CHAPTER SEVEN - SHOOTING WHITE WATER

'OK, then I'll be in the bow with an oar. Marcus and Kevin, you will each take a corner in the stern, holding a long pole. You'll push us along with the poles. Lower them down to the river bottom and give a push. Yossi, you sit here by me holding a pole. Whenever we come too close to a rock or the bank, you use the pole to push us off and keep us from colliding. Understood?'

'Captain,' Marcus piped up. 'The poles are too long and heavy. They're hard to handle.'

Karl picked up one of the long poles that the villagers had prepared and agreed, 'Yes, you're right. They made them too long.' He took out the machete and hacked off the ends, leaving the poles shorter by about a yard. Then he put on my small backpack and tightened the straps. He had spent the day before cutting chips of dried balsa, filling the pack with them. He was the only one of us who couldn't swim and was afraid of falling into the river and being carried away, so he had made himself a life preserver.

Another shove, and heave-ho! We were caught up in the Tuichi's current. The river, which had appeared fairly calm from the bank, did not feel calm at all. The current was extremely swift. Karl pulled hard at the water with his oar, trying to keep the bow pointed straight forward. He yelled instructions back to Kevin and Marcus.

'If she pulls to the left, Kevin has to push her back from the right, and if to the right, then Marcus pushes.'

That quickly proved to be impossible. The poles were now too short to reach the bottom of the deep river. Marcus had turned ghostly white, Kevin wasn't displaying any emotion, and I was very excited. Karl was uptight.

'If you can't reach the bottom, row, row, pull hard!'

'This is a round pole, not an oar. You can't row with it,' Kevin said.

'Do as I say. Is that clear? Do as I say!' Karl yelled.

Kevin rowed indifferently, not making much effort, and it did seem to be pointless. The Tuichi was straight and smooth, and so far we were cruising along without any problems.

After about an hour we came to shallow waters where large rocks jutted out.

'Watch out! Now pull to the left, Kevin, to the left!' Karl pulled at the oar with all his might. 'Yossi, get ready to push us off that rock with the pole,' he said to me, as we rapidly approached a boulder. We all rowed. Marcus tried to push off from the rocks on the bottom. His pole snagged on one of them and was torn from his hands.

'I've lost my pole!' he cried. 'I lost it!'

'Mierda,' Karl swore.

'Here, take this pole.'

I handed our only spare pole to Marcus.

'Get ready, Yossi... push!' Karl cried.

I stuck the long pole out toward the rock that the raft was approaching. I pushed but didn't have enough strength to prevent the collision. The raft took a severe blow and tilted up on its side for a moment, but then straightened out.

We were moving along again but no longer passing through smooth waters. Every few minutes we approached another rock, and Karl was on the verge of hysteria. We somehow managed to smash into every one of them but suffered no serious damage. I lost a pole, and Marcus lost his second one. Things weren't looking so good. We finally managed to pull over to the shore.

'We can't go on like this,' Karl said. 'It's terrifying. Not one of you has the vaguest idea how to handle a raft.'

'Take it easy, Karl, take it easy,' Kevin said. 'Nobody learns how to do it in an hour. We'll get more practice. We'll catch on. Everything will be all right.'

'This isn't child's play, Kevin,' Karl retorted angrily. 'We don't have time for lessons. I could be killed. You have to follow my instructions quickly, without hesitation.'

'All right, Karl,' Marcus said. 'We'll do just as you say. Tell him that you'll do what he says, Kevin, please. Say it.'

'All right. I'll follow your instructions,' Kevin conceded reluctantly.

Karl took the machete and went into the jungle. He swiftly lopped off a few long branches and made four new poles. Then he sketched a raft in the sand and explained how we should deal with various situations. He showed us how to paddle with the pole, and how to use it to push off from the river bottom without letting the river take it away. He showed me how to hold the end of the pole under my arm when absorbing a blow so as not to risk breaking a rib from the impact.

Back on the river there were fewer rocks, and we were getting used to it.

'Right!' Karl yelled, and we all rowed, the raft nudging over to the right. 'Good. Now left.'

We practiced until we thought we had the hang of it, but whenever we came to a difficult pass or a bend in the river, Karl started yelling like a maniac, Marcus turned white, Kevin got angry, and I hid my fears under a mask of absolute indifference. Fortunately none of us was hurt or slipped into the river.

