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Kermit Roosevelt paddles hard against the raging rapids. He feels his muscles strain as he thrusts his oar into the river. Water splashes over the sides of the canoe, soaking his clothing. It's March 15th, 1914. He's on an uncharted river in the Amazon basin, known as the River of Doubt, and his canoe is rapidly being swept toward a waterfall.
In front of the canoe are two Brazilian porters named Simplicio and Juo. Kermit and the men paddle furiously, straining to keep the canoe from advancing any further in the water. But he sees the edge of the falls moving closer and closer. Turn into the current, then make for the shore, quickly! Kermit is 24 years old and the son of former president Theodore Roosevelt.
Almost two months ago, Kermit and his father, along with a group of naturalists, explorers, and porters, set out from the remote telegraph station of Teperipone. The goal of the expedition was to map this uncharted river through the Amazonian jungles of Brazil. Kermit agreed to join.
Partly because he promised his mother he'd look after his father. On top of that, he's a thrill seeker. Never afraid to jump in head first when an opportunity for adventure presents itself. But this time, he may have jumped too quickly. Simplicio, paddle faster! To the right, faster! The expedition has been brutal.
They've had to battle malaria, dysentery, and swarms of biting insects. And dwindling rations mean he and the other men spend their days with hunger gnawing at their bellies. And every few miles, they encounter impassable rapids, forcing them to drag their heavy boats and supplies through the dense jungle. It's an exhausting process, and it's slowing them down.
These latest rapids were the last straw for Kermit. He couldn't bear the thought of another brutal slog, pulling their equipment over land through the thick vegetation. So he took a gamble.
Kermit saw that there was a small island in the center of the river. Perhaps the opposite side of that island offered calmer water and a way to skirt the rapids. Against the orders of the expedition's guide, Colonel Candido Rondon, Kermit grabbed his canoe and jumped in to see if he was right. He wasn't. The water on the other side of the island is just as violent. Too far! Back! Back!
As hard as they try, Kermit, Simplicio, and Jouel can't get their boat any closer to the shore. Now, the canoe is pointed straight down the river toward the top of the falls, and no amount of paddling in reverse can stop it. Jouel grabs a rope that's tied to the front of the boat and leaps into the water. He heaves on the rope, fighting desperately to pull the canoe to shore. The boat drifts slowly towards the edge of the river.
It's working. But suddenly, Giro loses his footing. Kermit can only watch as the force of the current drags the man through the water towards the falls. Kermit paddles frantically, but it's no use. The canoe is barreling in the same direction. The canoe tips over the falls, taking Kermit and Simplicio with it.
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In 1913, former President Theodore Roosevelt launched a journey to South America to explore its wilderness. It would be a simple expedition to collect specimens for a museum. But the Brazilian government suggested he alter his trip to explore the uncharted Rio de Duvido, the River of Doubt. Roosevelt jumped at the chance, even though his expedition would now be a dangerous journey through unknown territory.
Along with his son Kermit, acclaimed explorer Colonel Candido Rondon, and over a dozen other men, Roosevelt endured a five-week trek across the Brazilian highlands to reach the headwaters. Now, they're finally poised to set off down the river. They have no idea when they'll see civilization again, or what's waiting for them in these uncharted reaches of the Amazon basin. This is Episode 2, River of Doubt.
Theodore Roosevelt inspects the canoes that have been pulled onto the muddy banks of the River of Doubt. There are seven of them, all recently purchased from a local indigenous tribe by the co-leader of his expedition, Colonel Candido Rondon. He softly kicks the side of one of the boats and bends down to get a closer look at it.
It's February 27th, 1914. Today is the day the expedition is supposed to set off down the river, and Roosevelt is worried. These canoes are dugouts, carved roughly from the trunks of rubber trees. They're bulky and heavy, and won't be easy to maneuver when they encounter rapids. And if they slam too hard against the river rocks, they could easily break into pieces.
