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A listener note: This episode contains scenes that depict racist attitudes and language. Please be advised. Theodore Roosevelt grabs a rope with both hands and pulls with everything he's got. He's submerged up to his chest in the waters of a raging river. Roosevelt feels his boots slip on the rocks, and he almost falls, but his feet find new purchase, and he pulls again.
He turns to the men wading through the water towards him. "Don't let it get away, gentlemen!" A month ago, the former president embarked on a journey down an uncharted river in South America's Amazon basin. Now, he and a dozen other members of the expedition are fighting to avoid disaster. While navigating a set of brutal rapids, one of their canoes was caught in the current and pulled under.
Now, it's wedged between the rocks on the river bottom. If Roosevelt and the other men can't save it, they'll be stranded in the jungle with dwindling supplies and a slim chance of getting out alive. So they grab onto the rope and heave with all their might.
The journey so far has been torturous. Countless times they found their path blocked by churning rapids, forcing them to drag their canoes through the jungle on foot. And now, they've run up against the most treacherous stretch of whitewater yet. To save themselves another exhausting slog through the jungle, they made the decision to step out of the boats and ease them through the rapids with ropes. It may turn out to be a fatal mistake.
Roosevelt was the first to enter the water when the cry went up that one of the canoes was sinking. Now, he's pulling with all his might. He turns to the men who've grabbed onto the rope with him. Pull! Pull! The men pull on the rope in unison. Roosevelt feels the boat stir as it comes loose from the rocks. But then it drifts into the swift current.
Roosevelt rallies the men once again. With me! Heave ho! Heave ho! Roosevelt's muscles burn. The tug of war with the raging river continues. With a mighty pull, he feels the canoe finally slip free of the powerful current as it creeps towards the calmer water near the shore. The momentum grows as the men pull the heavy boat faster and faster towards the riverbank.
But then, Roosevelt realizes that the canoe is headed straight for him. He tries to dodge it and feels his feet slipping out from underneath him. As he falls into the water, he feels a sharp rock cutting into his right shin. He grits his teeth as pain courses through his leg. He pulls himself to his feet and looks down to see a red cloud forming in the murky water. Roosevelt's pulse quickens as he staggers towards the riverbank.
If he doesn't get out fast, he knows that his blood will attract piranhas, the most vicious and deadly fish in the Amazon. But Roosevelt knows an even worse threat is possible. He suffered an open wound in one of the most infectious environments on Earth, an environment laden with bacteria, insects, and disease, hundreds of miles away from the nearest hospital.
If an infection takes hold, he won't be able to walk. And the expedition doesn't have the time or manpower to carry a 54-year-old man through the jungle, even if that man is a former president of the United States. Throughout this journey, Roosevelt has wondered whether the jungle might be his final resting place. Now, that fate seems closer than ever.
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Teddy Roosevelt was America's 26th president, but he was more than a politician. From his boyhood as a budding naturalist to his leadership of a cavalry regiment in the Spanish-American War to his big game hunts in Africa, Roosevelt cut a singular path across history. But in 1913, four years after he left the White House, the former president took on a challenge that was outrageous even by his standards.
an expedition to chart an unexplored river in one of the most dangerous parts of the Amazon basin.
Known as the Rio de Duvida, the River of Doubt, this waterway wound through areas of the jungle never before seen by outside explorers. Joining Roosevelt on the expedition was his son Kermit, along with a team of naturalists and porters. But as they soon found out, they were tragically unprepared for what the jungle had in store for them. It was a journey that would bring the former president to the brink of death.
A journey down a river of disease, starvation, and even murder. This is Uncharted, Teddy Roosevelt's Amazon Expedition. Episode 1, Headwaters. Edith Roosevelt steps down a hallway in the family home at Sagamore Hill on the north shore of Long Island. It's early December 1912. Outside, winter has begun to wrap its frigid fingers around the landscape.
She arrives at the door of her husband's study and finds it closed. "Teddy, stop brooding in there!" "I'll brood if I want to." She opens the door to find Teddy slouched over a desk covered with newspapers. A palpable gloom hangs over him. Edith shakes her head. She's been married to Teddy Roosevelt for 26 years now and knows his moods well.
Just a few weeks earlier, he ran in an election that could have put him back in the White House for a third term. But Woodrow Wilson had beaten him. And now Teddy was a man adrift.
