Guapore River, Brazil

       
              The Guapore river is part of the Madiera river basin in north-central Bolivia and west-central Brazil. It flows about 1500 kms. westward from the Guimares Plateau in Brazil to join the Madiera river of Bolivia which in turn flows another 3000 kms. northward to join the Amazon river. About 900 kms. of the Guapore defines the border between these countries. The Bolivianos refer to this river as the Itenez. This river appealed to us mostly because of the lack of any significant human population living anywhere along it's entire length. This not only translates to greater amounts of the river banks devoted solely to wildlife habitat but also means that the quality of the environment is relatively untouched, pristine..... as new!
              Our expedition this year was to paddle 1000 kms. of the Guapore/Itenez starting in Vila Bela da Santissima Trindade, Brazil to Costa Marques, Brazil. As we are starting and finishing our trip in Brazil we called the river the Guapore.

              International flights totaling 24 hours got us to Sao Paulo. There we made a good connection for a flight to Cuiaba, the capital of the state of "Mato Grosso", the land of "Thick Wood". We stayed here for 3 days buying up the necessary supplies for 35 days on the river. This photo is a look over Cuiaba under the moonlight from our hotel window.                    
 

                                
                We arrived in Vila Bela 12 hours and 2 bus rides after leaving Cuiaba. Without a doubt each hour along the route seemed to leave a decade of modernization behind. Houses and farms became more humble, roadside amenities fewer, the towns smaller and the potholes bigger. We cannot give enough praise to the quality of the buses nor the drivers!     
                Around 1750 mineral wealth was discovered in this region. To prevent the Spanish from getting some of this wealth, the Portugese monarchy built a fort on the Guapore and made Vila Bela the capital of Mato Grosso.  Tax incentives were used to populate the region but that was a difficult task due to it's remoteness. In 1820 the capital was moved to Cuiaba and the land owners walked away from their properties and businesses leaving behind their African slaves and buildings. Since that time, the descendents of those slaves have managed the "Black City", keeping alive old traditions that are no longer even practiced in Africa. A full 75% of the population is proudly registered as black or mulatto and a festival to celebrate their Congolese heritage is well attended here each year.

                  The Cascata Hotel had a room for the night and offered us a ride to the river in the morning which we gladly accepted. So, there we were at 0800 the next morning; us, the boat, the supplies and now.....the river.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               


        
           No more than 15 minutes after pushing off from the beach, Diana and I stopped for some adjustment or another and I was able to zoom in on this red/green macaw in the treetops. Though mostly scarlet, it is the green wing bar which gives this macaw it's name.





              Narrow rivers, it seems  to us, have a more intimate feel. Details on both banks are easier to make out and usually any winds are milder than wide rivers. The sounds of bird song and insects from both banks was amazing to us. It seemed that every sound imaginable was there to be picked out, if you could just pick one out of that cacophony.

                  These hoatzins do not have one of the more melodic voices in the forest. They were seen constantly in large groups sitting in trees hanging over the river. They are very timid and scrambled to hide themselves in the higher tree branches at the merest splash of your paddle.

                    For the most part any wildlife sighting lasts only for a few moments until what your looking at scurries off to safety. However, if that particular wildlife possesses some intelligence and curiosity, then your sighting can last for much longer. Such was our experience with the river dolphins.

        The river dolphins were a huge highlight for us. We were accompanied by them for many delightful hours each day. Our first indication of their presence was the sharp sound of their quick breathe as they surfaced. We would then find the circles of waves to know the general direction to look for them at their next breathe. After an initial wariness they would eventually approach our canoe. We definitely had the impression that they were curious. They approached quite closely,  swimming beside and under the canoe. They would sometimes vocalize with their breathing hole as if communicating. Often we would stop along the river banks for lunch and the dolphins would seem to wait for us. When we returned to the river they would appear again and we would all continue down the river. The dolphins we saw were mostly grey with a smattering of pink in various places and about 2 meters in length. Scientists have decided that these Bolivian river dolphins are a distinct sub-species. In 2012 the Bolivian government declared them a national treasure!

