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A trip down the Huallabamba is a whitewater odyssey into the depths of Peru’s
remote high jungle rainforest. The river starts in the Department of Amazonas
and passes through the Department of San Martin on its way to the confluence
with the Río Huallaga. The 160 km journey can be run in kayaks in 5-6 days.
In late June of 1998 I hooked up with my buddies John Foss and Franz
Helfenstein in Tarpoto to attempt a first descent. We figured it was easy to
fly to Tarapoto and from there it would be easy to reach the put in. Luckily
for us, upon reaching Tarapoto we met an expatriate named, Al Twiss who
operates a rafting company called Los Chancas Expediciones on the nearby Mayo
River. Al had previously gone upstream by dugout motorized canoe into the lower
stretches of the river and was therefore aware of the region we would pass
through upon exiting the canyon. He also knew the geography of the put in
region around Chacapoyas and was able to get us on the correct bus for the
journey to the put in. The bus we traveled on climbed up the Mayo valley,
passed the town of Moyobamba, crossed the continental divide into the Marañon
watershed and eventually dumped us in Pedro Ruiz at the turnoff to Chacapoyas.
Arriving in the evening we hired a pick up truck to get our gear and us to
Chacapoyas where we spent the evening.
The next day we left our boats in the Hotel Amazonas and set off on a side trip
to visit the ruins of Kuelap. A collectivo leaves several times a day and
travels up the Utcubamba River valley. We got of at Tingo and spent the next
several hours walking up the mountain to find a camp near the incredible ruins
in Kuelap. The next day we visited the unforgettable ruins and returned by foot
to Tingo and then back to Chacapoyas by collectivo. The following morning we
found a driver to take our gear and us on the 4-hour trip to Rodriguez de
Mendoza. Upon reachine Mendoza we checked into the only hotel whose name is
“Altiplano”. At dinner that evening we learned that there is regularly
scheduled transportation from Lima to Mendoza via a 36 hour bus, which compared
to our four day approach, is much more palatable.
We knew we were close to the river, which the locals interchangeably call both
Huambo and Guambo, but were unsure of the best way of getting there. The whole
town seemed to appear at once to help us decide and a heated discussion soon followed
with everyone claiming to know the best way to get there. Most plans lacked any
type of details and all involved hours of walking to a reach the river. The
walking scenario with heavy boats was one I wanted to avoid at all costs and for
this reason a soft-spoken midget caught our attention when he started speaking
of the valley and began to draw a map in the dirt of all the tributaries that
flow into the Guambo and the villages that were nearby. The midget had been as
far as anyone can possibly walk into the jungle- a place he called Luz de
Oriente. His idea was that we drive to Puente Gevil and begin our journey on
the Río Huamanpata, which would lead us into the Guambo, which eventual changes
names to the Huallabamba. The midget was even able to describe the volume of
the river, which to us sounded optimal.
Heeding the midget's advice, the next day we organized a 3-hour ride to Puente Gevil,
which lies a few km’s beyond the pleasant village of Omia. The road from
Mendoza to Puente Gevil follows the Leyvia River, which looked a little too
bony to run. We reached the bridge by the town of Gevil and put in on a
tributary called the Río Huamanpata, which had 600 CFS of cold, brown water.
After only one km the river grew to 1100 CFS with water flowing in from the Rio
Leyvia. The river immediately enters a canyon and for the next 2 hours provides
mostly class 4/4+ continuous steep-creeking. The vertical canyon walls range in
height from 50 meters to 350 meters. The rock appears to be limestone but is
obscured by dense growth and flowering vines. After two fun hours an extremely
dangerous, unrunnable, 10-meter waterfall/sieve appears quickly and
unexpectedly with a very small must-make eddy. The left side appears to be the
logical portage route but a quick reconnaissance reveals impassable jungle with
slime covered vertical walls that make portaging on this side out of the
question. The right side is a two-hour grunt over slime-covered boulders. At
four o’clock this section of canyon is completely shaded so finding a camp just
below the portage was a mandatory proposition. The day was 6 km of boating with
a drop of 125 meters for an average of just 21 m/km.
