It had been raining hard all night and we woke to a steamy hot morning in Tena Ecuador. Four months prior EJ and I began making plans to shoot an instructional video to supplement his kayaking strokes and concepts book. We decided that Ecuador would be a great location due to the many warm, beautiful rivers and the deep green jungle backdrop. Eric Jackson, Danny Stock, Jessie Stone and myself had been working for 5 days straight filming the video, and we were ready for a break. After a long breakfast and lazy morning we flagged down a truck taxi and headed to the Lower Missiualli River, a short 15 min ride from the town of Tena. Even though we got the classic late start to the river I felt that we had plenty of time to complete the run. I had done the run several times before, from high to low water, solo, and never had any problems. This 10 miles section traversed through thick jungle containing big water playboating and a sketchy class 5 broken waterfall that involves a tricky portage toward the end of the run. At the put in we watched as several dugout canoes made perfect ferries, bringing fruit and people from one side of the river to the other. Our playboats were a crazy contrast to their long, narrow boats and how they stood perfectly balanced in the back, polling across the river. 
Out in the water, EJ pulled off his patented flatwater front loop over another kayak showing off to the natives. The river at the put in was surprisingly low considering the heavy rains the night before, but with every tributary the level increased. At the beginning of the gorge we paddled below a falls several hundred feet tall falling from the jungle directly into the river. The wind from the falls was so strong that it almost blew the paddles out of our hands. The river picked up more and more power the further we paddled and I realized that waves I had surfed at high water before were now blown out. We finally made it to the waterfall where it was quit evident that the water was very high and that the portage was going to be difficult. Two landslides had now narrowed the river increasing the flow of water over the falls. The old portage line that followed river level was under boulders and was much harder and dangerous than before. To make matters worse, the eddy at the end of the portage where we normally lower our boats into was completely blown out, allowing no way of putting back in. I remembered hearing talk about a portage through the jungle around the cliffed out gorge surrounding the waterfall but I had no idea where the trail began. 15 feet from the rivers edge the jungle grew thick and nearly impenetrable with not a trail in site. Danny who spends almost all of his time training slalom commented that he had never done a real portage around a rapid. EJ snickered and said this was not going to be an everyday portage and to get ready for a long haul. I glanced at my watch as we left the falls and it was 3 o’clock, 3 and a half hours of light left to complete the portage and the rest of the run, no problem I thought. We all started carrying our boats up the bank into the jungle and within 15 min of slipping and sliding, pulling our boats through thick vines and trees, EJ found a trail of footprints and machete marks leading up the steep muddy bank. After several hundred feet straight up, the trail started to fade so we bushwhacked downstream in the ultimate direction. After about an hour of doing battle with the jungle, we ran into another well-worn trail that continued up a ridgeline. It seemed we where getting a quick lesson in vertical jungle orienteering, whether we liked it or not. The trail we followed took us nearly 500 ft above the river and I decided that we where to high, probably following a trail the natives used to access the gorge. We all came to the decision to drop our boats, down climb and backtrack, looking for a way through the cliffs to the river. We all split up and followed different drainages but everything seemed to cliff out straight down to the river. Upon reconvening we realized the only thing to do was to continue on the trail hoping that it would hit a major drainage that would successfully take us back down to the river. We needed something positive to happen soon or we were looking at spending the night in the jungle. At this point we had each drank most of our water with about a quarter of a liter left between the 4 of us. For food we had two cans of tuna, a bag of chocolates and a half bag of Doritos. 
The sun fell fast and quickly engulfed us into darkness. We quickly arranged our boats on the hillside in a way that would be most comfortable to sleep on for the night. Jessie commented that we should probably eat a can of tuna before we sleep but we were all so thirsty that the idea didn’t sound inviting. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and wasn’t hungry in the slightest from all the hard work and dehydration.
I knew if I didn’t eat something I would surely bonk the next day. We all passed around the can of tuna in the dark and forced down a chunk each. At our present position we were within 50 miles of the equator, with nearly equal amounts of light and darkness each day no matter what time of year. So here it was 6:30 pm, totally dark and we knew that we had 12 hrs of sitting in the dark, able to do nothing for our situation.
The night was long and we kept ourselves busy telling each other every story and joke that we could remember. We watched all the footage that I had shot on my camera and still we had much time to kill. The night was so pitch black that even though Jessie and I where sitting side by side I couldn’t see her in the slightest. Sleeping consisted of dosing for what seemed like a couple of minutes before waking quickly to swat at a mosquito or some other crawling, biting insect. Mostly we sat listening to the millions of nocturnal animals, birds and bug sounds surrounding us, waiting for the first sign of light. I noticed that EJ didn’t talk much at all that night and thought that he was able to fall asleep for most of the night. This was not the case when the next day EJ told me that he was so thirsty that he couldn’t talk and besides he couldn’t understand a thing not being able to read lips.
