Lost in the Jungle (16 page)

‘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.

Kevin broke the silence. ‘Get a move on, Yossi. We still have a lot to do.’

We crossed back to the other side of the Ipurama and set to work. Kevin uncoupled the four logs we had added to the raft in Asriamas. Then, using
panchos
the way Karl had taught us, we tied the logs to one another to make a smaller raft.

‘This,’ Kevin explained, ‘will serve as our life raft. We’ll fasten all of our equipment down to it.’

We bound the small raft tightly to the centre of the larger one using the ropes and leather strips that Marcus had left us.

‘The main raft will take all the knocks from the rocks, and if anything happens to it, all we’ll have to do is to chop the straps with the machete, and the life raft will be set free. We just jump onto it and use it to get ashore.’

It sounded reasonable to me.

Kevin emptied the backpacks and rearranged our possessions. In the larger of the two packs he put the bulk of our equipment: the pot and utensils, the sheets of nylon that served as tenting, his extra clothes and sandals, the large stalk of bananas, and the smoked monkey meat. He lined the smaller pack, which he called the life pack, with a waterproof rubber bag. Then he filled the bag with the first-aid kit, the map of Bolivia, the two green mosquito nets, Dede’s red poncho, the flashlight, the lighter and matches, and his camera along with an extra lens and film. He placed our documents and what money we had into a watertight metal box. I reluctantly took my wallet with my uncle’s tiny book from my pocket. Kevin was watching me. He carefully, wordlessly placed the wallet into the metal box. Finally we fitted the rice and beans into additional waterproof bags. Kevin cinched the mouth of the rubber bag tightly shut and closed the pack over it. To the top of the pack he tied two large, sealed tin cans to keep it afloat if it should fall from the raft. He placed the entire pack into a nylon bag, which he filled with balsa chips to make it buoyant. The packs were tied firmly to the life raft, and we were ready to go.

We combed the camp area one last time, but we hadn’t forgotten anything. Kevin was very thorough. He kicked through the blanket of leaves that had served as our ground cover and poked through the charred remains of the fire. Nothing was overlooked.

Excited, my stomach fluttering, I boarded the raft. Kevin stood in the water, gave the raft a good shove, and then jumped up beside me.

‘Everything’s going to be just fine,’ he assured me. ‘Just remember what you said yourself: your grandmother could do it. And one other thing: keep alert and pay attention to my instructions.’

‘You’re the captain,’ I answered.

I wanted to believe that Kevin knew what he was talking about, but at that moment I was pretty nervous. The current seized the raft, and Kevin instructed me to change the pole for an oar.

‘All we have to do is to keep the front of the raft pointed straight ahead,’ he said. ‘We’ll let the current carry us along. We should make the bank Karl was talking about sometime today.’

We were rapidly coming upon the first difficult pass. I could see jagged rocks jutting out of white-water rapids.

‘To the right, Yossi! Pull hard!’

We ran into a rock, and the raft climbed partway up, the logs shuddering under our feet. Then we were back in the current and about to ram another rock. I made no attempt at rowing but held on to the leather straps for dear life. Kevin was doing the same in the bow. The raft, tossed from to rock to rock, descended churning falls, most of the time tilted to one side.

‘Hold on tight, Yossi! Don’t let go!’

My eyes were squeezed shut.

Just as suddenly we found ourselves drifting once again on a placid river. Looking behind me, I could see the white waters that we had just come through.

‘Hey, we made it!’ I shouted joyously.

Kevin smiled back at me and gave me a thumbs-up. Now we both realised how dangerous this journey was. We had discovered how little we could control the raft. While we were being carried along by the powerful current, we hadn’t even been able to keep the front of the raft pointed straight ahead. No, my grandmother wouldn’t have come along on this trip. Now that there was no one else along with us snivelling, I no longer felt the need to act the tough guy.

We spent the next two hours drifting easily, convinced that we would reach our destination. The scenery was breathtaking. Evergreen-covered mountains towered over reddish cliffs along the shore. Occasionally we passed a narrow waterfall, cascading from the heights to the river. From time to time a family of monkeys accompanied us downstream, jumping from tree to tree. Kevin considered taking the camera out but decided it would be too risky and gave up on the idea.

Around noon we ran into trouble. A large rock jutted out from the shore, and the water pounding against it formed a treacherous whirlpool. The current carried us into its centre. We tried for two hours to get out of it without success. Finally seeing no other way, Kevin swam to shore, climbed onto the rock, and tried to use the rope that was tied to the front of the raft to pull it out of the whirlpool. Twice he slipped, fell into the water, and was swept away by the current, but quickly recovered. On his third try the rope broke off in his hands, and he fell once again into the water, but this time he didn’t return so quickly. I was left whirling with the raft, fear churning in my stomach. What if Kevin had drowned? What would become of me? I sat on the raft, craning my neck, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of him. When I saw his straw hat carried downstream, I froze.

Kevin returned about fifteen minutes later, bleeding from a deep wound on his knee.

‘The undertow here is incredible,’ he said. ‘I thought I was drowning. My air was gone, but just in time the current threw me to the surface, and I made it to shore.’

‘What about your leg?’

‘Oh, I didn’t even notice. I guess I must have hit it against a rock. Shit, I lost my straw hat.’

Instead of attempting to navigate out of the whirlpool, we moored the raft to the riverbank. It was a great relief to have solid ground under my feet.

The next time we tried something else. We pulled the raft upriver, jumped aboard, and rowing with all our strength, tried to get past the whirlpool and back into the middle of the river. We succeeded on the third try. After our cries of joy had died down, Kevin remarked thoughtfully, ‘Maybe we should have just stayed back there. It wouldn’t have been such a bad place to camp.’

