Amazon Mass Transit: Henry II

Hank Deux 3
Originally uploaded by Joey Cone.

Getting to and away from Iquitos Peru is no cakewalk. Unless you want to die of malaria, starvation or loss of blood due to mosquitos while trying to machete your way through the 100`s of miles of surrounding Amazon Jungle, there are only two modes of exit; River or Airplane. There are no roads in or out. For a shoestring traveler like myself, 2 options become 1 option at the prospect of spending a weeks budget on a 2 hour flight. In a cruel trick of communist-like elimination of choice, there are only 2 companies that travel up river from Iquitos every few days. Which means that if you want to be picky and wait for the "better" (because it`s relative really) boat, you may have to wait for up to a week...and that`s how you end up on the Henry II.

Actually, the Henry Boats are rumored to be the better of the two options; which by the end of this blog, if I`ve done my job, will inspire the most deeply sincere feeling of pity and sorrow for those who embark from Puerto Masusa rather than Puerto Henry. A promotional pamphlet for Henry II (or Hank Deux, as I affectionately dubbed him just now), might read like this:

Henry II is a 3 story cruize liner with a pool and rock climbing wall on the top level, ballroom, bar/discoteque and all-you-can-eat buffet on the second, and comfortable, private rooms with beds and daily cleaned sheets on the lower. A landmark of environmentally conscious construct combined with maximum luxury, Henry II measures an impressive 40 meters in length and 6 meters in width. The wrought iron roof and floors are excellent for retaining the sweltering amazon heat crucial to turning the boat into a luxurious sauna from 9:30 to 3:30 daily...mandatory. H2 is trimmed with specially reinforced welded rebar, strong enough to resist the weight of innumerable hammocks, and even the most corpulent suicide victims. 5 environmentally friendly bathrooms (using river water and used-TP wastebaskets to retain harmful odors that could polute the Amazon) combine both shitter and shower functions in a 2.5 by 4.5 foot space...for your convenience. The servile staff of the H2, in a symbolic effort to protect you from malnutrition while aboard the vessel, will serve breakfast lunch and dinner from 3 top of the line 20 gallon kettles. (dishes and utensils not included). The owners and operators of the Henry II are so confident in it`s ability to accomodate people, and so anxious for your patronage that they`ve recently announced the exciting news...Henry II has NO MAXIMUM OCCUPANCY!!! ALL ABOARD!!.

I got aboard early (because experience has taught me to get to places early) and hung up my newly bought hammock, which turned out to be way to small. A Colombian girl heading to Argentina, and who would be the only other non-peruvian traveler aboard the H2, set up next to me. An energetic young chef`s assistant set up next to me on the other side and together we defended our territory and kept a keen eye on our bags because everyone we talked to said that there were theives aboard these boats. The boat filled with people, but the space per person was well distributed and reasonable...like Arizona Real Estate. After about 5 hours of intense waiting and anxiously watching our bags the Bad News spread like cancer through the boat. "not enough cargo" "leave tomorrow"...evil rumors. Sorry to our hundred-something passangers, the Henry II won`t be going anywhere today. False Alarm.