'Yossi, come trade places with me,' Marcus said. 'You should get some practice back here in the stern.'

Good for you, Marcus, good thinking, I thought sarcastically. Any minute now and Poppa will give you a nice pat on the head. But I did as he said. He took up my position near Karl, and I went aft.

'He doesn't know the first thing about white-water rafting,' Kevin said to me. 'Believe me, we're doing everything ass backward. Whoever heard of trying to row with a round pole? Is he putting us on?'

I suspected Kevin of holding a grudge against Karl for having yelled at him. I still believed that Karl knew what he was talking about.

That afternoon the river was serenely beautiful. We grew accustomed to the pace. Karl had calmed down somewhat. 'It's so magnificent,' he said with a sigh. A family of monkeys was leaping from one treetop to another, and Karl imitated their cries. 'There'll be plenty of game downriver,' he promised. 'No one has ever hunted that area before. This river is loaded with fish, too, huge fish. They can weigh over a hundred pounds.'

We came to a slight turn in the river. Karl ordered us to row in the opposite direction, to keep away from the bend.

'That's all wrong,' Kevin said to me. 'We should just let the current carry us along.'

We made it safely around the bend, and Karl began yelling excitedly, 'To the left! Hard! Everyone, row left, fast! We're liable to go into the Eslabon Pass.'

About two hundred yards downriver we could see a profusion of jagged rocks jutting out of the river. We lost two more poles trying desperately to row but finally made it safely to the riverbank. It had been raining lightly, and now it started coming down harder. Drenched and shivering, we decided to look for some kind of shelter. Karl made a little clearing, and we helped him set up camp.

Kevin and I returned to the raft to tie it securely to the shore, unloaded the equipment, and took it all to the camp. The rain let up and finally stopped. Karl took a wet log, cut it in half lengthwise, and used the machete to chop off chips of the inner wood, which was still dry. We were soon warming ourselves around a fire. Kevin called me to help him carry more firewood, and I was again amazed at his strength. He lifted entire tree trunks and carried them on his back. We had chosen a lovely campsite on a hillside in the jungle. At the foot on the hill was a nice little beach.

As usual Karl prepared our dinner. We were having rice, some yucca tossed into the embers, and a little meat from the slab of wild boar that the Don Jorge had given us. Marcus got up and went over to Kevin, who was concentrating on eating. Marcus nimbly flipped his little portion of meat onto Kevin's plate.

'Happy holiday, Kevin,' he said. 'Today is Thanksgiving Day in America. I thought you might like a little surprise.'

'Thanks a lot, Marcus,' Kevin said, obviously moved, 'but I can't take the only piece of meat you're going to get.'

With a stubborn smile Marcus refused to take it back.

Karl started lecturing on rafts. 'This is a really unpleasant surprise. I'm the only one here who knows how to handle a raft. I can't do it on my own. We'll all be risking our lives unless we learn to handle it together, quickly. I think it was a big mistake for me to have taken this upon myself. We would have been better off walking back – '

'Don't rush it, Karl,' Kevin interrupted him. 'It will take some time, but we'll soon be doing it like pros.'

'But time is what we don't have, Kevin,' Karl replied vehemently. 'Don't you understand? We don't have the time. There are treacherous rapids in the pass where the Eslabon empties into the Tuichi. The Eslabon is right here. It takes a team of skilled raftsmen to cross it. I have no intention of attempting it with the three of you. Instead we'll have to secure long vines to the raft and haul it down the river.'

'Good idea,' Kevin agreed.

'Yeah, it is a good idea,' Karl went on, 'but we won't always have that option. A day or two down the river we'll come to San Pedro Canyon. They call it the Mal Paso San Pedro; it's an unnavigable pass. Waterfalls, white-water rapids, rocks sticking out everywhere. No one has ever made it through the canyon, and neither will we. Even before that canyon there are other treacherous passes, and you have to know how to control the raft, how to stop it when necessary. The risk is tremendous otherwise – we could get swept into the canyon. If that happens, we've had it. Just the thought of it scares the shit out of me. We have pulled over twice today, but both times it was only by dumb luck that we managed to stop the raft.'

'What do you mean, Karl, we can't go through the canyon?' I asked. 'You said that you've already rafted the length of the Tuichi more than once.'

