Maranon 1

RĂ­o MaraĂąon The Grand Canyon of the Amazon

words and photos by Rocky Contos

A m a z o n H e a d w at e r s E x p e d i t i o n episode 1 of 3

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One hundred ninety eight miles and 15 days into our descent of the Upper Amazon, we arrive at the Río Miriles confluence, where the notorious Samosierra rapid begins. We expect the rapid to be about two long and Class V, based on reports by the Polish CanoAndes crew, the only group who wrote anything informative about this section of the river (in the early 1980s). We are a bit apprehensive. Adding to our fears is some local beta only a month before, a motorized lancha carrying a dozen passengers swamped in the rapid, leading to eight drownings. We all wonder – how difficult can it really be? Is it like Lava Falls?

The Samosierra rapid is only one of about 100 moderate to big rapids on a raftable 400-mile “Grand Canyon” section of the Upper Amazon (Río Marañon) in the Andes. You might wonder why I am calling Río Marañon the “Upper Amazon”, since Río Apurímac has generally assumed this royal title for the past 60 years. The reason is simple: the naming of a river upstream is almost always based on following the branches upstream with the highest average discharge. All other branches are tributaries by definition [i.e. “streams feeding larger streams”, according to Merriam-Webster].

For example, the Ucayali river, is a mere tributary to the Marañon-Amazon, and therefore does not merit the title of “Amazon” (and this applies to all upstream extensions of the Ucayali, including the Apurimac and Mantaro).

Nobody ever really questioned Río Marañon’s status as the mainstem branch of the Amazon. In fact, despite knowledge of other tributaries extending farther upstream, popular opinion held Río Marañon to be the “Upper Amazon” for over two centuries. When Padre Samuel Fritz published his map of the Amazon River in 1707, he listed the upper river as “Marañon o Amazonas”. Although the facts never changed, starting in the 20th century more opinions surfaced that the “most distant” upstream point in the Amazon basin should be regarded as the “source” of the river. Eventually,

Amie Begg kayaks the Mayas rapid on the Upper Amazon (RĂ­o MaraĂąon): day 6, mile 92

Reminiscent of the Grand Canyon’s Hermit-rapid, Tupén Grande at mile 256 is due to be drowned by the Chadin 2 dam unless action is taken to stop the dam. At right, Río Marañon is known as “La Serpiente de Oro” because it is one of the richest gold-bearing rivers in the world.

Bottom right, endangered Andean Spectacled Bears are still encountered - and unfortunately hunted - in the Grand Canyon of the Amazon.

those advocating this “most distant” source argument produced the majority of publications, and the former argument was not even mentioned. However, I believe that after a careful reassessment, most will agree that Río Marañon should resume its formerly recognized status - and name - as the “Upper Amazon”.

Halfway into our trip, the majesty of the Marañon is already clearly evident to us. I pull the raft into another of the giant beaches along the river to camp. The air is clean and the sky mostly cloudy, but it doesn’t rain. In fact, in the 15 days we’ve been on the river, there has only been one light sprinkle of precipitation during the day. I guess such conditions result in the desert-like country we’re in. There is a light upstream breeze blowing – far from the strong winds that were pounding us the previous two evenings. It is hot. This area near Balsas is known as the infierno of Peru due to the heat. In fact, it’s still almost 90 degrees fahrenheit near dusk. I relax a while after setting up our tent. There are no bugs molesting us. I gather some driftwood to make a fire that we use later to cook dinner.

I notice some fruit trees nearby so go over to investigate, and find a giant mango tree with ripe fruits fallen on the ground. Judging from the dozens of rotting mangos on the ground, I presume nobody is harvesting the delicious fruits, so I carry several back to the camp.

Actually, in many places along the river, we’ve come across mangos, papayas, bananas, and cacao. While that’s not necessarily what you’d expect in a desert canyon, we are at only 7 degrees south latitude and 2,500 feet elevation. After cooking up a tasty pasta meal, we sit around the campfire and chat about the previous section of river and grand finale long rapid we passed through that morning.

I came up with the idea of this expedition in the late 1990s. I said to my fiancée Barbara Conboy, “Why don’t we paddle down Río Marañon for our honeymoon? Just the two of us rafting down the Grand Canyon of South America. It’ll be romantic.” My idea had sprung from perusing atlases and maps of rivers in Latin America.

I realized the unique status of Río Marañon as one of the biggest,

W e marv e le d at th e 2,000-fo ot canyo n wall, as condors soared on thermals f u e l e d b y r i s i n g h e a t. h e r e a w a t e r fall cas cad e d d o w n th e wall c r eati n g a s c e n e r e m i n i s c e nt o f Z i o n Nati o nal Par k.

longest, and cleanest undammed rivers in the Andes. I wanted to assess if it really were a “Grand Canyon” equivalent in South America, as I suspected.

Although initially Barb seemed game to do it, as our wedding approached in 2002, she became less and less enthusiastic because of the difficulty of scheduling such a trip around finishing her graduate studies and starting a new job. But an additional concern had to do with safety.

“Why do a trip with potential stress and unknowns? I don’t want to end up like the Hydes,” Barb joked. Glen and Bessie Hyde were a honeymoon couple who disappeared trying to raft down the Grand Canyon in 1928 – the 11th descent on record. Although nobody really knows what happened to them, there has been speculation of stresses during the trip leading to Glen turning violent and/or Bessie eventually murdering him. Most likely, though, they just fell off their scow in a rapid and drowned.

The trip didn’t happen for us. Instead, Barb and I ended up doing a pleasant month of sea kayak expeditions on more tried and true waters in southern Baja California for our honeymoon.