He holds up one of the newspapers. The Republicans are still saying I cost them the election. If that useless old bumbler William Taft had a prayer of winning, I wouldn't have run in the first place. Edith sighs. A little less than four years ago, Teddy left the White House on a high note. But his disappointment with his hand-picked successor, William Taft, had been bitter and public. She knew Teddy wouldn't sit on the sidelines for long.
Sure enough, earlier this year, he left the Republican Party to run for president under his own progressive Bull Moose Party. The campaign brought out adoring crowds, and they had energized him. But as the dust settled the morning after the election, the winner was the Democrat Woodrow Wilson. Roosevelt split the Republican vote, and the old guard still hasn't forgiven him for it.
Even worse, the friends and followers who once lined up to visit him in their Oyster Bay home have vanished. The big house is mostly empty, except for Teddy, Edith, and their youngest daughter, Ethel. Teddy is just 54, but he's looking older than his years. Edith puts her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Don't read that rabble. You are the better man, and they all know it." "Don't worry, dear. I'll find something to bring me around."
Edith nods. She's seen this before. When he left the White House back in 1909, the gloom was so heavy, it took a big game expedition in Africa to pull him out of it. She wonders what it will be this time. Just don't do anything rash, Teddy. Please. Teddy gives a tight-lipped smile and returns to his newspaper. Edith sighs, knowing that her plea will go unheeded.
Theodore Roosevelt strides down a marble-tiled hallway of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. It's 1913. Spring has come to Manhattan, and Roosevelt thinks he's found an adventure to bring him out of his winter funk.
Weeks ago, Roosevelt made a proposal to the museum. In the fall, he would be traveling to South America for a speaking tour. Perhaps while he was there, he could perform a task on their behalf, a trip into the Amazon jungle to gather specimens for the museum. The museum agreed, and today he's here to work out the details. Roosevelt opens the door to a wood-paneled meeting room and greets the museum officials that are waiting for him.
Good day, gentlemen. As Roosevelt smiles and shakes hands, he notices a familiar face among them. Roosevelt hasn't seen him in years, but the bald head, big ears, and friendly face are unmistakable. Father Zom? Is that you? Father Zom extends a warm handshake. That's right. I heard you were finally undertaking this expedition, and I just had to come and see for myself.
Calling him an old friend might be a bit strong. When Roosevelt was president, Father Zahm visited him many times in the Oval Office. Both a man of the cloth and a man of science, Zahm was a famous theologian who had authored many books, attempting to reconcile religion and scientific beliefs. More than once, Zahm proposed that together, he and Roosevelt could lead a naturalist expedition to South America.
Now, it seems the time for that trip has finally come. Roosevelt takes a seat at a long table and begins discussing the finer points of the expedition with the museum officials. It will be a brief trip, just a few weeks or more. Roosevelt and his team will travel by steamboat up the Tapajos River, one of the major tributaries of the Amazon.
Along the way, they'll stop at various locations to collect rare birds, indigenous reptiles, and other creatures for the museum's collection. The museum officials suggest two naturalists who could assist Roosevelt on this mission. Roosevelt decides to bring both men onto his team. But then he turns toward Father Zahn. Wait a minute, you haven't told us why you're here.
Roosevelt wonders, would he?
Organizing an expedition into the wilderness is no simple task. It involves careful planning, procuring transportation and equipment, and enough supplies to keep the men fed. Father Zahm is a fine intellect, to be sure, but he's less of a wilderness explorer than a man of luxury. Plus, he's a tireless self-promoter. Roosevelt recalls that one of Zahm's favorite sayings is, "Keep yourself always in front of the public eye."
The priest is far more at home among the velvet chairs of New York society than in the dank jungles of South America. Roosevelt is skeptical, but Zahm won't give up. I insist that you leave everything to me. You won't be sorry. Roosevelt hesitates, but finally agrees. After all, this is shaping up to be a relatively straightforward trip. How much trouble could there be?
Theodore Roosevelt leans back in a leather chair and listens. It's October 1913 in Rio de Janeiro. Roosevelt is about to begin his six-week speaking tour of South America. And now he and Father Zahm are sitting across the desk from Lauro Mueller, the Brazilian Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Roosevelt is here to enlist the assistance of the Brazilian government to transport the expedition's boats and supplies overland to the Tapajós River. There, the men would start their voyage down the river, gathering bird and mammal specimens to send back to the museum in New York over the course of several weeks. But the meeting is not going as Roosevelt expected. Mueller is now proposing that they consider a different itinerary. Mr. President,
Are you familiar with the Rio de Duvida? Roosevelt nods. Yes, the River of Doubt. When it was discovered, no man could determine just what its path was. Indeed, it was discovered some years ago in the Brazilian highlands by one of our foremost explorers, Colonel Candido Rondon. But no one has yet charted the river's path. It remains an empty space on every map.