During their long journey to reach these headwaters, the expedition had to lighten their supply load. A few weeks ago, they decided to dump the lighter canoes they originally intended to bring on their river journey. Roosevelt wonders if they made a terrible mistake. He turns to Colonel Rondon. - It looks like two of them have leaks and they're so heavy.
What's going to happen if we have to carry them? Mr. President, they're the best canoes the Nambiquara village had to offer. These boats have served them well. They should serve us too. Roosevelt is skeptical, but he realizes he has no choice. Their food supplies are limited. It's crucial that they launch their journey down the river as soon as possible. He nods to Rondon. We can't waste any more time. Let's load them up and get them into the river.
As the camaradas load in the supplies, the canoes sink lower into the dark water. Roosevelt sighs and stares down the river. Nobody knows for sure what route the river is going to take.
But Rondon believes that eventually it will flow north until it reaches the Aripuana River, a tributary of one of the largest rivers in South America, the Madeira. Rondon has sent a military scouting party to camp at a spot on the Aripuana, downstream from where he thinks the River of Doubt will emerge. They're to wait there until the expedition arrives, hopefully in six to eight weeks' time.
Roosevelt knows that the camp on the Aripana is over 400 miles from where he's standing right now. He doesn't know how long it will take to get there. He doesn't know if the canoes will stay in one piece. He doesn't know what perils he'll encounter along the way, in the water or out of it. All he knows is that today is the day that the journey begins, down the river of doubt.
Colonel Candida Rondon peers down the river ahead, craning his neck to see what's around the next cluster of trees. Kotingas and woodpeckers call from beneath the forest canopy. The murky water churns under his paddle. It's March 1st, and they've been on the river just two days now. It's been easy going so far, and Rondon has been able to survey the river in earnest.
At regular intervals, he and Kermit, along with a few camaradas, paddle ahead, taking careful measurements of every twist and turn. For Rondon, charting this unexplored territory is the primary reason he's here. He'd first found the river in 1909, as part of a long and exhausting expedition for the Telegraph Commission. On that day, he christened it the River of Doubt.
The mystery of where it goes has haunted him ever since. Rondon takes a pause from paddling to scratch the fur of his dog, Lobo, who sits faithfully beside him in the canoe. But as the boats round the bend, Rondon spies something that makes him freeze.
Clusters of huts with thatched roofs stand on both sides of the river. Before they know it, the whole party is drifting right through the center of a native village. This could be trouble. There's no telling if the residents of this village have seen outsiders like them before. The expedition's presence could be seen as a threat. He sits still as the boats drift on, then turns to look behind him. Roosevelt is reaching for his rifle.
Rondon raises an arm. Hold. No guns. He knows from experience that the only way to win trust in these situations is to be clear that your intentions are peaceful. Brandishing a rifle doesn't help. For a tense moment, nobody moves as the current carries them within feet of the huts. But there's no sign of life.
Just silence. Rondon realizes the village is abandoned, and judging from the rotting roofs, it looks like it's been that way for a while. Rondon lets out a sigh of relief. "Land the canoes. Let's look around." On the shore, Rondon searches among the thatched roofs for any evidence of who once lived here and why they left, but he can't find any answers.
Whatever the fate of this village was, Rondon now knows that there are indigenous people living along the river. He'll need to stay alert. These tribes are isolated and may be understandably suspicious of their intentions. The expedition wouldn't hear or see them and wouldn't know if they were hostile until it was too late. Kermit Roosevelt paddles his canoe down the river.
He's sweating enough that his shirt is sticking to him. But he's somehow escaped the attention of the swarms of insects that collect along the water. Kermit is in the lead canoe, along with two camaradas. As part of the survey crew, it's been Kermit's job to scout ahead with the surveying rod, a six-foot staff used by cartographers to take accurate measurements of the terrain.
It's his fourth day on the river, and as he paddles along, Kermit's thoughts drift to his fiancée, Belle. He longs to return home to New York to see her, but he's also grateful that the expedition to chart this mysterious river is finally underway. Every mile he travels down the river brings him closer to his true love.
