📸 Photo

shore. The scorching sun was directly overhead. At long last some sunshine. I thought I would be able to dry out and heal the rawness of my skin. I bent over to remove my pack, and that's when I noticed the jaguar tracks on the shore, lots of tracks of different sizes. There was no doubt that this was not a solitary jaguar, but an entire pack.

I followed the paw prints in the sand. Under a shady tree I found small piles of faeces, at least six separate piles. I stepped on one of them. Though no tracker or Indian guide, I knew enough to recognise that they were fresh; they were soft and didn't crumble. There had been a lot of jaguars on this shore. It seemed to serve as their meeting place, but I didn't want to leave, and the truth is that I wasn't really afraid. I just couldn't believe that I would be eaten by jaguars in broad daylight. I felt safe.

I made myself comfortable near the water and spread out all of my wet belongings on the warm sand. I gathered up a huge stack of kindling and used only two matches lighting a fire. I kept the fire well fed and placed a tin of water in it. I stripped off my wet clothing and spread it out near the poncho and the mosquito nets. I stretched out on the sand in my birthday suit, spreading my legs wide to expose my raw inner thighs to the sunlight. The flies and mosquitoes swarmed over me, and I was forced to cover myself with one of the nets. The sun shone through it, however, and gently caressed my body.