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I told myself that when morning came, I would find Kevin, and together we would make it out of this. When I found myself feeling hopeless, I whispered my mantra, 'Man of action, man of action.' I don't know where I had gotten the phrase. Perhaps I had picked it up from one of Carlos Castaneda's books. I repeated it over and over: a man of action does whatever he must, isn't afraid, and doesn't worry. But when I heard the rustle of branches outside, my motto wasn't all that encouraging. I held my breath and waited for the rustling to recede into the jungle.

I felt better in the morning. I pushed the branches aside and crawled outside. I roared Kevin's name a few times but then went back to being a man of action and sized up my situation. For starters I was absolutely certain that I was past the canyon. I remembered Karl's description well: the waterfalls, the rapids, the gigantic rock blocking the river. Yes, I was sure that that had been the mal paso, and Curiplaya was supposed to be not far from the pass, on the right bank, the bank I was standing on. There was a chance that I could make it there. There were cabins and equipment in Curiplaya. Karl had said that there was also a banana grove. And from Curiplaya it was four days' walk to San José de Uchupiamonas. There should even be a path cut through the jungle. I allowed myself to feel optimistic. I could do it. Not more than one day's walk to Curiplaya and