That would be quite a change in plans. Why us? Mueller explains that the publicity would help raise awareness of Brazil as an emerging nation on the world stage. Plus, it's an opportunity for Roosevelt to achieve something truly meaningful. Father Zahm clears his throat. Mr. Mueller, just how long would it take to traverse this river of doubt?
it's somewhat hard to say. It's uncharted, after all. Mueller locks eyes with Roosevelt. Mr. President, think about it. You could proceed with your specimen gathering trip. Or you could embark on something truly historic. Chart the river of doubt once and for all, and put another entry in the history books by the name Roosevelt.
Roosevelt feels his pulse quicken. So little of the planet is truly wild anymore, and here's a chance to be a pioneer. Father Zahm shifts in his seat. "Mr. President, you can't seriously be considering this. Our plan was to sail down a known river on a comfortable steamboat and engage in some simple species collecting. I have prepared for us to travel that journey in high style.
Indeed, Zahm arranged for the supplies, the boats, and the fanfare. He'd even hung banners over the docks in Rio de Janeiro. They were emblazoned with their initials R for Roosevelt and Z for Zahm. But Roosevelt's mind is locked on this new possibility. Why go birdwatching when they can do what's never been done before? Chart an unexplored river.
Mueller's pitch isn't over. He explains he's requested the expedition be led by none other than Candido Rondon, the man who discovered the river in the first place. In Colonel Rondon's capable hands, Mr. President, this expedition will absolutely succeed. Roosevelt can hardly stay in his chair. It sounds bully to me. How could I say no? He turns to Father Zahm, who's gone pale.
But Roosevelt knows just the right thing to say to cheer him up. Come now, Father. Imagine the publicity. The old priest's face brightens. Just a little. Colonel Candido Rondon watches a truck approaching at high speed across an open field. He's standing on the high grassy plains of Mato Grosso in western Brazil, overseeing a small crew of men preparing to raise a telegraph pole. Their fifth today.
The truck is coming in fast. It must be something urgent. He calls out to his workers in Portuguese. Carry on. I'll return in a moment. At 48, Rondon is slim and fit, with dark hair and a thick, gray mustache. For years now, he's been leading the project to run telegraph lines across the entire nation of Brazil, all three million square miles of it.
He and his crews have run lines across barren highlands and through dense jungles filled with poisonous snakes and vicious predators. They've raised thousands of poles and built countless telegraph stations in remote locations all over the country. It's brutal work, but Rondon has let nothing stand in his way of uniting and modernizing the country.
The work has brought Rondon and his crews into the territories of many indigenous communities. Some of them, like the Nambiquara Indians, have a reputation for turning violent against outsiders. It took years of gifts and peace offerings, coupled with a staunch refusal to initiate violence under any circumstances. But finally, Rondon managed to strike a treaty with the Nambiquara.
So far, the peace has held, but not without incident. Rondon himself has indigenous ancestry and is sympathetic to their plight. Still, Rondon worries the truck brings news of another Nambiquara attack. The driver steps from the cab and waves a telegram. It's from Minister Mueller in Rio de Janeiro.
Rondon rolls his eyes. Mueller had been badgering Rondon for weeks now to accompany Theodore Roosevelt on a river excursion in the Amazon. You tell him again, I have no interest in playing tour guide for the President of the United States. The messenger hands him a telegram. The minister wants an answer immediately. Rondon reads the message. His eyes widen.
Somehow, Mueller has convinced Roosevelt to embark on something completely different, an expedition to finally chart the River of Doubt, the river that Rondon himself discovered in 1909. Rondon has been desperate to return so that he might trace the river's mysterious path through the jungle. But the telegraph project has been all-consuming, and the government has stalled his pleas to fund an expedition. Until now. Rondon turns to the driver.
Tell the minister I'm on board. Rondon smiles as the driver hops back into the truck. How can he possibly resist a journey into the uncharted reaches of the Amazon?
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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Edith Roosevelt paces nervously along the deck of a steamer ship as it cuts through the water. It's November 14th, and she's been traveling around South America on her husband's speaking tour for several weeks now. Once that tour is over, Teddy's expedition into the Amazon will begin.
