We soon learned posted departure times are unreliable. A boat scheduled to leave at 1600 hours (times are usually quoted military-style), would rarely leave before 1700, and usually closer to 1800. The delay was most often cargo, for the sturdy wooden boats were cargo haulers as well.
As we waited for our first departure what had once looked like an uncrowded ship soon became a surreal scene of over 100 wildly colorful hammocks strung across both the first and second decks. Soon every hook held a hammock.
We next learned our passage price included the two hooks and the space under each hammock for our backpacks. Each of us crammed our passports, return air tickets, and money inside money belts and hidden pockets. Everything else we'd brought was simply placed on the deck below our brand new hammocks. It was the honor system - and it worked throughout our entire trip.
As departure time approached wild Brazilian Samba music blared from the topside third-deck bar, and finally just before 1800 the lines were dropped and our forty-hour journey to Santarém was underway. This, our first leg, was to prove leisurely, lively and eventful with majestic scenery, topside action at the bar, and a wild night storm.
Water-Borne Gypsies
After our first downriver trip we continued cruising like water-born gypsies sailing through the very heart of Amazonia. Now places like the Rio Tapajos, Fordlandia and Itaituba became far more than just strange places on our maps. They became indelible, life-long memories.
As intriguing as were our port-of-call so were our fellow passengers. They were of all ages, sizes, sexes and colors - and they were all Brazilians. On all our boats and shore excursions we met only one foreigner other than ourelves. She was a backpacking, 22-year-old Belgian gal who was traveling around Brazil paying her way juggling large beer bottles in the streets for tips.
New friendships soon turned into invitations, and our travel itinerary was soon dictated by hometowns of fellow passengers. That's how we discovered the idyllic beach of Alter de Chao, and the gold boomtown of Itaituba. But this is but a report on riverboat travel - not on the incredible places we visited (for that please see Jacaré Wood's accompanying article).
Bottom line is we found backpacking the Amazon today a true adventure, and the absolute best way to meet the Brazililan themselves who inhabit this vast, often mysterious region.
The trips and ships are, of course, not for everyone.
We survived a wild night storm when our whole ship became bedlam, with wildly swinging hammocks flying everywhere. Some boats were incredibly crowded , there were screaming, sick infants, and reeking, overflowing toilets. Hell, we even ran out of beer and guarana on one boat!
But if you've read this far you understand all that.
My Hammock Neighbor
You should also know the rewards were many, and they far outnumbered all inconvenience. Voyages, at times, were like a floating carnival. The adventure far surpassed our expectations, and the price for it all proved more than remarkable. We averaged well under US$20 a day - all meals, drinks and land excursions included!
If you're a true adventure traveler I 'm sure you'd have joined us nightly when we'd toast the Southern Cross as it rose above the horizon - then shout:
"Viva Amazonia!
"Viva Brazil!"
