Sailing up the Amazon

The sea was blue, the tropical Atlantic, as we travelled Southwest from French Guiana along the Brazilian seaboard. And then it was green, and perhaps grey, as the storm clouds gathered, as is the norm during the afternoons. But then something rather strange happened: the water started to change colour, and it gradually became quite a murky brown. As the shadows started to lengthen, we spied a procession of tiny white boats with green sails: a family flotilla of Brazilian fishing boats! As night drew on the water became calmer and much browner, becoming just like milky-white coffee. The scent of tropical rainforest humidity wafted on the night airs, as cicadas and bioluminescent insects flew round our heads, and up above the stars twinkled in the spacious firmament. We had crossed over the ‘bar’…
By morning it all became clear: we were slowly penetrating the heart of the Floresta Amazonica, past Macapa and along mangrove swamps, loose water hyacinths, floating grasses and magnificently tall, towering trees with the occasional cluster of vultures circling above. But as if this wasn’t quite enough, we were shortly to be greeted by friendly natives on their shallow, carved wooden rowing boats, waving excitedly at us. They had emerged from tiny river tributaries that had small, wooden huts (just like the Malaysian kampongs we discovered last year). We took no notice of a ghostly cloud of what appeared to be a thick mist which approached us from behind, give or take the twenty minutes of its stealthy approach. We were soon enjoying a thorough drenching of cool tropical rain, a soothing respite from the intense equatorial heat of noon. We also became acquainted with a hawk moth, many large beetles and a bee which landed on Jon’s arm, but resisted the temptation to sting him!