Kermit hears a roaring sound coming from up ahead. He rounds a bend in the river to see a long stretch of white water stirring in front of him. Kermit knows the rapids are a sign of dangerous rocks just beneath the surface. He turns to the canoes behind him. Rapids ahead! Be ready, everyone! Between the rocks and the rough water, rapids can easily wreck a canoe, especially these heavy dugouts.
They ride lower in the water, making them much more likely to get caught on the rocks. Looking at the churning water ahead of him, he wonders if they can ride it out. He urges the camaradas in front of him to paddle forward. The pace of the river picks up. Water splashes over the bow. The heavy dugout is tough to maneuver, but they manage to steer to the left to clear a cluster of rocks. He spies a broken tree trunk blocking his path.
They pivot hard to the right, missing it by inches. Finally, they're back in calm water. Kermit looks over his shoulder and sees the other canoes also made it through. Well done, everyone! Kermit feels energized by the thrill of the rapids. If this is the worst the river has to offer, he can handle it. But then he hears a deeper roar growing ahead.
He feels the current grip his boat as he's pulled around a bend. A chill runs up his spine. The rapids in front of him boil with a fury. The river crashes over a seemingly endless stretch of jagged rocks. The dugouts would never survive this. He frantically calls behind him as he steers his boat to land. "Get to shore, everyone! It's too rough up ahead!"
From the riverbank, Kermit, his father, and Rondon walk the length of the rapids. The dangerous waters go on for nearly a mile, made worse by two waterfalls, each at least six feet tall. Rondon suggests the only alternative. We must conduct a portage. Carry the boats and supplies through the forest. It will take a few days, but it's the only way.
Rondon calls to Paichon, one of his most reliable camaradas. Tell the others we've got hard work ahead of us. Kermit feels his heart sink. This portage will add days to an expedition that is already keeping him from his fiancée back home. God only knows how long it will be before he sees her again. ♪
Lead Camerata Pai Shone pulls hard on the rope attached to a dugout canoe and strains to take another step forward.
He's at the head of the small team of porters struggling to drag this boat through the jungle. Insects sting his face, his arms, and worst of all, his feet. It's painful, but he soldiers on. He's worked for Colonel Rondon many times in the past, building a network of telegraph lines across the nation of Brazil. Paixão has done his share of tough work in unforgiving environments, but nothing like this.
It's been two days since they decided to transport all the boats and supplies over land in order to bypass the rapids. In that time, they've cut down countless trees to clear a path through the dense jungle. They laid logs at six-foot intervals to make what they call a corduroy road. It's the only way to drag the heavy canoes through the wilderness without getting stuck in the mud. But the progress is slow and exhausting.
Paishon pulls again. The boat moves another foot or two. He swats at the flies that attack his feet. Some men have so many bug bites, it looks like they have measles or chicken pox. And the mosquitoes have been spreading malaria.
One of the camaradas is so feverish, Rondon ordered him to rest in his hammock rather than pitch in. Pichon passes a camarada leaning against a tree. It's Julio de Lima, a muscular porter who's notorious among the camaradas for his laziness.
Haishon gets right in his face. Get back to work! Julio makes a rude gesture, then reluctantly walks back toward camp. Haishon sighs in frustration as he sweeps the bugs off his shins. The itching and burning on his legs is growing unbearable. He sees Dr. Cagiera, the expedition's physician, walking toward him. Here, take some fly dope. These bugs are eating us alive. Mmm.
Let's go! Pull!
The canoe moves a few more feet through the jungle, but Pichon wonders how he'll get along when the fly dope does run out. Theodore Roosevelt emerges from his tent and steps into a puddle of mud. It's just after dawn on March 11th. Between the pouring rain and the cacophony of jungle sounds, he didn't sleep much the night before.
But now, the storm has passed. Rays of sun are beginning to peek through the thick foliage.
