Candice
Millard’s The River of Doubt: Theodore
Roosevelt’s Darkest Journey is a pleasure to read. This is a comprehensive
account of the former president’s exploration of an unknown river in Brazil,
using the journals of a number of people involved in this dark and almost
disastrous journey.
Theodore
Roosevelt was a man’s man who plunged himself into vigorous pursuit of outdoor
danger after any disappointment in life. After his father’s death, he explored
and hunted in the backwoods of Maine. When his mother and wife died on the same
day, he went out breaking horses in the Dakota Territories. When he finished
his terms as a Republican president, he explored and hunted in Africa. And when
he failed to regain the presidency as the Bull Moose candidate, he explored a
river in Brazil infested with caimans (a South American alligator) and piranha.
It’s
hard to convey the tremendous work involved. They rowed their dugouts, yes, but
when they encountered falls they had to portage those same dugouts. This involved
hacking away with machetes through the jungle beside the waterfall, then using
ropes to haul those dugouts down. They did this several times, giving an idea
of how hardy these men were.
Woefully
ill-prepared, the expedition had to go to half-rations, yet continue the same
arduous work of rowing and portaging, not knowing if they would starve to death
if this river of unknown length outlasted their rations. They tried to hunt
game, but the Amazon rain forest usually defeated their efforts to spot any.
At
one point, Roosevelt lay near death, feverous from disease and from a large
abscess that developed from a leg injury during portaging. His son Kermit, an
engineer whose skills were vital for the expedition, expected his father to
die.
Since
I’m leaving a link for Teaser Tuesdays, a bookish meme at Should Be Reading, I
will include two random sentences from The
River of Doubt:
When the
expedition reached Tapirapoan just before noon on January 16, Roosevelt stepped
off his boat expecting to find a well-organized army of oxen and mules prepared
to carry heavy loads and make a quick departure for the River of Doubt. To his
amazement and dismay, what awaited him in the little riverside village was not
military precision but utter chaos. —p.
85.
A
companion volume is Roosevelt’s own account, Through the Brazilian Wilderness. It discusses in great detail how the
expedition suffered the most from insects. If a man’s knee pressed against the
mosquito netting overnight, that would allow access to the mosquitoes’ snouts,
and the knee could look like cauliflower the next morning. There were ants
whose bites stung like fire, black ants an inch and a quarter long, termites
that would eat their clothing, and multitudes of stinging flying insects.
And
besides the insects, there were spiders who did not so much spin webs as lower
weblines down to the forest floor, as thick as ropes.
