Cap'n Felix and Related Other Events

What happens when you mix two Gringos, one Peruvian fisherman, a dingy and South America's largest lake?

An epic voyage that requires provisions like tarps and wool blankets, an emergency escape plan and excessive use of a Spanish phrase book...

It all begins with Cap'n Felix. We meet him at the Puno dock. I insist on seeing his fisherman license. I don't know why - I can't read Spanish and after a week in Peru I'm not really sure a license of any sort in this country means anything. But somehow it makes me feel better. And what's not to trust about a smile like this?

So we pile into his boat (a term I use liberally), with all of our luggage.

He rows to his home - a floating reed island. We meet his mother, daughter, and wife. OF course, we buy excessive amounts of handicrafts from them. As we do so, we notice that Cap'n F is screwing a motor to the back of his rowboat. But we've seen his license so we aren't worried and pile back into his boat.

After 20 mins, we enter open water. At that point we ask, "how far to Amantaní?" (where we are staying the night). "Four hours", he answers without pause. Um, I'm sorry...

It never occurs to us to abort mission so we settle in. Allison reads. I sleep. I awake when the boat starts to rock left to right as well as up and down. It's not the up and down that bothers me, but more the left to right. And the fact that Cap'n F is now bailing water. We shortly find out that our fearless Cap'n gets phone reception. We are relieved. Then he tells us he didn't pay his bill so he can't make calls. And the rocking intensifies. Then he tells us to wrap us and our stuff in the tarp he brought along - you know, to keep dry as the sun goes down.

Allison and I start to plan for our imminent demise. We decide that when we capsize we will save her phone. She has paid her bill *and* it roams internationally - a winning combo. Before hypothermia sets in we will both have time for a quick call to our mothers.

I then notice that the strong gasoline smell is coming from his "tank" which turns out to be a RC cola 2 liter bottle from which he is syphoning off fuel. I'm not sure if I am relieved or dismayed. I decide upon relief since we are still moving forward(ish).

Possessing no useful skills, Allison and I find that we can only sit. Or should I say huddle. Watch the sun set. And hope that RC cola bottle lasts. As luck would have it we stave off hypothermia. Cap'n F's bailing keeps us afloat. The RC cola petrol lasts. We gratefully dock...Only to turn around the next day and do it all over again as we return voyage back.