The best creatures of the Amazon require grafting to find. Will McGuire hunts through marshes for anaconda, fishes for piranha and swims with pink river dolphins.
‘Aaaarrrgghhhhh!’ A scream tore through the still morning. Jen and I rushed into the dining hall to investigate.
Angry Panda stroked his chin while Sabine shrieked and clawed at herself. ‘Je deviens fou! I mean - I’m going crazy!’
‘What’s wrong?’ Jen asked.
‘Look at me! I have zee mozzquito bites all over!’ Sabine lifted her shirt to show us her back and shoulders. Jen gasped. Lumps riddled her skin like the scales of a caiman.
‘I tell you, must use repellent. You must,’ chided Angry Panda.
‘The repellent doesz nuzzing!’
‘Him!’ Angry Panda pointed at me. ‘I saw him on the boat. Looking and laughing you. He seen it!’
‘What? Me? Get off it!’ I made sure to look hurt.
Sabine collapsed onto the bench, burying her face in her hands. ‘It’s so itchy. It’s making me crazy.’ She didn’t look too well either; pale skin, matted hair and shaking arms.
In the Amazon lowlands there are many dangerous creatures, but none as deadly as the ubiquitous mosquito, a vector for disease and the cause of over 700,000 deaths per year worldwide. They are a constant menace in the jungle, attacking at all times and in all places. Nowhere is safe.
As sympathetic as I was to Sabine, we had only a short stint in the Pampas del Yacuma National Park and a schedule to keep. This morning we planned to hunt for anacondas. I couldn’t let her low mood or malaria compromise the mission. Angry Panda found a lime to rub over her bites, which would soothe the itching. Jen kindly did the honours. As Sabine’s discomfort eased, I wheedled her back into the wild. ‘I promise we’ll look after you. And take every precaution so you don’t get bitten again. You can trust me.’
Marshes, like the one at the back of the lodge, are home to anacondas. But also mosquitoes. We dressed ready for battle; gumboots, long trousers and jackets. The only area left exposed was my face, which Jen pepper sprayed with repellent.
Angry Panda armed us each with a long stick as we set off. In the bush, before even the edge of the marsh, mosquitoes attacked, clawing at our jackets, furious they couldn’t pierce through. Sabine squealed in panic, but once in the open marsh a breeze kept them off. In single file behind Panda, we waded through the flooded field of tall grass.
‘It’s good the water. Anaconda easy see moving.’
Jen was terrified she would step on one. ‘What would happen then?’
Panda chuckled. ‘That between you and the anaconda.’
We treaded carefully, scanning for any ripples in the water. The marsh was silent save for chirping frogs and the trill of birds overhead. I prodded a bush with my stick. Still no sign of anaconda. Panda pointed to a section where the grass was scorched and flattened to crisps. ‘Only couple months ago bushfire here. I was with group and we have to running. The lodge nearly lost.’ He stared at the blackened land and went quiet.
After two hours of not much, Panda thought we might have better luck splitting up, to flush out any hiding anacondas. When this failed he tried warming us towards surrender with transparent loser’s talk. ‘Maybe when weather hotter it’s better. Or no bushfire. Or not so much water you see one. You have to just get lucky.’
I don’t think he’d ever seen an anaconda in his life. ‘We’re not going till we find one,’ I warned.
Sabine suggested we turn back but, to appease me, Angry Panda tried one more idea. He led us to a forested area in the hope that an anaconda might be in the trees. Of course, there weren’t any.
But there were mosquitoes. Millions of mosquitoes. We had stumbled into the mother hive!
The sky darkened as they rose, angry and ravenous; the whine of their wings like an airplane landing on my ear drums.
‘Will, they’re everywhere!’ Jen gasped.
I looked down and saw my jacket was alive, crawling all over.
I swiped them off, but they just returned in greater numbers. A huge queen led the onslaught. She stabbed through my sleeve with her inch-long stinger.
‘Non! Non! NON!’ Sabine sobbed.
The repellent did nothing as they attacked my face. I opened my mouth to scream and they rushed inside. I coughed and spat them out.
Angry Panda shrieked. ‘Let go! Let go! Run fuck run!’ We bolted towards a clearing in the bush. Jen made it through first. Angry Panda pushed Sabine and stumbled over her as she fell. Unable to slow, I trampled her too. In the jungle it’s every tourist and tour guide for himself. The three of us rallied in the marsh as the mosquitoes picked poor Sabine apart.
No one spoke as we canoed down the river. Sabine sat arms crossed, glaring at me, her face swollen out of shape. Angry Panda was a dick. He had really let her down. But her hostility suggested I had been lumped in with the blame. I couldn’t believe it!
Our next activity was fishing for piranhas. I hoped that the change of pace would help us move on and maybe perk Sabine up. Her attitude was getting me down.
