Kathy, and Macky had decided to come along, Enzo as the guide. Today, the native Brazilian was wearing a brown t-shirt under his partially unbuttoned raincoat. Wherever Murilo was, he was wearing a different color t-shirt so guests could tell them apart.
Twenty minutes into the hike, Enzo had everyone pause to observe a small short-legged rodent on the ground, biting into a grapefruit-size shell.
“That animal is an agouti,” Enzo said. “It is good for the rainforest. It has strong teeth and can chew out the seed nuts. Those it doesn’t eat, later makes for more trees.”
“Brazilian nut trees can grow as tall as one hundred-sixty feet,” James added, “and believe it or not, some have been around for a thousand years.”
“That’s really something,” Wanda said, craning her neck to look up through the clustered trees.
“That seed pod the agouti is trying to crack probably weighs around five pounds. So imagine getting conked on the head.”
“That would hurt,” Ally said.
Kathy pointed at a low hanging branch just above their heads. “Hey everybody, take a look at that.”
All eyes peered up at a tiny gray bird with a reddish-orange underbelly.
“That’s a rufous-bellied thrush. It’s actually Brazil’s national bird.”
A gathering of small green birds were perched on a single branch.
“Those are maroon-bellied parakeets,” Kathy said knowledgably, sounding like a guide conducting a tour through an aviary.
Enzo waved the group on and everyone followed him down the trail.
They were coming up on a clearing when Enzo turned and put his finger up to his lips asking everyone to lower their voices. He pointed to a small group of animals feeding on patches of grass. They had short hair, some being over four feet long. The largest had to weigh over a hundred pounds.
“What are those?” Wanda whispered to Frank.
“Capybara. Don’t freak out, but they’re the largest rodent in the world.”
“You mean those things are giant rats?” Wanda said.
“Remember, everything is a lot bigger here in the Amazon. But no, they’re more like giant guinea pigs.”
“My God, they’re—”
The foliage suddenly shook around them and the ground trembled.
Frank yelled, “Get against the trees!”
He grabbed Dillon and shoved Wanda and Ally toward a tree trunk. James and Kathy dove for cover while Macky and Ezno took shelter at the next tree.
From high above, bodies and objects plummeted down through the tree branches with thunderous crashes. Scores of melon-size seedpods struck the ground like cannonballs. Woolly monkeys toppled out of the trees, landing hard on the ground. The dazed animals—those not killed outright from the high fall—scampered into the underbrush. Panic-stricken macaws and parrots squawked and flew out of the trees.
Leaves and other loosened foliage continued to rain down.
The tremor lasted for fifteen seconds before it stopped.
“Everyone all right?” Frank asked as the hiking group stepped warily away from the protective tree trunks.
“My God, Frank,” Wanda said. “Did we just have another earthquake?”
“Yeah, a major one.”
11
Ryan hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until Jackie nudged him on the arm to wake him up. He opened his eyes and saw they were descending on a strip of water no wider than a six-lane highway. He braced as the floatplane touched down. Miles lowered the flaps and throttled back on the engine, coasting the aircraft to the sandy shoreline.
Ben opened his door and stepped out onto the pontoon. Jackie passed up Ben’s daypack to Miles, who handed it to Ben. Jackie got out next. Ryan grabbed her pack, and his as well, as he made his way out of the plane.
“You and Jackie go ahead, I’ll be right there,” Ben told Ryan.
Jackie had already walked the length of the pontoon and made the short jump onto the beach. Ryan kept his balance with the two daypacks and stepped lively, leaping onto the sand.
A large crowd of Indian men, women, and children stood on the sandy embankment. As they were an indigenous tribe, Ryan assumed the men would be wearing fig leafs, the women to be bare breasted, and the children running around naked but ins
tead, the Matis were dressed in t-shirts and tank tops—some even sporting popular athletic logos—and shorts, and all of them were barefoot.
Some of the women were holding infants. The other women were fanning themselves with rags and small towels.
Ryan quickly learned why when a cloud of sand flies buzzed his face. He shifted the strap of one of the backpacks to his other hand so he could swat at the annoying insects.
“They’re not so bad once we get closer to the village,” Jackie said and took her bag from Ryan.
He looked back and saw Ben with his pack on his back, carrying two red five-gallon gasoline cans. Ben hopped down onto the sand and walked up to Ryan.
“Can I give you a hand with one of those?” Ryan asked.
“Sure, thanks.” Ben handed Ryan a gas can.
“What are these for?”
“Gifts. Whenever visiting the Matis, it is customary to bring an offering.”
“But aren’t they primitive? What would they need gas for?”
“Their outboards. Ryan, primitive or not, it’s not like the Matis have been untouched by the outside world.”
Ben knew enough of the language that he could communicate with a few of the men. They seemed friendly and laughed along with Ben as if he was the funniest man alive. They accepted the gifts and relieved Ben and Ryan of the burden of lugging the heavy gasoline cans.
As they started the short walk to the village, Ben gave Ryan a quick history lesson about the Matis people.
“There are only a few Matis tribes left today. Most of them died when the loggers invaded their lands, decimating the rainforest and bringing diseases like hepatitis and yellow fever.”
“Sounds a lot like what happened to our Native Americans,” Ryan said.
“You get the picture. Anyway, I thought you might want to participate in some of their rituals.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Matis are firm believers in the animals’ spirits, their favorite being the jaguar. That’s why some call them the jaguar people. Don’t stare, but you’ll see they have facial tattoos that look like whiskers.”
Ryan glanced over at a man walking to his right and saw the thin lines etched on his cheek.