It's Sunday - it must be Scunthorpe

After being escorted to Belfast International airport in style by Victoria and Mike (I think they just wanted to make sure I got on the flight!), I was off to "the mainland" again. The flight to East Midlands was remarkable only in so far as we took off and arrived early, and I had a bank of 3 seats to myself, with extra legroom from sitting next to the emergency exit. Bliss. Dawn was there to pick me up and drive me the 80 miles back to Sunny Scunny, which I have to say is above and beyond the call of duty (although no doubt I'll never hear the end of it...). The weather (aargh - I'm talking about the weather) has been magnificent, Garry and Dawn's hospitality faultless as always, and in spite of missing those I've left behind (again), I've enjoyed my weekend very much. In fact after discovering Ice Cold Tetley's best bitter at the local pub, I did briefly consider just staying here forever, but once I sobered up I realised I'd miss Naice and Ozzie too much - so farewell Mr Tetley (well, let's just say au revoir, shall we?)

Tomorrow I will be last-minute-shopping for some socks and marmite, and buying some dollars ready for the off early on Tuesday morning.

Goodbye again

Here we go again. It feels like all I've done in the last 6 months is say goodbye. Apart from the rather sad reason for my visit, I have enjoyed my 3 weeks in sunny Bangor. As well as seeing a lot of people again - nearly all of whom it was a pleasure to catch up with - I've had the chance to get a few bits and pieces to take back with me (light bulbs, picture hooks and a kettle amongst them) and put on a bit of weight (must be the dairy products).

Unfortunately I didn't bring my camera with me on this trip, and so don't have much in the way of photos (I understand many of my readers just like looking at the pictures - shame on you), and it would be nice to post a few pics from some of the highlights of the trip (Hilary's leaving do, for example, if someone could e-mail me some?) And herewith a pic from my last night, which was great fun, spent in the company of my sister Victoria, cousin Michael "it's a disgrace" Downing, and old comrade Rabea Garari - all of whom I shall miss and expect to come out to visit us sometime. In fact I'm hoping quite a few people will come out to visit us sometime - after all, the guest house is nearing completion (pic), and it's only a hop skip and a jump to Manaus.

Anyway, thanks to all who have put up with me once again (especially Victoria and Mike). It has been good to chill out here (literally), and my Aunt seems to be as well as can be expected, so I can leave with a slightly lighter load than that with which I arrived (well, except for the kettle and the retractable clothes line). But now I must pack up and shove off to Scunthorpe, en route to sunnier climes. Poor friends Garry and Dawn will have to put up with me for a few days before I catch the early morning flight to Amsterdam, but I'll try to be on my best behaviour for them. More later.

Still raining, then...

I'm back in Ireland for a few weeks (until 4th October). I'm gratified to note that the weather is much as it was when I left, and that people still don't understand the meaning of two lanes on a dual carriageway, and still drive all the way from Belfast to Bangor in the outside lane because they're turning right down the Rathgael Road.

The journey here was, as usual, extremely tedious - made doubly so by an 8 hour wait at Sao Paulo airport. The journey time from Manaus to SP has been cut again, and is now under 4 hours, while the flight to London is nearly 11 hours. BMI charged me £158 to get me back to Belfast, which wasn't very nice of them, especially as there were spare seats around. On the way back I'm going via East Midlands so I can see friends Dawn and Garry, and then flying from Humberside to Amsterdam KLM, Amsterdam to Curacao KLM and Curacao to Manaus TAF. Although I've screwed things up a bit and have to stay in Curacao a few days, the cost of the trip is around £650, which is at least £150 less than going via Sao Paulo. And the flights are shorter - hooray!

I can't update you on the river levels in the Amazon I'm afraid (I know, I know - I'm sorry, okay?), as I can't re-find the site I was using. But you can be sure it's gone down a lot by now.

Naice is at home in Manaus, and has been saddled with coping with the builders who are in re-constructing our driveway and putting in a new gate and a chapeu de palha (pic). I feel very guilty about this, but the trip was necessary, I feel. Naice is hoping to be back in Ireland herself early next year.

I have not by any means been good at getting in touch with everyone so far. This is simply because I'm a disorganised git and I hope you will forgive me. I'm concentrating my inadequate organisational skills on my aunt for the moment, and will rectify any communications problems next week - please bear with me.