But a few weeks ago, the plans for that expedition changed. Now, Teddy is preparing to embark on a journey down an uncharted river filled with unknown perils. Edith is frantic with worry. This is much more complicated than what she'd anticipated. More than complicated, it's dangerous. Edith sits on a deck chair, closes her eyes, and tries to calm herself.
She reminds herself that her son Kermit is on board as well and will be accompanying his father on the expedition. A family member will be there to provide help to Teddy if he needs it. But Edith can't help but question if Kermit can handle what this river might have in store for him.
Kermit is 24 now, but sometimes Edith wonders if he knows the difference between fearlessness and foolishness. Four years ago, Kermit accompanied his father on an African hunting expedition. Teddy wrote Edith with tales of Kermit running off into the bush to hunt lions without a thought for his own safety, sometimes vanishing for days at a time, brash, just like his father, she thinks.
Edith hears footsteps. Mother, there you are. She turns to see Kermit rushing toward her with a letter in his hand, his face beaming. I have wonderful news. Belle said yes. She wants to be my wife. Oh, Kermit, I'm so thrilled for you. Belle Willard is a pretty blonde society girl from a prominent New York family.
Kermit first met her at a party in the Roosevelt family home over a year ago. Immediately, they struck up a flirtatious correspondence, sending letters across the ocean while Kermit has been in South America. In one of those recent letters, he proposed to her. Now, just like that, Kermit is engaged. Edith is surprised to see his face darken. What's the matter, Kermit?
Edith levels her gaze at her son.
She's seen the look in the old man's eye. He's worried he may be reaching the end of his usefulness, and somewhere inside that noble, grain head of his, he may be wondering if it would be better to go out in a blaze of glory instead of fading away. Look after him, Kermit. If you don't, he might not make it out alive. Do you understand? Kermit nods.
Edith hopes her son will keep his father from making any foolish decisions, though she wonders if this expedition is the most foolish idea of all. A worker scratches his chin as another crate is lowered off a boat and onto the muddy riverbank. The worker's name is Paishon, and he can't believe what he's seeing. How could so much gear have fit in this one boat?
It's mid-January 1914 in Tepiripan, a tiny town in the Brazilian highlands. Set between the banks of the Paraguay River and a low scrub forest, it's made up of small mud-walled huts, a town square, the headquarters to the Telegraphic Commission, and little else.
Paixão is a camarada. It's a Portuguese word that means comrade. It's also the term given to Brazil's poor laborers. He's one of the 16 camaradas that Colonel Candido Rondon has hired to serve as porters on this expedition to the River of Doubt. Paixão has worked with Rondon many times in the past on his telegraph line expeditions, but he can't recall an assignment quite as ambitious as this one.
From what he's been told, the expedition will trek roughly 400 miles across the highlands to get to the headwaters of the river. Once on the river, the distance would be anybody's guess. Could be a thousand miles, maybe more, maybe less. It all depends on the path the river takes.
Colonel Rondon believed that the waterway would eventually empty into a known river called the Aripuana. If all goes according to plan, the expedition should arrive at the location two to three months from now. But already, Paishon can tell that things aren't going according to plan.
They've arranged for 110 mules and 70-pack oxen to carry their supplies. But as Paishon looks at the giant stack of crates growing on the riverbank, he can tell they're going to need more animals. A lot more.
He's heard that there's an esteemed guest aboard a smaller boat that's docked farther down the river, a former president of the United States. Maybe this is the way presidents are accustomed to traveling, but Pai Shon struggles to make sense of it. Pai Shon spies Rondon across the square and rushes up to him. Colonel, look at all these crates. They brought everything but a piano.
Rondon, as usual, is unflappable. I have already ordered the men to round up more mules and oxen to carry the load. But those won't be trained like the rest. And how long will it take to find them? Pichon turns to see a man with glasses and a thick mustache approaching them. Colonel Rondon, tell me, is everything ship-shapen ready? I'm afraid we have some issues to resolve, President Roosevelt.
Paichon watches as Rondon and Roosevelt walk away to continue their discussion. There's no way the expedition is departing on schedule. And judging from Roosevelt's expression, Paichon can tell he isn't happy about it. Roosevelt raises his hands over his head and motions to the men around to quiet down.