He's exhausted, but as he scrapes the mud from his boot, Roosevelt is actually feeling hopeful. It's been 12 days since they began their journey down the river. Over that time, they've encountered many rapids and spent several days carrying their canoes and supplies through the jungle to avoid them. As a result, they've only traveled 75 miles down the river. They're moving far slower than Roosevelt had hoped.
but they're moving. And somehow, they've suffered no major damage to their canoes, supplies, and equipment. Roosevelt walks to the campfire and warms his hands. The journey has been intense, but Roosevelt is keeping up. He embarked on this expedition hoping to rekindle his spirit for adventure, and the jungle has delivered.
Roosevelt sees a camarada sprinting towards the camp. President Roosevelt, two of our canoes are gone. Roosevelt moves as quick as he can down the slippery embankment to the edge of the river. As he emerges from the trees, he can see that last night's storm has caused the water level to rise. Where their seven canoes were tied up last night, only five remain.
Roosevelt turns to the camaradas gathered at the shore. Quickly, take one of the canoes and search downstream. Within seconds, two of the camaradas are paddling fast down the river. Roosevelt scans the remaining dugouts. He realizes that one of the missing canoes is their largest and carried more cargo than any other. The other canoe was their oldest and leakiest.
When they set off on the river, they made the decision to tie these canoes together to keep the old one afloat. When the river rose last night, Roosevelt wonders if the leakier canoe sank and dragged the larger canoe down with it. Roosevelt sees the camaradas returning up the riverbank, carrying pieces of the canoes in their hands. The dugouts have been destroyed by the raging river. Roosevelt's mind races.
They've lost the capacity to carry the men and their supplies down the river. They could leave some cargo behind, but they're already short on food, with no idea how many more weeks of travel lay ahead of them. Roosevelt knows that they have no other choice. They must build a new canoe. And fast.
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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Colonel Rondon takes in the last rays of the setting sun as it disappears below the thick green canopy of the jungle. Nearby, a team of camaradas is busy hollowing out the trunk of a giant rubber tree. The thud of axes and the scraping of blades cuts through the jungle.
This morning, they woke to find two of their canoes had been swept away overnight by the rising river.
Rather than build two new canoes, Rondon has ordered them to construct one large one, big enough to compensate for both of the lost boats. Rondon feels a pang of hunger twisting his stomach. He needs the new canoe to be built as quickly as possible. With each passing day, they come closer to exhausting their food supply. The men have been on half rations for nearly four weeks.
Just two meals a day, each consisting of a small portion of beans and rice, and maybe a scrap of meat. The hunger is getting to everyone. They can't afford to delay. Rondon walks over to examine the tree trunk that the men are carving. The boat is coming along nicely. When it's done, it will be 26 feet long and 5 feet in diameter. Large enough for all their needs and more.
Then, he notices someone is missing. "Where's Julio?" A camarada points to the other side of the clearing, where Julio de Lima sits idly against a tree. Rondon whistles to him. "Julio, what are you doing?" "I'm resting." "Most people have to work before they need rest. Get to it, Julio." Julio slouches over and picks up a blade. Rondon looks at the canopy of trees above him. The sky is growing darker.
But there's still so much to do before the canoe is finished. Rondon feels for the men. Their muscles are tired. Their bodies ache. Their skin is bitten by insects. But they have no time to slow down.
Rondon walks back to his tent and digs through a supply crate until he finds what he needs. Then, he marches back to the worksite with his hands full of candles. As he walks, the light of dusk continues to fade. Rondon can hear the Amazon coming alive with mysterious noises. The cries of howler monkeys, the orchestra of insects, and other sounds that he can't identify.
It's beautiful and disturbing all at once. When he arrives at the clearing where the camaradas are working, Rondon strikes a match, lights a candle, and places it along the tree trunk. Now we can work through the night. If the men are dismayed at the change of plans, they don't express it. The only thing that matters is getting that boat finished and into the water so they can stay one step ahead of starvation.
Theodore Roosevelt paddles at the back of a newly built dugout that's 26 feet long. Sitting ahead of him, a team of camaradas drive the massive boat forward with oars of their own. It's March 14th, four days since they lost two of their canoes to the rising waters of the river.