Hit Counter

Following a suggestion from my friend George Crawford, I have managed to add a hit counter to the site (see right), based on a Bravenet utility. Since this has cost me 50 bucks, I hope it will be worth it!! It was zeroed at midnight today/last night (16th September), so let's see how many visitors we have over the next few months...

Quick Trip report

The boat trip to Manaquiri went well. The only things of note (apart from the fantastic scenery, the birds and the fish), were: 1) when we nearly ran aground on a sandbank on the Solimoes. It was only that I noticed this bloke walking about in the middle of the river and figured that something wasn’t quite right, that disaster was narrowly avoided; 2) the planned entrance to Manaquiri doesn’t exist when the water level’s down 5 metres, so we had some trouble locating an alternative; and 3) on the way back, with the motor fully run in, we achieved a top speed of just short of 50kph, which is pretty good. The outward journey took us 9 hours; the return journey took 5.75. Oh, and since I fitted a sonar transponder on the back of the boat, the steering is all over the place, leaving me with a fairly sore left arm from trying to stop the boat skidding to the left – must fix this on my return from the UK. This also meant I didn’t get much time to take photos, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with these three. The last one is a backward glance at our original destination, Careiro do Castanho, as we were leaving to return to Manaus. Sorry – will do better next time.

…And speaking of the UK, as a lot of you will know I’ll be in town for a few weeks from this Wednesday (12th September) and will no doubt see you then. Whether I update the blog or not during this time will depend to a large extent on whether I have a computer and connection, whether there’s anything interesting to report, and whether I’m sober enough to type it if there is.

River levels

No, I’m not going to quote the level. I heard on the news today that river levels are not expected to fall as low as last year, and the forecast is for the lowest point in 2007 to be approximately 60cm higher than 2006. No doubt this is important to someone somewhere, but in the grand scheme of things (10 – 15 metres?), I didn’t really think it was that significant. Maybe it’s like talking about the weather in the UK or something. Anyway, I will now be paying close attention to the final low point and in the event of an inaccurate forecast will chastise the forecasters roundly (letter to the Times, or at least the A Critica, which would be the local equivalent), I think.

Blecaut!

The word ‘blecaut’ is the Brazilian portuguese version of ‘blackout’, and refers to the Brazilian electricity companies’ policy of suddenly disconnecting whole districts from the grid so that they can change a fuse or a bulb or something down at the local substation, and which is why I am writing this blog in the dark: for the past 3 or 4 days we have been subject to the dreaded blecaut 5 or 10 times a day, and (of course) always at night. It used to be worse, as I recall, and I remember some 10 or so years ago the energy crisis in Amazonas was so bad they hired a generator ship (a very weird looking thing indeed) to come all the way from the US (or Canada?) to bolster the city’s supply. Nowadays, there is no energy crisis in Manaus, except of course when Manaus Energia just turns you off when it feels like it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the power surge that sometimes accompanies reconnection wasn’t sufficient to blow up your new TV/aircon/fridge/computer etc. But it is. So can you run the risk? No. So not only do you get to wake up in the middle of the night (sweating profusely from lack of aircon), but then you have to run round unplugging everything before you’re reconnected again. And then when the power comes on, you have to run round plugging everything in again so your food doesn’t go off (unlike the power - arf), and you don’t steam in your bed. After the fifth time, this gets a little trying, to say the least, prompting me to put irate digit to battery-powered keyboard in protest. Hah! - let that be a lesson to them.

Knees Up

When I first saw my father’s white, hairless legs, it was quite a shock. ‘Is this my destiny, too?’ I wondered, at the tender age of twenty something. Was I also doomed to roam the world’s beaches with a pair of white, shiny knees? Well, I’m very pleased to report that after only a few months of wearing shorts all the time (a few short months, indeed…), I now not only have a fine pair of tanned pins (IMHO), but without the constant friction of material on leg, even my knees have a growing covering of manly hair. Hooray for shorts, I say.

At last...

It has just occurred to me why people have been missing the blog updates - it's obviously because I have been failing with my updates with respect to the water levels. Well, I can now inform you that the level currently stands at 23.66m, down just less than 5m from its peak on 23rd June (28.18m), and is descending at the rate of 17cm per day now. So there you are - you can rest easy again.

Don't worry - more updates soon!