Gentlemen, please, if we put our heads together, surely we can get things back on track. In the dusty town square of the tiny village of Tepiripone, Roosevelt has called a meeting of the expedition's leaders. His son Kermit, Colonel Rondon, Father Zom, and Anthony Fiala, the quartermaster hired by Zom to procure supplies for the trip.
When he arrived in the village yesterday, Roosevelt was expecting to find the supplies organized and the mules and oxen ready to depart. Instead, everything was in disarray. In the latest count, there were 360 large crates and countless other smaller boxes ready to be loaded. There simply aren't enough animals to transport all of their supply crates, and even with more animals coming, it appears they will have to cut their load.
Colonel Rondon raises his hand to speak. If I may, Mr. President, perhaps if we understood why there are so many crates, we could determine the best path forward. The quartermaster, Fiala, turns to Roosevelt. Sir, beyond our basic rations, it's critical that we pack food that's fit for a president.
Fiala explains that he packed with the intention that Roosevelt should never have the same meal two nights in a row. Indeed, Fiala has provided enough rations for a near gourmet menu seven days a week. Roosevelt arches his eyebrow. This doesn't sound like preparations for a deep jungle trek. Father Zahm places a hand on his shoulder. It's only fitting we travel in style, wouldn't you say, Mr. President?
Roosevelt is speechless, but he realizes they're in a bind. They simply don't know how long they'll be out in the wilderness, and leaving anything behind, especially food, could come back to haunt them. So Roosevelt and Rondon craft a new plan. They will wait for the additional mules and oxen, and they'll divide the expedition in two.
The first group will include about 70 oxen and will carry the bulk of their cargo: food, tools, and other necessities. The leaders of the expedition will follow in the second group and carry minimal supplies. Both parties will travel north across the highlands roughly 150 miles following the telegraph lines run by Rondon and his men several years earlier.
Their destination is a telegraph outpost called Utiriti, where they will meet up and sort their supplies before heading another 250 miles west to the river. Roosevelt is pleased to have a plan in place, but there's still one more task he needs done. Gentlemen, even with more mules and oxen, we'll need to cut our load.
Fiala raises his hand. "As quartermaster, I'll take charge of that. After all, I'm the only man who truly knows what's inside every crate." Roosevelt nods. He has no option but to put his faith in Fiala. He only hopes that faith isn't misplaced. Kermit Roosevelt grips the reins of the mule and urges it forward.
A cool, dry wind blows across a stark, arid terrain, dotted occasionally by scrub bushes and trees. It's late January, and Kermit has been riding with his father and the rest of his expedition party for days now. There's still a long way to go, hundreds of miles until they reach the headwaters of the River of Doubt. After cutting their supplies down at Tepiripone, the whole party has been on reduced rations.
Hunger gnaws at Kermit's belly. More than anything, Kermit feels heartache. He yearns to be reunited with his fiancée Belle. He wants to hold her in his arms, stare into her eyes and kiss her. It took three days before the expedition was finally ready to leave Tapirapon, and every minute of delay was torture to him. Kermit lets out a sigh as he looks towards the riders in front of him.
Father Zom, Colonel Rondon, the quartermaster Fiala, two naturalists, a doctor, several camaradas, and of course, his father. He wonders if his dad is as tired and sore as he is. If so, he surely isn't letting on. Suddenly, the riders slow. Something's been spotted beside the trail. Kermit rides forward to get a closer look.
His father and the other riders have gathered the mules around two large crates laying on the dry ground. Kermit reads the words stenciled on them. Roosevelt South American Expedition? I don't understand. Kermit's father is incredulous. What in the blazes has happened here? The men figure that the crates must have been bucked off one of the oxen from the party that's riding ahead of them.
Perhaps no one noticed. Or maybe they couldn't be bothered to retrieve them. Many of the untrained oxen had been bucking against their loads, not used to carrying such heavy cargo. Worse than that, Kermit and his party had passed exhausted and starving animals lying down on the trail, weakened from days of walking without enough to eat. The men had expected there to be more natural grass for the pack animals to feed on.
But the harsh environment has been short on grains. Every night they've set the animals free to wander in hopes they can scavenge enough food to keep going. It hasn't been enough. Kermit climbs down from his mule and takes a closer look at the crate. The cold reality is they can't afford to leave it behind, but they can't carry it either.