Downstream of Chagual is a scenic Glen Canyon-like section of the Mara単on with plenty of relaxing float time - a nice relief from the more intense action upstream and downstream. Day 12, mile ~150

We launched from Puente C o pu ma, a r oad b r i d g e ac c ess po i nt at 6,900 fe et e le vati o n, i nte nt o n ass essing this probable “Grand Canyon” of the Marañon.

In 2012, I was looking to do some boating in Peru again, and Barb broached the subject of our 10-year anniversary. She suggested that maybe we do the Marañon. I jumped at the hint. Finally, I would have the chance to organize the expedition and take my wife down as I had planned years ago. But the river was still largely unknown – only two other groups had traversed most of its length previously, and little was described about many sections. Since Barb preferred to have others on the trip for safety, I ended up recruiting a Class IV hardshell kayaker from North Carolina (Amie Begg) and a Class III inflatable kayaker from Oregon (Mike Doktor) to accompany us. We launched a 16’ cataraft, two kayaks, and an IK on July 1, 2012 from Puente Copuma, a road bridge access point at 6,900 feet elevation, intent on assessing this probable “Grand Canyon” of the Marañon.

In the days before arriving at the Samosierra rapid, we had been paddling through the Chagual section of the river, enjoying fantastic scenery in a desert canyon reminiscent of the Southwestern USA. Cacti abounded on the sparsely vegetated landscape. We marveled at the Muro Poso (Poso Wall) rising more than 2,000 ft directly from the river as condors soared on thermals fueled by rising heat. Here, a waterfall also cascaded down the wall creating a scene reminiscent of Zion National Park. In fact, the plateau of the Andes consistently towered more than 7,000 feet up on both sides of the canyon, with peaks sometimes reaching more than 10,000 feet above the river.

We already had passed through the difficult rapids in the Puchka section upstream, and were relishing in the more relaxing Chagual section. Huge beaches everywhere made for amazing camps. Interesting side excursions cropped up every dozen miles or so.

At Playa Yanten, after visiting various Incan ruins near the river, we hiked up the side canyon and found an incredible narrows with chockstone boulders wedged overhead – like something you’d expect in Glen Canyon or Grand Canyon. This side canyon was only one that we had time to explore – many others still await to reveal their secrets to future explorers. In fact, this whole mellower section of the Marañon was in some ways like Glen Canyon of the Colorado.

Some new Aguaruna friends joined us for part of the 50-mile section from the Pongo de Rentema to Imacita - a section filled with huge-water rapids that rate Class III and IV. Day 28, mile ~385.

Ample driftwood allowed cooking fires at all our camps, while we resupplied provisions at villages and towns along the way (insets below).

On the lower Mara単on we took a side excursion into the Pacaya-Samiria Reserve, where we paddled a canoe with local guides into the reserve, camped among the jungle canopy, and experienced typical wildlife such as macaws, sloths, and piranhas (inset).

The river here also has history. Earlier we had passed the village of Calemar, where the novel “La Serpiente de Oro”, took place. Written by Ciro Alegría and published in 1935, the book was a best-seller and became part of the canon of Peruvian literature. The novel details the lives of gold-seekers and balseros (rafters) in this canyon – and was based on some real-life experiences of the author in the village and the surrounding area. The title, “The Golden Serpent”, refers to Río Marañon, which is a river with one of the highest concentrations of gold of any river in the world. In fact, the indigenous name of the river was Chuquimayo, or River of Gold. Even these days, there are still hundreds of gold panners/dredgers along the river, seeking their fortunes from the nuggets and little yellow pellets they painstakingly separate from the gravel.

We all get out of our boats to scout the initial section of Samosierra. It doesn’t look so bad – nearly continuous Class III waves and holes lead almost a kilometer down to a wall and sharp right turn, and from there apparently into more rapids. I am not too worried about rowing the 16’ cataraft through, but Amie and Mike are a bit more concerned about being in the little kayaks. I row through the meat of the first part and hit some unanticipated holes, but just plow through with such a large beast. Amie takes an easier route on far river-left.

Mike takes what looks like an easier route on far river-right initially, but then in crossing over to the left side, hits one of the same holes I

plowed through in the raft. He is stopped temporarily, but fortunately stays upright - and as we shout for him to paddle like hell out of there, we see that indeed he musters some true power strokes and succeeds. Whew!

We confirm that indeed the whole Samosierra rapid extends for more than two miles, but can be divided into about nine separate sections. Overall, two of the sections I’d rate Class III-IV. Although I wouldn’t say the rapid is anywhere near Class V, you can’t really blame the CanoAndes crew for rating the rapid that high more than 30 years ago. Rapids seemed tougher in those days with bucket rafts.

And besides, they had high water in March (~35,000 cfs) while we did it at low July flows (~5,000 cfs), so the rapid may actually grow to Class V at times.

We continue onward more than 15 miles, pass through occasional class II rapids and enjoy the beautiful canyon scenery to our next camp a little upstream of Balsas where we enjoy the warm evening.

After a resupply at the village and nearby city of Celendín up on the plateau, we will be back to confront the lower half of the trip, of which little has been written. Will there be more class IV or V rapids? Will we make it through on time? Will the canyon scenery continue to be just as majestic? Although we soon find out, we also realize the river will not be free-flowing much longer.

Rocky Contos paddled all of the class IV Río Marañon from near its source to Imacita as part of his “Headwaters of the Amazon” expedition in 2012. Future trips are outfitting services are available for kayakers, rafters, and passengers wishing to experience the Upper Amazon themselves. See www.SierraRios.org