Malaria and us

We had the malaria police around today. Where we live is a foco de malaria (malaria hotspot), and we are subject to weekly visits from the malaria police, who advise about what to do or not do during this particular season. As the water level goes down, shallow pools of water are left, which are the mozzie’s favourite breeding grounds, so the quantity of malaria – and dengue – carrying mozzies goes up. So – no leaving buckets of water around (or anything else that could hold any still water at all). And no going out between 05:30 and 07:00 or 17:00 and 18:30 (favourite time for mozzies), unless you’re fully covered up (bit of a joke in 85 degrees), and make sure that if you have any fever you inform the doc asap, telling him or her that you live in a foco de malaria.

Of course white gringos are more susceptible than most to bites, as mozzies just love soft white skin to get their teeth (or whatever) into, and I can personally testify to their tastes. Fortunately, it is only the anopheles mosquito – and then only the female – that’s a carrier, so there’s hope for us yet (although of course it’s quite impossible to tell which is anopheles and which is female without considerable scrutiny (do you put them on their backs and look up their bottoms or something…?) Perhaps the photo here - as supplied by the Institut Pasteur - is of some help - ha ha. Anyway, we are taking heed of all the advice and hopefully will escape both malaria and dengue (but of course if I get it, you’ll be the first to know…)

Exploring the Amazon – Part I

Apologies and many thanks to all who have written complaining about the lack of blog updates. I haven’t been feeling very bloggish lately, but have decided the show must go on, so I’m going to kick off again with news of my first trip in Shamrock. If you’re not much into boating, you can probably skip this and await the next blog item; but if you’re interested in coming to the Amazon and (eventually) visiting the floating bar, you might like to see what you’re up against. You can get some idea of it from the pic., I hope (click to enlarge). It’s a 200km jaunt from the Marina Rio Bello (at top) to the proposed location of the flutuante (Careiro do Castanho -LCROM, at bottom), via the Rio Negro and the Rio Solimoes (or Amazon, if you prefer, although technically it’s not called the Amazon until the former two rivers join, at the “encontro das aguas” , seen upper right, with the two rivers running side-by-side for some distance).

I’m taking Flavio, a friend of ours, along for the journey, and hopefully we can do it in around 6 - 7 hours, depending on conditions. The problem is the low level of the water, and the trickiest part will be the stretch from the jungle town of Manaquiri (MQ in the pic.) and LC46 (sorry - it’s just a waypoint name). In particular the little igarape, or stream, connecting Lago Manaquiri (stretch between MQ and Ig LC N) and and Lago do Castanho (LC46 to LCROM) may be un-navigable, or possibly only navigable with local knowledge, whereas we’re relying on a Garmin GPS60, a Google Earth screendump (pretty much as per pic, but with more waypoints) and a lot of luck. But it may just not be possible, in which case we’ll turn tail and run back, at least as far as Manaquiri, to reconsider.

The motor is now 50% run-in, allowing a top speed of around 38kph in ideal conditions, but if we encounter one of the frequent thunderstorms en route we’ll have to run for cover and tie up somewhere to wait it out (the wind and rain can whip the Negro and Solimoes into the equivalent of a fairly energetic sea, given that the breadth of the rivers can be just over 6 miles – much too much for Shamrock and el Capitan). And the speed at which this can happen is pretty impressive. Even our friend Charlie with his pocket battleship Sammy III doesn’t venture onto either of these rivers in a thunderstorm, and another friend of ours, John Harwood, has already lost a boat in these conditions, doing a run between Manaus and Cacau Pireira on the south bank. They clung to barrels of petrol for a couple of hours before being rescued, which left John with some serious petrol burns on his chest and arms.

So there we are. We’re all set to leave at 06:00 on Thursday 6th September, with a newly serviced engine and 100 litres of fuel. If we make it there, we’ve arranged to secure the boat at a government flutuante near Careiro do Castanho, and sleep over at the local hostel, returning on Friday (all organised by Naice’s brother Romulo, for which many thanks). I’ll post events and pics on the blog in due course.

