Lost City of the Sun

7

"SEE THAT HUGE TREE over there?" asked Nusiri, turning around from the bow seat in the raft.

"You mean the one with the humongous roots and the wicked thorns?" said Zane, seated in the middle.

"That is a ceiba. It is an important tree, both for its uses, and its symbolism in mythology."

From the stern seat, Skip used his paddle as a rudder to keep them on course while letting the gentle current do the work. Now this is the life, he thought, while admiring the jungle scenery they were passing through. The narrow river snaked like an anaconda through the rainforest, the trees at times forming a green tunnel. Everywhere there was the sounds of birds and insects, a background soundtrack of buzzes and chirps and screeches and calls, hoots of howler monkeys, and the squawk of a macaw that had been following them for the last mile or so. The air was thick with tropical humidity, and smelled of rich earth, sweet flowers, and rotting leaves. Of life, and death. The Amazon basin had been called a green hell, but today, in this moment at least, it was a green paradise.

"The bark of the ceiba can be used to treat headache, as well as diabetes," Nusiri was saying. She pointed out a swarm of bees hovering around a cluster of the cream-colored flowers. "It gives nectar and pollen to the honeybees, and tonight it will feed the bats. It produces an oil which can be used as biofuel. In times not long ago, before polyester, from its seeds came kapok, which was used as filling for everything from life jackets to teddy bears. Our people, the Shuar, used to use its fibers as a wrap for their blowpipe darts. It gave a good seal, which let the hunter build up pressure for a powerful shot."

Skip smiled. He was glad Nusiri was using this time to not only reconnect with her own roots, but help Zane discover his. She had been pointing out notable plants, flowers and fruits, the bounty of the rainforest, capuchin monkeys scampering through the trees, and a boa wrapped around a low branch, his head stretched out toward the river, keeping a beady eye on these visitors in their little raft. Skip remembered when he was the guide, pointing out things like that to his Adventureland clients. Now it was his wife's turn. She, after all, had a genetic connection to this land. The rainforest was in her blood. Sometimes, watching her and Zane, Skip felt on the outside looking in.

"And to the Maya," Nusiri went on, "the ceiba tree was sacred, a symbolic connection between the heavens, the earth, and Xibalba, the underworld."

"And in your Uncle Wajiri's video game, the tree is the main menu portal to all the different lands and levels," said Skip, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. "So you see, a modern connection, in today's technology, with ancient traditions."

"Be proud of my roots, like you said," said Zane. "Yeah. I'm starting to get it."

They made camp for the night less than two hours downstream, where two other, smaller rivers came in, one on each side. By Skip's calculations, half a day's travel up the stream on the right should get them to the little village they had spotted from the air, presumably of the Munduruku tribe. As the day slipped into evening, Skip used the apps on his phone to organize his thoughts into notes and his notes into another few paragraphs of his article. As he wrote, he cross-checked his books, maps, and other reference materials. As he did, he began second-guessing his initial enthusiasm.

"Something's not sitting right," he said, shaking his head. "The location for one. Why, after all the well-thought-out theories and planning, would Percy Fawcett leave the Xingu river system and take off in a completely different direction? Was he following up on a reliable lead from somebody he met? He was known to do that, after all. But then there's the whole thing about the Inca quipu that doesn't make sense."