Manaus, Brazil

Thursday Apr. 17, 2008

Everyone I'd talked to has said two things about Jericoacoara: It's probably the most beautiful beach in Brazil, and don't even try to take THAT bike there. So when I arrived at the end of the asphalt in Jijoca and a guide came rushing over to sell me a ticket for a dune buggy ride, I was kind of prepared to accept, but not the high price he was asking, and he was pushy, and I really didn't like the sounds of leaving Buzz there alone at a hotel, or staying in a hotel there with Buzz and just doing a day trip. Then a young guy who worked for the tourism center said I could make it on my bike and that he could lead me in with his little bike for less. After asking both of them allot of questions, the pushy guy got completely out of control and had to be asked to go away. I had a good feeling about the young guy and so I told him I'd accept, but he'd only get paid if I managed to ride Buzz all the way into Jeri. He said no problem, and so off we went. It ended up being a little challenging in some places, but nothing like I was expecting. Of course, knowing the way through the sand dunes and onto the beach was the real key.

I really liked Jeri, with its sand streets, dune buggies and relaxed style. But my first hotel room was not very nice so I decided to upgrade a little to the comfy Pousada do Mauricio that was owned by an Italian and his brother. This made a huge difference and even though I was still in traveling mode, this was to be my last beach resort in Brazil, and it wasn't easy to get to either so I convinced myself to stay for a few days.

It's pitch dark there by 6pm and the night before I'd planned to leave the electricity went out from 5pm - 3am so the whole town became beautifully quiet and candlelit. It was as if the Gods were telling me to stay put for another day. It also rained quite hard and steady that night, making it far too wet to leave the next day giving me another excuse to stay. But I was getting ansi again and everything here was sand so the water drained fast and the following day I was able to leave. Although there were considerably more water crossings on the way out than when I came in.

Remember what I said about the Gods trying to keep me in Jeri? Well, this would have been a good day for me to listen more to them than to my stubborness. While riding out of Jeri I very quickly developed a severely upset stomach from something at breakfast requiring a few emergency bathroom stops. That along with the slow, wet route out of Jeri meant that I wouldn't make it to Belem today (which didn't seem nearly as far away on the map). Tomorrow. I hoped.

The next day was rain and more rain as I passed through flooded areas where people were standing along the highways watching the water's progress. Later I would learn that several people had died and hundreds more were displaced by all the water coming down in this year's rainy season here in the Amazon rainforest.

Coming from a dry climate in Edmonton it's hard for me to adjust to always being in damp or wet clothes. Some hotel rooms smelled strongly of mildew in this warm and humid place and I didn't like it. It was impossible for me to find accommodations that night in one of the many seemingly dirty little towns I passed through, and soon the early darkness set in on me. This is one of those days that all overlanders knows well, and my only option was to keep riding in hopes of finding something in the next town.

I don't like to ride on the highway after dark in these countries, and with the rain and my diminished strength from the previous day it was even worse. As I passed through one of these towns where people were walking and visiting along the sides of the highway I hit a big rock that someone had placed in the middle of my lane for no good reason, adding yet another bend to my poor front wheel.

I've mentioned before, it's impossible to estimate how long it will take to get somewhere in these countries because of all the obstacles you have to cross to get somewhere. When I finally found a place to sleep that night I had ridden 850 kms (528 mi) in 15 hours (roughly half the distance in the same amount of time as I ride in Canada with my buddies to Hyder every spring), yet I was still a couple hundred kms from Belem. I was so tired at end of the day that Buzz fell over in front of the hotel while trying to park him, and I was too tired to be embarrassed.

I'm telling you all this because I sometimes think that people imagine my life on the road by moto is a big vacation. I agree, looking at all my pictures of tropical locations it's hard to imagine it not being wonderful. But often, in reality, it's quite the contrary. Often it's more a matter of basic survival, with very little time for vacation mode. That's probably why there is such a strong brotherhood between long-distance riders. As an example, some of the rooms I looked at that day were chock full of mosquitoes and later that night while watching the news I saw huge lineups of people at inadequate hospitals after a dengue outbreak that left 60 dead in Rio de Janeiro state alone. There have been more than 630,000 cases in Latin America in 2007, and that's not counting malaria and yellow fever.

The next day I finally arrived in Belem where I met Alex & his beautiful new wife Fabiana. Alex is well known through the Horizon's Unlimited motorcycle community as the friendly owner of a small moto shop who helps overlanders passing through this remote part of the world. When I arrived he told me there were only two boats to Manaus; one that night and another in five days. I don't like to make rushed decisions because I usually regret them later, but my feelings of 'keep on rollin' were strong that day so we went for a ride down to the dock to see the boat and buy my ticket. We rode down a dodgy looking, muddy, back-lane type road to a small pier where guys were hand-loading the belly of an old boat. We boarded, had a talk with the captain and looked at the freshly painted (and stinky) room I would be in. I felt uncomfortable about getting on that boat and Alex could tell. He told me the boat next week was bigger, more modern, the same price AND I could stay at his place without any worries until then. It was as if someone had pulled a plug out of my toe and all the worries I had about Belem and the boat trip drained right out of me.

