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Steve Robinson

Drowning and Calling for Help


Posted from: River Maranon between Yurimaguas and San Lorenzo.
We're back on the river again, going back to San Lorenzo, the ugly town on the banks of the Maranon. It's cold and grey and we're all wrapped up in Goretex and fleece as if we were on the Wye, not a tributary of the Amazon just south of the equator. Everyone is hunkered down inside the private world of their Mp3 players.

I got back to Lima three days ago after the Christmas break and have been travelling everyday since. First a flight to Taropoto, then a flight to Yurimaguas, then boats again.

We have a new soundman, Pete Eason, who seems like a great bloke - really funny and bright and very experienced. He’ll fit in well. He is on a quest to find the last silent places on the planet, away from the sounds of the modern world. He has microphones so sensitive and quiet that they can pick up the sound of an aircraft flying hundreds of miles away.

A cockroach the size of a tortoise scuttled over his bare feet on the boat today. Then, while eating tonight in a restaurant in a river village called Lagunas, we were all attacked repeatedly by squadrons of mosquitoes. I love my job, but we do end up in some really nasty places. We stayed in a hostel in Lagunas. Giant bats endlessly circled outside and my room smelled overpoweringly of rotting broccoli.

It’s been raining heavily for days and the river is swollen and angry. Huge trees are being swept downstream. When they catch the bottom they stand upright and wave vigorously in the current, as if they are drowning and calling for help. I will be amazed if we ever get to this place Andoas and the oil story. This area of the northern Peruvian Amazon is so remote and hard to get to that its stories seldom get told. We should be there in a few days, if the boats are up to the job.

The highlight of the trip so far has been a totally bald dog we saw at Taropoto airport. His skin was the colour and texture of a plum and he wagged his tail as if he was still hopeful of being stroked. He shone in the sun. He was a nice looking dog, like a small black labrador, but totally without hair. Perhaps he is a rare breed – the Taropoto Smoothie maybe, or the Amazon Hairless. Maybe they’ll catch on. Paris Hilton might like one; I understand she already has a bald cat.

A taxi driver was shot dead by bandits on the road between Yurimaguas and Taropoto last night. We drove that road before Christmas with an armed police escort, but were forced back by a landslide. It seemed like a big adventure at the time, but it’s not so funny now.

Our new boat is the most uncomfortable we have had so far. Steel seats with no backs. There was a most ungentlemanly scramble to secure the best seats before the long journey. I did ok and spent the day in ‘Business Class’, stretched out on a bed of soft duffel bags. We should be at Andoas in two or three days. I can’t wait.

Comments

  • 1.
  • At 08:19 AM on 20 Feb 2008,
  • Pete Lloyd (Tate) wrote:

Steve,
Well impressed with this adventure and all the other work you've been involved in, it's gripping viewing and makes me very envious,
Keep it going,
Pete.

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