Lost in the jungle
‘Worried, I asked Squaddie to give me his wife’s address. I gave him my wife’s. He asked me ‘Why?’ I said, ‘In case one of us doesn’t make it out.’ Many things flashed through my mind. All I wanted was a decent funeral.’
Thirty-eight years ago, former diver Dion De Souza and a ‘sailor’ were lost in the forested and wet highlands of the Cuyuni/Mazaruni region without food and shelter. They may have stumbled on the source of the Wakawakapu Creek, where no man may have gone before, while trekking for six nights and seven days from Ekereku River to Mazaruni River.
On the 38th anniversary, De Souza, 66, whose ordeal was never published before, recently related to Stabroek Weekend at his home in Cabucalli, Santa Rosa Village, Moruca, Region One, how at 29 years he responded to “a (gold) shout” and was subsequently lost in the jungle trying to find the location of the mining camp owned by Garth Doly, a Jamaican-American whose dredge was in Ekereku River, in the vicinity of Sakaika Falls, closer to the mouth of the Cuyuni River.
“On Saturday, 12th November, 1983, I excitedly took a Guyana Airways Corporation Twin Otter flight to Ekereku, a new location for me, not knowing that in the next six days, I would be fighting for survival against nature and its environment in one of the most untamed, forested and mountainous areas in Guyana, pushing my mind and body to the limit and using my little survival skills to stay alive,” he said.
On that fateful Saturday morning, De Souza landed at the Middle Strip [airstrip] in Ekereku.
“I should have gone with a crew but they weren’t at Timehri nor at Ekereku. I checked in at the police station, where I met another guy called ‘Squaddie,’ a former policeman, who was going to the same camp. He said Mr Doly would send a helicopter for us. I considered walking the distance of a day and a half to the camp.”
At Ekereku Landing, De Souza met some men who were working with goldminer Harvey Brock, whose operation was at Donald Falls, midway between the police station and Sakaika Falls. They spent Saturday night at Brock’s camp at the invitation of the general manager.
“There I met Mike Phang who I knew. Early Sunday morning, armed with a shotgun, he, another guy called ‘Jonesie,’ and a fierce dog, called Russian, accompanied us in a ‘koryal’ [a paddle boat] at the top of Sakaika Falls where we arrived at about 10am.”
They crossed Mitchell Creek, Brown Creek and Henry Creek, all named after pork-knockers before getting to the top of the falls. They stopped after passing Henry Creek and Phang showed them the way to an airstrip where they had to locate the trail to Doly’s Camp. On the way, Phang shot a big deer, cut it up and took it back to their camp. Phang gave De Souza a box of matches and a machete and Squaddie pocketed the spent cartridge used in killing the deer.
“Russian stayed with us. About midday, we found the airstrip on the right bank of the Ekereku River. We were about a mile from the river and the falls. We had a snack. After a long search we found it at the eastern end of the runway.”
They walked for about ten minutes when they came to a fork in the road and took the right side, with Russian going ahead.
“About five minutes later, we heard an ugly, high-pitched scream. Both Squaddie and I were startled. Russian returned with his tail between his legs.”
They decided to retreat to the airstrip. They had no torchlight, no watch to tell the time and darkness would soon be upon them. The piercing cry had scared them.
At the airstrip was a ‘barraca’ [a zinccovered shack] where they slung their hammocks. Squaddie had a container with some sugar he had taken from Brock’s camp. They lit a fire, emptied the sugar on some newspapers and used the metal container that held the sugar to boil some water they had found in a drum. They had “sugar water tea” for dinner.
That night, De Souza said Russian barked and chased after something into the distance.
“When he returned he was whining and scratching at the walls. The next morning, we checked for tracks in the white sand but found none except the dog’s.”
On Monday, 14th November, they again drank sugar water. The dog had nothing to feed on. De Souza took blackened embers from the fire they had lit and wrote on the shack ‘Dion was here’ along with the date. Squaddie left the spent cartridge. Back on the track they took the fork on the left side.
Sakaika Falls was a big one but they could not hear it. Eventually they arrived at a log where the track came to an abrupt end. They stepped over the log not realising that the length of the log was a part of the track en route to the camp. They started cutting their own track hoping to pick up the original one. About midday they saw a clearing and heard a buzzing sound. “When we cleared the bush, we came into an open space looking up into blue skies and down on a dense jungle. We were on top of a mountain, so high, we were looking across at the face of another ‘sheet’ mountain. The buzzing sound was the breeze.”
Every matchstick counted
They realised they were lost. They had walked the Sakaika plateau. Descending they held onto rocks and firm tree roots. They came off the mountain about midafternoon.
“We were at a flat piece of land with a lot of big rocks covered with moss. We had no water and we were thirsty.
I heard a gurgling sound. I walked through an entrance in a big rock about 20 feet in height. I heard the sound getting closer. Exiting the rock, I saw water coming out of the earth in a fountain, reaching about ten feet in height. The crystal clear water came together in a trickle that kept flowing down an incline. We refreshed ourselves.”
This site is believed to be the source of the Wakawakapu Creek which they did not know at the time. They spent Monday night there.
It was the dry season. “Had it been the rainy season, I’m afraid we might not have survived the ordeal.”
They had a peaceful night in a cave in one of the rocks, lit a fire, drank sugar water that evening and the next morning.
On Tuesday, November 15, De Souza told Squaddie they would follow the trickle of water because he was certain it would lead to a big creek where they were sure to find people.