'I never said that. I've gone down the Tuichi many times to a point a little farther on, to property belonging to Don Matías, the Swiss. From there I went by foot to Curiplaya, which is on the other side of the canyon. I've rafted from Curiplaya on down to Rurrenabaque many times too. It's smooth, easy going from there, but no one has ever gone through the mal paso.'

'Then how are we going to go on?' Marcus wanted to know.

'That's the point. We have to get as close to the opening to the canyon as we can and stop. There we'll take the raft apart. Two of us will bypass the canyon on foot, while the other two wait. At an agreed-upon time the two who stay behind will set the logs of the raft adrift in the current. Beyond the canyon, at Curiplaya, the river widens, and the current is very mild. The two who've gone ahead will swim into the river to retrieve the logs. By the time the other two get there, the raft will have been reassembled with panchos. From there it's a breeze, but before we reach that point, the dangers are great. You don't know how to use the poles. A real balsero can make excellent use of a pole, just like a paddle.'

'So why don't we just make some more oars?' Marcus asked.

'An excellent idea,' Karl agreed. 'Tomorrow we'll look for some balsa trees and cut a few oars.'

Later that evening Kevin and I sat together talking quietly.

'Believe me,' Kevin insisted, 'Karl doesn't know what he's talking about. It's obvious that he knows nothing about rivers. He's making such a big deal out of this bad pass, like it's so dangerous. You wait and see, we'll take the raft through tomorrow with no sweat. If you're willing, the two of us could take it through. No problem. Besides, I don't trust him. Why did he only now suddenly remember to tell us about this San Pedro Canyon? There's something fishy about the whole thing. Karl is a strange guy.'

Right after breakfast Karl and Kevin went to look for balsa trees to cut oars and soon found some a little way upriver. Balsa trees are very tall with lots of branches, but their trunks are so brittle that it only takes a few machete chops to fell them.

'We'll cut each one down the middle lengthwise and get an oar out of each half,' Karl said after they'd returned to camp and set about measuring the branches.

'I'd like to know how he thinks he's going to cut them right down the middle,' Kevin whispered to me sceptically, but Karl proved his skills. He fashioned a wedge from the branch of a hardwood tree, made a small slit in the middle of the balsa log, fit the wedge into it, and pounded on it with a heavy rock. The log fell into two pieces like a charm.

Karl was a genius with the machete. He rapidly cut the split logs into the shape of oars and then carved them to the desired width and length. He formed concavities in the lower section of each one and whittled out comfortable grips for our hands. Kevin and I worked on the other pieces, cutting them down to the basic shape, and Karl finished them. Now we had to let them get thoroughly dry so that they would be light and resilient.

I proposed spreading them around the fire. 'Otherwise we'll be stuck here for eight days waiting like we did with the raft.'

'It's not good to dry them by the fire,' Karl said, 'but we don't really have any other choice, short of time as we are. We'll sleep here today and go on tomorrow.'

Since it was still early, Karl decided to go hunting.

'What do you think, Karl?' Kevin asked before he could go. 'Maybe we should move the raft down a little closer to the Eslabon Pass, so that tomorrow we'll have an earlier start, pass it by, and be on our way.'

'Good idea,' Karl conceded. 'Maybe I'd better forget about hunting.'

'No, that isn't necessary,' Kevin said. 'Yossi and I will just pull it along by the rope.'

'OK, if you think you can manage without me.'

Karl took up the shotgun and a few shells and marched off into the jungle.

Marcus insisted on accompanying us, though he was suffering again from the painful rash on his feet.

'I think I just have to keep my feet dry,' he said. 'They hurt like hell.'

'So maybe you should wait here,' Kevin said.

'Oh, no, that wasn't what I meant at all. I'm coming to help you.'

We untied the raft and started dragging it by a rope fastened to its bow. The closer we got to the pass, the rockier the riverbank became and the harder it was to haul the raft.

'We'd better get aboard and take it down out to the middle of the river,' Kevin proposed. 'You don't intend to try going through the pass on your own?' Marcus exclaimed in fright.

'And why not?' Kevin demanded. 'It looks to me like it would be easy. We'll stay in the middle and let the current carry us right between the rocks. We might take a few knocks, but that's nothing to get excited about.'

'We can't do it without Karl,' Marcus protested. 'It wouldn't be right. We promised that we were only taking the raft up to the pass. Anyway, Karl knows what he's doing. He could show us the best – '

Kevin interrupted him impatiently. 'Karl doesn't know the first thing about rafts.'

