Writings By Phil

Thoughts On This And That

Homeward Bound

March 25, 1978

Early in the morning we walked the road. Unless we found gifts were missing or saw fresh footprints without shoes in the mud, or other signs the Yuqui were in the area, it would be our last trek down that lonesome road. It would be time to seek greener jungle in which to look for the illusive nomads.

When we reached the swamp tractor, Paul Short and Matt Castagna walked on, leaving me to install the part that Brian Porterfield had airdropped back on the Hediondo a few days before. While they were gone, my task was to get the bogie running once more. Two hours later, as I was pouring oil back in the gear box to finish up, they returned. They had not seen any indication that the Yuqui had returned to the area. They had collected all the gifts we had left for the wild ones to find. The newly installed part fixed the tractor, and we were soon on our way back to camp riding in style!

It was noon when we arrived, and Wally Pouncy already had a meal prepared for us. After eating, we dismantled the camp, loaded our gear into the trailer and headed for the sawmill. Wally was driving and when we got to the river, he eased it down the bank and into the water. As it splashed into deep water and began to float, a fish jumped out of the muddy depths and landed on the wooden platform around the driver’s seat. Wally grabbed it before it flipped itself back into its natural habitat. When we arrived at the sawmill, he gave it to the two Bolivian caretakers who had stayed behind when the rest of the loggers left at the start of rainy season.

Soon after we got to the sawmill where we  would spend the night, Wally had supper on and we began to eat. Unbeknown to us, the nationals were also preparing food for us. When one of them came over to invite us to share a meal with them we were already eating. He stood around a long time, seemingly unsure of himself and of what to say, or do next. Finally, he blurted it out and asked us to come and eat with them.  We told him we had already eaten, as he could see, but he just smiled and said come anyway, and left.

A short time later his partner came over and invited us again, saying they had lots of food and it was ready. Rather than offend them, we decided to go.  We washed our dishes and took them with us to where the Bolivians lived. By the time we arrived, night had fallen, and it was so dark inside the hut that I could hardly make out what the cook piled on my plate. I hoped it wasn’t pig intestines, or one of the other dishes I had heard about.  Thankfully, it was not.  It turned out to be some kind of bean dish, and was really quite tasty.  When we finished, they did our dishes for us. We thanked them for their hospitality, bid them goodnight, and headed back to our hut.

Though it was dark, I went down to the river to wash up before crawling into my sleeping bag. In the darkness it was an accomplishment to navigate the steep, muddy bank without falling. I climbed down and back up without incident and was ready for the next challenge of climbing into my jungle hammock without toppling out the other side. I had not had good luck sleeping in them before and I hoped the night would be better. As my weight settled into the hammock it stretched till all was taunt. Then, all at once, the dry sticks I had used to hold the net away from my body broke and the mesh caved in upon me. I regretted not having taken a little more time to cut green sticks to do the job right while it was still light.

Foolishly, I thought I could save ten minutes by using easily obtained dry sticks. Now I would pay for my stupidity. To replace them in the dark would take considerably more time if it was even possible. At least the mosquitos would get their fill of Phil! I pulled my clothes back on, got my flashlight out of my pack and went to look for new sticks. I couldn’t find any readily available and gave up the idea. Instead, I tied the net up with string that I secured to the rafters. That was a better idea than dried out sticks, but I still had a bad feeling the night was going to be very long indeed!

The day completed two months since Matt and I arrived in Bolivia. What a way to celebrate! Tomorrow we would be home at the Rio Hediondo.

FIN

This story was from the category Tales From Green Hell. If you would like to read more of my experiences in the jungles of Bolivia, please click on that link below.

More Writings by Phil

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