Up the Creek : An Amazon Adventure

by Harrison, John

• ISBN13: 9781841623849
• ISBN10: 1841623849
• Edition: Revised
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2012-05-01
• Publisher: Bradt Travel Guides

Summary

'During recent years a sinister shadow has fallen across the world of travel and travel-writing. It's name is Sponsorship' writes Dervla Murphy in her foreword to John Harrison's unsponsored Amazon adventure, an extremely hazardous canoe trip taken just for the hell of it up one of the more obscure tributaries of the Amazon. Harrison's tale is compelling, full of suspense, humour and wonderful descriptions of Amazon wildlife, all told in down-to-earth unpretentious language with disarming honesty. His quest to reach the upper limit of the Jari river in Brazil and portage his canoe across the border into French Guiana is ambitious, exciting and, ultimately, flawed, but it's the trip itself, full of unexpected encounters, crippling bouts of malaria, moments of intense emotion mixed with just a tinge of madness, which is as inspiring as the tales of even the earliest adventurers.John Harrison uses vigorous, unpretentious language combined with stunning descriptions of Amazonian wildlife.Up the Creek was originally published by Bradt in 1986 and remains as relevant to the spirit of exploration and real, raw travel writing today as it was then. Reviews at that time hailed Harrison's adventure as epic.

Table of Contents

Foreword by Dervla Murphy               Acknowledgements                                                                                                        Map                                                                                                                              Prophecies and Preparations             Departure                                        Early Days                                      Slow Progress                                 Malaria                                            Burnt Foot Camp                              Back to the Beginning                      Up the Cuc                                      The Jari Again                                  Choked Waters                                Dire Straits                                      Dilemmas                                        The Retreat                                      The Long Wait                                 Christmas                                        Last Days                                       

Excerpts

From Last Days

‘I decided to set off for another hunt, soon to realise how much the malaria had sapped my remaining strength, and of course three or four cashew fruits a day do not provide much energy. At the airstrip, I saw a commotion in a distant tree-top where a troupe of spider monkeys were feeding. Big, gangly, 10-kilo beasts they were. Malaria, hunger and all, I broke into a trot. They had seen me coming and were already in retreat. The only hope seemed to be to run as fast as I could in the attempt to get within range. I floundered through the jungle, tripping and scrabbling in the undergrowth, and with only a pair of underpants on I was soon scratched and bleeding. My heart was thumping in my chest, there was a bitter dry taste in my mouth, and my empty stomach was flapping against my spine, but I was gaining on the monkeys. The chase went on for several hundred metres, until I staggered within range. One monkey was running along a branch and about to leap to another tree when I fired. It was a hurried snap shot, but the monkey faltered as it was about to leap and missed its handhold, toppling head first 20 metres down to the jungle floor.

Between me and the place it had landed was a fallen tree, and I needed to sit down and rest before I could go on. When I did, there was no sign of the monkey. I walked around searching for half an hour. This was a cruel blow. Either the monkey had been not too badly wounded and had dragged itself away, or else it had missed its handhold from shock at the sound of whistling pellets, recovered, and nipped up another tree. At all events, it was our last hunt at Molocopote. After that we conserved our strength by spending most of the time in our hammocks, with the odd foray to the cashew trees.’