All language subtitles for [2000] Werner Herzog - Julianes Sturz in den Dschungel (EN)

In her dreams, Juliane often sees
herself on the streets of a city.

Shops, display windows, bargains...

Everything seems normal.

And then, all of a sudden the faces
she encounters are broken.

The heads are smashed, disfigured,

but strangely enough she is not afraid.

Pucallpa, a godforsaken place
in the Peruvian jungle.

Right next to the airport a monument
of plaster has been erected.

A crashing plane is depicted
all in plaster.

And from there, a dotted line follows
the course of the river.

An inscription explains that this was
Juliane's route out of the jungle.

"Alas de esperanza" - Wings of Hope,
is inscribed on this monument

which was erected in memory of those
who died in the LANSA airline crash.

I see this monument now for the first time
in my life, and it touches me strangely.

Considering that I emerged as the
sole embodiment of hope

whereas all the others remained
without hope in this disaster.

Here, on the side of the monument,
a plaque has been mounted

with a highly emotional
inscription which reads:

"Brethren, we are united here through
our longing to reach the warmth"

"of the sacred hearth of home."

"Christmas, 1971. We were
on our way thither..."

"but instead, we were cast
into dark eternity."

Back here there is a row of graves
in the form of traditional niches.

in which the dead lay buried.

Quite a few names of very young
people catch my eye.

Some of them children,
others barely twenty years old.

Some of them are even
represented by photographs.

Here, a young woman.

Further on, a young man barely
eighteen years old.

All in all, over sixty of those stricken
by the disaster lay buried here.

On Christmas Eve all higher ranking
officers had left the garrison of Pucallpa

and had returned to their
families in Lima.

Quite unexpectedly

I found myself burdened with the enormous
responsibility of leading the search

for the missing aircraft.

It was a traumatic and heart
wrenching experience

when we arrived at the
site of the disaster.

We found the widespread
fragments of the wreckage

and there we found trees hung with
the belongings of the travellers.

Suitcases had opened in mid-air,
and the presents hung in the branches

as if these were Christmas trees
decorated for a sad holy night.

As if they were adorning for the relatives
for all those who never came home.

A somber destiny, I think, had been
preordained for this Christmas.

And, the trees stood as a funeral rite
for those who had perished.

Lima, Peru.

The airport inaugurated only a few
months before the disaster.

The departure hall for domestic flights.

Everyone knows the experience,

checking in at one of the counters,
the most normal thing in the world.

This a film that lay dormant
in me for many years

because I myself had almost been
part of this very catastrophe.

Like anyone else, I was not out for
adventure, war, or self-imposed dangers.

Juliane Koepcke, you have asked me
to address you by your maiden name

because of your expressed desire to
maintain a certain amount of anonymity

in your life at present.

Under your maiden name you have
become world famous.

You were 17 years old then.

27 years ago we must have met
here, at these very counters.

It was Christmas Eve day, both of us
were booked on the same plane.

I was about to start shooting my
film 'Aguirre: The Wrath of God'.

The story is about Spanish Conquistadors
in the jungle, searching for El Dorado.

Only later would I learn that we were
fighting our way through the jungle,

just a few rivers away
from Juliane as she,

during these very same days,
was fighting for her life.

I remember that we started the
day with mixed feelings.

On the one hand, we were glad we
had managed to get this flight.

On the other, we were worried and anxious
because LANSA had such a bad reputation

after two previous crashes. And yet, we
were eager to return quickly to the jungle

so we could celebrate Christmas
at the ecological station

my parents had founded deep
in the rain forest of Peru.

At the very least, we wanted to spend
New Years there with my father.

But, as I had just graduated from high
school, I didn't want to miss the prom

which was planned for
the 23rd of December,

since this marked the end
of a phase of my life.

All around here there was
a crash of passengers.

At some point, I must have
elbowed you aside.

I managed somehow to put a twenty
dollar bill onto the counter

and the agent winked at me and she
said: "You are on, you are all on."