Last night, the camaradas worked past midnight until the giant replacement canoe was finally finished. It took over 20 men to drag it to the river, but it floated like a cork and had no problem carrying every crate they loaded onto it. Roosevelt feels the sweat beating on his forehead and under his shirt. It's warm, sure, but the malaria isn't helping. It seems everyone on the expedition has gotten it at some point.
Roosevelt locks his gaze on the rapids in the water ahead. He needs all his wits about him to get through them safely. This batch is a long, flat stretch of rocky turbulence. No waterfalls, but still dangerous. When the whitewater was spotted an hour earlier, the expedition immediately pulled to shore to form a plan for getting through. Roosevelt's position was clear.
they can no longer afford to stop for every last eddy and whirlpool. No one objected. Besides, the prospect of carrying their massive new dugout through the jungle was too much to contemplate. So they adopted a new plan. They would unload the canoes and carry the supplies overland by foot. Then send the empty canoes down the river with only a few paddlers.
Now deep in the river, Roosevelt is bracing himself for the worst. He watches the first boat enter the boiling waters. It's tossed and thrown by the waves, but arrives safely on the other side. Next up is the boat carrying Kermit and his team of paddlers. Kermit's canoe bounces and weaves, thrashed by the heavy currents, but it also makes it through unscathed.
Now it's Roosevelt's turn. He orders the paddlers full ahead. Pull, gentlemen! He powers forward as he feels the grip of the current seize the canoe and pull it faster. He feels the weight of the boat, the sheer mass of its 26 feet. He jolts as the bow strikes the rocks under the surface. Water sloshes in over the sides.
Keep it steady! More hard blows against the hull. The boat is strong, but the weight means it rides low in the water, closer to the rocks. More water rushes in, soaking his boots. The rapids get rougher. Roosevelt tries to keep his balance. The water comes in hard now. The end is in sight. But he's not sure the boat is going to make it. But then, the river gets calmer. They're through.
Safe. But the boat has swamped, nearly full with river water, and it's sinking to just below the surface. The rest of the party rush in with ropes. They lasso the giant dugout, pull it to shore, and tie it off.
As Roosevelt stands on the riverbank, dripping wet, Kermit approaches. "You took quite a ride, father." Roosevelt smiles. "This new boat is made of strong stuff. It'll serve us well." That day, the team rides the canoes through six sets of rapids. They cover ten miles, the longest they've gone in one day since they entered the river 15 days ago. Roosevelt feels satisfied.
Finally, a victory. Kermit Roosevelt paces along the shore, staring angrily at the raging river. Yesterday, the expedition made tremendous progress, traveling 10 miles. Today has been like hitting a brick wall. They're stuck at one of the worst stretches of rapids yet. The river is divided by a small island in the center.
On his side of the river, Kermit can see the water flowing swiftly into a narrow channel between the island and the riverbank. From there, it shoots over a waterfall that plunges to the rocks below. Sending a boat over that would be madness. Rondon has gone into the jungle with a scouting party, hoping to find a path to carry the supplies on foot. Before he left, Rondon ordered that no one enter the river while he's gone.
Kermit's father is in a canoe far behind, hunting for wildlife specimens with the expedition's naturalist. Kermit's thoughts drift again to Bell, his fiancée, waiting for him back in New York. If Rondon finds a path on land, and they transport their gear around these rapids, it could delay them for days. He looks across the rushing water at the island in the center.
There's a channel on the other side that they can't see clearly from here. It might be easier going on that side. And if it is, they could save invaluable time. But he needs to get a better look. Kermit calls to his paddlers. Simplicio, Jouho, come with me. He waves them to his small canoe. In an instant, they're on board and heading to the island in the center. The water splashes over the rim of his canoe as they enter the rapids.
The current grabs them and pulls them toward the waterfall, but Kermit and the paddlers dig in. - Against the current, toward the island. - Finally, he feels the bow touch against reassuring solid ground. They drag the canoe safely onto the island shore. Kermit runs over to check the view on the far side.
The sight makes his stomach drop. The passage there is no better, maybe worse. It seems no matter which route they take on the river, nothing but peril awaits them. And now, he realizes something else. They were traveling with the current when they cut over to this island.