Day 2
One hour after leaving camp in the morning the walls of the canyon taper off to
reveal the cultivated fields of Achamal. It is also here that the 1 KM long
ultra-continuous, super-fun, class 4-5 rapid began that we called “Rumble in
the Jungle”. We met some of the residents of the hamlet of Achamal and were
shocked to see they all had blonde hair and blue eyes. Before leaving Mendoza
we were told that many pockets of gringos can be found living deep in the high
jungle and as they have been residents for generations, many consider them to
be the descendents of the once dominant Chacapoya People. Forty-five minutes
below Achamal the Legia Chica River enters and after 3 more hours of boating
the Rio Verde (elevation 825 meters) enters doubling the flow with its emerald
green waters. En route to this point were dozens of class 3-4 rapids, usually
found in micro limestone canyons at bends in the river. Two km below the
confluence is a huge, boulder choked class 5+/6 rapid that we portaged on river
right. At the bottom of this 3500 CFS maelstrom we found a small beach to camp
on with a freshwater stream, firewood, sun, and great views of the cliffs
alongside the river. This day of boating was 27 KM with a total drop of 425
meters. Along the way we saw blue morpho butterflies, kingfishers, Oro
Pendulas, and one Kuadi Mundi (raccoon like critter)
Day 3
The river starts out big and fairly wide open and remains so up to where the
Mashiaco River enters with its green waters on river left. Here the volume
picks up, as does the action with lots of inner gorges. The river then changes character
to more pool-drop type rapids. When two Tepui (jungle covered cone type peaks)
appear on river left it signals the entrance to Culebra Canyon, which contains
three distinct rapids. Franz and I made the mistake of running the first
without scouting and then had to wait in an eddy in the middle of the river for
an hour while John, who wisely eddied out upstream, bashed his way through the
thick jungle to scout the next rapid (which turned out to be only class 4 but from
the boat it looked like class 6). From the mouth of Culebra Canyon the river
stayed in a narrow slot until an un-named river cascaded into the Guambo carrying
1000 CFS. Big water continued with a subterranean River entering from a cave on
river right. Late in the day, just before we reached a major valley entering on
river right, we found a camp a few meters above the river on a plateau rock.
Since no topo maps were available for this region in 1998 we had to guess at
the distances we were traveling and the gradients. Authors
note: In 1999 a declassified map of this section became available from the
Instituto Geographica Militar. The map 14-I called Huayabamba costs 105 soles
versus the normal 17 soles and is kept in a separate folder in a separate room.
On this third day we estimated a 25 km stretch with an average drop of 8
m/km and a volume at the end of the day of 8000 CFS. Throughout the day we saw
millions of brightly colored butterflies. Every 100 meters we seemed to pass a
beach where there appeared to be a particular species of butterfly distinct
from those on the beaches close by. We also saw two Macaws, a turkey like bird
with a red head, and a falcon.
Day 4
At four o’clock in the morning it started to rain. John and I were not sleeping
in tents so we quickly stuffed our gear into dry bags and worked furiously to
stoke up the fire. (author’s suggestion is bring a stove and a tent). We ate at
6:00 AM and with the first light came a swarm of 1000’s of bees. John, Franz
and I all scurried to our boats and we each quickly stuffed our gear inside
while bees covered our bodies. Although they were not stinging, we were freaking
out with every inch of our bodies covered by bees. John and Franz got into
their boats and pushed off. Unlike the other guys I was paddling in a short top
and short pants. When I jumped into my boat and headed into the first rapid the
first of many bees trapped under my spray skirt started to sting. The pain was
vicious and the feeling of crawling insects all over my legs was horrible, but
after looking over my shoulder at the swarm following us, there was no way I
was going to stop. At 7:30 AM, after 1-1/2 hours of furious boating, the last
of the bees chasing us disappeared. At this point we arrived at a landslide,
which housed the first of four big volume class 5 rapids. The first three rapids
we ran successfully and then luckily Franz got out of his boat to take a leak.
It turns out he chose to take a leak in the last eddy above a massive rapid which
then funneled down into the biggest tree-strainer I have ever seen.
The
portage took at least an hour and required using ropes to pull the boats up a
vertical wall. From here we had a perfect view of the rapid below. Although the
approach appeared harmless with nothing more than fast moving water, there were
no eddies as vertical rock walls lined both sides of the river, making it a
innocuous looking trap. The vertical walls at the entry of the rapid quickly
tapered into a V shape constriction only 25’ wide. The gradient and water
accelerated without an eddy and at the bottom huge crashing waves smashed into
a 15’ diameter tree lodged across the river.
The big volume pool-drop rapids continued including one portage around a river
wide hole. At the entrance to one big stretch of whitewater in a mini canyon,
Franz got out to scout on the slime-covered left wall while John and I got out
on a rock on river right to scout. While scouting, the river surged up, grabbed
Franz’s boat, and sent in careening down river. John and I jumped into our
boats and chased Franz’s boat downriver. We ran the big rapid we had just
barely scouted and continued chasing the boat through two more biggies we had
not been able to see. We eventually had the boat but realized the next problem
was that we did not have Franz. Looking back upstream at the vertical walls of
the canyon we realized there was no way he could walk to us. Apparently he
realized the same thing and had jumped into the river a half mile upstream. We
caught sight of him swimming down the meat of a big volume rapid and I was able
to reach him with the tail of my boat and get him to shore. Franz was pretty
shaken up so we took a break.
Just downstream we came to another horizon line in a constricted canyon. The
right wall and the left wall were both vertical but a pocket on the left
provided a one boat eddy. John got out to scout while Franz and I continued to
paddle while facing upstream to avoid getting sucked over the horizon line.
