The road, if you could call it that, leads into the heart of the jungle, and only our driver seems able to pick out its twists and turns. At one point it disappears altogether, into a shallow river, and we squeal as he changes gears but doesn't hesitate bouncing the jeep directly into the roaring waters. Currents rush up and over our tires, bumper kissing waves, and the boulders and rocks that once pockmarked our path are now what is keeping us all from drowning right here and now in the muddy, marshy riverbed.
But as soon as our swim starts, it's over. We're back on dry ground, bumping along. We eyeball each other with the same thought: the day hasn’t even started yet and we're already having a story-worthy time! So much so that when we stop and pile out in the next clearing, steps away from a sparkling beach, mildly frightened but also exhilarated—we're reminded that we're very much healthy and alive (not to mention privileged).
Little did we know what else was in store. We'd be reminded of our mortality a few more times that day, in adventures that include coral lacerations, vehicular strandification, dwindling water rations, and a stalky, hungry jaguar. Tales for another time! (Comment: the photo is obviously not mine, but the attached jungle nymphs are indeed the same as those who crossed a river in a jeep, not once but twice that day.)
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