PART TWO: Dealing With the Natives In Which Our Intrepid Traveler Barters Shrewdly; Is Met With Unfair Rebuke By The Unreasonable Renato; And Manages to Find a Solution That Pleases Everyone. Renato is true to his word, and is waiting with the jeep when I finally escape. From the airport we drive to Tabatinga, where we will rent a boat to take us down the Javari River, and into the savage, leaf-pumping heart of the Amazon. After we set up camp, Renato and I walk through the town looking for a boat to rent. Our search quickly leads us to the only hut that has a dock outside of it Ñ but, sure enough, Renato tells me that the owner won't rent the damned thing to us. "This is not well," says Renato, after a long talk with the dried-out prune-thing who owns the boat. "This is his only boat and he will not rent it. We may have to abandon the journey for the time being and try later in the month." I was having none of this business. "Renato, you've been trekking into this godforsaken jungle hell for fifteen years. How the hell did you manage to get up the river every other time?" "Times are not what they once were," Renato tells me. I can tell by his dramatic stance that I'm in for another of his lectures. I am not disappointed. "Excessive desecration of the rain forests has killed this noble people's way of life. There has also been an outbreak of malaria that has killed many of their strongest men. These brave soldiers" Ñ he points at the two-hundred-year-old thing inside the hut, who is busy eating what looks like my garbage Ñ "are holding on for dear life. This boat and the fish he can catch with it are the only means this man has of eating." I give the brave soldier another study. It is as I suspected: he is eating my garbage. I watch as he licks clean the Crispy Crunch wrapper I'd carelessly tossed aside minutes ago. "He looks tip-top to me, Renato," I say. "Look at him go. He's a survivor. Tell him I'll give him a Crispy Crunch for the boat." "I am afraid that would be unconscionable," Renato says, who is really starting to get on my nerves. He spots me trying to bait the prune-thing out of the tent with the candy, and smacks my hand away. "In his advanced starvation, he would surely take your offer. But what of tomorrow? Tomorrow he will have neither your American candy or the boat he needs to live. We must respect his wishes." "Kispay Cunchoo?" the prune-man asks, reaching out to grasp my outstretched candy, which I deftly put in my pocket. "You make some sound points, Renato," I agree. The next morning I steal the boat. "Look what I found!" I holler, bursting through the clearing into our campsite, the boat up on my shoulders. Renato doubts my story from the get-go, holding my "found-it" claim up to intensely close scrutiny. I counter by just ignoring him. This intrepid explorer would be leaving Tabatabatabingadinga and finding the Tobatu, with or without Mr. Brazilian Embassy's help. I heft the boat back up and sprint off, Renato's protests fading behind me as I make for the dock. I already have most of my gear in the hull by the time he catches up with me. "At least leave the candy," he pleads, stepping gingerly into the craft. "No, Renato," I say, gritting my teeth as I look to the sunrise. "We must respect his wishes." With this I push the craft out into the Javari, heading north into a blackened pre-dawn sky that looms sullen and menacing over the shrouded wilderness. Our intent is to reach the frontier town of Atalaia do Norte by noon, and from there push on into the blackened heart of the Amazon, where Ñ somewhere, in uncharted brush Ñ the Tobatu wait. intro / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8