John signaled and yelled that the rapid was okay and that we needed to cross
the horizon line in the center of the river moving from left to right. Franz
peeled off and dropped over the horizon. I waited fifteen seconds and glanced
over at John as I gathered speed on the approach to the blind horizon. John was
grinning with his fist in the air, which gave me the idea that Franz’s line was
a good one so I headed to where I saw Franz disappear. As I crossed the horizon
I caught site of a huge hole below that I was screaming down into. John’s
directions were good and my angle brought me into the lower corner of the hole
and sent me rodeoing downstream through a half dozen other holes. Franz was in
an eddy at the bottom with his camera in his hands as I swept past him. My boat
was full of water and I couldn’t make the eddy Franz was in so I yelled that I
was going to look for a place to dump my boat. It was over 300 meters through
vertical walls before I found a rock that I could get out on to dump my boat.
I waited for an hour for Franz and John and when they did not arrive I started
to get nervous. I knew something bad had happened and sitting alone on a rock
in the middle of a vertical-walled canyon exacerbated my anxieties. I left my
boat, and since I couldn’t walk upstream, I started to scale the river left
wall hoping to catch a glimpse of Franz or John upstream. After another hour I
could see Franz coming downriver in his boat. I worked my way to a ledge 40
feet above him until I could yell down to him. He asked if I had seen John. I
said no and from the look on his face I knew that what I suspected had become
reality. “He’s dead” Franz yelled with a look of total grief on his face. The
current was sweeping Franz past me so I jumped the 40' into the river and
grabbed the tail of his boat. We both got out of the river at my boat and
talked about what had happened. Franz had waited for John to run the last rapid
and was watching him through his camera lens. John entered the hole and Franz
was set to take his foto as he came out of the backside of the hole. John never
emerged. Franz was unsure if John had somehow passed him so he climbed the
cliff and looked down into the hole he and I had successfully punched. What had
happened in the hole we do not know? He had vanished with no sign of his boat
or paddle. With the slim hope of finding him waiting for us downstream we
pushed on. The river, which before had seemed like fun big water boating was
now absolutely terrifying. We ran a few more big drops and maybe had a portage
and then the canyon opened and the Rio Jelache entered on the right. There was
no sign of John at this obvious stopping place but with fleeting rays of hope
we pushed on.
The river turned east and then came to a horrible class 6 maelstrom. We were
crushed mentally and physically wiped out and there was nowhere to camp. Both
walls were vertical and we could not return upstream. Franz carefully scouted
the right wall and came up with a plan to portage the gear. Using all the
webbing, chocks, carabineers and throw ropes we had, Franz laid out a line
across the slippery cliff face. We got across the first section of the cliff
face with only our sleeping gear and found a nook in the cliff where both of us
could lie down. It was late and we ate nothing. Thoughts of John and the events
of the day were ringing in my head. I could not sleep and Franz had the same
problem. We shared the Valium I had in my medical kit, which was enough to
knock both of us out.
Day 5
Yesterday we had come 20 km and dropped 160 to 200 meters. From our best guess
we were almost done with the whitewater. The canyon wall across from our
portage last night was covered with brightly colored Macaws screaming in the
early morning hours. Franz and I returned across the cliff face for our boats
and then after 3 hours finished phase two of the portage. We put back on and
the whitewater started to fizzle out with only one more easy portage around a
river wide hole. Suddenly the canyon opened dramatically to reveal a sun filled
valley teeming with bird life. The first bird I saw was Peru’s national bird
called “Cock of the Rock” which is bright orange with an unusual head. The
whitewater turned to class 3 and then backed off to class two. After an hour we
came to the first people we had seen in days. They had been dropped off by a
motorized rig and had cut down Tornillo trees in a side drainage and floated
them down to a beach alongside the river. Here they built a raft out of the
logs and floated it downstream to Juanjui.
Franz and I continued to paddle and found a good beach camp downstream. We were
now in a hurry to get back to civilization but feeling horrible about the news
we had to bring to John’s family and other friends.
Day 6
We started boating at the crack of dawn and began to pass small patches of
farmland carved into the banks of the jungle. We passed the Huaybayacu River
and then the village of Dos de Mayo (which I have learned now has a radio
phone). From this village there is a motorized dug out canoe that travels to
Junajui. We had missed the morning’s only boat so we paddled on arriving in the
town of Huicungo at 3:30. This town is at the end of the road and here a car
can usually be found with service to Juanjui. By river it is another few hours
or 31 km to reach the Huallaga then several more hours floating the swift
current down to Juanjui. From Juanjui there are flights back to Lima or buses
to Tarapoto.
Note: For an introspective story on the loss of a paddling friend see Franz’s
account at http://www.cocc.edu/~fhelfens/huallabamba/huallabamba.html
Useful maps: 14-I Huayabamba, 15-I
Trip summary:
Puente Gevil 1375 meters
Rio Shocol Tributary at Achamal 4 km 1250 meters
Rio Verde tributary 25 km 825 meters
Rio Simachache 20 km 700 meters
Rio Frontera 25 km 550 meters
Rio Huaybayacu 10 km 450 meters
Rio Jelache (Dos de Mayo) 20 km 350 meters
Huicungo 37 km 280 meters
Total 141 km 1095 meters