He looks up to his father. "I don't think this will fit on any of the mules. We'd need an ox." Teddy purses his lips. "Unfortunately, we don't have one to spare. Nothing to do but move on." Kermit nods reluctantly. As usual, his father is right. Kermit climbs back on his mule and urges the animal onward, wondering what else they'll have to leave behind before the journey is over.
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The animal is exhausted from days of trekking across the western highlands of Brazil, weighted down with heavy crates. Rondon steps away and examines the other pack animals. All of them look weak and underfed. Rondon clenches his jaw as he exhales. If he doesn't figure out a way to lighten their load, these animals will never make it to the River of Doubt.
After over a week of riding, the expedition has finally reached the tiny village of Uti Ariti. Surrounded by thick forest, the village is divided into two sections. On one side is a small telegraph station constructed by Rondon and his team several years before. On the other is a cluster of huts with palm-thatched roofs.
The huts are occupied by members of an indigenous tribe called the Parisi, who Rondon enlisted years ago to operate and protect the station. For the next couple of days, the expedition party will rest and regroup here, before heading 250 miles west to the headwaters of the river. Prior to that departure, Rondon knows he must figure out a way to streamline the supplies being carted by these poor animals.
He spots a large rolling cart carrying a stack of canoes, each about 19 feet long and covered in canvas. From his telegraph work, Rondon recalls that another indigenous tribe resides near the headwaters of the River of Doubt. The expedition could purchase new canoes from this tribe when they arrive at the river and leave this cumbersome cart in Utiariti.
The new canoes would be dugouts, carved from the trunks of trees. They'll be heavier than the canvas canoes they'd be leaving behind, but surely the expedition could make them work. Rondon feels a tap on his shoulder. Colonel Rondon, may I have a word? Rondon turns to find one of his camaradas standing before him. His expression is grim. The camarada relays a story that Rondon simply cannot believe.
Father Zom has made a unique request for the journey forward. The priest is asking for four of the Parisi tribal members to carry him on their shoulders while he sits in a comfortable chair. Rondon is appalled. This isn't the first time on the journey that Zom has expressed his feelings of superiority and entitlement, and this is the last straw.
Rondon storms across the grounds to find Roosevelt in his tent. Mr. President, Father Zom has gone too far. It's far beneath the dignity of the Parisi people to be treated as human mules. Roosevelt nods. Rondon knows Roosevelt has been friends with Father Zom for years. But even Roosevelt can't deny the priest is out of line. Roosevelt and Rondon step outside as Roosevelt calls Zom over.
Rondon stares daggers as Roosevelt asks the old priest to explain himself. Father Zahm does not back down from his request. Mr. President, it's quite simple. Carrying priests is what Indians are meant to do. Rondon bottles his anger as Father Zahm explains that he's been carried by Indians in other nations many times before. To the Indians in Peru, carrying a Catholic priest was considered an honor.
Rondon sees a stern expression fall over Roosevelt as he locks eyes with the priest. Father Zom, come into my tent, please. When the two men emerge a few moments later, Rondon sees Zom walk swiftly to his tent. Roosevelt approaches Rondon. Father Zom is on his way home. Rondon is relieved. The load for the next leg of the journey just got a little bit lighter.
Kermit lies on the cot inside his tent. A sweat pours down his face. It's been two days since the expedition arrived in Uti Ariti. And like many others in the party, Kermit has come down with malaria. He turns to see his father stepping out of the rain into his tent. How are you feeling, son? I'll be fine. Should be ready to pack the equipment soon. His father looks unconvinced. And for good reason.
The reality is that his symptoms are getting worse. Every muscle aches and his body burns with fever. Everyone, even his father, has been telling Kermit to stay in bed, but he doesn't want to.
The camp has to break down soon. Father Zahm, the quartermaster Fiala, and several others in the party are not continuing on. The expedition is shrinking in size, which should make it easier to transport their supplies. But that means it's more important than ever that everyone does their share of the work, including Kermit.
Kermit was raised never to back down from a challenge, to never let fear or adversity or even malaria get in the way. As a child, his father took the children on scrambles. Long walks across the grounds where the only rule was that any obstacle the kids encountered had to be tackled head on. Never walked around. If you came to a pond, you swam it. If you ran into a haystack, you burrowed through.
Now, here in Brazil, Kermit lies in his cot, listening to the rainfall on the canvas above him, steeling himself to soldier forward again. Kermit slowly turns his body to sit up. His father steps forward. You need to rest, son. Doctor's orders. I feel well enough to start packing, father. Don't worry about me. His father sighs and gives a quick nod before he exits into the downpour.
