River of Doubt

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“The River of Doubt, moreover, was one of the worst places on earth to be sick. Unless they were too weak to walk, the men had no choice but to work in order to keep the expedition moving. Shaking and sweating, they carried baggage, lowered canoes through rapids and cut away underbrush to set up camp. The alternating intense heat and pounding rains added to their misery, as did their festering wounds, which made them even more susceptible to disease. From the insects that fed from their bloodstreams to the parasites that teemed in their food, the rain forests was filled with creatures that had evolved to exploit every weakness or vulnerability that the men might suffer. “The very pathetic myth of “beneficent nature,” Roosevelt wrote “could not deceive even the least wise being if he once saw for himself the iron cruelty of life in the tropics,” writes Candice Millard.

Wow. What a story. What an adventure. Teddy Roosevelt, after his political career was over, led a trip down an uncharted, unknown river in South America, through the jungle, through malaria country, through rapids, around waterfalls, watched all the while by hostile Indians who had never seen a white man or even a canoe, who could kill with poison-tipped arrows, silently, at night. Intense. The expedition almost killed the Bull Moose Teddy; he was far too old to take on such a challenge. It did kill other, younger men. Did I say “wow.”

I had never heard of this story until I discovered Millard’s “The River of Doubt.” That was my misfortune.

What a superb page turning, thrill ride. And it's all true.

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