                  We were also pleased to find our friends the giant river otters. Known as the river wolf these otters are a top predator in the river. Their dens are built in tree roots exposed by the river current. Over the seasons as the river floods and recedes these root systems collect debris which the otters use for building material. Typically their dens may have over half a dozen entrances and exits. They were declared an endangered species in 1999 and estimates list the remaining number at 5000. We found them to be thriving in the Guapore and can only remember a couple of days in which we did not see them. On 2 separate occasions, while silently floating close to the riverbank, we rounded a bend and found a couple of these "river wolves" laying out on a fallen tree seemingly sunning themselves. 
 

              The Guapore flows westward but that is by no means in a straight line. Oxbow loops of 4-5 kms. are common. Virtually all of the land on either side of the river consists of sand and clay and is completely flat. At this time of year the forest floor is usually about 2-4 meters above the river. When the rains fall during the summer months of December to June the forest floor is flooded by that much. The river environment, therefore, has many dead-end sloughs, oxbow channels and swampy bog land. This helps to create the habitat for the myriad insects which are the food base for the rest of the life here. It seemed that each time we stopped to set up our camp we saw a different type of butterfly. This one was attracted to Diana.

                           Each day we shared the river with at least a few fishermen. The Brazilian fishermen would, at different times in the season, set up a camp for themselves, so finding a spot couldn't have been easier on their side of the river. The Bolivian side was pretty much left untouched other than the occasional native village. At around 1300 when it got too hot to be on the water we would say "let's look for a camp" and invariably within 15 minutes a cleared site with good access would appear.

        Howler monkeys were  heard in the distance regularly.  We  saw both black and red. This is a black-striped capuchin. This particular species was the first  non-ape primate to be documented using tools, rocks to break open nuts, in the wild. We saw this type of monkey often during our first week. You can see that the tail is wrapped over a vine for balance. You can also see that this one spends her day surrounded by insects.

             Macaws and other parrots were seen daily. Their plumage adds a stunning and exotic beauty to the forest that is very memorable.

 



          These capped herons have a large distribution throughout the neotropics but they remain scarce none the less. I was completely unfamiliar with them. This pair looked like they were working together. As we are here in the breeding season the buff colouring on the chest and neck are visible. The pale blue bill and extended feathers off the back of the head make this bird very unique.
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              After 10 days and about 300 kms. we'd have to say that besides the wildlife, the 2 most impressive characteristics of the paddle so far are the heat and the insects. We got into the habit of rising from our beds with the sun around 0520. The taking down of camp became a smooth routine so that breakfast was done, the canoe was packed and we were pushing off with coffee or tea in hand by 0630. This was by far the nicest time of day. The bird song was dense, the river like glass and a little coolness from the evening could still be felt. That coolness lasted for something like an hour and by 0730, if it was another of the usual cloudless mornings, your shirt was sticking to your back, you were looking for some shade to paddle in and reaching for your drinking water.

                  As for the insects, well we tried counting them but after 6 minutes we gave up at 752 gazillion billion. Long pants and long-sleeved shirts were necessary as well as bug repellent. The tiny midges were the biggest nuisance, they were everywhere but everything that can bite is in that jungle. It was common to be accompanied by some kind of giant black fly the size of a hummingbird for much of the day on the water....... until it got too hot even for them. As I say though, the bug repellent did work. When the tent was up, usually by 1400, Diana would lay down to escape the insects and to rest. I wasn't bothered by them as much and could organize the camp somewhat, take some photos or filter the water for the next day. Around 1600 Di got dinner started and we were washed up and in the tent relaxing before the sun went down around 1800.
  

            Day 11 saw us arrive in the early morning at the only town of any size along our journey. Around 2600 people live here in Pimenteiras do Oeste.