I came back the next day only to find my dreams of Arizona, 1/2 acre plots of land with water rights shattered by a New York City scramble for 600 square foot apartments. My little daily journal entry from Day 1 reads: When space began to run our, people start hanging hammocks where there`s not really space for a hammock. There`s a frantic feeling. The boat is FULL. There must be a plethora of health codes that the Henry II is flaunting at any given moment....My hammock is too small, I won`t sleep much. Food is shit, served by 2 jotos. I should clarify though, the food wasn´t really excrement, it just tasted like it. On second thought, considering the conditions it was prepared and served in, the fecal content may have been high enough to classify it as literal shit, rather than food. "Thank you Fecal Vision!!" We were so piled up, a family of 4 with a 2 year old occupied the floor near and beneath our hammocks. At one time I counted 170 hammocks with an average of 3 people per hammock when you account for babies, children, double sleepers, floor dwellers, etc. Not a cubic foot below 5 feet went unoccpied.
My entry from Day 2 says: This boat stops at every tiny river settlement, people get off and on, but it always seems like more people get on than off. A Smiley 7th Day Adventist preached apostate doctrine to some other guy, and then treated us ALL to an unsolicited barrage of evangelist "I love you Jesus" songs. I love hymns...but I hate that EFY junk. The hours passed slowly and languidly like the jungle sliding past outside the window. The Heat was unbearable. Makes me wonder if the Henry II wasn`t originally designed as a gigantic baker`s oven, then on second thought they added a few windows and an engine to make a boat instead. The people hanging in hammocks are definitely reminiscent of giant hunks of meat on a rotiesserie, with the sun heating the metal roof and slowly roasting the flesh, while the juices ooze...quarter turn, quarter turn, quarter turn. Unconfortable, as an adjective, doesn`t do justice to these conditions.
Imagine a family vacation, 5 days of driving without the threat of "stopping this damn car right now" or "leaving you on the side of the road" to discipline the kids. No pit stops, no hotels at night...find a space in the car and hold on tight. Now imagine that of the 4 kids, one is a kleptomaniac, necesating an incesant and nerve wracking vigil. Multiply that vacation by 30 something families and put them all together in a common space, fit for only 10 families. I consider myself a patient and longsuffering person, but my journal entry from Day 3 illustrates the zenith of my desperation: Help!! Feel like I`ve slipped into one of Dante`s level`s of Hell, or perhaps the transport vessel from one level to another. Today was a rough day aboard the Henry II. Some repulsively odiferous Mystery Shit appeared RIGHT by our hammocks, and the only people to act were me and some self-righteous "God is watching my good deads" preacher lady. What a show she made, practically yelling, announcing her sainthood. New people came aboard and crowded us. An annoyingly terse chola with two equally annoying little boys, a 10 month old baby, another in the oven, a chicken, a box of chicks, a dog, etc. etc. etc. That lady`s voice, as she yelled constantly at her sons, was like sandpaper on an exposed nerve...perhaps my last nerve. Desperation!!! Anxiety!!! There are 4 babies under 2 years old within a 10 food radius, and another 50 within earshot...the next one to scream I`m throwing out a window.
I`ve never punched babies, like my friend Robert Pollak, but I came close to throwing down with a few of the screamers aboard Henry II.

Of course, it wasn`t all bad. There were breif moments of respite when one could go upstairs and get some fresh air. In an attempt to fill the hours, I was able to read a bit, write some and learned some new worthless games that would be a smash hit at any LDS singles family home evening. Day 4 was much better than it`s predecessors, and I actually felt like I might have been growing accustomed to my small space and the random whiffs of nose-hair melting odors. Could it be that the Henry II was growing on me??? Nope. I think I was just learning the art of "turning off the comfort switch" which Peruvians seem to have mastered. These people are impervious to discomfort. They enjoy comfort when they can, but in it`s absence they bear the most extenuating conditions with a certain apathy that would make even the most stoic of stoics green with envy. In Day 4 "we stopped at Cotamampa and a German guy with his daughter tried to come aboard. The pathetic look of desperation on his face was kindof sad. He was awkwardly looking for space, where there wasn`t any. They didn`t come aboard, decided to wait for the next boat."
I also came to learn the sad stories of some of the people aboard with me. The family on the floor beneath us were headed to Pucalpa, but en route had been notified that their house had burned to the ground in their absence. Nothing left but ashes. Brutal Homecoming. Franscisco, who had been sleeping and sitting on the same 4 feet of wooden bench for 4 days, told me about his adolescent encounter with the Shining Path. He had been involved at the age of 14 in Peruvian terrorism, and had escaped only by fleeing through the jungle in a weeks-long survival trek. He was returning to his home after traveling weeks for a job interview as a teacher, only to be denied.

All in all, it was a rough ride aboard Henry II from Iquitos to Pucalpa. But a special feeling of comraderie developed between those who weathered that passage together, probably from being literally piled upon one another 24 hours a day. Would I recommend the Hank Deux to a fellow traveler? If you`re poor. If not, don`t be a fool, take the plane. I was trying to remember the day the H2 left me at the port in Pucalpa, but my memories lack the image of Henry the Second in that port. Then I realized it was because upon reaching the ground, I never looked back.

To see a few more pictures from my trip on Henry II, click http://www.flickr.com/photos/82872306@N00/sets/72057594095380177/