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Far into the Amazonas interior, along Venezuelan tributaries of the Orinoco River, we were navigating upstream in a large dugout canoe. we were bird-watching, catching "Pavon" (the "peacock bass") and hunting "Lapa" (the "Agouti") by night to supply foodstock to our first-ever exploration of two unclimbed tepuys. For the complete story of this premier adventure, read "Lost Worlds Found: the First Exploration of Yutaje and Yavi Tepuys."
But El Penguino interested me. He was schooled enough to have learned a little Spanish, but spoke mainly in his own indigenous tongue--it was said--since I never heard him utter any more than a single syllable--"Si!" But he knew the arts of survival in this jungle environment, which included the "driving of his wheels"--the only conveyance in this area of the world, the dugout canoes. The big ones, used for freight and for passengers are called "Bongos" and they make possible the transport of 55 gallon oil drums, and other necessities of modern consumption. That usually occurs only during the heaviest of the rains when the rivers are swollen enough to smooth out the major upstream rapids.
But on a daily basis, getting around means managing a small dugout canoe with a paddle, and art form that seems to be learned about the time of crawling. These are jungle hardwood logs that take a long time in hollowing out, with adze and fire. But time seems to be in plentiful supply here close to the equator, and seasonal variation is as minimal as the length of each day in this zone of perpetual equinox. So, I had to try my hand in one of these small craft, which has very little "freeboard" and no keel. it is hard enough to sit in one as it is beached, but in high running white water rapids, it is a very tippy thrill which the locals seem to pull off with enough aplomb to spend most of their concentration on the amusing maneuvers of the white water gringo. These are not white water fiberglass shells one can pick up with one hand. Once one realizes that, the weight and stability of the craft becomes an asset in sitting in what appeared to be fragile logjams, but turn out to be quiet, solid and very durable craft.
El Penguino is here manipulating the bow of the large bongo with perhaps a ton of passengers and freight between rocks on an upstream passage with a paddle. The carving of a paddle is itself a high art form I have often watched and am not at all I can see the finished paddle in the raw wood, as can a native who points out to me the ideal "paddle tree". I consider white water a sport environment; for these citizens of Amazonas, it is the medium of their exchange, assumed with as much thought about it as the air between us.