                   This a photo of the fishermen's dock. Ice is made and sold in the square 2 story structure in the background. The set of tracks visible where the 3 men are standing allows a cart to carry the heavy sacks of ice down to the water to load into the commercial fish boats. The ice is then placed in chests to preserve the fish until the fishermen return to sell their catch in the gray building across from the ice house.

              This photo shows the tracks from above. A cart has been lowered and the ice is being man handled onto a boat. The fellow or sometimes families that have the license to operate these boats, live aboard, fishing with hook, line and sinker until their ice melts. This was the only place to buy the large quantities of ice these commercial boats require that we saw. The flag shows this boat is Bolivian registered. Our canoe is sitting just under the flag.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      While I was taking these photos Diana walked up to the market and returned with some fresh produce, a couple loaves of bread and some treats. Fat City again!


                                                                                                                                          Around noon after leaving Pimenteiras we were caught out on the water by a violent storm. We hadn't missed it's approach. The long series of rolling thunder and dark skies were obvious. The river banks at that time were too brushy to stop. We hugged the shore and hoped to outrun the storm to a likely camp spot which showed as a big sand bank on my map. It was not to be. When the strong winds suddenly hit we beached the canoe in a small opening in the brush, put on our ponchos and watched the wind whip the white-capped waves. The heavy rain found it's way under our ponchos and we were soaked through in minutes.  We were thankful for the ponchos anyway as the temperature dropped precipitously. Even sitting back in the brush we were startled by the strength of the wind and the amount of rain.

      An hour later, it moved through and after bailing out the canoe we paddled a further couple of kms. and made camp in hot sunshine.



















           Besides the insects and the fish another staple in the food chain here is turtle eggs. We saw many hundreds of turtles both on land and in the water. It surprised us to see so many turtles after we began to appreciate how many of their eggs were being harvested. Vultures congregated in large venues surrounding a laying female.     
              The turtles must hear quite well because the slightest of sound from us sent them back to the water. They can move quickly on land. I believe they were "running" at about 10 km/hr. The females are larger than the males and can grow to a meter across.

                                                                                                                                 Many times we saw locals going out to the various sandbanks with sacks to collect the eggs. The turtles leave perfectly easy paths to follow leading to the nest. Only some of the nesting areas we passed had a sign identifying a conservation program in place to protect the eggs. This one was posted in the huge Bolivian national park of Noel Kempff. It states that hunting turtles and taking their eggs is prohibited. Occasionally nesting areas on the Brazilian side were also protected. We never saw people taking eggs from protected nesting areas.

   The river banks continued to dissolve into the distance and each bend in the river preceded the next. At times it felt like we were in a dreamscape, the sky and river merging into each other ......or maybe the heat was getting to me.

                     

     These cocoi herons are common throughout South America. They can reaching over a meter in height. Their behavior is akin to the great-blue heron of the northern hemisphere.















        The roseate spoonbill is one of the more dramatic water birds. We saw only a few. Our most impressive sighting was watching a group of 3 flying up the river towards and eventually right over us. Their brilliant pink plumage showed very well against the lush green of the forest.







              While looking at my map one day I noticed a narrow side channel cutting through Bolivia which, after about 10 kms., would reconnect with the Guapore. There was enough of a current flowing into the channel to convince us that we wouldn't find a dead-end. We maneuvered from side to side in the channel wherever we felt the water was deeper and eventually we saw a small boat ahead of us with a couple of fishermen. As we neared them we saw that the older of the 2 was standing in the bow and paddling with a long handled homemade oar. He was very intent on watching the water in front of him and paddling very slowly and quietly. Neither of them were aware of our presence. The younger man, who was perhaps the son was sitting in the stern also with a paddle. The sense of keen attention to their task was obvious. In a flash, too fast for us to see how, the older man's paddle turned into a spear with a line and he had thrown it into the water in front of him and had a fight on his hands landing whatever he had caught. The fight didn't last more than half a minute and we watched as he pulled in this big pintado.

          The pintado is one of the prized fish in the Guapore. It is a member of the catfish family. We saw many as large as 4 feet laying in the shallow water above the sand bars in the river.
          As you may have surmised by now there are plenty of fish in this river for all comers: 
                     the commercial fish boats....