‘But we’ve still got a while before dark,’ I said. ‘Anyway, it’s better that we should get all the way to the mouth of the
cajón
and camp on the bank that Karl showed us on the map. It would be nice to know that we start walking tomorrow.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Kevin agreed.

The reddish cliffs encroached upon the riverbank. It was as if suddenly the river had no banks at all.

‘This must be it,’ Kevin declared. ‘Get ready. We should sight the island any minute now. When we do, you start rowing to the left as hard as you can. If we run into any serious trouble, jump overboard and swim for shore. This is starting to look like it must be the canyon.’

We were both on edge, alert. The current grew stronger. Where in hell was the island?

There was a large rock near the right-hand bank. We were swiftly being drawn toward it. To its left the riverbed dropped sharply, though it was impossible to see just how far. Nevertheless the water cascaded over the edge with a mighty roar. Maybe we could pass to the right of the rock, between it and the riverbank.

‘To the right, to the right! Harder, faster!’

I was rowing desperately with all my strength. I closed my eyes, and we rammed into the rock with tremendous force.

‘Are you all right, Yossi?’

Like me, Kevin was in the river, hanging on to the ropes of the raft. The water rushed past us on both sides, but the raft wasn’t moving. It was protruding from the river at a sixty-degree angle, stuck on a sandbar, riding up against the rock. The pressure of the water slammed us up against the rock and held us fast.

We climbed back onto the raft. Kevin instructed me to tie the oar down so that it wouldn’t be swept into the river. I looked over at the waterfall to our left. The river cascaded downward ten or twelve feet. God, why hadn’t I turned back with Karl and Marcus?

My legs quivered. If we could manoeuvre to the right, we would make it through. We tried to get the raft off the rock but were helpless against the current. We tried everything we could think of – pushing, pulling, rowing, prying the raft off with the poles – but the raft didn’t budge.

Kevin quickly sized up the situation.

‘I don’t see much chance of the current getting us out of here. It’s only six or seven yards to the right bank, while the waterfall is here on our left, and after that it’s probably twenty yards to the left bank. The river is narrow, and the current is terrifically strong. You see what it means? The canyon must start here. We must be really close to the island. If we can just make it ashore, we can go on from here by foot and easily bypass the canyon overland to Curiplaya.’

Kevin paused for a moment and looked around before he made up his mind.

‘We don’t have any choice. I’m going in. I’ll try to reach the right bank. When I do, you throw me the machete. I’ll climb up into the jungle and cut a vine. I’ll throw the vine to you, and you’ll pass the packs over to me on it. Then you tie yourself to the vine, and I’ll pull you ashore.’

‘Don’t go in, Kevin. It’s much too dangerous. Wait a while,’ I called to him, but Kevin didn’t hesitate. He took off his shoes and socks.

‘I’ll make it, Yossi,’ he shouted, and jumped into the river.

The current’s tremendous force pulled him along. He disappeared for a moment but then bobbed up again. He was washed up against a rock about twenty-five yards downstream, grabbed onto it, and from there made it to the riverbank. I sighed with relief but then caught my breath. I felt the raft moving under me, slowly breaking free of the rock.

‘Kevin! Kevin! The raft is moving, Kevin!’

It was slowly slipping away. Kevin ran swiftly toward me.

‘Throw me my shoes, fast!’

I obeyed him automatically and threw his shoes as hard in his direction as I could. They landed on the rocky bank. The raft was almost free. It was headed toward the waterfall. I was trembling all over, looking at Kevin in terror, pleading. He was already hurriedly putting his shoes on.

‘The machete! Throw me the machete!’ he shouted.

The large blade whistled through the air and thudded to the ground. The raft had begun moving.

‘You’re leaving me, Kevin!’ I shouted.

‘Hang on as tight as you can, Yossi! Don’t let go of the leather straps, no matter what! Don’t let go! You’re heading for the waterfall. You’re going to go over it! Hang on tight!’

‘Kevin, you’re leaving me!’

‘I’ll catch up with you. Just hang on! Hang on!’

The raft came off the rock and edged vertically toward the waterfall. I could feel the surge of the river beneath me and held on to the leather straps for dear life. I was thrown into the air, raging water swallowing my screams; amidst the water I felt as helpless as a fallen leaf. The moment of terror lingered, then abruptly ended with a crash. The raft was pulled under the surface of the river, taking me with it. Darkness enveloped me. My lungs were bursting. I had no air.

Don’t, don’t let go of the raft!
I told myself as the undertow dragged the raft along rapidly below the surface. The pressure on my lungs grew unbearable.

God, help me please.

I thought this was the end. Then I found myself above water, the raft floating again. I jerked my head around and saw Kevin, a hundred yards or more behind me, running in my direction. Relief washed over me.

‘I’ll wait for you wherever I manage to make shore!’ I shouted, and waved at him.

Kevin couldn’t hear me, but he waved back and kept running.

Suddenly I understood where I was: I had entered the canyon and was being swept swiftly toward the treacherous Mal Paso San Pedro. The raft bounced from wall to wall. It crashed into the rocks, tilted on its sides, was tossed over falls, and swept through foaming rapids. I held on desperately, closing my eyes and praying,
God, God
. Then the raft dove under again, taking me with it. I rammed into rocks so violently that I was twice thrown into the air, landing in the water, vulnerable to the torments of the river, sucked down to its depths. If I hit another rock, I would be smashed to pieces. I was running out of air. When I resurfaced, I saw the bound logs of the raft nearby. I managed to grab hold of them and climb aboard again.