Peru 1983: We Were Lucky?

THE IDEA

Another boring night at home watching T.V. Even with free cable (I’d climbed the pole and hooked it up myself), there wasn’t shit on. Surfing the channels, I found a show on the Amazon Rain Forest. I wanted to go there. Hell, if those scientific geeks could do it, I can.  Thoughts like that have gotten me in trouble more than once, hell what’s one more time.

THE PLAN

I’d buy a raft, learn how to use it (no sweat), talk a few friends into going, and off we’d go.

THE CREW

By now (ten years after high school) most of my friends were married with children. Plus, no one I knew (except my dad during WWII) had ever left the country let alone set off to explore the Amazon jungles. I’d start with my family. My brother Paul (everyone calls him Duke) has more drive and guts than anyone I’ve ever met. Once when a good friend of ours, Doug Clinkenbeard, got in a fight in a bar parking lot (he was kicking the guys ass), the losers friend, a 6’6″ monster jumped on Doug’s back. Duke is 5 ft and weighs 115 lbs. dripping wet. But he didn’t hesitate; he flew in and grabbed the monster by the neck and tried to twist him off. The monster just turned his head and casually said, “hey, I’m just trying to break it up”.  I know Duke would go. My dad was 62 and in pretty good shape. He’d been skydiving and was up to 30second delays before he finally gave it up (he’d had a chute line cross his face, rip his glasses off and to add insult to injury, he’d landed on a barb wire fence). Duke had talked him into sky divine; I knew I could talk him into going-I’m a much better talker than my brother.  That was two-I needed two more to balance the boat out. But only got one a childhood friend named Mark Sanders (Ders). I drank a few beers with him, got him all excited about it, and then after a few more he was game! The next morning I’m sure he thought the idea was stupid, but I’ve known him since 4th grade and once he said he’d do something, he never backs out.

REALITY SETS IN

I bought a whitewater raft with my brother Paul and my Dad. Our first river trip down the American River was a near disaster we must have hit ever rock. Plus it was virtually impossible to get information on any river in South America. What I did figure out was there wasn’t any white water on the Amazon. (It drips 1/4″ per mile.)  It’s a lake slowly moving towards the sea.  But undaunted I kept digging for info.  I found a company named Sobek that runs white water river trips around the world.  They had just done an exploratory on a river in Peru.  A ten-day trip through virgin jungle along the Bolivian border. Sounded perfect.  If they could do it, I could.

GEARING UP

The boat we’d bought was a twelve-foot Avon Explorer. Small but it was as big as the airlines would let you check as luggage.  I took a course on rafting and we made one more practice run. It went much better. I made an adjustable rack to hold over waterproof bags and we were as ready as we were going to get.

OFF WE GO

Things started out poorly. It was late when we arrived in Lima and Eastern Airlines lost our luggage, everything but the bag of paddles. We were up a shit creek without a boat! Our cab driver was having trouble staying awake. He drove up the curb once; almost hit several parked cars and seemed top speed up when he came to red lights. I guess he figured the less time he spend in the intersection the less likely he’d be hit. It was 3 a.m. when we checked into the Caruso Hotel. The receipt said it was 5 stars. It wasn’t. It was 6-yeah, a 6 motel with a bidet. We had to wait 2 days to get our luggage back, so we spent the time checking out Lima. Not much to see, none of us are smiling. 5 a.m.  We catch our flight to Juliaca, a small town high in the Andes where the famous Lake Titicaca lies. Well two hours later they were banking the plane to come in for a landing and “shit! Look everyone, the runways friggin dirt!” Well that was a first I didn’t even know they could land a airline on a dirt runway. Hell the airport didn’t even have a tower. And after deplaning I went to use the bathroom. The toilets weren’t even hooked up to a water supply, to flush them you had to dump a bucket of water in the bowl from a 55 gallon drum. I guess our hotel WAS a Peruvian 5 star after all.

Do we make it down the river and back to America? Well, you know I did or there wouldn’t be a story!

25 Years Later I call Mark, “Hey Mark this is Bruce”. “They do guided trips on the Tambopata for less than $500. Why don’t we head down and do her again?” Mark’s Reply, “Fuck You, I would never go anywhere with you again!” “You almost got me Killed!”