pole and paddle, ax and machete.

Carry along by the swift water, the expedition's seven dugouts snaked through the forest

single file.

The jungle was thickest at the river's edge, where the trees crowded along the banks and

a timeless battle for sunlight.

They were matted together with vines and epiphytes that trailed in the water like heavy curtains

and completely obscured the muddy bank.

From his position in the last and largest canoe, which had a carrying capacity of one and

a quarter tons, Roosevelt, along with Cherry, Dr. Cajazeera, and three, and there are three

paddlers, could see the six dugouts floating in a long broken chain ahead of him.

Directly in front of him were the two balsas or rafts, which carried eight kamaradas and

most of the expedition's baggage.

But were even more difficult to steer than the rest of the boats.

And don't Lira and three paddlers rode in the second dugout and Kermit and two kamaradas

sat in the smallest canoe at the head of the expedition.

As we drifted and paddled down the swirling brown current through the vivid and rain-drenched

green of the tropic forest, the trees leaned over the river from both banks, Roosevelt

Road.

There were many palms, both the purity with its stiff fronds like enormous fans and a

handsome species of bakaba, with very long, gracefully curving fronds.

In places the palms stood close together, towering in slender.

Their stems astately colonnade their fronds and arched frayant fretwork against the sky.

...