The Amazon rainforest encompasses 5,500,000 square km. In this vast space countless bugs: big, small, discovered and undiscovered, live in a delicate balance. However, in this 5,500,000 square kilometres of open air and freedom, one particular moth decided the place it wanted to fly was… my mouth. Yes. I was enjoying a carefree glass of red one night when … bam!.. a huge moth the size of a CD collided with my teeth. As I sat there, stunned, my friends laughed heartily and delighted in pointing out that I now had powdery lines where its wings had hit my face and took the opportunity to take many pictures. I looked like a dishevelled Joker from the batman movies! I was not impressed…

Not impressed after tasting my first Amazonian Moth!

I’m not kidding… these things were huge!

Every night the moths would flock to the light of the ship and cluster in great numbers on portholes and light fittings. Their massive patterned wings, mostly browns and oranges, were decidedly retro and uncannily had the ability to make parts of ship look like they were wrapped in 1970’s wallpaper! However, as the sun rose the next day, these stowaways found themselves without shade and clinging to hot metal that reached searing temperatures by midday. The result was the unfortunate daily massacre of hundred of bugs. Whilst at night we grew accustomed to kamikaze grasshoppers and beetles sharing the dinner table and having a swim in our glasses of Malbec, each day brought the same crunch of countless victims of the Brazilian sun as we tried in vain to tip toe around their roasted little bodies. It sounds awful but we really did get used to it. That is except for Maude. Maude was a passenger with a heart bigger than any one I’ve ever met. A vegetarian and a crusader for animal welfare back in the UK she became the advocate for bugs rights during the 3 months we spent in South America. Unbeknownst to anyone, Maude was collecting and ‘rescuing’ what she termed ‘the poor beasties’ and hiding them on her balcony in the hope that they would survive. It was only after we had travelled through Argentina, past Cape Horn, and up through Chile to Peru that she finally confided in me she had a menagerie of insects waiting to be set free…. Unfortunately, having gone through 2 oceans, past icebergs and 2 crossings of the equator her labours were in vain. Bless her. She had a little funeral and a glass of sherry in their honour. What a lovely, if somewhat quirky, lady she was.

A curious dinner guest

The poor souls that didn’t make it.

 

The Changing of the water is a phenomenon where two of the great rivers in the Amazon basin meet. It was about 6.30 in the morning as we approached Manaus, 1000 miles from the coast, that we witnessed the opaque black waters of the Rio Negro and the brown strong tea coloured waters of the Amazon river meet. Tired eyed and hungover we sat in the balmy dawn waiting. Minutes turned into an hour and still we sat. Tom began learning the Argentinian tango with the dance teachers on a little patch of astro-turf on the deck and I settled into my latest Nora Roberts novel. We were about to give up and go in for breakfast… Then we saw it dead ahead. There was a line in the flow of the water. A barrier appeared where the waters refused to mix. The resulting appearance was similar to oil and water. The black of the Rio Negro affronting the sandy Amazon who held her ground in defiance. We all leaned over bars and railings to see the moment the ship passed from the brown into the black. The change in the density of the water was so strong that there was a tangible ‘bump’ when the ships bow hit the new river. Small boats streamed past us into the city harbour kicking up ebony trails in their wake. It truly is a strange and alien spectacle to behold. It is yet another example of how this part of the world takes what you think you know and turns it on its head. Water meeting water here can be a war, not a gentle mixing of compounds like we see everywhere else. The coffee coloured Amazon gave way to the deep dark chocolate bay of Manaus as we looked on amazed.

The view directly overboard

The moment the rivers meet

 

We were to leave in Manaus and fly back to the UK, heading off to North Africa and the Canary Islands before rejoining our lovely ship in Chile in 3 weeks time. Later that morning, bags packed and cabin emptied, I sat with a cup of tea enjoying the last of the February sun before my flight. We were moored directly opposite the riverboats that take tourists, supplies and locals further up the river to places we couldn’t quite reach: Little Amazonian villages and towns that I could only dream about. Men sat on the dock drinking beer and chatting for hours on end stopping occasionally to haul some rope or laugh with other crews. The bay was a hive of activity and colour with smells that weren’t so pleasant but intriguingly exotic catching the wind to my seat. The announcement came over the speakers that it was time to leave for the airport. Grabbing my bag I promised myself I’d be back and that next time I would be on one of the little boats, meandering through unknown places closer to the piranhas than ever before.

The busy dock

Sittin’ on the dock o’ the bay

As we flew over Manaus, the impossible city surrounded by 5 million square km of jungle, civilisation became very small indeed. The two rivers scared the land like spilled hot drinks, and, in the midst of the stain, a white speck – our ship and home for so long now – floated on its way. The colours of the houses and the people faded to faint dots on an eternity of green. Hidden below us lived the only untouched peoples on earth. It was a wonderful thought, and as we bounced along over tropic storms, I fell into restful dreams of adventures I was yet to have and slept until we reached Rio.

The changing of the waters

 It was a long journey back to the UK and to be honest I can’t remember much of it except the hunger from 18 hours of aeroplane food. However, I will never forget arriving at Manchester airport in February and stepping into 4 inches of snow and wearing only my flip-flops, hot pants and cami-vest. Yeah. The UK was COLD! Thank goodness I was only there a week. Next stop Casablanca the Atlantic islands… then on to Chile.