Sad news

I found out yesterday evening (21st) that my uncle, Tom Davison, passed away on Monday night, two days before his 90th birthday. This is very sad (if not unexpected) news, and we shall miss him greatly. As little as 18 months ago I was playing rhythm guitar to his violin, and helping him master his computer (which he did, spending some considerable time converting himself from paper-based to digital photography - and conversing with friends and relatives around the world). He was interested in everything and everybody, and remained as sharp as a pin to the end. If I live to the age of 89, I hope I shall be as proactive, energetic, inquisitive, eloquent, indomitable – and bloody-minded - as my Uncle Tom proved to be. Over the last few months before we left for Brazil, we had some pretty profound and frank conversations, and although we didn’t see eye-to-eye on everything, I certainly felt an empathy with his constant search for meaning in life, the universe and everything, and I hope he may have found some answers in the last weeks.

My uncle leaves his wife, my Auntie Margaret, and our hearts go out to her. I’m disappointed not to be able to be at the funeral, which I learned is to be tomorrow (Thursday 23rd), but I am expecting to be in Ireland by 12th September and to see her then.

Nothing is forever.

Water level

Water down to 25.57m (22nd August), in spite of a run of inclement weather which has kept temperatures down to a cool 84 degrees (76 degrees in the evening at one point – enough to make you think of pulling on a long-sleeved shirt).

Captain’s log, 21.08.07

6.45 hours logged in the new boat now, the longest single-handed voyage being yesterday (21st), when el Capitan took Shamrock 11km up the Taruma, back to the marina and then south to the mouth of the Taruma. All was sweetness and light until approaching the Negro, when the combination of a stiff southerly breeze and the currents from the confluence of the two rivers chopped the water up and made things a bit uncomfortable. Exercising my discretion, I chose to turn round and run away. Total trip time, per my wonderful Garmin GPS60, was 1hr 53mins (moving time 1hr 48 mins). Only another 3.55 hours to do until I can push the motor to 4500 rpm, which should improve my top speed so far of 20kph. I can’t wait.
All this is small potatoes to my cousin Anton Maguire, who I am proud to say is currently contemplating a round the world yacht race. But then of course he is obviously quite mad (and considerably more skilled, knowledgeable and experienced…).

Life in Manaus

With most of our traumas now over, it ocurred to me recently that this is really the end of chapter one for us and our new life - we have come, we have seen and we are bonkers. Seriously, we have achieved most of our original aims (i.e. we’re here and reasonably well organised), apart from the flutuante. Now, after the climax of it all (as it were), we need to stir ourselves and think what we’re going to do with our new life. The money won’t last that long (not the way we’re spending it, anyway), and we really need to find some form of income at some point. We are still spending a lot of money on the house (electrician to do the wiring, buying a new gate and other security items, building a few walls here and there, buying a dining table, chairs and a sofa, and so on). We have completely overshot our original budget for the house, but on the other hand we could not have found anywhere better, and are very happy here.

But like I said, what now…? So far, there’s the Wisdom of Oz, which I’m still working on (and may still be working on in 10 years time), and we’re considering putting our faces around the English language teaching/ translating community in earnest in due course. We looked at setting up an export company, but there’s not much point unless you have something to export, and so far we don’t (although I’m going to the annual trade fair tomorrow to see what’s on offer); and of course there’s the B&B option (but this is unlikely to bring in enough money to even keep the house going). And the floating bar will almost certainly have to wait now, possibly until early 2009. Hmmm.

And then of course there’s the question of adoption, which was one of the prime motives for the move in the first place. Unfortunately this too requires some sort of income, before we even register our interest (one of the first questions is ‘how will you support the child?’, and no doubt ‘We don’t know, but we have a lovely house.’ just isn’t going to cut it).

So. Chapter 2 begins. How it will end, we don’t know. But as usual you can read all about it here (if you’re the masochistic sort).

Taking the Tick...

Has anyone any tips on removing ticks from dogs? I mean tips that actually work? Although Ozzie’s regularly plagued by the little blighters, they’re mostly of some small Brazilian variety which fall off of their own volition (well, helped by the tick lotion we apply monthly). However last weekend, after a visit to Naice’s parents, he picked up a tick which I suspect is just like your common or garden UK sheep tick. And it wasn’t in any hurry to fall off, so we spent 2 days trying to remember what I’d read about removing them. I tried the ‘smother it in Vaseline, and when it comes up for air just snatch it off’ trick, and when the only result was that Ozzie’s left hind leg became lovely and slippery, we resorted to the ‘touch a hot match to it, and when it recoils…etc etc’. All that happened was that we were left with a large pile of matches which were quite dead, unlike the tick.