Getting back will mean going against the flow of the powerful river. It will be like paddling up a fire hose. Still, there's no other choice.
Kermit walks back to the canoe and tells his paddlers to get in. Come on, we're heading back to shore. Both of the camaradas refuse. Kermit can't believe his ears. Simplicio and Juro are too wary of the dangerous current to get into the boat. But Kermit won't take no for an answer. He orders them to get in and start paddling.
Theodore Roosevelt squints and tries to see the rest of the boats up ahead. His vision isn't as good as it used to be, even with glasses. His massive boat had lagged behind as he and the expedition's naturalist focused on gathering specimens for the American Museum of Natural History. As they glide farther down the river, Roosevelt can see the rest of the canoes pulled onto the shore ahead.
As he gets closer, he hears voices. There's a commotion. The porters are shouting and pointing at a canoe being tossed on the rapids in the river. As he gets closer, Roosevelt sees who it is. It's Kermit and two camaradas caught in the current as they try to reach the shore.
Roosevelt urges his canoe forward. "Get us closer!" In the distance, he sees one of Kermit's men jump out of the boat, grab the rope on its bow, and struggle to pull it through the angry waters to shore. At first, it seems to be working. Then, suddenly, the man slips and starts floating downstream towards a waterfall. The boat surges into the current.
Roosevelt watches helplessly as Kermit's canoe tips over the falls and out of sight. Quickly, he orders his boat to shore. Before the canoe has even touched the riverbank, he leaps out and rushes into the jungle.
He navigates his way down the slippery cliffs toward the base of the falls, his boots nearly losing their grip on the wet rocks. At the bottom, he finds some of the camaradas gathered at the water beneath the falls. Roosevelt pushes through them and sees something that makes his blood run cold. It's his son's canoe smashed to bits on the rocks. But Kermit himself
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Roosevelt turns to the camaradas gathered there. Head farther downstream. They may have been dragged along by the current. A few of the men run farther down the riverbank as Roosevelt keeps scanning the water near the falls. He's gripped with fear that his son is dead. But he can also feel a swell of anger rising in him.
Roosevelt had always encouraged a thirst for adventure in his children, and Kermit had certainly grown into a daring and fearless young man. But Kermit sometimes demonstrated a recklessness that worried Roosevelt. On a hunting trip the father and son took to Africa, a charging leopard got just a few yards from Kermit before he shot it with a rifle.
And now, Kermit has charged ahead without considering the consequences again. Suddenly, a shout comes from down the river. "Over here!" Jouho has crawled to shore. As the Camaradas help him to his feet, Roosevelt feels a glimmer of hope. He searches the water's edge for any sign of his son.
"Kermit!" All Roosevelt can see is water, swirling and smashing against the rocks. But then, a voice cuts through the roar of the river. A few yards down the river, Kermit is pulling himself onto the shore, drawing great gulps of air. Roosevelt rushes to where Kermit stands, soaking wet on the riverbank. It embraces him. Kermit sputters as he pulls himself together.
I was pulled underwater by the current, but it let me go a little ways down. Thank heavens. We found Juo as well. Kermit's eyes widen. Where's Simplicio? Roosevelt shakes his head. No sign of him. Kermit breaks away from his father. He paces the shoreline, peering up and down the river, searching for the missing camarada.
Roosevelt turns to see Rondon emerging through the trees. The Brazilian colonel had been leading a party to scout a possible path over land around the rapids. Anger flashes across his face as he approaches Kermit. I ordered everyone to stay ashore until I returned. Kermit casts his eyes to the ground. Rondon shakes his head. At least you had a nice bath. Roosevelt steps between them. Colonel, Simplicio is missing.
Rondon levels an accusing look at Kermit and then immediately assumes control of the manhunt. The team searches a mile down the shoreline, but after hours of looking for Simplicio, darkness begins to fall. Rondon calls for the search party to return. We have no choice. Set up camp. The search is over.
