We continued past Nuevo Pebas for around an hour in relative silence. It was Sunday the 30th of July and since leaving town that morning Yan seemed to be increasingly uneasy. I put it down to a result of the recent death threat combined with the warnings and unwelcome looks we’d received the evening before. I tried to keep the conversation light as I finished packing up our breakfast, but soon we began to hear the faint “put-put” noise of an engine in the distance to our rear.
As I stuffed the last bits of our kitchen into the canoe bags, the noise from the engine became louder and an uneasiness began to fester in me too. Being approached by locals was very normal and usually harmless but there was always a chance it would be a stressful encounter. Previously, we’d been forcibly taken into two villages, searched a number of times, had men demand money from us and had a rifle pointed at us. Due to this, the “put put” noise of an approaching engine always came partnered with an ominous feeling.
The boat came to within 200 meters of our stern then stopped and we craned our necks to scrutinise it through squinted eyes in the morning light. We thought we could make out two figures. After some time, the boat moved forward again, making a V-shape as it broke through the glassy surface of the Amazon River. At about 100 meters it stopped again and by now we could clearly see two males watching us in silence. Again, the engine restarted, and they approached to 50 meters before stopping. The river was at least 2 kilometres wide here and the men were directly on our stern which meant to me that they were following us. If they had simply wished to pass us by, there were hundreds of meters to either side for them to have done so. With that in mind I waved and called them in to see what they wanted.
Our catamaran was facing down river with me sitting in the left hull and Yan in the right. The two men in the ‘peke-peke’ approached slowly and I motioned for them to come along-side, on my side of the boat so we could have a chat. My first impression was that they were young, perhaps 20 years old, and drunk. The man driving their boat was wearing blue shorts and a blue t-shirt and he seemed the older of the two. He said nothing for the entire encounter and remained at the engine about 5 meters away due to the length of their boat.
The other man was close enough that I could smell his breath, he held onto the side of our boat and leaned in. He was around 5ft 5 with a youthful face and a wiry build, wearing a cap with a black polo top and red shorts. His eyelids appeared heavy, and were half closed as he surveyed us silently. His blank stare slowly moved between my face and the belly of my canoe.
I immediately had a feeling that I didn’t like him, my thoughts were that this was going to be a difficult conversation, as it always is when you attract the attention of a drunk and you’re not on the same level. I asked him how they were and what they wanted but his responses were minimal, and I struggled to understand many of the words. He swigged from a plastic bottle then offered it to me, a testing look in his eye. I took a courtesy swig, just enough to wet my moustache and offered it to Yan who did they same, then we handed it back and thanked him. Yan took his phone out so we could use google translate and we explained that we were explorers, being tracked by the military daily and we couldn't stop for long. He appeared not to listen and continued with his unnerving process of studying us and our kit. He asked to hold my sunglasses and I handed them to him, he examined them, pursing his lips and shrugging, as if to say “They’re alright” before handing them back. Although it seemed civil at this stage, the vibe he was giving off felt entirely wrong and I could feel agitation building within myself as a consequence.
At this point in our journey, we were approaching a point in the Amazon where a large island would cause the river to split. We had seen this from our maps and intention to take the right hand fork. We floated towards this point for 5 or so uneasy minutes whilst the young man asked to hold Yan’s phone and offered us more of his home-made alcohol. He seemed intent on taking us with him down the left fork of the river for "comida" (food) to which we politely refused. We explained that we had a long way to travel, and we needed to get going. Eventually, we pushed the boat away and pointed ours towards the right fork, waving goodbye. At this point he grabbed our tail line, pulling himself in behind us, directly between Yan and I.
We both turned inwards to look at him, remaining very calm but now very frustrated and feeling quite exposed. As we began to protest, his face suddenly changed, and he snarled something threateningly standing as he did so. As he stood, he reached behind and pulled a dark grey pistol from the back of his shorts. It felt like everything was in slow motion as the weapon whipped around in front of him in a curved sweep. Yan was quickest to react; Using the only thing he had to hand, he thrust his paddle into the chest of the gunman, causing surprise and consequently wobbling the boats. It took me a millisecond to fully appreciate what had happened, a fight had been initiated and I had to do something. Unconsciously, my body started working and I threw myself into their boat attempting to charge the gunman before he regained balance. I expect my move was more of an unglamorous clamour over the unsteady boats rather than a heroic charge but regardless, I needed to close the distance on him before he was able to take aim. Yan had dived into the water for cover after his paddle strike, hoping to capsize their boat from underneath.
