Flashback - Bonito

Bonito, Brazil Though we’re only about 50 yards from the campsite the darkness and humidity form a blanket that we’re slowly pushing through. Eventually our eyes begin to adjust to the blackness and the landscape gradually starts to reveal itself. From the spongy mud and the 3 inches of water that laps our ankles grass grows about waist height. Above us the pinpricks of stars peep down at us and Orion’s belt hangs at a jaunty angle. We’re picking our way down the narrow path that connects the campsite and the river. Our bellies are full from the lamb that was spit roasted by one of the drivers, our heads are abuzz from the rum punch I had brewed up and our blood is laced with the excitement that the wonders of night wandering bring. As we inch closer the low rumble of the river becomes clearer and we pass the small trail that leads down to the first swimming hole or what I like to call the daytime swimming hole. Here the river surges over a small waterfall into a deceivingly deep pool where froth erupts from the crystal center and rocks jut out in a semicircle giving you the perfect place to sit and enjoy the sunshine. But now its nighttime and we bypass this hole for now. Behind me I have about 8 people or so, the majority from my truck, but a few from the other trucks scattered around whom also going into Carnival. We pass small holes that have been dug for small saplings. Some of saplings haven’t taken and when we’re here in the daytime I try to convince people that they’re anaconda holes. English people will believe anything as long as you say it in the authoritative guide voice. Finally we reach our destination. I strip down to my swimsuit and climb over the log that guards the opening to the river. A large tree has fallen here across the river and I slowly make my way down the slippery surface to the water where the tree is submerged by a foot and a half of water. The river is about 20 feet wide here. The water is just cold enough to cool us down and is so crystal clear that in the daytime you can see the fish from the bank. The tree is easily long enough to accommodate everybody and at the far end of it, almost at the other bank of the river, there is a thick branch that forks sideways leaving a nice flat rung from which you can jump into the river. It’s about ten feet deep, easily enough to do dives or back flips safely into the slow current. These are the moments that make me love my job. Here there are no questions, no pressing responsibilities, no accounting, no emails, I’m one of them. I pull a couple of long slow strokes up river and let myself glide back down to the log. Around me there are smiles and splashes. For some reason, in this job these are the times when I feel most meditative. When I’m alone there is always a voice in the back of my head that is chanting the never ending mantras: must do this, gotta do that, but in the glow of laughter and quiet satisfaction of showing people beautiful things my mind clears.