'Well, four is still better than three. Please, Kevin, let's wait for Karl.'

'All right, Marcus, if you want, you can go back. Yossi and I can do it ourselves.'

Marcus was terrified, but he joined us. He and I boarded the raft, while Kevin remained in the water, gently pushing the raft toward the centre of the river. The water was already up to his neck before he hiked himself aboard. From there the current had its way. We started gaining speed. The centre of the river was far less rocky than it had been close to the bank, but Kevin had been wrong. We took more than a few knocks. We crashed into one rock after another, the raft tilting on its side. Both Marcus and I fell into the water and clutched the raft, afraid of being swept away. Somehow we managed to pull ourselves back aboard. Marcus was beside himself, pale, too rattled to speak. The original raft stood up well to the beating it was taking, but the logs we had added, using ropes instead of pegs, were beginning to come loose.

We made it safely across the Eslabon Pass, but we were without poles or oars and couldn't row for shore. Kevin jumped into the water again, holding on to the rope that was tied to the bow. He managed to brace himself against a boulder and from there used all of his strength to pull the raft toward the shore. Together we hauled it up on a tiny beachhead and secured it.

Kevin regarded me smugly. 'You see? A bad pass isn't such a big deal.'

'We did it!' Marcus was exultant. 'We made it on our own! Way to go, Kevin! You, too, Yossi!'

We walked back toward camp through the jungle. We were soaking wet. Marcus found walking difficult and complained of pain in his feet, which had gotten wet again. Suddenly a shot rang out. Karl must have bagged something. I raced forward, in the direction of the sounding. There was no trail, and I broke off branches, jumped over fallen logs, and crawled under low-hanging boughs. I was making a terrible commotion, when a horrible thought struck me: Karl was likely to think that I was some kind of wild animal charging through the brush.

'Karl, Karl,' I called out, 'where are you?'

'Here, Yossi, I'm over here,' he roared.

I found him carefully studying a wide tree. 'What were you shooting at?' I asked. 'Did you get anything?'

'Ah, that was a mountain lion. It was too high up a tree. I missed it. But, look, Yossi, a rubber tree.'

Karl struck the tree with the machete, and thick white drops, like glue, came oozing out of the gash. 'I can use it to fix my boots.'

The nylon thread with which he had sewn his boots together had already frayed.

We went back to the tent and got an empty tin can for the glue. We met up with Kevin and Marcus on our way back to the tree.

'We bypassed the Eslabon,' Marcus informed him excitedly.

'Hey, that's terrific, really. Was it hard?' he asked nonchalantly.

'Piece of cake,' Kevin replied.

'Terrific,' Karl said, without the slightest trace of spite in his tone, 'we'll get an early start tomorrow.'

Within half an hour Karl had enough glue to fix his boots, and we went back to camp.

Marcus was lying in the tent. Kevin was turning the oars over to dry on the back side. Karl set the tin of glue down near the fire.

'It has to harden a bit before I can use it,' he explained.

Restless as always, he got out the fishing line and hooks. He rooted around in the loose earth of the jungle with the machete until he found what he was looking for, a nice fat worm. He baited a small hook with half of it and started fishing.

'They're nibbling, the little bastards, they're nibbling,' he said to me happily, and in a short while he had hooked a minnow. He cut the minnow in two and baited a large hook with half of it, using thick fishing line.

'Yossi, have a go,' he urged, and went back to his cobbling.

I swung the baited hook over my head and cast the line into the river. I hadn't even had the time to roll in the line when it went taut and straight. I had a large fish on the line; I could feel how hard it was pulling.

Take it easy, pal, I thought, you're not going anywhere.

I gently drew the fish toward me. From time to time I let out a little slack and then drew it in again. After a few minutes the fish tired and was easier to pull in. It was a catfish that weighed about ten pounds.

Karl was stooped over the fire and turned around to look at me.

'Oh, ho,' he called out, 'what a beaut! You're really something, pescador valiente [gallant fisherman].'

'Don't get so excited,' I boasted. 'I just started out with the small fry, now I'll go catch a real fish.'

I removed the hook from the fish's mouth and baited it with the remaining half of the minnow. Marcus went down to the riverbank with me to watch me fish.