A loud crack shattered the silence of the morning, causing birds to erupt into the sky from the distant canopy. There was no question what that was, a gunshot, an attempt to kill. This was now a fight to the death and I was already in grapple. My mind was completely vacant as my body flailed wildly. Then there was a second loud pop, but this time it was accompanied by what I can only describe as a full body jolt and then the feeling of warm Amazonian water rushing over me.
The sensation of being fully submerged was a wakeup call. For the next few moments I was utterly relaxed, arms stretched upwards holding onto the bottom of their boat, and I had regained control of my thoughts. I’m not sure if I was under for 5 seconds or 30 seconds but there was no question of being out of breath. My concern was that I’d be shot in the head as soon as I surfaced and so I hesitated. Perhaps due to adrenaline, I felt incredibly strong and relaxed under the water, but the feeling quickly evaporated when I had a vision of Yan lying face down in the murky drink. Then I felt thrashing limbs against my left hand, I grabbed onto whatever it was as hard as I could and surfaced.
I came up to Yan and the gunman in a chaotic embrace on the side of the peke-peke. My body slipped back into automatic mode. I think I was holding Yan at that moment, so I transferred onto the assailant. I dragged him close then straightened my arms, plunging him deep into the murky water. I have a distinct memory of having one hand on his head, pushing him downwards with ease and kicking my legs, propelling us into the depths. Then another shockwave vibrated through my body like an electric shock, whilst the first one didn’t register with me, the second came with a jolt of realisation that I’d been shot! There was no pain, the adrenaline must have been absolutely charging through me, but the second shot really angered me.
I thought, “this can’t happen again!” and my mind took control of my body once more. I traced my hand from his head, down his neck to his shoulder, then down his arm with both my hands, continuously kicking my legs downward to keep him under. My hands reached his hand, and I also felt the sensation of metal, meaning I’d luckily targeted the correct arm. I twisted his hand back towards his wrist pointing the weapon back at him and squeezed. Through the tangle of four arms, woven together in a frantic death struggle, I felt two more vibrations and then suddenly the weapon was mine. I kicked him away and swam upwards, feeling a joy welling up in me that I can hardly explain. I now had the power; I had won, and our lives were now in my hands.
I burst through the surface and immediately examined the weapon in my hand. It was small and light and my initial thought was that the cheeky bastard had shot me with a pellet gun. A second later he surfaced about three maters away, coughing and spluttering. We made eye contact for what felt like a long time but was probably only a second. His eyes were wide with fear, and I savoured holding his gaze, unwittingly pointing the pistol at his face as the water lapped against his chin. At that moment, I heard Yan shout, “Johnny, let’s go!” He was halfway between our catamaran and the peke-peke and the sound of this voice brought me back into the real world. I tore my eyes from the attacker for the last time and swam front-crawl the 20 or so meters back to our craft with the pistol in my right hand. My shoulder was beginning to feel numb, but I managed to haul myself in whilst exclaiming “Yan, I’ve been shot twice.”
The next 10 minutes were the most critical in the entire expedition. I gave the weapon to Yan and asked him to check for any rounds because I had only counted 5 shots being fired during the ordeal. By then the adrenalin was fading and making way for pain so I was not surprised to see three 9mm rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. This information was good and bad. We had a deadly weapon to defend ourselves with, but I’d been shot twice by this deadly weapon. As we looked back, the two lads had managed to upturn their boat which Yan had capsized in the struggle. The engine man was bailing it out, but their engine was gone and thankfully there didn’t appear to be any other boats on the water. The gun man was nowhere to be seen.
