The Blackberry three-toned us out of the rack in pretty quick fashion. When they said to be in the lobby at 5:00, and to please be on time or they’d send somebody for you, we decided it would be best to get our worn-out asses out of bed and comply.

As I was gingerly performing the evacuation portion of morning ablutions, I stared at the “no toilet paper” sign until the ad man in me blurted out to Jean, “Give me the Septic Life!” Then, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember who I was ripping off. I made a mental note to ask Robo. Jean was certainly no help.

The rain had ended about an hour earlier, but the crunch of the gravel path still had a squish to it. The foliage was low-hanging and heavy with rain that dropped on us puckishly as we made our way to the lobby in the eerie post-storm darkness.

We were wearing matching shirts, but different colors. They were Magellans that Jean had bought at Academy Sports. I thought they were a down-market version of a Columbia shirt, but was corrected by Tim Denny, one of my partners at work. The shirts were 150% man-made quick-dry fiber, replete with mystery pockets, waterproof inserts and more clothing gadgets than I could count. Surprisingly, there were no epaulets. I had already worn one in Rio and found it acceptable, but in a weird way.

Robo and Pettus had just gotten there, and we had all beaten our guide. Jean decided to follow the dictum and never pass up a bathroom, and took a detour into the lobby facilities. She came running out about 15 seconds after she had entered.

“There’s a monster in there!” she screamed softly. “Go look at it. Do something!”

I did. I took a picture of it.

“It’s just a moth, honey,” I said. “You can go back. It hasn’t moved an inch.” And it didn’t for almost all day. Every time I went in there, it was sitting in exactly the same spot. Weird.

Our guides arrived shortly thereafter, and we all began the trek down the gravel path that led to the hefty set of wooden steps that led to a board over the water that led to the boat dock. It was still dark as hell, but the courtesy lights were lit. They gave an extra looming presence to the trees that were already leering at us.

Jean and I had never been down to the dock, and actually never left the lobby, cabin or dining room before now. Of course Robo and Pettus had been to the pool, seen the dock and everything else on the premises, and identified five rare species by the time night had fallen the day before.

MawMaw and I carefully descended the dark, steep set of stairs. Over a tenuous board and we were on the dock. It was beautiful in the dark, and I particularly like this shot of one of the boats at 5:00 am.

We all loaded the boat as the English-speaking guide told us. There were a couple of girls from New York who were on their last activity before they had to leave. I got a flash shot of Robo and Pettus just for the hell of it. Did I mention that I hate flash?

While I was taking their picture, I asked if either of them knew what “Give me the DAHDAH life” came from. I tried to give them the back story on why I was asking, but they both looked at me with expressions that offered not one iota of help.

Notice the hooded girl in the background. Looks like some kind of killer or unabomber. The Kennemers were wearing jackets, but Jean and I were fancy free and loving the rare feel of cool air. The sunrise was spectacular and changed every second. We were fortunate to have had a storm the night before that had left its remains hanging around for dawn.

Robo took this shot of us after we had gotten underway and the skies began to lighten. Matching Magellans! We should wear them to Six Flags.

The river looked strangely like any of the lakes in Alabama, and not like what I had pictured. Of course, we found out that being in the rainy season, the water was about 40 feet higher than the low point, and expected to rise another 10 feet before the season was over. So this foliage and all these “tiny” trees were really 40 feet taller than they looked. That was food for thought.

What followed for a while were various locations, complete silence save for the small use of the motor, and numerous shots of the scenery. Here are a few.

How ’bout that beautiful purple cast?

Here’s a great shot of our guides. At the time we didn’t know their names or anything.

The photo ops were crazy! Remember, these trees have forty feet under the water that we haven’t seen.

We eventually headed back as it was getting decently light outside. The staff was arriving just as we were, all packed into a small boat. The girl in the very front is one of twins, and they alternated at the front desk. They were both efficient and very sweet, though they hadn’t learned much English yet.  The cooks and a couple of guides are also aboard. This water bus kind of gives the idea how people get around on the Rio Negro. All these folks look like they’re having a great time. The Anavilhanas deal was obviously a good one for them.

Here’s that boat I first shot when we left. Look at the difference in the light!

This neat boat passed by on its morning rounds of whatever it does.

We milled around the dock for a while after disembarking, just checking out the serenity of the whole scene. Other than boats like the one above and our lowered voices, there was no movement or sound.

Our English-speaking guide came and sat down on a bench against the wall of the boathouse and began examining his finger. We all rushed over to see what was going on. It seems he had gotten a cayman bite a couple of nights before on the wild animal roundup and release.

“This is the first time it has ever happened in all the years,” he told us. We also found out his name was Cassio. He was glad to show us his wound, and didn’t charge a thing.

The little brown bottle is filled with anaconda fat. Many of the locals use it religiously for a number of things. I KNOW he drank it, because he described the taste as “not bad–kind of oily.” I believe he was also putting it on the wound.

“It will be better soon,” he assured us. “Anaconda fat is good for it.”

On that delicious note, we bade him goodbye and good healing and began the trek to breakfast. While helping MawMaw over the board to get to the steps, watching for anacondas and thinking about their delicious fat, it hit me like a thunderbolt:

“Give me the CAMPBELL life!  Y’all remember!  It’s ‘Give me the CAMPBELL life!’ ”

“Yes, we remember,” they all chorused in their patronizing fashion as we trudged up the stairs for food.