In Search of Rio Bravo
a kayaker´s perspective on the Ecuadorian river…
Published in Backpacker Magazine

“Jaysis! Will ye look at the size of that…”
Light was fading rapidly and our headlamps were starting to pick out some nocturnal visitors. The spider was as large as my hand, with a bright yellow stripe and long, sharp legs.
“Hey Alex, do these things bite?”
“Damn right – they’ll leave you swollen for weeks. Not as bad as the Conga ant though, 3 bites can kill you…”

I zipped up my tent with a healthy sense of paranoia, and reflected on the day´s events. A short hike into our river, along a creek of waterfalls and irridescent butterflies. The challenge of navigating the rapids of the Rio Hollin in our kayaks. The excitement of setting up camp at sundown. All said, a perfect adventure day in a rainforest paradise. Still, the jungle wasn´t half scary at night.

Since the early 90´s Ecuador has been building a reputation as a world class white water destination.
Hundreds of rivers tumble off Andean peaks towards the mighty Amazon, powering their way through dense rainforest. For many of Ecuador´s 13 million inhabitants, these rivers form a complete survival system. Food, transport and drinking water all provided by the rivers we use for entertainment and high adrenaline thrills.

My goal was to explore further this fusion of physical environment, cultural reliance and personal challenge. Basically, I was looking for an adventure and an escape from the Dublin winter. That´s what drove me to assemble a team and fly to Quito. That´s what had me sleepless and sweating on the banks of the Rio Hollin, listening to the orchestra of the insect night-watch, the roar of the river and an unnerving scratching sound on my flysheet.

The kayaker´s perspective is truly unique. Dense jungle closes in from both banks as water drives its way over rock ledges and around huge boulders. We control our descent by jumping between eddies (small areas of slack water). On harder stretches we exit the boats and scramble along the bank to scout our best line. Where a rapid looks impossible or just too dangerous, we shoulder our kayaks and beat our way through the thick forest, alive with sound and smell, and swarms of biting ants.

That´s how we passed our first few weeks in Ecuador – enjoying the challenge of the rivers, the majesty of the rainforest and the warm welcome of an ever-smiling people. Then things changed.

The door of my room flew open and the doctor thrust his hand towards me.
“Mr Irvine, congratulations. You have malaria.”
It was the best news I´d had in days.

It seems I had been visited by a mosquito that leaves more than an itch. I wasn´t feeling great as we waited for a bus to Quito (Sunday lunchtime). By the time the bus showed (Monday morning – long story) I was slipping into a violent fever.

Malaria is hard to describe without swearing, because that´s what it feels like – one long, filthy, decrepid string of foul language and hatred. Gripped by a violent fever, you shake uncontrollably, sweat but feel frozen, your head screams, your muscles cramp and spasm. Your liver feels like someone is punching it, from the inside. Your breathing is rapid and irregular, your pulse goes wild. You vomit and have diarrhoea. It basically feels like a mean little virus that´s trying to kill you, which is exactly what it is.

The doctors took an age to diagnose and eventually made an educated guess at malaria. Hence my relief to learn the gamble had paid off. I spent 7 days in hospital -if I had come for personal challenge, then I had found it in abundance. For a while the future of my trip looked in jeopardy, but I made a steady recovery and was soon ready for a fresh adventure…

Something didn´t feel right. We were heading the wrong way… upstream!
It was the final week of our trip and we had changed our kayaks for dugout canoes. We were 4 hours from the nearest road, the sun was beating down and we were struggling to haul our heavy boat upstream through a shallow rapid.

Our destination was El Choco, one of the planet´s last remaining tropical coastal rainforests. This is an area of intense natural beauty. The Cayapas river weaves its way through a lush green forest from the Cotacachi-Cayapas ecological reserve, all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

We pass clusters of wooden huts, built on stilts with thatch roofs. Women wash clothes at the water´s edge, chickens and pigs forrage in the tall grass and bare-footed children wave and shout greetings. Canoes of all sizes float past, carrying people and produce up and down river – the only highway in this remote region. Boys cast their fishing lines and eagles soar overhead. It is the veritable picture of a jungle community living in harmony with their surroundings.