“We walked all day in the creek until sundown, first in ankle deep water until it became knee deep. We spent another uneventful night on the bank of the creek drinking hot sugar water that night and next morning. I had the match box wrapped in a plastic bag. Every matchstick counted.”
Throughout their journey they had seen no animals, reptiles or heard the sounds of wildlife.
On Wednesday, 17th November, I caught a two-foot ‘alligator.’ This was food. I cut up the tail, which is edible, in three pieces. Without salt, it didn’t taste too bad. However, when I was roasting it, the meat started jumping up and Squaddie said, ‘I ain’t eating duh.’ So Russian had his and Squaddie’s share.
That day they continued walking along the creek. In some places it was ankle deep with round rocks and overhanging branches which gave shade from the sun.
“A plane passed overhead. We said they were probably looking for us. The sound of the engine lifted our spirits anyway.”
By afternoon, the creek started to get wider and deeper with rapids.
“The water wasn’t flowing anymore. The water went under huge rocks. I heard the sound of water on the other side. I found a hole, the size of a barrel, through one of the rocks.”
They crawled through the dry tunnel coming out on top of a sheer waterfall that was about 40 feet to 50 feet in height.
“I went to the edge of the fall and looked down. It was scary.”
‘A sad sight’
That evening it rained with lightning and thunder. Aware that flashfloods could be dangerous they found higher ground. Soaked, they slept in a sitting position. That night they finished the remaining sugar.
“Worried, I asked Squaddie to give me his wife’s address. I gave him my wife’s. He asked me ‘Why?’ I said, ‘In case one of us doesn’t make it out.’ Many things flashed through my mind. All I wanted was a decent funeral. Throughout, I prayed to get back to safety.”
Next day, Thursday, November 18, De Souza climbed down the fall ahead of Squaddie who had made a ‘warishi’ from vines which carried his belongings. The pack was hindering his descent and so he threw it down. It hit a rock and fell into the pool at the bottom of the fall.
“I had to go overboard in that freezing water to retrieve the pack. I was cold, hungry, scared and vex like hell. We couldn’t fetch Russian down the fall. He whined and howled as we left him behind running across the edge of the fall. It was a sad sight.”
That day De Souza told himself anything bad could happen.
“We were exposed to nature. We could encounter more falls. The path was slippery. I had fears of poisonous snakes, scorpions, spiders or accidents and sustaining broken limbs or getting diarrhoea. I was doing the thinking and making the decisions. Squaddie said, ‘You is a b… man. You know the bush.’ I told him if anyone of us get into an accident, we should not attempt to fetch the other because at this time both of us were weak. We should make the other as comfortable as possible, find a way out and return with help.”
About midday, they approached a fierce rapid and climbed down a tree to get to the bottom. While resting on a rock, De Souza said, Russian appeared jumping and licking him. “How he came down that falls, only God in heaven knows. I was happy he survived.”
Meanwhile, as they walked in the creek it was getting deeper. There were times they had to walk on the banks of the creek and make tracks.
“When I asked Squaddie for the machete, he said it fell out of the pack when it was thrown down the fall.”
This time they could not cut away shrubs but use their hands and feet to clear the path where necessary. They walked the rest of Thursday and took a rest at nightfall.
Without sugar water, De Souza said, whenever he felt hunger pangs he would squeeze out some Colgate toothpaste and suck on it.
When they eventually saw the manicole palm, the heart of which is edible, they could not cut down any because their machete was lost.
On Friday 19th November they continued their trek. About midday De Souza noticed hunting tracks and old ‘cuttings’ alongside the creek. He saw a claim board marked ‘Patrick Perreira’ and the names of a few a few others. He felt better knowing that they would soon find their way out.
As they looked for a place to spend the night, they heard the sound of an outboard engine. He thought it his imagination but Squaddie had heard it too.
“Then hundreds of squawking parrots settled above us. This was a good sign. We walked for about 15 minutes more and were out of the bush at the mouth of the creek on the left bank of a big river that wasn’t Ekereku. I told Squaddie it was the Mazaruni River. How were we to move
from the river?”
They spent the night on a big gravel bank.
On Saturday 20th November, at about 8am, they heard an outboard engine and saw a koryal with some men in it. “We shouted to them. When I saw them coming towards us, I told Squaddie, ‘We’re saved.’ Then this big man, Patrick Perreira shouted out, ‘You guys are prospecting my claim?’ In response, I asked, ‘Which river is this? And if it was Saturday.’ He asked ‘Why?’ I told him we had walked from Ekereku. He looked at us as if we were crazy. He confirmed it was Mazaruni River and it was Saturday.
The boat captain took De Souza, Squaddie and Russian back to Perreira’s camp where they were fed.
De Souza, who had worked previously with miner, Royston Adams, at Tamakay in the area asked Perreira to take them to Adams’ camp where Adams gave De Souza a diving shift to raise enough
money for passage to Georgetown for himself and Squaddie. Russian was left at Perreira’s camp.
Back in the Georgetown office, the men they believed were dead, showed up, almost two weeks after the helicopter had landed with the crew. Squaddie’s wife had sent him a parcel and he was not at the camp. They were told he and De Souza had left Georgetown two weeks earlier. The police station at Ekereku confirmed they had signed in. Phang reported he had seen them off. When Phang checked the shack at the airstrip he saw the script that ‘Dion was here’ and found the spent shell.
They determined that De Souza and Squaddie had perished in the forest and kept a ‘wake’ in their honour.
According to a map of the area the distance in a straight line from Ekereku River to the mouth of Wakawakapu Mouth was about 45 miles. However, the two men would have covered many more miles during their ordeal.