Angry Panda dropped the anchor by a bank, where a caiman stalked a lone capybara. He handed us each a little block of wood. Tied to it was a string and a hook. We got a raw beef strip and skewered it through the hook. Standing up in the canoe, I threw out my line. It sank slowly and then hung limp.
I really wanted to catch a piranha but the Dozy Panda wasn’t bothered. He had found a hacksaw and was sawing blocks of wood from his bag. When I whined for help he just said ‘You must keep still.’ Irritating advice, as mosquitoes settled and feasted on my hands the moment I held them steady.
‘Ohhh ohhh!’ Sabine wailed. She pulled on her line and a fish lurched out of the water onto the boat. ‘I caught one! I caught one!’ She smiled for the first time since this tour began. The four of us watched the fish flapping by our feet.
‘Catfish,’ concluded the Panda. Not that Sabine cared, she was beaming. Panda threw the fish back into the water and she followed with her line, her enthusiasm for life renewed.
I was glad for her happiness. But more than anything I wanted that feeling for myself. I held the block still and gritted through the bites.
The line tugged. So did my heart. ‘I feel him!’ I shrieked. I gave a mighty wrench and a branch bubbled to the surface, snared by my hook.
‘Oh dear,’ Jen tittered.
A squirrel monkey cackled from the tree above, mocking me. I’d show that stupid monkey.
As the sun bore down, we began to cook. Inside the thick rubber of our gumboots and jackets was a sauna, but we didn’t dare remove a single layer. The mosquitoes foamed at the stink of our sweat.
‘Ohh another one!’ Sabine cheered, pulling an actual piranha onto the boat. She held up the fish to show it off as Jen took a photo.
‘Ok time we go now,’ Panda decided, bored with his woodwork. He pulled up the anchor, ignoring my protests.
Angry Panda took us to a wider stretch of river where two dorsal fins bobbed in the distance. By this point I was pissed off. I hadn’t seen an anaconda and all I’d caught fishing was a branch. There was no way I was going to let swimming with the pink river dolphins be a disappointment too.
So, after Sabine and Jen refused to get in, I had no choice. I stripped off to my underpants and slid quickly into the river before the mosquitoes had their way with me. The water was brown like sludge with zero visibility. I couldn’t reach the bottom so had to tread. Angry Panda assured me that as long as I stuck to the middle, where it was deepest, I wouldn’t be attacked by caiman.
The pink river dolphin is an ugly creature, resembling a boiled ham with a snout. But for now, all I could see was the fin, stalking me in the distance like Jaws, dropping under the surface and then reappearing closer each time.
‘Splash! Get their attention!’ The others encouraged, from the safety of the boat.
I felt vulnerable to this hidden, mysterious creature, hunting me. Almost as if I was the strip of raw beef being hung out on a line.
A tail whipped across the water and sprayed me. I yelped and dog-paddled back to the boat.
‘No don’t be scare! He playing,’ reassured Angry Panda, returning to his woodwork.
I burst into laughter, giddy and feeling stupid. Another splash blinded me. The dolphin had smacked the water. This time much harder and even those on the boat were soaked. They cheered. I saw a huge mass rise to the surface before disappearing back down.
Being so close to these powerful creatures was inspiring. But the dolphins didn’t feel the same way. They soon lost interest and took off, leaving me to tread water alone for over an hour, while the caiman watched me hungrily from the bank.
Jen dried me off in the boat as we headed back to the lodge. Staring into the distance with a fresh Amazon breeze on my face, I saw a dolphin dive full-bodied out of the water. Incredible.
After dinner we had our final activity of the tour. Equipped with flashlights, we boarded the boat. Angry Panda navigated along the river in the dark.
‘Looking for the caiman. See the eyes.’
Panda shone the flashlight into the bushes along the banks. Jen pointed, excited. ‘I see it! Do you see it Will?’
‘No. What am I looking for? I can’t see anything.’
I took the flashlight and scanned the bank carefully. An orange glint reflected back. ‘What was that?’
‘The eyes - of the caiman!’
I looked again. As the flashlight hit the caiman’s eyes they glistened in the dark. It was both spooky and fascinating. At every bush another pair of eyes glowed back.
‘Light off now.’ Panda instructed. We obliged, switching off all the flashlights. He cut the motor and grabbed a paddle to guide the boat. All around us the jungle hummed with noise: croaking frogs and chirping birds. Glowing lights decorated the mangroves like Christmas trees. ‘Fireflies,’ whispered Panda.
As we drifted under sparkling stars, I marvelled at the natural beauty of the jungle, the wildlife and the sky above. Best of all - Sabine even quit her moaning! Perhaps this rainforest was magical after all.
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