Our ‘human-power’ had propelled us all the way down from the remote jungle on Brazil’s border with Guyana, down a chain of tributaries (Rio Maú, Rio Tacutu, Rio Branco, Rio Negro) and finally onto the Amazon itself. We hope our bodies will continue to perform across the vast distances ahead. Meanwhile, through our increasing experiences with the Amazonian people, known as caboclos or ribeirinhos, the concept of ‘human-powered’ travel took on a new dimension. Without the friendship, food and shelter offered by these fellow humans, we could have spluttered to a stop. We’d met a bad apple or two, and are likely to meet more in the future, but this doesn’t taint what has so far been a rhythm of new friendships.

Countless nights we paddled up to stilted riverside shacks with a storm and darkness rolling in, our safety relying on the understanding and kindness of the strangers gazing hesitantly out of the shutters at us. If they were spooked by the two grubby gringos in a strange vessel, we’d be left paddling through the night until we found a place to camp, risking running a nasty storm in the dark in our small canoe and being easy prey for the nocturnal river pirates.

If they welcomed us in, we’d have a dry night, spent eating and exchanging stories by candlelight, being sent off with sad goodbyes the next morning or often few days later. They would rarely accept money for the cargoes of passion fruit, pineapples, fish, wild honey and farinha that they filled our canoe with. Luckily and in testament to the Brazilian spirit, we were nearly always welcomed.

”Meu Deus! You’ve paddled all the way from there?!”; It was the story of our adventure that opened the doors for us, and living on the river we had more in common with our hosts than we had imagined.