Call me a weekend warrior if you like, but I would be proud to point out that during my service I was awarded honor graduate in basic training, the Meritorious Service Ribbon, Army Commendation Medla, Overseas Service Ribbon, almost all the usual awards except the Good Conduct Medal. I was also fortunate enough to have the pleasure of serving brief tours of duty in Palmerola Airbase in Honduras and the Jungle Operations Training Center at Fort Serhman, Panama.

   In civilian life, I have pursued my college degree of Biology and worked in various capacities as an animal handler. A few years back I worked at Cypress Gardens, Florida, where I performed alligator handling demonstrations. This is where I met my best friend and mentor, Richard Albin Fowler. We hit it off right away, and we have spent years exploring all the wilderness that Florida has to offer. I honestly can’t count how many times we have tangled with huge bull alligators,  diamond back rattlesnakes and the like.

   Not only has my friend, Richard, taught me the safest way to deal with dangerous wildlife, he is also an absolute master at the more subtle aspects of being a woodsman. I have watched in amazement as he calls up barred owls or wild turkeys at will. I have also observed from a distance as he silently stalks wild pigs, bobcats or deer. The animals seem to neither hear him or smell him, and they certainly don’t see him.

Richard also has a wealth of knowledge pertaining to the use of plants for food, medicine or other practical purposes.

It was at my friend Richard’s urging that I went on the most challenging survival experience of my life last year. In addition to his service in Vietnam with the 101^st Airborne, Richard has spent much time in years past travelling through some of the more remote areas of Columbia, Ecuador and Peru. He insisted I drop what I was doing and take a little excursion on the Amazon with him. Here is that story;

   We fly into Iquitos, Peru, late at night. This is the jungle city in the Amazon that has no roads leading to or from it. After a brief inspection with customs officials and running the gauntlet of native youngsters offering everything from shoe shines to native jewelery, Richard expertly navigates us through this strange crowd in a strange city until I soon find myself boarding a 30 foot motor boat and heading up the Amazon River.

   Our first stop is at Pangwana, about 50 miles or so up river from Iquitos. We are headed far up river to very remote areas, so this was just an overnight stop. I am introduced to the first of several indian guides, Andres Peyner, and I am made to fell quite at home. Andres and his family are very polite and spare no effort to see that I am made comfortable.

 The following day is mostly a long boat ride further up the Amazon. The river is so wide that one gets the impression of being on a huge lake rather than a river. After another hundred miles or so we turn off onto a small tributary, the Yarapa River. The Yarapa River Camp would more or less be our base camp while we spent two weeks exploring the Amazon Jungle.   I am advised at this point that the rest of the trip might be a little  strenuous. Richard assures the indian guides that I can deal with a little physical exertion. I assure myself that what I learned at Jungle School has surely prepared me for  whatever may come. Little did I know.

   We switch from the big motor boat to little dugout canoe now. The rivers are too small, too shallow and full of logjams for the big boats – sometimes even for the small dugouts. We trudge through the mud when we have to, sometimes even dragging our dugouts through the jungle to hidden lakes cut off from the river system, I am immediately  captivated by the abundance of wildlife. Monkeys, birds of prey and parrots of all kinds are constantly visible, as are numerous butterflies and strange exotic insects. We also spot tracks left by capybara, tapir and even jaguar. The fishing itself is the best I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve fished everywhere from Alaska to Yellowstone to the Everglades. It’s not unusual to catch several species of fish in one afternoon, like so many bass or bream. We also caught many tucanarés  (Peacock Bass), arawana, unusual species of catfish and even a six foot long electric eel!

   At night, we would amuse ourselves with the caiman (crocodile) hunt. There are several species of caimans in the Amazon, the Black Caiman being the largest. To the layman, it is virtually indistinguishable from our own American Alligator. Since Richard and I had done this kind of thing many times before, we were actually showing the indigenous a thing or two. I learned later that they had never seen a caiman captured with a catch pole and noose until Richard had demonstrated this technique for them. They were also more than just a little impressed when I was able to capture a couple of small ones by hand, by myself, then they knew I wasn’t the average eco-tourist.

  During one caiman hunt, I saw my first poisonous snake in Perú. It was very dark and we were all getting our head lamps and catch poles ready. Just as we prepared to step into the dugouts and push off, Richard noticed something strange and flipped on his light. A six foot Fer-de-Lance was sprawled across the bow of one of our canoes. The snake darted into the water before we could catch it but we did manage to get a couple of quick camera shots before it disappeared into the weeds. Richard and I are both experienced in the handling of venomous reptiles, but neither if us is immune to the poisons of snakebites. I paused to reflect that we were, at this point, three days travel to the closest city, and are not sure about the quality of health care available even there. Getting bitten by a poisonous snake was not real high on our list of things to do.    Nevertheless, we then embarked on a week-long hike through the rain forest. We packed a little food, camping gear and two canteens apiece. Yes, only two canteens apiece. It simply isn’t practical to try and haul a week’s worth of water. We get water along the way. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? Sure, you can get water from certain vines but I’m here to tell you that the paltry amount of water that can be gotten from these vines is simply a cruel tease to a sweaty, exhausted gringo. As for other sources, one must be aware of the dangers of unpurified water – malaria, dysentery, giardiasis, etc. Well, naturally we came prepared with a hand-pump-type water filter and water purification tablets. Still sounds easy? Try carrying a 50 pound backpack through hot thick, thorny jungle and you’ll find that those first two canteens last about an hour. You find yourself hoping there will be a stream around the next bend. Sometimes there is, but most times not. When you do find a stream, it’s not exactly mountain spring water. We are so drained physically that the simple effort of filtering or boiling water is an exhausting process. Sometimes we would boil water instead of filtering because it was quicker. But then it takes an insufferably long time for the water to cool sufficiently to drink. Even then, I have guzzled water as hot as McDoanlds coffee and it tasted like a cold fountain drink to me. I look with some embarassment at my new found indian friends who have hardly broken a sweat. I am literally drenched and dripping. I feel like a stinking pig. I want to die. Then my friend, Richard, reminds me I am having a great time.   When I catch my breath and replenish my fluids, I am able to concentrate on what I am here for, to enjoy the majestic beauty of the rain forest. Monkeys surround us, as they seem as amused by us as we are of them. We take photos of snakes, frogs, butterflies, birds or whatever we find. In the morning, more hiking and my body screaming for just another sip of water. We might even come across an indian village where we are served tapir or capybara meat as honored guests.

   We followed a meandering, zig-zag path somewhere close to the border with Brazil. There is no real destination. The indian guides hack marks in the trees with their machettes every hundred yards or so, but I still can’t believe they’ll be able to find their way back. I ask Andres if he’s ever been lost. He says, “No, I’ve never been lost…but one time I was a bit confused for three days”.   Well, Richard was never confused, maybe bewildered once or twice. After about 5 days of tempting disease and death, Richard produces his handy  dandy lensatic compass and takes over the lead. True to his form, he again demonstrates to the indians how a real man o the world cuts to the chase and gets things done. After 5 days of exploring the jungle Richard takes us back in one day.

   As we head back down the Amazon to Iquitos, I was feeling pretty good. I felt the sense of accomplishment and fulfillment one gets only through sheer effort of a challenge well met. I learned a lot about the jungle and about myself. And I came to the realization that Jungle School in Panama was nothing but a friggin’ Boy Scout Camp.

   Contact Richard Fowler at the following address: Morona 531, Iquitos, Perú. (51-65) 962-1175 or Cell 9937762
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