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Log #41H - Up the Manamo River
[photos]
Written at: Prickly Bay, Grenada
Nov. 11, 2006
I note the date as I write this, of November 11th, Remembrance Day, and I do
remember the war dead, the Veterans, and especially those Canadian military who
are putting their lives on the line every day, especially in Afghanistan. Thank
you!
In the Orinoco Delta, Oct. 7, we motored out the mouth of the muddy brown
Pedernales River, around the town of Pedernales, giving the shallows off it a
wide berth, to enter the Manamo River. We were a bit delayed in starting, as Bob
on Good Time Charlie had trouble raising his anchor. The pawl which disengages
the chain as it comes up was not working, and he had to finally weigh anchor
manually. However by 1000 we were off.
The Manamo River, also known as Rio Manamo and Cano Manamo, is split into three
tributaries winding around islands here at the river mouth. We went up the
easternmost tributary, a broad placid expanse of muddy current moving downstream
towards the sea at about 2 knots. The river is tidal for over 60 miles upstream,
reversing its course every six hours with tidal ranges from one to three feet.
We were making only 2.5 knots into the current, and so decided to stop at noon
for lunch while waiting for the tide to reverse itself. As Bob had to weigh
anchor manually, we suggested he tie off to a line from Veleda for short lunch
stops. Once we were anchored, we floated a 60 foot line tethered to a fender
which he picked up, to secure Good Time Charlie astern of us in the gentle
current. We had traveled only 4.2 nautical miles upstream, but had seen much
bird life, including scarlet ibis, herons, and egrets, but no habitations once
we left Pedernales behind. The river is 100 to 200 yards wide, with low muddy
banks lined with dense impenetrable jungle.
We weighed anchor at 1300 when the tide was starting to flood. Now our speed was
5.8 knots for the afternoon as we continued motoring upstream with the tidal
current. We noted several side channels emerging from the tree covered shores,
and early in the afternoon encountered our first habitations of palofitos. These
are the homes of the Wareo people; open framed huts with palm thatched roofs,
built on stilts above the river's muddy tide-washed banks. Possessions are hung
from the rafters, or lie on the roughhewn wooden floors. There is little
furniture other than hammocks, blue plastic water containers, boxes on the
floors, and clotheslines to store, or hang and air out, their simple clothing of
dresses, jeans, T-shirts, towels and sheets (inside or outside the palofitos).
As we passed these simple habitations, many youngsters, some as young as 4 up to
early teenage, paddled out in shallow-draft, low freeboard (3 to 4 inches)
dugout canoes, eager to greet us, trade, or just gawk at our (to them)
magnificent modern yachts, a far cry from their primitive world.
We had read about trading with the natives, and had a supply of items available
which we traded for necklaces, baskets, carvings (of a dugout canoe and a
toucan) and a variety of basketry plates and trivets. To the first few kids I
gave some Canadian flag stickers, then belatedly realized they did not know what
Canada was. I suspect most of them were illiterate, and many did not even speak
Spanish (nor do we). However we managed quite well with smiles, gestures and
pointing to exchange goods. They got a kick out of my antics to describe what
soap and shampoo were for, with my scrubbing under my arm pits, imitating a
shower, and washing my hair. They also were amused when I took their pictures
(with their permission beforehand) and showed them the images on the digital
camera. A few times I was able to verbally communicate with them by pointing to
myself and saying, "My name is Aubrey." then pointing to the oldest individual
in that particular canoe and asking, "What is your name?" I got several shy
responses.
The first village had about 20 stilt-supported palofitos along the muddy tidal
shore line, and over a dozen canoes came out to greet us. We were besieged by
friendly smiling faces of children in the low-freeboard dugout canoes, most of
which had a couple of inches of water. They did not mind the water, or being
wet. A couple of gifts I gave to some of these intrepid canoeists were halved 2
litre plastic Coke bottles to use as bailers. After the trading was over, the
children often hung on to our toe rails just looking at the boat, but when we
were ready to depart they understood a wave goodbye, and eased away from Veleda
so we could continue upstream. Stopping to drift whenever canoes came out to
meet us slowed our progress upstream, but we thought it would have been impolite
to just motor past these kids who paddled out to greet or trade with us.
A few times adults came out in canoes, several with small infants in their arms,
again to trade with the same offerings as the children. To these adults we would
offer flour, thread, needles, and scissors. We noted with the adults and older
children horrible tooth decay especially of the front teeth (frequently
missing). That is one of the reasons we did not give out candies.
One or two of the small villages seemed to have electric wires, probably from a
local generator as opposed to a government supplied electric grid. It seemed
quite strange to go past an open palofito in the midst of the jungle-lined shore
and see a TV perched on top of a plastic water barrel, a game show playing. When
there was more than one hut, they would be connected by raised wooden walkways.
Some had ladders running down from the floors to the muddy ground, where dugout
canoes could come alongside and the occupants could scramble up the ladders into
the hut. All of the palofitos would be strung along the shoreline. They did not
go inland at all unless alongside a tributary off the main river.
As we continued upstream we would occasionally see open, long, slender pirogues
dashing through the muddy waters, with a dozen or more people, and/or blue
barrels and boxes of supplies, running at high speed, spray hiding half the
length of these low-freeboard water taxis. These vessels had high powered
outboard engines. I saw one with a 250 horsepower outboard and several with two
or three 150 horsepower outboards. We also saw more sedate open boats with
bimini tops ferrying people up and down the river. The river is the only mode of
transport. This is why the local tribes are called Wareo, the people of the
canoe.
More about our explorations up some of the canos in my next log.
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