While visiting Alex at his shop one day he introduced me to his friend. Wagner gave me a personal tour of Belem's beautiful historic center and docks and markets in his very fast new car before heading out on one of the endless number of rivers in his speedboat to a little riverfront restaurant. There I had the chance to try a small bite of a ferocious looking boiled crab that these people enjoy so much.

Since I had some time, I decided to try and get my Venezuelan visa one more time. Unlike my experience in Rio, this went very smoothly. It was almost too easy. I didn't have to wait the minimum 5 days (had it in less than an hour), didn't have to pay the $30 US (it didn't cost me a penny) and everyone was pleasant. Hmmmmm.....I hate to be skeptical, but.....I guess we'll see when I get to the border won't we?

During my short visit to Belem, here are a few things I noticed: For your own safety, and of course because it is legal, you only need to yield at red lights not stop; I saw very few police; several restaurants and internet cafes have a pay first policy; everytime I looked at a newspaper there were pictures of dead people on the front page; and Buzz was starting to show his dislike again for this Brazilian gas.

At the more modern dock for the bigger boat there seemed to be a constant confusion about the trip to Manaus. I was expecting some form of competition yielding better prices than the single company that carried passengers and small cargo twice-weekly was offered me. I returned several times to confirm dates, times and prices, but in the end it all proved futile because no one seemed to know what was going on. Here the river rises and falls several meters with the ocean, but unlike most surf towns I've visited, who use tidal calendars, these people don't seem to know when the water will be high or low. This is important because I needed to ride Buzz along a plank that connected the dock and the boat, so they both needed to be near the same level.

I was originally told to be there at 10am, but when I got there they said come back at 3pm, then 4pm. Buzz finally ended up boarding around 5pm. And the boat that was supposed to leave at 6pm finally departed at 9pm. Security was obviously on the same payroll because walk-on passengers had to go through a metal detector and have their bags searched, yet Buzz and I were never even checked.

Once on board I realized how thankful I was to have splurged and spent the extra money for a cabin rather than going budget class. Those poor souls slept 5 nights in hammocks (although they didn't seem to mind), while I had a bed; they had to wait in long lines for every meal, while I walked right into a separate dining room; and they had only a bread roll and coffee for breakfast, whereas I had "extras" like ham, cheese and fruit.

Usually I'm pretty careful with what I eat and drink, and I was trying to be more so here after seeing that the water in the bathroom and shower was obviously river water. But in the end I think it was the ham that did me in. On the second night I got very ill, after which I had body-aches, swollen tongue, throat and upset stomach for the rest of the trip. I visited the ship's nurse who didn't seem to know very much about what I had, but at least sold me some antibiotics.

We made several stops at small towns and cities along the way to Manaus where locals would row their shallow dugouts out to the ship hoping for a handout. Obviously, regular passengers on board knew about this tradition and had prepared bags of what looked like clothing, which they would toss overboard towards them. Sometimes it was difficult to tell though whether they were tossing out gifts or garbage, something they often did without any hesitation into this mighty river.

We finally disembarked in Manaus at 8:30pm and I rode Buzz off the ship into the darkness in this remote jungle city of 2 million people looking for a place to stay. While searching, I spotted another overlander moto; a BMW F650 inside the office of a tour company. A couple hours later I eventually found a place in a seedy looking part of town with a garage for Buzz. The next day I returned to the tour company office where I met the BMW's very friendly Colombian owner, Carlos. He was just starting his ride through South America and we had lots to talk about, but he could see that I was sick and insisted on me sleeping in his room next door while he watched over Buzz.

While I was sleeping, Carlos had been talking to a couple of moto guys named Poncho (who rode there from Uruguay) and Leandro (who lived there). They saw Buzz and stopped to visit, but were long gone when I awoke. Geraldo, the friendly owner of Amazon Gero Tours, where Carlos's bike was, heard that I was looking for a place to stay for a few more nights and that I couldn't find anywhere with a garage so he freely offered to store Buzz in his small office too.

The next day I was feeling even worse, with body aches and an upset stomach. After having traveled for so long and eaten so many different foods without getting sick for more than a day, I couldn't help but wonder if it was something more serious like malaria or dengue. By that night I needed to visit a clinic (you can either visit the hospital for free and wait, or you can visit a clinic and pay and get helped fast) where all three of my new friends insisted on accompanying me while I received a 500 ml of saline intravenously and had some blood tests done.

Two days later while writing this to you, I'm once again eating solid food and feeling much better. Thankfully, the medication I received from the clinic is working and the results from the malaria test were negative. So now all I have to do is wait for is the rain to stop. Yeah, right!

Lookout Venezuela, here I come!