The jungle around her felt like a giant wet blanket. An early morning shower had drenched everything and the humidity had skyrocketed. She was used to dense forests back in her days in the state of Washington where she was a child. This jungle, however, was nothing like home. Everything seemed alive. It was never silent. Wildlife was everywhere, on the ground, filling the trees above and on every frond and bush they seemed to encounter. She had never seen so much life. Even with the vibrant canopy of trees overhead, the sun seemed to stick its fingers down through the treetops touching the ground all about her. Each point of light seemed to illuminate the thousands of crawling insects and bugs on the ground. Those creatures not on the ground were flying about her head. This made South Alabama and the gnats seem like child’s play. Some of these insects were as big as small birds. The ground seemed to move as thousands of ants and other crawling things traveled along their way, undaunted by their presence. One thing about the rainforest, it was bursting with life!
Randall Finley stood near her intently reviewing a map in one hand and his GPS in the other. An already thin man of six feet, the past several weeks in the jungle had taken a few more pounds off of his gaunt frame. But with his chiseled looks, he looked like a thin Indiana Jones in his khaki trousers, khaki shirt and old brown brogan shoes. He took turns looking at his GPS and checking back with his map. Outwardly he seemed confused.
“We aren’t lost, are we?” smirked Dana, knowing full well that Randall probably knew where they were within inches.
“Yeah, we are lost,” he quipped, knowing they were exactly where they wanted to be. “I guess we will just have to hope Sheena of the Jungle will find us.”
“Right; that’s what we need, a half-naked blonde woman out here driving you crazy,” she answered, smiling and shaking her head. “Let’s get going.”
“I already have that,” said Randall, trying to hide his grin as he turned and led the group deeper into the jungle.
“Aww, you just love me to death,” laughed Dana.
The group followed Randall as he wielded his bolo and began another leg of their trek.
Dana and Randall had been married for two years but had been roaming around the wilds of Brazil together for nearly three years before that. Both had graduated from Princeton where their studies in Amazon cultures had gotten them choice professorships that provided a good life. Their marriage was attended by all of the faculty as well as international benefactors who for whatever reason seemed totally enthralled with the Finleys and their work.
They both loved the wilds of the jungle. They especially loved the Amazon. This was the last great largely uncharted area in the world. Hundreds had trekked the wilds of Africa but few had tried the Amazon River jungles, especially here in western Brazil.
They were searching for ancient Amazon tribal artifacts. Buoyed by the small grant they received from an anonymous but well-funded benefactor, they had rushed down to the Amazon immediately after the spring term. They had been here since June 8th and were now headed into their sixth week. The lion’s share of their grant money had been spent to fly down and outfit the small team of eight researchers and ten locals. The Finleys wanted to get as much done as they could before returning to their teaching jobs at Princeton. Fall quarter was just around the corner.
Their area of interest was in the southern Amazon near the headwaters of the Rio Juruena in west-central Brazil about 400 miles north-northwest of Caceres. The area was about as far away from nowhere as anyone could get. Far from any large town, there were very few foreigners that ventured into this area. This was the home of several indigenous tribes. The Finleys were there to study those that they could find or, to be more specific, those who found them.
“According to my bearings, I suggest that we head north,” said Randall as calmly as if he were in his classroom back at Princeton. “If we can make eight miles before dark, we should be in the general area where we were told that new tribe should be. I believe they are a derivative of the Trumai tribe.”
“They would be a great group to study if we could find them,” answered Dana.
“You think we can make eight miles?”
“Eight miles in this jungle will be hard but I think we can do it,” Dana said, knowing that Randall’s question was a thinly veiled challenge.
Dana snapped her bandana at Randall’s butt.
“I can. But sometimes I wonder about you!” she said smiling.
Randall returned the smile and stepped back to the rest of the group and told Manolo, one of the local tribesmen, to take the lead.
“Head to the north,” Randall said, pointing northward while waiting for a look of comprehension from Manolo.
“Norte,” he blurted in Portuguese and smiled. He seemed to pick up the pace. Randall was pleased.
Just a few more miles and we will find what we have been looking for, Randall thought to himself. His broad smile displayed his clear enjoyment. After all of these years studying these people, he was hoping to finally be able to see them face to face.
Randall looked around at the small group marching through the jungle. It reminded him of the old Tarzan movies he had watched as a kid. It was those shows that got him interested in the jungle and its people. But in the back of his mind he always had the distinct fear that the people he might find may not want to be found. And they may not like those that found them.
Their trek continued until they came upon a small open area, very odd for this tract of jungle. They had traveled about seven miles since their lunch stop. They were very close to their goal.
“I think we should stop here and set up camp,” said Randall, gauging the size of the open ground and the size they needed for a camp. “I don’t think we will find a better place to camp, even if it’s a bit early. Let’s give everyone a break.”
“Sounds like a winner to me,” retorted Dana. “I could use a nice restful early evening dinner and dancing.”
“Right,” smiled Randall. “I’ll get the dinner reservations and set up the band.” Randall walked over to the carriers and began to tell them where to set camp.
“Yes, Dr. Randall. I get everything set up,” the leader, Manolo, answered in broken English laced with the accent of his native Portuguese and native languages. Manolo was a Brazilian native. In his 32 years he had grown up in these jungles. His parents had not seen a white man until they were teenagers. Manolo had been fascinated by the white people who came into the jungle and had followed one group back to civilization. There he got a rudimentary education but always returned to his native jungles. Manolo was highly recommended to the Finleys by several colleagues who had employed him before. Randall had come to Brazil to find Manolo and hire him for this trek. Manolo had taken good care of the Finleys so far. His easy-going style and real interest in their work had yielded a great sense of pride in what he was doing.
Manolo meticulously set up each area of the camp. First he arranged an area for the Finleys a bit away from the main area of camp. Then he created a cooking area and got the cook and his helper started on the night’s meal. Several of the other men cleared a sleeping area for Manolo and his men, all of this under the watchful eye of Manolo. They also set up a small perimeter security area and placed a few men at intervals watching out for trouble but fully not expecting any. This setup was mainly to warn away any nighttime hunting animals that may decide to get bold and enter camp. A large campfire was always present. The fire drew many flying bugs but in Manolo’s experience kept away the larger, more dangerous animals of the jungle.
As the Finleys’ tent was being pitched, Randall unpacked the gear and began to set up a table for the radio and the telescoping fifty foot aerial. The radio rig gave them the ability to check in with the folks back at the base. This was one of the several safety procedures the Finleys had insisted upon; near constant communications back to a base camp at the trailhead a hundred miles back.