They stood frozen for the next five minutes, searching the channel. Suddenly, Hector nudged Owen. “There, by that fallen mangrove tree. See, it has caught something.”
Owen let go his breath and slid his machete back into its sheath. “Let"s get this tiki-tour over with. I"ve about had it for one day.”
They made their way out of the swamp and spent the next three hours tramping through a tangled confusion of woody vines, snarling brambles, and undergrowth until at last they walked out under a gray sky into high, waving pampas grasses hugging the winding Juruá River. He pulled his GPS palm pilot out and scanned the ragged shoreline as Hector came up behind him. In the muted daylight, swarms of tiny midges jittered frantically over the rippled surface of the water. Hector set the large bundl
