Travel Reference
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andtheygaveuptheirboats.ThePeruvian
comissário
soughtmeoutinmytenttoapprisemeperson-
ally of the happy news of how much their conditions, already incalculably superior to my own, had
improved,andbeforedilatinguponthemaskedmewithelegantgallantry,puffedwiththesatisfaction
ofthe moment, formyinstructions. Ianswered that ourgovernments hadgiven usourordersandthat
we must obey them. I could only answer: go forward. At that moment, without a lapse in his most
elegant manners he repeated the painful refrain that he had adopted since Forquilha: they would pass,
they were prepared to pass, and I, alas, would not.
I countered with my usual “possible impossibilities” and asked him, in the presence of Arnaldo da
Cunha,whomIhadordertoassistinthedeliberations,forthetwo
ubás
thathejudgedsodeficient,so
thatwecouldexaminethem.Sr.Sáinalaterreportsaidthatheofferedthemtous.Thetruth,however,
is that he somewhat resisted my request, fearing that the boats that didn't belong to him might get
damaged in the crossing, et cetera. But he relinquished them to us, he could not do otherwise, as he
had deemed them to be totally inadequate.
Indulge me, Your Excellency, to insist on these details, which are most expressive.
Now in possession of the two
ubás
and the portage of the minimal material that was strictly neces-
sary, and after having triumphed over the justifiable reluctance of my outfit, which was disheartened
by the prospect of new and greater travails with ever more paltry resources, on July 31 at 8:00 in the
morningwesoughttoentertheCavaljani. Wethenpassedintothemostbizarrepartoftheentirevoy-
age.
The two canoes, on meeting the confluence, again ran aground in the waters of the Cujar and for
forty-eight minutes sat immobile, buried in sandbars, completely unyielding to our desperate efforts.
This all transpired about four meters from the Peruvian Commission, whose field camp had not yet
been dismantled. Their people and officers mutely contemplated us from two paces away, and from
there did not offer to extend a hand, not one hand, to help us.
Finally a breach opened in the sand, and we slogged by foot into the Cavaljani. An hour later the
Peruvian
ubás
passed us—they had also run aground, but much less seriously. And still we were at
the confluence. Three hours later we had gone but twenty meters. It was eleven, and the Peruvian
Commission disappeared ahead of us.
I thought that we should proceed on foot, with each person carrying what supplies they could, but
to walk the rest of the way—even the suggestion was futile. We decided then to further reduce what
wecarried andputall the personnel inonelightly loaded
ubá
,with the rest ofthe equipment andsup-
plies entrusted to the sergeant, who would stay there. Thus we resolved the problem. At 3:00 p.m. we
caught up with the Peruvian Commission and camped on the same beach. At the end of ___ days, we
had finally arrived at the slope that led to the
varadouro
.
We arrived at 12:50, got out of the boats, and entered the narrow channel of the Pucani. This inter-
val was critical. We could not stop, as the provisions for nine men in an absolutely uninhabited area
wasreducedtofourcansofcondensedmilk,threekilosofdriedmeat,andtwocansofchocolate.And
we were in total wilderness.
In passing by the tent of the Peruvian chief, I told him of our resolution to advance ahead to the
varadouro
because “there was no way that I could delay”—I was sickened by the idea of explaining
to him the painful straits in which we now found ourselves, but we could tolerate this scarcity better
than we could stand the charity that they never deigned to offer.
We walked through the torturous Pacani, three meters broad and in general quite shallow, crossing
thedeeppoolsintowhichwewereintermittently plunged,andpassingbyshortcutsthroughtheforest
that flanked the riverbanks. With no guide other than the empty cans of supplies and gunpowder that
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