                                                     



           ......or the lone fisherman.

           After 23 days paddling we pulled in at the tiny village of Pedras Negras in Brazil. The building with the stairs and dock was a pousada and we got a room for the night. We had arrived early and spent the day doing nothing. We particularly loved that! Pedras Negras means "Black Stones" which must refer to the rocks in the foreground. The cormorants were busy trying to change the name of the village to Pedras Branco. The pousada lets out rooms to Brazilian tourists who come ... you guessed it... for the fishing. This is a very rustic spot but we came for the experience not the comforts. As always all of the people we met were very welcoming.

           While Diana was playing her ukulele these 3 girls came to listen. Diana gave each their first lesson which they loved. We commemorated the event with a photo.

      Wherever some higher ground appeared on the Bolivian bank we saw an indigenous village or homestead.

           Bolivia has a population of 10.5 million, over 62% of which are indigenous. Another 30% are of mixed Spanish and indigenous blood called mestizo. Their president for the last 8 years is also indigenous and is expected to be re-elected to another term. He has raised the standard of living for all in his nation and now Bolivia is no longer the poorest of South America countries. You can find satellite dishes in 2 of the above photos!

  At this fish camp we have found a rustic table that has been left for cooking. This is a good spot. The brush is cleared well back to create an open area for the tent, kitchen, clothesline as well as being open to the river to facilitate a breeze. These sites were all reasonably clean. Stakes usually were stuck in the ground supporting a grill made of sticks. We didn't need to use the grill and were not sure how you can grill on a grate made of wood but we saw them at most camp spots and they had been used.

    In this ensemble Diana displays a perfect example of the casual dress code around camp.






 We very much enjoyed seeing tapirs, coati and our favourite the capybara.

   These lizards were tougher to see. I was busy taking photos of a heron when Diana pointed this one out .....right above us.

   This big guy was laid out on his tree of choice as Diana walked right by and sat down for lunch about 5 meters away!

          Diana spotted another good camp spot and after paddling for 30 days we made our final camp  with 10 kms. to go. Packing up the canoe, repacking everything else in our travel bags and then looking for a hotel room is too much after a full day of paddling. We spent our last night once again drifting off to sleep to the remarkable sounds of the forest.

          This is a photo of a Bolivian town across the river from Costa Marques. There are no roads leading to this community from the populated regions of Bolivia. It appears that these Bolivianos began to build here solely because of the availability of supplies from Costa Marques.
         

     We were escorted by the dolphins one final time.....right to the end our canoe trip!

     






















              I walked into Costa Marques to find us a hotel room and when I returned Diana walked over to a bar close by to ask someone to call for a taxi. The owner had no luck getting a taxi and told Diana everyone here uses the mototaxis, a small motorcycle that can hook on a trailer if necessary. That wasn't going to work but I found this alternative which did! That's Diana in the burro-taxi with all the gear headed for the Hotel Tropical.

        









  

         
      Apparently a cart wheel got stuck in a gap between the bridge planks. The driver left the reins while he got out to push. He called to the burro to pull while he pushed and away they went. The last I saw of Diana she was holding the reins while the driver was running behind!
       Everything worked out fine. Diana and the gear were at the hotel when I got there and we chalked up another adventure.











 

Rowing from Cape Scott to Vancouver, Canada

         Solo open water canoeing is risky for several reasons. Firstly, the canoe, being a monohull with a high center a gravity, is innately unstable . Secondly, it is an open shell and so is very good at catching and holding water that may enter it from large waves. Thirdly, a solo canoeist cannot generate very much power and thus is very much at the mercy of wind and tide. Four years ago I took up rowing both for fitness and travel. By adapting my 17.5 foot Kevlar canoe with a sliding seat row rig and outfitting it with 9 foot oars, it became more suitable for solo open water travel. The oars provided vastly superior stability and power for the canoe and a new world of coastal exploring became possible. Since then I have spent some part of each summer rowing up and down the coast of British Columbia from Vancouver to Kitimat.
          This past July I planned a row trip from Port Hardy, on Vancouver Island to Vancouver traveling down the west side of the island. Here follows a few photos and descriptions of that trip.

