Day seven was a big day on the Amazon River for Billy and me. It was to be the day we passed through the tri-border region of Peru, Colombia, and Brazil. While it looked to be easy for me since I had already gotten a visa set up in Iquitos, Peru, for Brazil, we weren’t sure about Billy. As a Brit, he didn’t have to deal with Brazilian visas, but he was at the mercy of the immigration officer for how many days he could stay.
We were on the water just before sunrise that day, to give us as much time as possible at the triple frontier. Our equipment was beginning to show a toll of the many hours on the river. Our two huge paddles had begun to crack along the handles, and the heavy paddling the afternoon before hadn’t helped. While we did have one spare, it was a tiny little paddle that wouldn’t do much if we needed it during a critical time. Over the coming days, we began to ask everywhere for replacement big paddles. It ended up taking quite a few nervous days to find one big enough, but find one we did! Our canoe itself was starting to leak a lot more. It wasn’t serious, but I did have to bail out our boat once in awhile, even when it wasn’t raining. It was looking like we might have to repair the canoe somewhere down the river.
Once again that day, we were cursed with no current, because it was on the Colombian side of the river where we couldn’t go. So rather than get into Santa Rosa – where Peru immigration is located – in the morning like we wanted, we arrived early afternoon. We actually almost missed Santa Rosa. We entered into a channel, where the big river from Leticia, Colombia, entered Brazilian waters. On both sides of the bay were many buildings, so we assumed the whole thing was Santa Rosa. We had started to cross the rapid river, when Billy noticed a sign behind us saying “Bienvenidos a Perú.” Shit. We were heading for Brazil! We did a quick 180 turn and paddled hard for the bank.
Santa Rosa is located on an island, as it turns out, and the city we had been heading for was Tabatinga. Once we got back to Santa Rosa, we took turns dealing with immigration, while the other guarded the canoe. When Billy went, the immigration officer was nowhere to be found, and Billy had to hunt him down. That ate up precious time, and when it was my turn, I had exactly the same problem. Only this time, when I asked people where he was, nobody knew. I eventually gave up, and sat on the steps of the immigration office to await his return. He finally got back, and grudgingly gave me my exit stamp. Billy and I then made the easy river crossing to the port of Tabatinga. Once we got there, we had to cram our boat in with the thirty or so other canoes and small cargo boats. To get to the dock, we had to jump from boat to boat. Once again, we took turns going to immigration, with Billy going first.
While I waited for Billy to return, I made some repairs to the paddles using duct tape. While I doubted duct tape would stop the cracking entirely, I hoped it would give us a bit more time while we hunted down new paddles. When Billy came back, he didn’t have a good look on his face. The officer only wanted to give him 30 days! That was no good. We needed him to have at least 45 to give us enough time to get to Belem at the mouth of the Amazon. And that was assuming we didn’t run into any serious problems. When Billy tried to explain to the officer that it wasn’t enough days, he was told to come back later. So I went for my turn. I hopped on a mototaxi and arrived at immigration ten minutes later. The office asked me two questions, “Where are you going?” and “How long?” and then stamped my passport. All good, phew!
On my way back, I stopped in a few stored to buy more food supplies, since 30 days would still get us halfway down. It was pushing 4:30PM at that time, so Billy went back. He came back with better news, he had managed to get 50 days – just enough to get us to Belem. Billy went back to town to change our US dollars in Brazilian Real’s, and then we had a major decision to make. We had an hour of daylight left, but we weren’t comfortable staying in town. It was too late to find a waterfront hostel where we could safely moor our canoe, and staying at the current dock wasn’t an option – the odds of being robbed looked to be very high. It was that kind of place. So we decided to get out of Dodge, as the saying goes. It seemed like the safest option, and both of us were on edge.
We paddled hard on a very strong current, and made some very good distance away from the cities. Dark was falling quickly, and we knew we would be spending the night in the canoe, so we crossed the river where there was only dense jungle, and found a small bay where we could hide out for the night. We tied our canoe up between two trees, and I set up a shelter in the back of the boat using tree branches and my SilTarp. The back of the boat was barely wide enough for the two of us, but we could almost stretch out. The mosquitoes were biting something fierce, so I wrapped myself up in the mosquito net. While it didn’t stop them completely, it did help. Billy wasn’t comfortable wrapping himself up like that, in case the canoe tipped and he got trapped in the net – a valid concern. He got eaten alive. The problem with the mosquito net is that it was made out of cloth, not netting. This effectively made it into a blanket. It was a very hot night, and in no time at all, everything touching me was soaked in sweat. We had ten hours left until daylight, and Billy and I counted off every single one of them. I managed to get an hour or so of sleep, just before daybreak, but Billy didn’t sleep a wink. I’d say that was probably the toughest night of the entire trip! Bzzzzz!!