Trail of Feathers by Tahir Shah

Author:Tahir Shah [Shah, Tahir]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Travel, travel literature, nepalifiction, TPB
ISBN: 978-0-7414-9465-8
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2011-10-24T18:15:00+00:00

18

Green Hell

I do not know why, but the Pradera was supposed to meet us alongside the dance-floor of an Iquitos disco. The nightspot stood precariously at the Amazon’s edge, beside a quay. In the middle of the night Richard, Cockroach, Guido and I ferried our sacks through the disco to the water. A wild Brazilian salsa band was in full swing. We weaved in single file amid the throng of sweaty dancers. Richard had bought 300 gallons of pure drinking water, 100 gallons of petrol, and almost 1,000 shotgun shells. They had to be shuffled through the disco along with the rest of the supplies. The motorista, Walter, had promised to be there dead on 5.30 a.m.

I had tried to find someone to look after the giant beetles in my absence. Max, the CIA snake man, said he didn’t look after anything with legs; Florita said it was against her religion to babysit beetles, and the receptionist at Hotel Selva said her husband would feed them to the chickens. So, with great reluctance, I took the two Tupperware boxes down to the quay, along with all the rest of the goods. The pair of baby Titanus giganticus would just have to come along with us to meet the Birdmen.

By about 9 a.m. the band had packed up their instruments and sauntered off home. A handful of people stayed to dance even though there was no music. They were salsa fanatics.

Quite suddenly Richard picked a fight with Guido, the odd-job man. He accused him of lying, stealing and general dishonesty. Guido ran away with his knapsack. When I asked Richard why he’d disgraced the man so publicly, he replied: ‘It’s a warning to the others. If I don’t make my mark right at the start, they’ll take us for all we’ve got.’

Richard treated Cockroach to a few drinks. I was touched by his generosity. He said it was also important to keep the men watered. Well-watered men had high morale. And without it the journey would end in disaster.

At three o’clock that afternoon we were still waiting for the Pradera. I sensed myself losing control of the trip again. I was about to march back to Hotel Selva with the beetles, when I spotted a dark green hulk fifty feet out. It was heading towards the quay, low in the water, moving in slow motion. It could only be the Pradera.

Once she had docked, I moored the guy-line to the disco’s bar, and supervised the loading. We struggled to haul the sacks, the water, and the barrels of petrol on board. Only then did I throw my own bags up, before climbing aboard, with the beetles’ boxes tucked under my arm.

The departure from the disco quay at Iquitos lacked pomp and circumstance. But then, some of the greatest expeditions in human history, I mused, must have had no send-offs at all. As we ventured out, into the beds of water hyacinths, I made a solemn oath. I would not return to Iquitos until I had spent time with the Shuar, with the Birdmen of Peru.

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