The first priority in casualty care is to manage catastrophic bleeds, so I stripped off my clothes whilst we concurrently assessed our surroundings. We were about 1 kilometre from the western bank (on the right fork) heading south and about three kilometres down river there was a village called Triunfo, barely visible to the naked eye. This meant we’d have to paddle hard towards the shore so as not to be swept past before reaching help. By the time we’d assessed this, I had my wet shirt off and trousers down and Yan was able to check my wounds. There was a fair amount of blood, but nothing was gushing in an arterial manner. I had an entry wound on the front of my right shoulder and it had exited just above my armpit at the back. I had another entry wound just above my right knee with three odd looking puncture wounds below my right hip. We quickly checked Yan too in case he’d been hit and hadn’t noticed due to the adrenalin surge and thankfully he hadn’t.
With the primary checks out of the way he took control of the situation, and I was grateful of this. The priority for me now was to remain calm until we could receive professional care. He used towels to wrap me up as best he could, applying pressure to the wounds and then produced some painkillers which I took without question. At intervals he'd continuously address me and ask me questions on my condition or give me a task, which would reassure him that I wasn't going into shock. We pointed the boat to the western bank and started paddling. Fortunately, I was able to use my right arm, but I was much weaker than normal. After a short while Yan remembered that we had SOS buttons on our Garmin inReach Mini 2 GPS devices. We pulled off the protective covers and pressed the buttons together at 08:24.
Within a minute, we contacted by the Emergency Response Team, through the Garmin App on my phone. Considering how remote we were, I still find this incredible but that is the power of satellite communication. Although panicked, I was able to relay vital information about my condition and our requirements and furthermore, every time I sent a text the response team were updated with our location. The conversation with the ERT began at 08:26 and this is a copy of the initial communication.
ERT: “Emergency Response acknowledged your emergency.”
ME: “Been shot by bandit. Need immediate armed response and medical.”
ME: “Currently in water trying to paddle away.”
ERT: “We are contacting emergency services at this time.”
ERT: “Where have you been shot? Is the person who shot you still there?”
ME: “Shot in leg and arm.”
ME: “We are running away. I disarmed him and we have his
weapon for protection. Their boat has capsized. I’m sure it won’t
be long before their friends come. Please”
The conversation continued in a disjointed manner as I switched between paddling and communicating to other local connections that we had made. Texts were sent to members of the Peruvian Navy and our friends Joe Plumb, the honorary British Consulate in Iquitos and Fernando. At this point we didn’t know it but they liaised with the Peruvian Navy whilst the ERT had opened lines of communication with my brother Ben and Yan’s girlfriend Cara, back in the UK. Whilst holding the phone in my hand, I decided to take a quick video explaining what had happened. This may have been a waste of time but doing it felt necessary considering we’d blogged most of our experiences along the way.
Whilst decisions on our rescue unfolded behind the scenes, Yan and I had one goal; to make it to the village of Triunfo before the strong Amazon current swept us past. Yan was doing the lions share of the paddling, but I was able to help using my left arm. As we approached, we couldn’t see anyone on the bank so I shouted “Ayuda! Ayuda!” at the top of my voice. We were both very apprehensive at this point because we didn’t know if our attackers were from this village. Despite that, we had no choice but to put our faith in humanity and continue. I shouted “Ayuda!” regularly as we got closer until two men appeared on the bank. We were exhausted by now and the river had taken us adjacent to the village with still a couple hundred meters to the shore. The men understood and jumped into a peke-peke and began motoring towards us. They looked hard and serious on approach and I think Yan and I were both very aware of the pistol lying in the hull of Yan’s canoe. But our fears lessened as crowds of men, woman and children started crowding the bank.
We welcomed the men who both looked to be in their late 40s, to tie up along side our boat and explained I’d been shot. We told them about the pistol and made signs that we would not touch it. One of the men was black which was surprising to me because I had only seen indigenous people in the villages we’d visited so far. The other man looked to be local. They were both stern which is unsurprising considering the dramatic way we were arriving in their village, unannounced on a Sunday morning. But, now that they were close we could tell that these were hard working honourable men. I allowed myself to relaxed, letting go of the burden of fear. We were in the hands of the people of Triunfo now.
I lay back in my canoe seat and inhaled for a long and soothing moment as the peke-peke took us the last few meters to the muddy bank. By now, most of the village had gathered to watch the blood-soaked foreigners arrive on the shores of their quiet village.
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