Free Lost in the Jungle by Yossi Ghinsberg

pocketknife, tore a page out of the book, and rolled a cigarette. Kevin and I burst out laughing, but Marcus’s feelings were hurt.
    The next morning we got ready to leave. Karl bought some freshly ground coffee from Don Jorge’s wife. Marcus and I went to have another look at the son with the infected toe. His mother said that he had slept soundly all night, and she was extremely grateful to Marcus. Marcus removed the bandage and saw that there hadn’t been any improvement. The toe was black and oozing pus.
    ‘I’m afraid that the infection will spread to his whole foot,’ he warned Don Jorge. ‘He has to see a doctor. Otherwise he could lose his foot.’
    Don Jorge listened while Marcus explained in detail. Marcus showed him how to clean the toe with alcohol and warned him not to drink any of the alcohol that we were leaving with him. He gave him some antibiotic cream as well, along with bandages and antibiotic tablets.
    ‘If it doesn’t get any better in a couple of days, you have to take your son to Apolo,’ Marcus warned him again.
    ‘I will do as you say,’ Don Jorge promised.
    ‘And don’t let him go barefoot. He has to wear a sock at least. He can’t let the bandage get dirty.’
    Kevin returned from a short picture-taking stroll through the village. We put our packs on our backs. They had grown heavier because we were now carrying the rice, five pounds of coffee, smoked pork, bananas that Don Jorge’s father-in-law had given us, and some chancaca (a lump of brown sugar derived from sugarcane).
    I was sorry to say goodbye to Don Jorge, his wife, and his neighbours. They were all good, pleasant people, and I hoped that I would see them again.
    Flaca had mistakenly thought that she would be left to loll about the village, but Karl let her know in no uncertain terms that wherever we went, she went too. The dog’s displeasure was obvious, and Kevin tried to talk Karl into leaving her behind.
    ‘She’s got it made in the shade here,’ he said, ‘and she’s just a nuisance to us.’
    ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Karl replied angrily. ‘Just look at how she’s perked up now that she’s got her strength up. Once we get going, you’ll see that I won’t have to drag her.’
    Our plan was to follow the Asriamas River upstream, then to cross a range of mountains to the Cocus River. We would descend the Cocus and then continue crossing mountains until we came to the Colorado-Chico. From there it would be only a short distance to the Indian village.
    The Asriamas River isn’t particularly wide or deep, but its current is very strong. On both its banks the jungle encroaches right to its edge. There is hardly any shore. Neither is there any kind of a trail, so instead of cutting our way through the jungle, we waded in the river, crisscrossing from time to time. The going was slow at first. Each time we wanted to cross the river, we took off our socks and shoes. Kevin was the first to lose patience and begin crossing with his shoes on. Soon we were all following his example. It had been difficult wading across the river barefoot anyway. The water was very cold, and smooth, sharp stones cut into the soles of our feet. It was more comfortable to cross with shoes on, but we soon had blisters from walking in wet socks.
    It was a hard day for all of us. An irritating rain had been falling since morning, and we shivered with cold. Flaca was the most pitiful. Now and then she stopped in her tracks, wet, cold, and miserable, and refused to go on. Karl had to kick her to get her going. Once, while we were crossing the river, she had gotten caught in the current and was swept almost out of sight. I went after her, letting the water carry me along too. I found her perched on a small rise on the riverbank. I went over to her, but she tried desperately to get away from me. She didn’t want any help. She just wanted to be left alone. I dragged her quite a way and then picked her up and walked back