Today Naice got frustrated with the thing and just whipped it off with a pair of tweezers, but now we’re not sure if we left the head in the wound or not. . So, any budding vets out there who have a FOOLPROOF methodology, perhaps you could let us know?

Das Boot

Shamrock was finally launched (pics) and I motored it around from the Suzuki works to our chosen marina (incidentally, ‘marina’ here means somewhere where they take your boat out of the water with a boat lift and use a fork lift truck to store it on a platform in a multi-storey garage –pics later). It being my first time in charge of my own boat, and having little petrol and no emergency oar (tsk), I was a little nervous about the whole affair. Anyway it went off without a hitch and the boat performed admirably (as, I felt, did the Captain (yo no soy marinero – soy capitan)). Unlike on the following Tuesday, when el capitan took out his first passenger (Naice, of course), for a pootle about on the Rio Taruma (the Taruma Acu, as opposed to the Taruma Mirim, for those interested).

I decided to take 20 litres of petrol along in my spare tank, along with a coffee strainer and a coke-bottle funnel (see earlier post), and all was well until I tried to get the petrol into my main tank. The result was that much of it ended up in the boat and all over me…so we had to abandon this idea and motor over to one of the floating petrol stations (pic) to put R$20 in the tank from the pump. We asked the guy if he would strain it through the coffee filter and he was happy enough to do so. Having thus rescued the situation, we cast off and…couldn’t start the motor. As we floated gently backwards into the petrol station flutuante, I suggested to the attendant that his petrol must be really bad, although I’m not sure he thought this was funny.

Anyway, we floated off again, slowly into midstream and vaguely back towards the marina in the far distance, turning the motor over as much as we dared. After a few minutes of this, I decided an alternative strategy was required, so I sat at the back wrestling with the cover of the motor and trying not to fall in. I succeeded in getting the cover off and checked what I could (I’m not going to take the plugs out or anything, now, am I?). A visual inspection indicated that all seemed OK, so I replaced the cover and re-primed the fuel…and it started first time. Go figure. Hope it doesn’t happen again.

I have to run the motor in for 20 hours before I can give it a good thrashing, and at the moment I can’t even get it to plane at the revs I’m allowed to give it (3,000 rpm). It’s now done two slow hours and counting…

The container arrives

The container was all of a sudden released and our friendly agent arranged for someone to pick the stuff up and deliver it to the house. It duly arrived last Thursday (9th), since when we have been unpacking and trying to organise things in the house as best we can. It’s lovely to have the stuff with us again, even if 50% of it is of no practical use whatever. Never mind.

Given the contours of the garden and the size of the driveway gate, it wasn’t possible to get the truck anywhere near the house, so the 145 boxes had to be lifted out, dumped in the driveway and then carried down to the house. Joy unbounded. And no sooner had we got them all down to the house than the familiar sound of distant thunder started up, so we had to move them all again to get them under cover. Happily, we achieved this with barely seconds to spare. We may look happy in the photo, but I must admit the tempers were somewhat frayed by the time we’d finished (in spite of the impending rain, much of the humping of boxes was done in 90 degree-plus sunshine).

Anyway it’s all done now, and 70% of the stuff has been laid out or put away as required. In fact you can see from the photo that the inside of the house has taken a turn for the better (although there is still much to do). At present we’re looking around for a dining table and chairs, a sofa, and somewhere to put the TV.

Call for a Botanist, please

Naice spotted this thing on one of the palms today (pic - click on image to enlarge). I have absolutely no idea what it is, and neither have any of the locals I’ve spoken to. It was about two - three inches long. Anyone…?

Wildlife update

We were surprised to see a pair of altogether different toucan-type birds the other day – much smaller and distinguished by a really bright yellow chest. Don’t know what they are, but I’ll identify them yet. We also spotted a large eagle drying its wings on the dead tree just beyond our boundary yesterday. Now that we have our binoculars, this bird-watching lark seems to be a piece of cake. The little monkeys are back, making regular forays into the garden on the hunt for our bananas and papayas. Not to be outdone, Naice has taken to trying to remove the ripening papayas first. Given that this has to be done with a 3m long bamboo pole with me underneath trying to catch anything that falls, it’s not so simple. Score so far: monkeys 4 Naice 1.