Trying to get to the stream where I am fishing, he gingerly steps onto the muddy bank. His feet sink 2 ft. into the ooze. Extracting one's feet from this alluvial muck proves to be a chore, one with which we are to become very familiar. I'm standing at the water's edge, straddling a young tree to prevent myself from being entrapped. This stream is whitewater, a light beige in color.
Visibility is zero.
Chris is the boldest of our group and is already wading in the stream, waist deep, and catching fish. As he moves upstream, he mumbles something about watching our step. I look up just in time to see him go under, and with that he is swimming. The jungle heat along with this mud make the water look inviting. The game is on.