The line was thick, but too short, only about thirty yards long. I tied one end to a tree branch. Again I swung the baited hook over my head, cast it into the water, and waited. The line was taut in my hand, and I could feel the steady tug of the current. Then something pulled hard. In an instant the line was pulled tight, humming like a guitar string. I had it wrapped around my finger, and it sliced through the flesh. Luckily I managed to free my hand. The branch was quivering, shaking, and then suddenly the line snapped and went slack. The fish got away with the bait and the hook.

I was stunned. I had done a lot of fishing in my time, but I had never felt that kind of pull on the end of a line. The fish must have weighed at least seventy pounds.

Marcus, too, was awed. 'God, what a fish that must have been!' he cried out.

I showed him my injured finger, and he hobbled over to the first-aid kit and carefully bandaged it.

Karl laughed when we told him about the big one that got away. 'Just wait,' he reassured us, 'you'll catch one of those yet.'

'Yeah, and how will we go about that, Karl?' I asked, 'with twenty yards of line and two hooks? How could you have given and traded away all our fishing gear without leaving enough for us?'

'Don't worry, we'll have enough,' Karl waved me off.

I cleaned the fish I'd caught, and when it was ready, Karl skewered it on a green stalk of bamboo and tied it in place. He arranged two forked branches over the fire and hung the stalk between them. We slowly turned the fish, its fat dripping down and crackling in the flames. The flesh was tender and delicious. We could barely stand to leave a little for the next day.

Then Karl repaired the soles of his boots with the glue he had collected from the tree. When he finished, he lay down by the fire and fell asleep. From inside the tent I stared out at him: Karl, the jungle dweller, so at home in the wilderness.

In the morning Karl decreed the oars 'ready to go,' and we carried our provisions on our backs to the place where the raft was tied.

Rafting was heavenly. The Tuichi was placid, the day was lovely and warm, and the raft was easily controlled with the oars. We could manoeuvre it any way we wanted with little difficulty. After a while Karl pointed over at the left bank.

'This was Don Matías's property, but he doesn't live here anymore,' he said.

We went on. I called Karl's attention to the fact that the panchos were very loose, and we were liable to lose the additional logs.

'We'll stop to look for another balsa tree and make some more panchos,' he agreed.

We soon came upon a wide beach where it was easy to secure the raft. Kevin and I went with Karl. Marcus stayed aboard the raft. Karl strode into the jungle, looked up at the treetops, and picked out the distinctive large, clover-shaped green and yellow leaves of a balsa tree. He cut it down with two swift chops of the machete, but the tree was too young, its trunk too narrow. We wouldn't get many panchos from its bark.

'Take it to the raft and then come back,' he instructed us. 'I'll look for another tree in the meantime.'

Kevin and I each picked up an end of the log but quickly threw it down as if it were a viper. It was covered with fire ants. We tried to shake them off the tree, but there were too many of them.

'Make for the water!' Kevin shouted. 'Fast! Run! The sons of bitches!'

We ran, carrying the log, screaming and cursing, straight into the river. Marcus watched in bewilderment as we ran past him.

'Fire ants!' I called out to him by way of explanation.

The ants were still biting, even in the water, as we picked them off each other's bodies. The swift current washed the rest of them from the log. Once we were rid of the ants, we laid the log down next to the raft.

'You might as well go back alone,' I said to Kevin. 'I'll stay here with Marcus and make panchos from this log until you come back with another.'

Kevin headed back, and Marcus and I set to work. With two sharp knives we peeled the bark away in strips, carefully removing the fibres that lay beneath.

'I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you alone, Yossi,' Marcus suddenly said. 'Yesterday Karl told me he's thinking of calling off the rafting and turning back. He claims that it's too dangerous and that Kevin doesn't know anything about rivers. He said that he'll wait and see how it goes today and then decide whether to turn back or go on.'

'In that case there's no problem. We did beautifully with the oars today,' I said.

'Yes, that's true,' Marcus agreed, 'but if Karl should decide to go back' – he paused for a moment before going on – 'let's the three of us go on by ourselves. We can do it without him. If he wants to go back, I won't be able to go with him because I can't walk. My feet are getting worse every day. We're wet all the time, my feet never dry off, and the rash has already spread all over them. We have to go on whether he's with us or not.'

What Marcus said took me by surprise.

'Don't let it worry you, Marcus. We'll all go on together one way or another. I don't think Karl will call it off, but if he does decide to go back, we'll have to go along with him. He's the one with the most experience, and we would have a hard time getting along without him.'

