Post 21 Wet season travel & the stranger in Jim’s clothes
Updated: Jul 15
Towards the end of March Jim was offered a trip to Puerto Siles on the River Mamore, travelling across the lagoon in a canoe fitted with a motor. At that time of the year it was a three-day trip by oxcart, although only about 33 miles away.
The trip turned out to be very hard, in fact the man with whom he went said it was the hardest trip he had ever made, so Jim had a good initiation into wet-season travel across the flooded pampas.
The canoe was a hollowed-out log pointed at both ends with a barely functioning outboard motor, so they paddled most of the way taking from 7 am on the Tuesday until 10 pm on the next day to reach their destination, spending one night on an island en route.
Here is how Jim described the trip:
"The crew consisted of two young men, one of whom turned out to be the mayor of Puerto Siles; the owner, who is a young Bolivian with a German father; and a boy, to get into mischief more than to help; also myself.
As we pointed the nose of the boat towards the horizon of the blue lagoon, the starting cord of the little motor was pulled, and we settled down for a pleasant trip. The cord was pulled again, and again, and again. Oh, dirty spark plugs, let’s paddle for a while!'
We finished up paddling all day, and all the next day, as the motor had damp and dirty spark plugs, the carburettor leaked air, while the platinum points had been burnt away, to say nothing of water in the petrol.
After paddling about a mile across clear water, the nose of the canoe was pushed into the long grass. A sudden noisy splash about two yards from the boat caused me to ask what that would be. A crocodile!
On our trip we came upon four just like that, actually bumping into one. However, no one worried, and so outwardly I appeared not to be, but as I dipped my paddle in the water I could not help remembering Joy's last counsels, 'Now don't put your hands in the water, or a crocodile might bite them off!'
Don't imagine that by entering the grass we were drawing near to land, for although the grass grew over our heads, there were twelve or more feet of water under us. The grass looks much like paspalum, growing up to 16' through the water and covered with fiery red ants.
When the pampas first start to flood, the ants climb the grass stalks to keep out of the water, and so as the passage of the canoe disturbed the grass, the ants came aboard and were continually biting us.
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In the wet season, hundreds of miles of pampas are under water, except for islands fringed by thick forest. Each ranch owner generally owns at least one island where his native workers live, who care for the cattle besides growing their rice, yams and bananas.
We set our course north-west through the grass, heading for the Matucari River and on arrival there found the going easier in the clear water until we ran into banks of matted water-lilies and reeds some 100 yards through, making a floating barrier.
This made hard work and we were glad to forsake the river for the flooded plains again. The first night we pulled in at an island and stayed with 10 or so native folk in their huts.
The Lord gave me the opportunity of telling them something of the Gospel and singing to them with the accordion before sleeping for the night on the ground with the fowls perched overhead in the roof of the hut. My mosquito net seemed to serve well to keep all the mosquitoes of the Beni on the inside!
At 6 p.m. on the second night, a 'sur' (southerly from the Andes) struck us, causing the temperature to drop in a few minutes from 90 degrees down to 62 degrees. The teeming rain drenched us to the skin for four hours as we paddled and shivered in the tropics, as strange as it may seem.
Finally, at about 10 pm, with the aid of lightning flashes, out of the gloom we saw the wide quarter-mile expanse of the fine Mamore River, as it hurried northward seeking to empty the flooded countryside. In a few minutes we were in Puerto Siles, to pass the night sleeping well on the brick floor of the mayor's office.
Puerto Siles is a small town of a few hundred inhabitants, virtually seeking to keep its head above water as it is perched on a narrow strip of island about 200 yards wide and 400 yards long.
All the homes were visited with the Gospel, as well as those at Matucari, a small town across the Mamore River where there is a leather factory.
There I met a young German chemist who could speak seven languages, including good English. He was friendly, but a keen Nazi - I was glad to be able to give him a New Testament. The people of the towns were friendly; the children attended well at the children's meeting; while at the final meeting on Friday night, about 100 people came to hear the Gospel message. Two Bibles were sold, ten New Testaments and 20 Gospels, besides distributing Christian literature to all.
A few professed to accept the Lord as Saviour, while the mayor and the schoolmaster were very interested, the latter buying the picture of the 'Two Ways' used in one talk. There is no priest there, of course.
At the close of the last night meeting held in the main street (there is another street!!) with the aid of the power lamp, and the mayor's table, someone shouted: "Here comes the 'Bolivia’"!
Around a bend in the river, all lit up like a Sydney ferry, came the 200-ton paddle steamer, heading for the port. The current of the river swept her a few hundred yards past the landing steps, but her great paddles at the stern splashed and fought until the launch with its two barges of cattle on either side, drew into port.
Some of the people rushed up onto the top deck to buy articles at the ship's shop, while others listened to its radio, or exchanged news with the passengers. I went on board, had a peep at the works, and gave tracts to the crew, before she proudly blew her whistle, making me think of Sydney Harbour, and chugged her way downstream to Guayeramerin, having come five days from Trinidad.
On the return trip home, we passed the night in a deserted farmhouse on one of the islands. Apparently there had been a recent occupant of the shack, as the paw marks of a jaguar could be seen in the earth floor.
It was strange to hear the cries of the night, including those of what must be by the description, the exact counterpart of the Australian dingo. As we settled down to sleep on the damp ground, my companions commenced telling of experiences with jaguars, for they are plentiful on these islands.
One young chap making the return trip with us significantly pulled out his revolver and placed it beside him. Don Oscar, the owner of the boat, cocked his rifle and leaned it against the wall nearby while I pulled out the 'Sword of the Spirit' and read them a few verses.
We did not sleep well because of the mosquitoes and hundreds of itchy lumps caused by the small ants that jump off the grass onto the arms, neck and legs, and bite like fire - not to mention the little itchy sandflies! It was good to arrive home to a nice wife and comforts."
The Stranger in Jim’s Clothes
For my part, I was not sure when Jim would return from his trip, but after lunch on Sunday, I looked down the street from our front door and saw a person walking towards the town with a somewhat peculiar gait.
As he got closer I recognised the straw hat and the clothing - it was Jim, laden with his gear, clothes wet and dirty, his body and face so swollen with sunburn and ant-bites that from a distance I could tell there was something wrong with him.
I went along to meet him, and when I came close enough to really see Jim, I gasped with shock and asked him what had happened to his teeth, for he looked "gummy" and my first thoughts were that they had been knocked out!
However, the fact that his face was so swollen from sunburn and the ant-bite serum in his blood, that made him look that way. In a voice that didn't sound like his, he assured me that all was OK. I felt like crying, but it was no time for tears, rather one for action.
In a little while he was in the galvanised tub containing plenty of lukewarm water and bicarbonate of soda, and the ant-bites were painted with a 10% solution of Dettol.
The treatment worked wonders, took out all the itch, and by that night they had all disappeared. The swelling of his face and hands, due to the sunburn mostly, took a few days to clear up. However, Jim said the trip was a great experience and well worthwhile for the Gospel's sake.
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