As Roosevelt unloads the canoes, he feels an unbearable heaviness. There's almost no question that the young camarada drowned, claimed by the River of Doubt. And it would not have happened if not for his son's recklessness. Kermit watches as Colonel Rondon hammers a wooden stake into the ground by the falls.
On it is a wooden plaque where six words have been roughly carved: "In these rapids, died poor Simplicio." It's the morning after the tragic accident that killed one of the expedition's camaradas. Last night, they gathered at their campsite to mourn the young man. For a time, Kermit forgot about his gnawing hunger, and his worries about getting home to his fiancée Belle felt trivial.
A man was dead. Kermit looks around at the 20 men gathered with him near the edge of the falls. Their heads are bowed, heartbroken by the loss of their friend. Rondon steps to the center of the group. From this point forward, on every map, these falls will now be called Cachoeira Simplicio, Simplicio Falls.
This ceremony concludes. Kermit lingers a moment. Then, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see his father. The look on the old man's face is a familiar one to Kermit.
It's the look his father gave him throughout his childhood when Kermit had gone too far. Son, a word? Kermit braces himself. You were reckless, never mind the supplies we lost and the canoe. Your refusal to follow orders cost a man his life.
Kermit bows his head. "You taught me to not let any obstacle get in my way. If I'd taken the risk and found an easier route, it would have been a victory for everyone." "Kermit, life is not just about taking risks. It's about having the wisdom to know when a risk is called for."
taking a chance for its own sake is foolish. Kermit starts to answer, but then stops himself and simply nods. In his heart, Kermit believes the risk he took was warranted, but now is not the time to argue. Whatever their disagreement might be, Kermit knows he failed today, and a man has died because of it.
Colonel Rondon steps quietly through the jungle, pushing wet branches out of his way with the barrel of his rifle. Sunlight barely dapples the ground through the thick leaves above him. His faithful hunting dog Lobo walks beside him. Just a few hours ago, Rondon presided over a quiet memorial near the spot where Simplicio was lost and named the falls after their departed friend. Rondon knows that his men are heartbroken
but they can't afford to rest. They need to build another new canoe to replace the one that was destroyed yesterday. So Rondon has sent Kermit and a team of camaradas on an expedition downstream to find trees big enough for that purpose. While they're busy with that task, Rondon is taking the opportunity to hunt. He appreciates the quiet solitude. He's hoping to bag a Jakku bird or a spider monkey
Rondon knows that any kind of meat would raise the men's spirits. The abundance of wild game they'd hoped to find on this expedition has proved elusive. Rondon and the men are all experienced hunters, but the animals in this part of the Amazon have no trouble staying hidden in the dense jungle foliage. Suddenly, Lobo's ears perk up again. The dog rushes into the trees and out of sight.
Rondon grips his rifle and crouches low. He creeps forward slowly, not wanting to disturb whatever Lobo may have gotten the scent of. Then, Rondon hears a terrible yelp. He freezes in his tracks. He knows that the jungle holds dangerous predators like jaguars that can appear in a flash, and Lobo would be no match for one. But then, he hears a new sound emerging from the jungle ahead of him.
Voices. Speaking in a language he doesn't recognize. Rondon can't be sure who the voices belong to. He's familiar with a Nambiquara tribe who live near the headwaters of the River of Doubt. This could be a subgroup of that tribe. Or it could be a different tribe altogether. This far into the wilderness, it's possible that they have never encountered outsiders. Something emerges from the bushes ahead of him.
It's Lobo, staggering out of the woods, two massive five-foot arrows piercing his flesh. The dog limps towards his master, blood running down his side. Oh, Lobo. Rondon hears the voices getting closer. He raises his rifle and fires a warning shot into the air, hoping to scare them away. But the voices only become more energized and agitated. He hears them grow nearer.
He looks down at Lobo, wondering if there's any way to help his trusted dog. But the voices keep getting louder. Rondon sees no choice. He can't face the attackers alone. So he turns and runs. There's nothing he can do to save Lobo's life. But maybe it's not too late to save his own. This is the second 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 Joe Richardson. Produced by Matt Almos, 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 Lara Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis. For Wondering. Wondering.
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