Just then Kevin came out of the jungle by himself. 'I can't find him,' he said.

'So wait here with us,' I said.

'No!' Marcus burst out. 'One or the other of you has to go and help him. He's not our servant. You have to help him. If my feet weren't in such bad shape, I would be more than willing to go look.'

'OK, OK, don't get yourself all worked up,' I said. 'I'll go.'

I found Karl dragging a young balsa log through the sand. Marcus was right; Karl was ticked off.

'Why the hell didn't you come back? Am I your slave? I'm always willing to do everything, but I can't do it without help.'

'Kevin came to look for you, but he couldn't find you.'

'Don't give me that. The whole jungle heard me hitting that tree with the machete. How could he not find me?'

But Karl was a good-natured guy. He never stayed angry for more than a few minutes and was always easily appeased.

We prepared the fibres from the second log and rapidly tightened the loose balsa logs to the main body of the raft. Then we were on our way again. The raft was in good shape, but the river was no longer calm. It became narrower, and the terrain around us grew mountainous. The river wound around numerous bends and scarcely had a bank. Karl soon grew tense. The current carried us up against the rocks and onto the sloping banks. In many places the rapids were white and frothy.

I was in the stern, holding the left oar. Kevin was on the right. Marcus stood next to Karl in the bow. We were rapidly approaching a bend in the river a few hundred yards ahead. Farther on we could see white water and a scattering of jagged rock half-submerged in the middle of the river. The current was very strong, and there was no way that we could stop.

'Left! Quick, to the left! Row as hard as you can!' Karl shouted. 'Everyone together, hard!'

'Right!' Kevin shouted. 'If we go to the left, we'll end up on the rocks.'

'Shut up, Kevin,' Karl almost went to pieces. 'You don't know what you're talking about. This isn't a kayak, and you're not in Oregon. Do what I tell you.'

I had no idea which way to row. I stood there holding the pole. Marcus turned to me.

'Row, row fast!' he screamed. 'Watch me and do like me. Deep, like this. Put the oar in the water just like this.' He was hysterical. His voice was shrill.

The rocks loomed nearer, and there was no way that we could avoid them. Our frantic rowing did no good at all. The raft was taking a terrible pummelling. It tilted on its side and then flopped down, rising up and down, up and down. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the ropes holding the raft together. I could hear Karl's frightened cries but couldn't make out what he was saying. Kevin made some reply, but I couldn't understand him either. A minute or two later everything was calm again, the river had become smooth as glass, and we heaved a collective sigh of relief. The raft hadn't suffered any serious damage, only the outer logs had become somewhat loosened.

'I don't want any more arguments out of you, Kevin,' Karl said breathlessly. 'Either you're going to do as I say, or I'm calling the whole thing off. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yeah, all right. I'll do as you say,' Kevin replied, but only to calm Karl down.

Marcus drew to my side.

'I'm sorry for yelling at you, Yossi,' he apologised, 'but it's just that I'm pretty good at rowing. I used to row the Rhine. I've had a lot of experience, and I just wanted to show you how it's done.'

'It's OK, Marcus. You were right to do it. Anyway, you didn't yell at me.'

'Then you're not mad at me?'

'No, I'm not mad at you,' I said softly.

Up ahead we could see a broad river emptying into the Tuichi.

'That's the Ipurama,' Karl said. 'Let's stop.'

The water was placid at the junction of the two rivers. It required scant effort to pull the raft over onto the sandy bank. The Tuichi was very wide, about a hundred yards across. It was silvery blue, while the Ipurama was dark green; they mingled in an exquisite blend of colours.

Karl took the map out of his pack. He pointed to the Ipurama.

'The Mal Paso San Pedro isn't far now, maybe half a dozen miles, but the San Pedro Canyon begins before that. We mustn't enter it, no matter what. It is a real cajón [box]. There is no shore at all there, just sheer rock cliffs on both sides of the river. What we'll have to do from now on is stop at regular intervals and walk ahead a few hundred yards to check out the river to make sure there's another stopping place up ahead where we can pull up before we reach the mouth of the canyon. There we'll stop, and two of us will go around it on foot to Curiplaya.'

Karl's plan made sense to all of us.

'OK, then,' he continued, 'let's scout our first stopping point. We'll go through the jungle around the next bend and see if it's possible to pull over somewhere. Who wants to come with me?'