             Diana took this photo of me leaving the government dock at Port Hardy. Stowed in the canoe are 3 weeks worth of supplies and one eager rower.




                                                            These are definetely what you would call ideal conditions. Warm, sunny, calm and the tide in my favour. A great start! I passed a few fishermen and a solo kayaker earlier but now I shared this setting with the eagles and seals for the rest of the day.

            




     This is the reason why this ocean is called the "Pacific".

   
     







           Two days of rowing got me to Cape Scott, the most northerly point of Vancouver Island. I made a nice camp on a sandy beach leaving early the next morning hoping to row my usual 35 kms.

            As I rounded the final headland it became apparent that the water was just too rough for an open boat. I made a new camp on that headland where I could watch the condition of the water. I completed a total of 2 kms. that day. This next photo shows the rough water I needed to negotiate as well as a few sea lions that were surfing in the rollers. Beyond the sea lions there is only water... all the way to Japan.

          For 2 days I waited for the wind to subside  but the strong winds kept me on land. I explored the Cape and actually ended up getting a couple of visitors.

     These island black-tailed deer don't see many people up here. This tiny deer is full grown.

    
       Rather than wait an indeterminate length of time for quieter water or risking the conditions presented. I decided to row down the east side of Vancouver Island in more protected waters. I reasoned that really what I wanted to do was just enjoy a row....not necessarily in any particular environment. So after 2 nights at Cape Scott I turned back southeastwards. As this next photo illustrates conditions were still challenging.  I had to stay well out from the breakers.

           It was not surprising to learn that the north end of Vancouver Island has hundreds of power generating wind turbines!
           After 5 days of rowing I basically returned to where I had started, just outside of the harbour at Port Hardy. Here, I was once again stopped by strong winds from the south and needed to camp for 2 nights in this small shell beach cove on an island.

              I was able to contact Diana on a cellphone,which I carried, to let her know of my new plans. The wind finally eased enough for me to head south again and I made good time with the tide accompanied by orcas, dolphins and eagles.

              There is a particular pebble beach where orcas gather to scratch themselves along the eastern Vancouver Island shoreline referred to as Robson's Bight. The shallows in this bight somehow have the right conditions to keep the local pods of these killer whales coming back continually. A significant tourist business has developed here to show these magnificent beings to curious eco-tourists from all over the world. The tours usually depart from Telegraph Cove. I met a group of about 30 kayakers doing exactly that.  A "spotter", camped high on a bluff over Johnstone Strait, is employed to watch for the killer whales and let the tours know where they are headed.

   
           The water temperature steadily warmed as I traveled south. My daily swim got longer, progressing from mere milliseconds to even minutes in length.

             This is a pair of Western Sandpipers doing some beachcombing while, of course, staying camouflaged.

           This particular channel had me fretting for a few hours as there were a lot of 3 foot waves. The wind was pushing me in the right direction but I needed to slant my way across the inlet. It took me pretty much the entire length of this photo to maneuver my way across those waves. The channel stops against a steep cliff and I needed to make a couple of pulls in the back swells of that cliff amidst a couple of 4 footers. That sure got my attention! I am just now reaching calmer water and wanted to remember my passage.

                                                                                         







       I made a camp here on Thormanby Island for 3 nights enjoying the divine weather. It was a  beautiful location to hang out. There was a trail network on the island left over from an earlier time when the island was logged. Nowadays Thormanby is popular as a boating destination due to it's beautiful sand beaches and warm swimming. I was actually camped here in a provincial park.





 After 500 kms. and 16 days I arrived in Vancouver with a renewed sense of the beauty of the natural world. Super Natural British Columbia, indeed!                          



   My final photo is of a bald eagle drying it's wings in the sun.