As the sun rose we eagerly jumped up, ate some chocolates, took one gulp of the remaining water and started hauling our boats up the steep trail. Our goal was to climb up the ridge and down into another drainage that we guessed would take us back to the river. As we climbed out of the gorge we realized that the only way was straight up or down due to the extremely steep terrain all around us and lack of a
machete. After several hours of hauling boats we finally made it to what seemed like the top of the gorge and to a clearing. We were all excited to have a break from the dense jungle but instead the clearing was a clear cut of downed trees and brush piles making the jungle look like a walk in the park. We all split up and walked the perimeter of the clear-cut looking for a trail or road. EJ found a spring with what looked like suitable drinking water, and I found the continuing trail. We thought about the water quality of the spring for about a second before our thirst gave way and we all drank. The heat was intense and we all were dangerously dehydrated and drained of energy. We continued slowly up the trail that wound through small banana fields and after some time lead us to a small cluster of jungle huts. There were obvious signs that indigenous people lived in the dwellings but no one was around at the moment. After a short break we split up to sample the network of trails around the huts and look for someone that could give us directions through the maze of trails. EJ returned from his trail and told Jessie and I that it petered out into a nasty nettle thicket. As we waited for Danny we realized that the huts had a rainwater collection system and a 55-gallon drum of fresh clean water. We all drank about a liter each of the best water I have ever tasted and ate some food. We waited and waited and Danny never returned. I went down the trail to look for him and rather quickly ran into another series of trails all leading in different directions into unknown jungle. I returned telling the others that it was most possible that Danny had gotten lost. We split up and followed the trails looking for Danny or anyone that might be able to help us. The trails where all heavily traveled with deep mud,
impossible to follow footprints. After a half hour of walking we all meet back up and found a young indigenous boy of about 13 walking down the trail carrying a gun. We asked him if he had seen another gringo that morning and he told us that he had indeed spoken with Danny and given him the direction to the road. We offered to pay the boy if he would guide us to the road and also to carry Danny’s abandoned kayak. He eagerly said yes, grabbed the boat and then hurried down the trail at a pace that was difficult to keep up. After an hours walk we arrived at the boys home and where greeted by 20 + members of his family. They told us to put down our kayaks and come into the hut for something to eat and drink. We all sat down on benches in a large open room in the main hut and talked in our broken Spanish with the people in a very friendly atmosphere. They told us that they had seen Danny earlier and he was trying to ask them questions in English. Danny was fully aware that very few people in Ecuador speak English, he had surely become delirious if he thought the indigenous people would know what he was talking about. The people of the jungle speak Quichua as their first language and only use Spanish when they need to. We were worried for his safety with the possibility of him passing out in the middle of the jungle from dehydration.
The family treated us very warmly asking us all about our adventure and seemed very impressed that we had carried our heavy boats all the way from the river. The eldest women sat at a small fire in the corner of the room cooking yucca, eggs, and frying bananas in a pan. Two small children came up to us and showed us their proud baby pet Toucan. A younger woman handed me a bowl of white liquid called chicha, welcoming us to the house and motioned for me to take a drink. I knew that the drink was special to them and that I would offend the family if I didn’t drink. So I gulped a mouthful, forced down the sour, thick, alcoholic liquid almost gagging as I passed the bowl to EJ. To my surprise EJ grabbed the bowl not knowing what it was and took 3 large gulps and then passed it on to Jessie with a smile. Jessie toke the bowl and gulped as well but not as eager. Later that day I described to EJ and Jessie the process in which the indigenous people of South America make this popular drink. The women of the household take pieces of yucca root in their mouths and chew for a while then spit the mixture into a bowl; the chunks are then mashed, strained and the remaining liquid is left to ferment. This liquid is brought out to drink at special occasions similar to the way we would bust out a special bottle of wine.
The food and rest helped restore our energy and we told the family that we must head for the road and search for our lost friend. They offered two more brothers to help carry our boats the rest of the way to the road. We thanked them, said goodbye and headed down the trail for the final hour and a half walk to the road. The trail was the driveway for the family, their route for hauling fruit on their backs into town to sell at the weekend market. The trail was super muddy and sometimes we would sink well up to our shines in the slimy mud. After what seemed like a long hot walk we made it to the road where we paid and said goodbye to our new friends. The forty dollars that we gave them for their help was probably 3 times the money they normally make after a hard days work and they where very gracious. The bus arrived and we loaded our kayaks on top eagerly taking seats for the half hour bus ride back to town. As we rode we reflected on the last two days, agreeing that the trip was a grueling two-day biathlon adventure in jungle. We arrived in town hoping that Danny had made it back by himself and would be there to greet us. Instead we were greeted by our friend Gynner who, laughing aloud, told us that Danny had made it back safely, fueled up in town and then headed back to the jungle to find us. It turns out that when Danny split up from us in the jungle he was in fact delirious and decided to find the road on this own and go for help. When he reached the boy all he could ask with his limited Spanish was the direction to the road to Tena. Somehow in a delusional state he weaved through the network of trails and found the road. He then jumped on a bus
by accident in the wrong direction realized that he had no money with him. He then jumped off the bus without paying, realized he was in the wrong town and then hired a cab for the hour ride back to Tena promising to pay upon reaching the hotel. In Tena he ate food, took a shower and then realized that he must go back to the jungle to save us. He hired a cab to take him back to the trail and set out looking for us. Somehow we didn’t cross paths and he walked for another hour up the trail before someone motioned to him that we where at the road. That night in Tena we all had a big laughs over a pizza dinner and gave Danny continuous amounts of shit for abandoning us in the jungle. Safe and sound we all agreed that our recent experience was better than any jungle trek tourist money could buy in Ecuador.
Lessons learned in the jungle….
Duct tape is no substitute for a pants.
All rivers should be given equal amounts of respect regardless of the class or experience of the group.
It doesn’t hurt to carry a machete in your playboat as part of the safety gear.
