Bruce and Bob – Telephone Buddies

Bruce and I had had a superb morning of fishing on this first morning of the trip and our appetites for the Peacocks had definitely been whetted. We were both anxious to get the business part over with so that we could get back on the river for an afternoon’s fishing. However, it was not to be. While we did not get to fish, the afternoon did produce an unexpected, surprise adventure of another type. It turned out to be a different, unexpected event that resulted in a most interesting and memorable afternoon.

Both Bruce and I jumped at the chance. It would be an opportunity to fly over many miles of river and uninhabited jungle at low altitudes with our own, personal pilot – an unexpected bonus that was not part of the advertised itinerary. Phil said he would be ready to go in about an hour. He first had to attend to a matter in the lodge village’s medical commissary. One of the fishing guides was in there with a woodchopper lure firmly implanted in the top of his head. Phil wears many hats and one of them is as resident medical technician. The task fell on him to remove the lure.

We had time enough for Bruce to make his telephone call and, for a good lunch at the lodge, consisting of sandwiches and a welcome cold beer. Afterwards, we met Phil at the dock and boarded his four seated, single engine floatplane. Bruce and I were the only passengers, with Phil piloting the plane. He was a good pilot. Flying over the jungle was superb. We were many miles from any civilization. Looking down at the tops of the jungle all one could see was an unending savannah of green that was made up of the tops of the rain forest trees. It went, basically unbroken, for as far as the eye could see, in every direction. The only break in the greenery was the wide gash made by the Rio Negro. Except for an occasional riverboat, the Rio Negro, too, was undisturbed as we followed it downriver. In a lifetime that has included many treks to remote areas of the world I don’t think that I ever felt so far, and so pleasantly, removed from meaningful civilization.

From our flight altitude (probably no more than 1,000 to 1,500 feet) the Rio Negro lived up to its name. At water level it is actually a dark brown in color but from our altitude the basic color of the river appeared to be black (i.e., Negro). At this time of year, with its low water levels, there were many long areas of pure white that were interspersed along its edges with the green jungle. These were the sand beaches and the sandbars exposed by the low level of the river in this dry season. Along the edges of the sand the water takes on a reddish color that, as the water progressively deepens into the main riverbed, morphs into the black color of the main river.