You are in Manaus. You need to reach other parts of Brazil. Options are limited. Of course, there is an airport, but, as has already been established here, that sort of solution is to be avoided at all costs. By road, one could double back along the highway that leads back towards Guyana and Venezuela. I had precisely zero interest in cycling that route for a second time. There is one other road out of Manaus, of the long, lonely, mostly dirt variety, which leads to the remote town of Porto Velho, located in the far southwestern part of the country, not far from the border with Bolivia. That region of the continent was not in my list of places to visit for this Tour, and this time around I had little enthusiasm for the sort of rough cycling expedition that would entail. That left only the method of travel that has been the lifeline for Manaus since it was founded, namely, river travel to the east, or west, along the greatest of all of Earth’s waterways. During my last long tour, I made a short side trip to Iquitos, Peru and briefly experienced the Amazon at that point. However, that encounter was far from adequate, considering the scope and scale of the river system in question. So, I was distinctly looking forward to making a significant voyage along the great river during the World2 Tour, heading east to near its mouth at the Atlantic, a distance of one thousand six hundred forty river kilometers from Manaus.

The port facilities in Manaus resemble a small airport terminal (without the onerous security, of course) and since there are departures almost every day for somewhere, it was easy to get a ticket that fit in with my schedule. The docks, however, are stretched out along a long section of the riverbank, and so, on the Saturday of my departure, I was directed to go to this area.

There, I easily found the F/B São Bartholomeu, a typical Amazon River boat, in the process of preparing for our sailing. Most of the current fleet in the western portion of the river seem to have been built using a standardized design: steel hull and decks, diesel propulsion, one cargo deck, and three decks for passengers and services.

The majority of the passengers traveled on one of the hammock decks, which looked fairly comfortable and seemed cool enough, thanks to the breeze from the boat's forward motion.

My introverted nature, however, led me to pay slightly more for this small private cabin, which had air conditioning and its own basic bathroom.

Meanwhile, the bike spent the voyage down with the cargo.

Before too long, though just a little behind schedule, the boat departed. The first notable spot, a short distance east of Manaus, is the Mixing of the Waters, where the dark water of the Rio Negro and the muddy water of the Rio Amazon (or the Rio Solimões, depending on who you are speaking to) flow side-by-side for several kilometers before finally merging to make the major channel of the Amazon proper.

At this point, and for a great distance beyond, the river really does resemble an inland sea. While one is never out of sight of both shores, there is frequently little else to see apart from sky and water. This creates a routine that consists of sleeping or relaxing for a long time, then going outside to see what might be happening there for a while, then returning inside for a little more sleep. The Brazilians typically pass the time hanging out in their hammocks, either halfway asleep, or trying to entertain themselves with their phones. That may represent one of the very few usages of the modern English verb to hang out that simultaneously, and correctly, applies to both that term's traditional and contemporary meanings.

Most of the riverbank is generally undeveloped, which was a pleasant surprise, and there are just a few scattered, and isolated, towns along the route, at which the boats make brief stops. There was not enough time in those cases to go ashore, which was too bad because most of the towns, such as Paratins, appeared to be fairly pleasant.

Back on the water, river traffic seemed amazingly light, considering that this is the primary transport route into the continental interior. Occasionally, another Riverboat would pass by, or vessels such as a barge and an ocean-going bulk carrier could be seen in the distance.

The first part of the voyage was thirty-three hours in length, so I was able to enjoy this nice sunset over the Amazon.

The following day was more of the same, with a slightly increased level of traffic, like this Riverboat, which was almost identical to the one I was on.

It is possible to sail the entire length east of Manaus on a single boat, but I chose to break the trip in half and spend a few days in Santarem, the only large city in the central river region. I intended to use that break to ride out into the forest for some more birding, but, due to needed bike repairs, I went with a guide instead for just one day. The remainder of that break I spent trying to push down a twenty-four hour head cold, the lingering effects of which I am still dealing with as I write this, over a week later. Consequently, I didn’t see much in Santarem. This is its Catedral de Nossa Senhora da Conceição, and the small market just before it where one can buy the essential item of Amazonia, the hammock.

On a Friday morning, my next departure, which I had arranged at the port of Santarem, a much less user-friendly facility compared to the one at Manaus, was scheduled for 10:00 AM. It was fortunate that I arrived early, since a large cruise ship had arrived overnight, and, because of a lack of space, my boat was moved to a dock on the other side of the city. With the bike’s current state of disrepair, I almost didn’t make it by the scheduled departure time, but thankfully the vessel, the Rondônia, like most of the riverboats, took a little longer to load its cargo than expected, so I had just enough time. That particular boat was similar to all the others I had seen, except that it had a catamaran design. Once again, I chose a cabin, which was appreciated since that section was a little longer, at forty-four hours.

Like the previous section, there were only a few isolated towns along the route but, those in that area, like Monte Alegre, seemed generally appealing, just as those upriver had been.

The downriver portion of the journey also provided nice sunsets.

On the final full day, the boat entered the delta region, where channels narrowed, and sights became more frequent.

However, sizeable towns were fewer in number, Gurupa was one of the last.

Somewhat disconcertingly, barges moving logs were more common in that region.

As were small riverside sawmills. However, I didn’t get the impression that these industries were part of the large-scale deforestation occurring in other regions, though I could not be certain about that.

While towns were fewer, dispersed riverside settlements were more frequent.

In such places, the school bus must be a boat. I was pleased to see that it was painted yellow.

When not in school the local kids, and many of the adults, passed the day out on the river in small boats.

The more adventurous among them amused themselves by wake-surfing alongside our boat.

On a Sunday morning, after a typically uneventful voyage, the Rondônia approached Belem, the capital of Pará State, the first example of the large cities that typify Brazil’s east coast, and the end of my Amazon River trip.

I had been anticipating this voyage for some time, and it was as relaxing and as interesting as I had expected it would be. However, with all of the recent logistical days, birding breaks, and the seventy-seven hours spent on the River, it had been two and a half weeks since I had done any cycling. Just when I had gotten my fitness back where it should be during a tour, this break dropped it back down again, a situation that I am paying the price for at this very moment.