'Not me,' Kevin whispered so only I could hear. 'I hardly ever agree with Karl about anything. I'd better not go.'

'Not me,' I said. 'I don't know the first thing about river rafting.'

'One of you has to go,' Marcus insisted. 'I can't walk on my feet in the shape they're in.'

'I'm not going,' Kevin said stubbornly.

'Me neither,' I repeated.

I don't know if we intended to torment poor Marcus, but that's what we were doing.

Karl butted in. 'What's with you guys? You don't expect me to go by myself, do you? I'm only here because you were so hot to go on this trip.'

I relented. 'I'll go with you, Karl.'

We entered the jungle and kept the river on our left. The terrain was level and the foliage less dense than in other places we had been. Karl didn't have to use the machete as we were able to work our way around and under branches.

What actually happened next, however, was unclear, though it must have been the turning point of the entire trip. As I recall, Karl turned suddenly and said something like, 'What the hell are we going on for anyway?' He muttered as though he were thinking aloud. 'I must be out of my mind to risk going into the canyon. No one has ever done it. And what if we miss our stopping place and are swept into it? We'll all be killed. That's what.

'What's the point? There's nothing for me there. Nobody's going to award me any prizes for doing it. So why should I?'

He seemed to catch sight of me then for the first time.

'Give me one good reason,' he said, this time aloud and straight to my face. 'I don't have the time. It could take three or four days to reach the mouth of the canyon. I won't make it back to La Paz on time. Why should I louse things up with my uncle? I told you in the first place that I only had one month. That month will be up in exactly four days.'

He stopped and stared at me.

'That's it, Yossi. I've made up my mind. I'm heading straight back from here. I'm not going any farther. If you want, come along with me. If not, go on without me. I'm going back in any case.'

Apparently I offered no objections, and Karl continued.

'Look, what did you want out of this trip anyway? To spend some time in the jungle? Terrific, we did that. We walked from Asriamas to Río Cocus and back. You wanted to raft down the river. We've done enough of that. You've seen what it's like. Why should we go on? It's just more of the same. If we turn back, we can have a few days' rest, put a camp on the riverbank, do some hunting and fishing. Marcus will have the chance to rest and take care of his feet. We'll eat well, bathe in the river. That's the life. That's the real pleasure. Not a crazy trip down the river, risking our lives for nothing.'

The truth is, I was convinced.

'I'm with you, Karl.'

We headed back without scouting the river at all.

'I'm sure that Marcus will want to go back with us,' Karl continued. 'I don't know about Kevin. He's stubborn, but he won't have any choice. He can't very well go on alone.'

When we came back to the raft, Marcus was sitting, warming his red feet in the sun.

Karl repeated his reasoning and summed up, saying, 'So what do you think? Yossi has already agreed. Marcus?'

'I agree,' Marcus replied.

'OK. We'll go back,' he answered softly.

Karl got the map out.

'We're here, at the juncture of the Ipurama and Tuichi rivers. It's almost impossible to return to Asriamas; it's at least a week's walk. The most logical alternative is to follow the Ipurama upstream. There is a village called Ipurama at the head of the river. It only makes sense that if we follow the river, don't lose it, we'll come straight to the village. We can put up a good, sturdy camp and spend three or four days right here. We'll use up the heavy food: the bananas and the yucca. I'm sure we'll find game here. When Marcus is able to walk, we'll start hiking. Within two days at the most we'll be in Ipurama. There's a trail from Ipurama to Apolo. We'll rest up in the village and rent a few donkeys. We'll ride to Apolo, and from there, no sweat, we'll catch a plane to La Paz. We'll be back in less than a week after we leave here.'

'Are you sure we'll make it to Ipurama so easily? Has anyone ever taken this route before?' Kevin asked.

'Perhaps the villagers have come down here to fish. I don't know, but even if no one has ever done it before, it couldn't be simpler. The river will lead us straight to the village – '

'Take a good look at the map,' Kevin interrupted him. 'The river branches out in three different directions. How can you know which one of them the village is on?'

'Once we're that close,' Karl answered, 'we'll surely find a trail. Look. All three branches of the river intersect the trail to Apolo. It's a very wide path. You can't miss it. It's only a twoday walk from there to Apolo.'

