Page 48 of Beautifully Wild

“Are you taking the tour by plane tomorrow?” the woman seated in front of me asks.

“No, only today’s tour.”

“Are you staying overnight?”

I shake my head.

“I thought most of us were.”

I shrug. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

She turns to her partner, no doubt realizing I’m of no help. “Did you pack extra snacks and water? I’m not sure I’m going to agree with the food on offer.”

I smile at her and consider asking to trade places. Only it’s not part of my plan.

We sail into the Mayupa rapids and disembark to cross on foot. Asoo and another helper ride through the rapids to meet us on the other side. Two guides lead us through grassland, a safer journey than trying to navigate the rapids.

We board the curiara and sail upstream. It’s more what I imagined in my dreams with thick tree growth bordering the river’s edge, overhanging into the water. Walls of green vegetation block the world like a never-ending jail cell locking us into her heart. My trust is now in two strange men to get us safely to our destination regardless of what the river, jungle, or Mother Nature throw at us. There’s not a cloud in the sky. We’re not fooled after Victor’s warning about how weather conditions can turn in the blink of an eye and how downpours can turn calm water into raging currents.

Monkeys howl, and it sounds like an alert to our presence. I’m engrossed, looking beyond the vines choking the branches trying to see one. I imagine snakes, spiders, and scorpions inhabiting the thick growth of the jungle floor and other dangers residing in the trees. I shouldn’t be focused on trying to see a monkey. How anyone could survive in the jungle is beyond me. In a moment of truth, I realize the life jackets strapped to our bodies are useless with anaconda, piranha, and dangerous parasites inhabiting the murky water below. All would threaten my safety before I could make it to land. Or have I watched too many horror movies?

We approach a sandy river beach and disembark for morning tea on Orchid Island. Colorful wild orchids line the forest doorway intertwined in the trees and vines. The purple, pink, and white flowers growing near the sandy river beach almost trick me into believing we’re in a wonderland. We don’t venture far. After a quick break, we board the canoes and continue our journey along the Carrao River. The river forks, and Asoo explains the new route along the Churun River, preparing us for the smaller rapids.

A woman seated at front squeals when the canoe thumps the water while another guide helps navigate the rapids.

“Auyán-Tepuiis origin of Angel Falls,” Asoo says. “Water produced on top of tepuihas no land water source. All water comes from clouds and squeezed out of the cloud onto tepui.It pools and feeds all waterfalls.”

“Incredible,” I murmur.

He shoots a smile over his shoulder before focusing again on navigating through the rapids. “Pemónnamed Angel FallsKerepakupai Merú, waterfall of deepest place.”

I remember Samuel telling me this. Could I be on the right track to finding him?

“Pemónmyths saytepuisare home of gods. TheMawarispirits of dead, and people forbidden,” he continues.

The mountain is associated with spirits of the dead. Well, that just confirms its eeriness.

The rapids ease, and Asoo signals an end to our river journey. After leaving the canoe behind, we find several man-made base camp shelters, structures where hundreds of hammocks can be hung from its many poles. Asoo had mentioned over five hundred visitors used to come to the waterfall daily. Now it’s a handful of people every week. My heart goes out to the people here, knowing from our own family business the importance of tourism for survival.

Unusual flowers reminding me of red luscious lips and orchids line the path as I wander back to the group.

Our small group makes the uphill trek. It’s more difficult than I anticipated, and I find myself falling behind, tripping on ribbons of exposed roots and slipping on dead foliage coated in mud. I stop to look ahead, tilting my head to gather my bearings on the steep hill. The largest palms I’ve ever seen fill any void. Thorned bamboo towers so high it bends at the peak, further growth obstructed by leaves of the taller trees. Small shrubs and new growth sprout everywhere I look. Thorned leaves on vines weave around trunks and branches or dangle down like rope searching to attach and attack anything solid. Yellow moss covers most tree trunks. Dampness thickens the air. I have to take deeper breaths, which worsens the higher we climb. Keeping my gaze low to maintain my balance, I spy mushrooms sprouting beneath the decaying foliage. Even though I’m following the person in front of me, I remind myself to glance up occasionally in case I need to duck away from a web, with what I imagine might contain an abnormally large spider. Ugh. I shudder.

Swiping sweat from my brows, I blink through the salt burning my eyes.

“You stay?” Asoo asks me.

“I can’t.”

“Omar, my helper, will stay night. I go with you and meet group in morning.”

“How do you find your way around here? I mean, everything looks the same.”

White teeth glow against his dark skin. “I live here many years. Your home in city scary. I get lost.”

I laugh. “We all do at times.”

I stop in my tracks before bumping the guy in front. Omar has his hand in the air signaling for us to halt and remain silent. Asoo points to a colorful toucan in a nearby tree. We take more photos before moving on to an unfenced lookout to view the falls.

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