The indigenous village of Santa Rosa
On the boat trip from Inirida to the mountains of Mavicure on the Rio Inirida, the Caño Bocon branches off to the right about halfway down. The river meanders like an eel through the rainforest towards the west. Tourists do not stray here. For us that’s one more reason to visit this region and accept the simple camp in the village of the indigenous population. On our arrival the whole village came running to the river to curiously eye their new guests.
You feel very warmly welcomed, but still a bit like a foreign body in a very intact community. But apart from the few tourists, the solar panels in the village also show that there’s no turning back time. Our house didn’t just have a roof this time, it also had side walls. The disadvantage: not a breath of wind passed through the hut and we began to appreciate the advantage of a hammock or an air mattress under a palm roof.
The gill nets in the river in front of the village was an immediate sign that fishing for ornamental fish exporters had arrived here as well. This was good for our team, because the indigenous inhabitants of the village understood our enthusiasm for small, inedible, but colourful fish. They also knew where the different fish families lived. Some had simple diving goggles that helped them catch ornamental fish. They accompanied us on our excursions by boat or even on foot and patiently walked with us along the shallow creeks, snorkelled with us even on very extended trips and "looked out for us".
In the areas around Santa Rosa, the water level had also risen by about five metres compared to the February expedition and small streams had become metre-wide "rivers". Even though this meant the fish density was not very high, the participants always enjoyed the feeling of isolation in the rivers around the village. They were in the middle of nowhere, in harmony with nature. There were rivers that no one had ever swum in before us. No one ever had any cause to swim in them.
Return trip with near disaster
People always ask whether expeditions are dangerous. During the entire 16 days, there was one really life-threatening situation and it was on our return journey from Santa Rosa to Puerto Inirida: The enthusiasm of our group members led us to start our departure for Inirida quite late. No one wanted to leave the water, everyone wanted to quickly test the water again and take a picture of a fish in the photo tank. Dusk was approaching and it was getting dark. Really dark, because the sky had completely closed in and a thunderstorm front was moving towards us from the east.
The boat was long but narrow. As protection against the sun and the rain, the boat had a roof attached to it with poles. The skipper had enormous trouble finding his way around the Rio Inirida. The many lightning flashes showed that we were in the middle of the river. We would have preferred to steer the boat close to the shore, but we are not experts. When the storm front reached us, the first gusts slammed into our boat and lifted the roof out of its moorings on one side. The waves had increased abruptly and it felt like being at sea in a medium swell. The roof was lifted and stood up vertically like a sail. The boat began to capsize - all in total darkness, apart from one participant's torch. With all our strength we pulled the roof back and held it until the strong gales subsided. Simple cotter pins in the anchoring would have prevented this dangerous situation. If it had capsized, it would have been really dangerous. We could all swim well, but the shore was only ever briefly visible in a lightning flash. Fortunately, everyone was wearing life jackets, the sense of which only really becomes clear in such a situation. Fortunately, everything turned out well.