Kevin studied the map carefully and raised no further objections. We started setting up camp. Karl was extremely thorough this time. He assiduously sought a dry, level area, slightly higher than the river, and diligently cleared away every rock, weed, and root. Then he took me with him to look for strong, straight stalks of bamboo and branches. He wanted to remove the panchos from the raft and use them to tie the tent poles together, but Kevin wouldn't let him.

'You aren't thinking of going on by yourself, are you, Kevin?' he asked warily.

'No, of course not,' Kevin answered, 'It's just a shame to wreck the raft. For sentimental reasons.'

Karl laughed. 'All right. I'll find some vines in the jungle.'

Once the tent was up, we set the pack with the food in a dry corner, got a fire going, and rigged a pot over it. Everything was splendidly arranged, and we got down to some serious rest and relaxation.

I decided to have another go at fishing. I found a tree growing right out of the Ipurama, near the place where it met the Tuichi. I sat there under the tree trying to catch a minnow. They nibbled but didn't bite.

I decided I should take my shoes off to give my feet some fresh air. Once I had my shoes and socks off, I could see countless tiny red dots all over my feet up to my ankles. I knew that this was how it had started with Marcus and that I had to treat it right away before it spread. The mosquitoes buzzed around my bare feet. I put my socks back on and went on fishing. Kevin found me there.

'Where'd you disappear to? I've been looking for you,' he said. 'I've got an idea: let's you and me go alone.'

I couldn't believe he was serious.

'I'm sure that we could do it,' he continued. 'The current does all the work anyway. Listen, I'm no idiot. I have no intention of getting myself killed.

'Think about it, Yossi. Why did we come on this trip anyway? Karl promised us an Indian village, which was supposed to be the highlight of the whole thing, but we never made it there. Do you remember how he blathered about all the wild animals along the river? Alligators in lagoons. Goldmining camps. The village of San José, where he lived. What didn't he tell us? All we have left is rafting down the river. Now he's calling that off as well. How long have we been on the river? Less than two whole days. For that I came on this trip? Gave up going home for Thanksgiving?

'I thought that this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And what do I find? That it was all for nothing.'

I hesitated. I had already resigned myself to going back, but Kevin rekindled my spirit of adventure.

'We can do it,' Kevin said. 'We can go on alone.'

As Karl had promised, our holiday at the river junction was the best part of the trip so far. We enjoyed surprisingly clear weather. It was the end of November, and by the beginning of December the rainy season is usually in full force.

'That's another good reason for going back,' he had insisted. 'Try to imagine what it's like getting caught in a rainstorm. Apart from being unpleasant, it's dangerous. The river floods its banks, and the current gets even stronger. I'm amazed that we're having such good weather.'

On the second morning at our makeshift resort Karl and I took up the shotgun and machete and went hunting.

'We'll walk a little way up the Ipurama,' Karl proposed. It looks as good a place as any, and we can look around for a trail to take when we start walking.'

We walked upstream for about an hour, plodding through the jungle. We saw neither machete marks nor broken branches and could only surmise that no other human beings had passed that way.

Unexpectedly we heard a loud roar.

'A jaguar! A jaguar!' Karl shouted.

I looked about, scared out of my wits. I couldn't see anything, but the roaring grew louder, and other, no less ferocious voices joined in a chorus of snarls.

'No, that isn't a jaguar,' Karl changed his mind. 'It's a big howler monkey, a maneche. Their cries are deceptively similar. Look, up in the tree.'

I looked up. A family of enormous brown-coloured monkeys was watching us curiously and calling down to us.

'They don't taste as good as the marimono, the black one, but they're OK,' Karl said. 'Let's get one.'

He took aim and fired but missed his shot. From where I stood, it was an easy target. I had a clear view of the monkey.

'Give me the shotgun,' I said.

I took it from him, aimed, and fired. The monkey fell, grabbed at branches on its way down, plunged again, and then one of the lower boughs arrested its fall. Karl grabbed the shotgun from me and ran toward it.

'It's the size of a gorilla,' he called out as he helped the monkey to a quick and merciful death with another shot fired at close range. The animal dropped to the ground. Karl gutted it right there on the spot to make it lighter. We carried it back to the camp together.

We found Kevin in a great mood. He had been snapping dozens of photos. We had our picture taken with our prey, holding our weapons.

Marcus tried to avoid acknowledging the monkey's presence, though the smell of its scorched flesh, once we'd pitched it into the fire, was pervasive and unpleasant. Marcus had been fishing all morning and devoted all his attention to his task.

'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?'

'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.