The area is home to two separate ethnic groups – the indigenous Chachi people and the descendents of African slaves that fled their wrecked slave ships. Our guides Gustavo and Rainel point out plants that are used to cure kidney problems, glue rubber, settle stomachs, build canoes, make fishing line, weave baskets, flavour food, roof houses, wash clothes. There is even a tree whose bark can cure malaria (could have used that one). They identify birds by their calls and move with ease through the thick forest that has provided for their communities for centuries.

Back on the river, equally at home, they spear fish and effortlessly manoeuvre heavy canoes through rocky rapids. They seem to have all they need to live a self-sufficient lifestyle in the forest… at least as far as our utopian first impression goes. For it seems that all is not well in paradise after all.

According to Miguel Chapiro (president of the Kumanii foundation) these communities haven’t been truly self sufficient in almost 20 years.
Cash is needed for outboard engines, fuel, clothing, medicines and high school education – basic conveniences that raise living standards, that worldwide phenomenon known as development. The source of this cash income? Timber. International logging companies are knocking on the doors of San Miguel, Trinidad and Loma Linda. They wave attractive contracts, seeking to clear-cut huge tracts of pristine rainforest, causing irreversible damage to an entire ecosystem and way of life.

Desperate for an alternative, local people are turning to the Kumanii foundation, a fledgling eco-tourism initiative and our hosts for 5 days. They are working to promote ecological and cultural tourism as alternate sources of cash income for local communities. It’s a tough task. The very inaccessibility that has protected the area from outside influences for so long now acts as a barrier to tourism development. On our second day we board small canoes and sweat and haul our way further upriver.

Here the Rio Cayapas becomes the Rio Bravo (River of the Brave), named due to the aggressive tribes that once lived there and the violent rapids that rage during the rainy season. We soon find ourselves wading, up to our necks in places, as mosquitoes buzz about our ears and birds screech in the canopy. We make camp under a small hunting shelter. Light fades, the insects begin their torrent of noise and the spiders appear. Below us, the Rio Bravo snakes its way to the Pacific – a monument to a people that are no more, a symbol of what sparked this whole adventure in the first place and a beacon of hope for a way of life that might yet be saved.

Getting there:
Flights to Quito with Iberia cost about 900 euro.
Ecuador has an extensive bus network. Most destinations can be reached for under $10 from Quito.

Daily Expenses:
Currency is the US$. Meriendas or “supper of the day” costs from $1.50. Hostels are available from $4-$12. Organised tours typically cost about $50 per day. We budgeted about $25 euro per day and (more or less) met that limit.

Why kayak?
For many regions, rivers represent the only viable transportation artery. Where the gradient is steep enough to create powerful currents and rapids, the kayak is often the only craft up to the task.

Typically around 2.5m long, our boats are light enough to carry on our shoulders, strong enough to withstand impact with rocks and just big enough to carry several days food and supplies. With a closed cockpit design we can even roll the boat upright if we capsize. The kayak takes us places that no one else can ever experience – into the deepest canyons and through the densest jungle. It does not pollute – it makes no sound and leaves no trace.

River exploration in the Tena area:
Tena has become the white water capital of Ecuador and the best place to start a kayaking trip. Transport to and from the rivers is available with local taxi drivers in pick-up trucks. An excellent guidebook is available to order from www.smallworldadventures.com. For the inexperienced, kayak guiding and instruction is also available. An alternative is to explore the rivers in a 6-person white water raft. The guide steers from the back and you just paddle hard and hold on! More information in Tena from RiverPeople: (http://riverpeopleraftingecuador.com)

Learning to Kayak in Ireland:
The Irish Canoe Union administers a comprehensive training scheme (www.irishcanoeunion.com)
Courses are available nationwide - see www.canoe.ie for more

The Kumanii Foundation
More on Kumanii and eco-tourism at www.kumanii.org

Check out our online diary from the 2005 RiverNomad trip to Ecuador here