Kermit feels his muscles burn as he kneels to sort through his possessions and lighten his load. He discards unnecessary clothing, a few books, and then he comes to his packet of letters from Belle, the ones he's kept safe and dry all this time. They remind him of her golden hair and angelic smile. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine he's back home sitting beside her, holding her hand. He smiles.
Kermit tucks the letters into a leather pouch and slips them back into his bag, where he knows they'll be safe. Then, disobeying his father's wishes, he stands up and walks into the rain to help the others. Theodore Roosevelt gazes out from a wooden bridge into a dense jungle. Far below him, he sees a rushing river, and he can hear the roar of its churning waters, even from this high perch.
After 36 days of traveling overland, they have finally arrived at the Rio de Duvida, the River of Doubt. It's been a hard road to get here, laden with exhaustion, disease, and hunger. The journey has cut not only their rations, but also the size of their crew.
Now, the expedition consists of 16 camaradas and just six officers, including Colonel Rondon, their naturalist, the expedition doctor, Kermit, and Roosevelt himself. As hard as it's been, Roosevelt can't help but feel pride as he stares down at the river. They finally made it. Now, the real journey begins. He walks back to camp and confers with the rest of the team.
"What's left to be done, gentlemen?" Rondon answers first. "I will go to the local Nambiquara village to purchase some new canoes." "Excellent. But first, let's break open these crates and take inventory of our food. We need to be properly rationed for the journey ahead." Rondon believes that the River of Doubt flows north for hundreds of miles until it flows into the Aripuaná. His best estimate is that it could take another two months to travel to that point. But even he doesn't know for sure.
Up to this point, their quartermaster Fiala was the only one with full knowledge of their supplies. Now, Fiala's gone. Roosevelt wants to know exactly how much food they have and how much they might have to hunt and fish for as they journey down the river. Roosevelt peers inside the first crate and immediately grows concerned.
The crate is filled with mustard and spices. The second crate contains 24 cases of toilet paper. They open crate after crate. Some hold useful items like meat, rice, and beans. But others contain gear that's much less essential. Olive oil, spices, tobacco with a dozen smoking pipes. Useless luxuries Fiala insisted on packing. An uncomfortable truth dawns on Roosevelt.
Even if they make the journey in the shortest time possible, this won't be enough to feed everyone. Even if they can augment their diet with hunting and fishing, they're going to struggle to keep everyone fed. Roosevelt calls the officers together. They agree they will cut their own rations in half to leave more food for the camaradas. Hopefully, it will make a meaningful difference in their fight to stave off hunger. The officers disperse, and Roosevelt walks down to the river's edge.
He watches quietly as the dark water rushes by. It's powerful, primal, and until now, unseen by anyone born outside of this jungle. Once they set their boats into those uncharted waters and head down with the current, paddling back will become impossible. If they run out of supplies, they must forage and hunt or starve. If they suffer illness, they'll be far from any hospital
If they get lost, it will be up to them to find a way home. Once they start down the river of doubt, there will be no turning back. This is the first episode in our series Uncharted: Teddy Roosevelt's Amazon Expedition. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on historical research.
If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the books The River of Doubt by Candice Millard and Through the Brazilian Wilderness from the Diaries of Theodore Roosevelt. I'm your host, Cassie DePeckel. Eric Trueheart wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez.
Sound design is by Rob Shuliga. Produced by Matt Olmos, Emily Frost, and Alita Rosansky. Our managing producers are Tanja Thigpen and Matt Gant. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marsha Louis. For Wondery.
My name is Georgia King, and I am thrilled to be the host of And Away We Go, a brand new travel podcast on Wondery Plus, where we'll be whisked away on immersive adventures all around the world. Where we go, what we do, what we eat, drink, and listen to will all be up to my very special guest.
We've got Ben Schwartz taking us on a whirlwind trip around Disneyland. We'll eat a bowl of life-changing pasta with Jimmy O. Yang in Tuscany, Italy. And how do you feel about a spot of sugaring off with Emily Hampshire in Montreal? And away we go, we'll immerse you
in some of the wonders of the world. We're going to be seeing some yellows and vibrant oranges. And the shoes clicking against the cobblestone. If you're looking to get somebody in the mood, have a look at the Chicago skyline. You can listen to And Away We Go exclusively with Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Georgia, do you know what joy sounds like? I think I'm hearing it right now.