ur friend “Thorny” has favored us a couple of
times with chronicles of his adventures. He has
taken us on a through-hike of the Appalachian
Trail, across a glacier in Nepal, and up to Base Camp
on Mt. Everest. This time, his wanderlust brought him
to Peru, where he competed in the 2013 Great Amazon
River Raft Race. Dave Hafner is a frequent visitor to
Smith Mountain Lake; here is his personal account of
his latest trek:
I arrived in Iquitos on Monday, September 16th, an
independent traveler, already signed up for the raft race,
hoping to find a raft team needing a member.
I spent Tuesday with some teams from the U.K. at Mad
Mick’s trading post, discussing race strategies and getting
tips from Michael Collis. Then it was off to wander the city
of Iquitos, collecting materials to use on our rafts.
By Wednesday, the night of the rafter’s reception, I still
had not found a place on a team. At 5pm, I finally spoke with
a team captain needing a member, and I breathed a sigh of
relief.
The raft reception was held outside, in the Plaza de
Castilla along side the river. It was very nice until an
unwelcome storm arrived and blew down most of the tents,
sending most of the participants scurrying for cover. I stayed
that night at the home of my gracious hosts, Michael and
Elizabeth Collis. The next morning, the rafters converged at
the plaza to be bussed up river and begin the race. After a
reception in Naunta, we boarded our support boat, the Don
Jose, bound for Pescadores Island, where we were introduced
to our logs, and then allowed to start building our rafts.
Picture groups of logs 4-5 meters long, in piles of 10,
scattered along the beach. Numbered signs were randomly
placed in each pile, corresponding to each team’s number.
Some logs were thick, others thin… some straight, and others
twisted.
We found our allotted pile, and then had a pow-wow to
discuss what type of raft design would best be built with the
logs we were issued. We employed a local man with a chain
saw to sharpen the front of each log, and then we notched
the tops of the logs for cross braces and began to wire them
together. Two local women asked if they could help us build
our raft. We knew that this was one of the few ways in which
local women could earn money for their families, so we
agreed
When we were finished, we had a 4-meter long, narrow
raft with four seats attached.
We were the first ones to complete our raft. We took her
for her maiden voyage, and discovered she was quite tipsy
and hard to steer. Even though the logs had not absorbed
any, my feet were already in two inches of water... but she
moved! She was light, and made good headway with four of
us paddling. We took her back out of the water, and installed
two outrigger logs in the stern for stability. Then I christened
her the Wendy Lee, in honor of my beloved, departed wife,
and we were ready to race.
When we were finished, we had a 4-meter long, narrow
raft with four seats attached.
We were the first ones to complete our raft. We took her
for her maiden voyage, and discovered she was quite tipsy
and hard to steer. Even though the logs had not absorbed
any, my feet were already in two inches of water... but she
moved! She was light, and made good headway with four of
us paddling. We took her back out of the water, and installed
two outrigger logs in the stern for stability. Then I christened
her the Wendy Lee, in honor of my beloved, departed wife,
and we were ready to race.
The green flag came down at 8:15 the next morning, and
we were off!
The Peruvian teams sprinted across the river to catch
the current on the opposite bank, their rafts moving almost
gracefully thru the water as their team members paddled in
unison.
The international teams, paddling hard, headed down
stream as our clumsy rafts meandered left and then right,
almost never moving in a straight line.
After 30 minutes, the Peruvian teams were almost out
of sight, well ahead of the gaggle of international teams,
stretched out as far as the eye could see. A few were in front,
but most were behind us.
Our raft was small and light, possibly the lightest raft in
the race. After the initial push at the beginning of the race,
we settled down to a pace that we could sustain for the rest
of the day. We discussed where to find the fastest currents,
remembering what Michael had told us: avoid beaches and
try to find steep banks. We attempted to navigate our raft
accordingly, in order to find currents, with varying results.
“Can it be that we’ve only been paddling for 45 minutes?”
I found myself wondering. Thankfully, the sky was overcast
that morning so, it was not too hot yet. It wasn’t long before
we dispensed with idle conversation, as we paddled away the
hours. By 11 o’clock, it felt as if the sun was mere inches
above our heads.
Our support boat, the
Don Jose,
passed us, music blaring
and passengers cheering, which broke up the day and lifted
our spirits for a short while. Then, back to the ever constant:
Paddle, paddle, paddle.
By noon I was cooked. In order to conserve energy, I
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