Adventures or Troubles?
What I learned guiding people into thrill-seeking tourism in the Orinoco delta
"Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make bored."
I am always surprised when people claim to be envious of my job.
My first reaction is always asking what they do and often they have interesting jobs. My second response is usually asking why, what makes them think that my job is better than theirs (interestingly, nobody ever thinks that it’s more lucrative…)
It is unusual, but it happens, that they point at some interesting sides of what I do that I overlook or under-appreciate. Most of the time they value what are actually misconceptions, if not prejudices, like “working outdoor” or even “traveling all the time.” But they invariably mention “you do something that you actually like” [“how do you know?”] and crucially “it’s not a boring job.”
When I hear that, my mind flashes long nights selecting photos among thousands of dull shots or weeks spent waiting in vain for an editor’s reply, but they have a point. They might know little of what I actually do but they nail what I escaped from and unconsciously they tell me a lot about themselves.
An unspeakable truth is that the quiet life we all claim or believe to long for is boring. It’s easy to cherish it when dealing with problems like dodging a shark attack or bargaining with an Italian plumber1 but once back to safety we are terrified of it.
Boredom is death.
Now, this has little or nothing to do with my actual job: however exciting or frankly scary sometimes it can be, the job is to bring the pics home, so it’s my professional duty to stay safe and to watch my back, not to play the action hero.
In another life, on a boat in the Red Sea, when someone envious of my job asked me if I had many adventures, a younger and already cynical me inspiredly replied "Adventures is the name given to troubles by people who haven't got enough yet."
It was a hard truth. Adventure means troubles.
It’s an important point usually missed when thinking about exciting jobs.
In the past I have been responsible for tourists’ (and their insurers’) safety when I took them in harm's way. It was the kind of people with a quiet life who, to escape boredom, nostalgic of their younger selves or just eager to try new things, book trips to the Siberian wilderness or to Brazilian Amazon.
I've never been to Siberia nor to Brazilian Amazon -yet- but I went to Venezuela on a sailing ship. I was an officer in charge of the ship's zodiacs and we had extremely wealthy passengers -no royalty, that time- to sail up the Orinoco River and see the tropical jungle. I write "river" and it makes me smile because it's an understatement.
It was quite an adventure indeed, though local kids going to school every day in a long narrow canoe, with their tiny backpacks and red life jackets, could have taught us a thing or two about the meaning of the word. But it was a difficult affair. The air was heavy and the water murky, even the light didn't look right.
The ship anchored far off shore and we led the ship’s tenders with a local guide. At one point my zodiac got grounded and my sailor was about to jump into the water to push it but the guide stopped him. He went pale, "Why? Piranhas?" "Oh no!" the guide laughed, but then turned serious: "Worse. Much worse. Candiru. It's full here."
I was probably the only other person on the ship who knew what a candiru is -and what it (allegedly) does- because I had read William S. Burroughs and it was my turn to go pale. When I later explained it to the 3rd officer, he exploded "What kind of an accursed Antichrist place is this!"2
Anyway, it went well, we didn't lose any passenger (our sister ship did, "heart attack," which must be another word for "thrill seeking gone too far"), they saw piranhas, they (thought) saw an anaconda, the Guardia Nacional showed off with their shining machine guns and all was good.
Troubles started on the way back. For some stupid reason that I don't remember we were late, very late. A tropical storm was nearing and we had to return before dark, rushing to avoid the Orinoco’s infamous tidal wave. The sea was teeming with Portuguese men o'war, the night was coming.
Weather was horrible, we were soaked with that thick water. When finally in radio range our captain, a legendary sailing ship skipper, called the tenders to ask if everything was ok. “Not at all!” the officer in charge whined "We're all wet and cold, passengers are very scared!" "No reason. We have hot showers on the ship" was the dry and cold answer.
We made it to the ship at night, all lights of her five masts on to help us to find her. To drive and hoist the zodiac on the ship's windward side davits was one of the hardest and highest feats of seamanship I ever achieved. Rum flowed that night3. At the morning meeting of exhausted and clearly hungover officers, the cruise director started listing the complaints filed by the traumatized passengers.
But our German captain would have none of it. "If I hear you officers apologizing for that, I swear to god I’ll fire you!" he roared. "These people paid insane money to get adventure. They went to a jungle, they sought piranhas, crocodiles, anacondas [but no one told them of candiru, I thought] and now they complain for getting a little wet?!"
"They paid us to get adventure, ZIS IST ADFENTÜRE!!!" he yelled in his best Hamburg English. He was right, 100%, and he reminded me of the younger Piero uttering that quote about troubles. If it's completely safe, it's not adventure. Adventures are troubles, thrill seeking is danger seeking.
When our passengers tried to complain with us they got our captain’s treatment and they went home a bit confused but much prouder and experienced. Safe adventure is when good planning gives high chances to get back safely but that should never be given for granted. Reckless is stupid but thrill-seeking with zero danger is just dishonest.
To climb a mountain makes the view from the top enjoyable because it’s the reward of a victorious struggle. To get up there on a cable car makes it just another nice view.
When an "adventurer" is hurt or loses their life it is a tragedy but accidents are part of the job description. Those disclaimers that people are asked to sign, including those passengers merrily sailing up the Orinoco delta, mean exactly this: be aware that we'll take care of you, we'll try to keep you safe but you're going to be in danger, which is exactly what you paid for, and you will feel proud and victorious if you make it in one piece.
And that is what I would like to reply to all those people envious of my job while working for a fixed pay more or less granted every month, a safe desk in an air conditioned office with grumpy colleagues or screaming bosses awaiting them every day, a clear set of tasks and responsibilities with goals and ambitions in sight.
I am not envious of them but only because if I were, I’d do what they do. If they don’t do what I do, it is not because they can’t or because they don’t know how.
It’s because they want the safety of certainties, social confidence, financial rewards, social security and a predictable, stable life and pay for it with the probability of boredom, personal frustrations, possibly regrets and unfulfilled ambitions.
Boredom might be death but it’s a price that is apparently worth to pay. Adventures might mean troubles but the risk of being shot at or crushed by a wrestling camel is not as terrifying as instability in the social and professional life. Which sounds worse than candirus.
All considered, no, adventures are not for everyone.
Allow me to brag that I've done both and the latter is harder and deadlier than the former
Years later, he emailed me from Kimberley, NW Australia: “I was wrong. That was nothing. This is the actual accursed Antichrist country.” One day I’ll go.
I had completely forgotten but my crew found out that it was also my birthday.