A Journey Upriver

The uncomfortably small canoe was barely wider than my hips. We’d been hunched over for several hours with our knees almost up around our ears. Every lurch from a tug on the rudder or shove from a passing log threatened to knock us into the drink, and my stomach muscles were tired from constantly shifting my weight around in an attempt to find some balance.

I’d forgotten my waterproof bag in my hurry to pack and kept a nervous eye on the camera bags that were perched precariously up in the bow. When I managed to relax enough to look around though, I was awed by the scenery. The river snaked through dense rainforest, where every shade of green pressed in around us. The jungle hung over the muddy banks in swathes so thick, we had to duck and weave under branches to get through.

We were on our way to stay with the indigenous tribes of Siberut in the Mentawai Islands. For the last seven years I’d been working as a photographer and surf-guide at Pitstop Hill, a surf resort at the northern end of the island chain. During my time there I’d heard countless stories of tribes in the interior of the