(April, 17th)
Unit Seventeen The Perilous Journal Common tourists virtually never go upstream the Amazon River too far. I’ve been venerating those valiant adventurers as well as wistful and longing to become one, until last year, I joined a group of archaeologists who were trying to unearth archaic vestiges, such as wares polished with varnish, from a site deep in the rainforests.
Several trotting mules tugged our boat. Our leader, Jimmy, was an upright, witty man with unshaken will. He wielded the steer warily and kept vigilant. The water trickling underneath our boat formed trifling waves. The uncanny scenes and unruly animals on the banks aroused our whims.
It was dawn and everything around was vague. Suddenly the boat was wagged sharply and we woke up in turmoil. There was a huge whirlpool ahead, which generated vehement vibration. As we waddled toward Jimmy, he veered the boat with not a whit of hurry until we escaped the turbulent area.
Still in trepidation, we got onto the bank and launched a campfire with twigs. We took off the wet clothes and wrung them out, then dried them on the fire through ventilation. I made a wry smile because I was wearing an unbecoming coat in vogue. We then composed a verse to praise Jimmy’s wit and valor.
As the incident vexed us, our faith wavered and our courage waned. Somebody tried to wheedle Jimmy into aborting the adventure, but Jimmy vetoed the suggestion. “Unless unanimity, I won’t agree with such unseemly advice.” He vindicated his decision.
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