Then, at 11 am there was an
abrupt announcement

that my flight had been
summarily cancelled.

You see, after the crashes LANSA
had only one single plane left

which flew Lima, Cusco, into
the mountains and back.

And then, a second flight
into the jungle followed.

The plane lay over in repair for
an ominously long time.

In the end, there was only
time for one flight.

And so, only Juliane's would
take off on schedule.

I remember the tribulation of that
thick throng of passengers.

We 92 are the lucky ones who will
make it home for Christmas.

You probably remember that.

Yes, everyone was overjoyed

to be allowed top board and celebrate
the holidays with their families.

There was only one question.

Would Juliane be prepared to repeat all
the stations of her odyssey with us?

Do you dare? Do you really want this?

Well, what choice do I have

after I have basically consented
and come this far already?

I think it is very important to have my
husband along to give me moral support.

This time however, we flew Aero Peru.

Row 19 Seat F, the window seat.

The same as 27 years ago.

Well, to be honest, I feel pretty
nervous and tense.

To sit in the same seat as 27 years ago,

memories surge up and they
are not very pleasant.

Since then, I have lost confidence
in pilots and airplanes.

I listen for every noise.

And especially on a flight over mountains
because of the frequent turbulence.

At that time the route also
led across the Andes.

The eastern slopes begins
the Amazon basin.

Here thunderstorms frequently gather.

The first 25 minutes of the flight
were calm and normal.

Nothing special. We got our lunch packed

and then it became increasingly cloudy.

The plane flew into dark,
dense thunderclouds.

It wouldn't matter much to me.

At the time, I still enjoyed flying but
my mother was somewhat anxious

when she saw the stormfront approaching.

My mother sat next to me and
I was by the window,

My mother in the middle and in the aisle
seat was an obese Peruvian man

who fell asleep right after takeoff

and was oblivious until we got
tossed around pretty badly.

We flew straight into the storm

and it was frightening how the clouds
streaked by as if they were living creatures.

It was pitch black punctuated by
continuous flashes of lightning.

And, never before or since have I ever
experienced such turbulence.

Christmas presents fell from
the overhead bins.

And then, suddenly I saw a blinding,
incredibly white flash of light

on the right wing, just as
I am sitting here now.

It looked as if lightning had
struck one of the engines.

I can't describe it precisely,
but I had this sensation.

At that moment, my mother
screamed: "This is the end!"

And exactly what happened
after that, I can't say.

Later, fragments of memory returned.

For example, that we were in a nose-dive

and I still hear the deep roar
of those engines.

We went almost vertical down and
people screamed in horror.

The souvenirs, flower bouquets, large
parcels; flew all over the cabin.

And then, all of a sudden,
I was outside the plane.

I wa suspended in mid-air,
still in my seat.

It was not so much that
I had left the plane,

but rather that the plane had left me.

It simply was not there anymore.

I was all alone with my row of seats.

I sailed on through the air and
then I tumbled into a fall.

I spiralled, face downwards.

The seatbelt squeezed my stomach
and I couldn't breath anymore.

And at this moment, I realized with
absolute clarity what had happened to me.

But, I had no time to be afraid because
apparently I lost consciousness.

I can still see the jungle beneath me,
a deep green, like broccoli.

Jungle as far as the eye can see.

There are no clearings for hundreds
of miles, unless made by man.

Here in this area, the fragments
of the Lockheed Electra

had rained down over an area of
fifteen square kilometers.

The crash site is still vaguely known.

Nevertheless, during
preproduction for this film

it took us three unsuccessful
expeditions to find it.

With only the fourth reaching the
place of the catastrophe.

Sometimes it took us hours to
advance a mere 300 feet.

The march through the jungle was so
difficult and the distance so vast,

that we decided to clear a small area just
large enough for a helicopter to land.

This time, Juliane landed softly.

We brought all our provisions with
us, including drinking water,

as it was a dry season.

Our camp was very provisional.

Pieces of the aircraft lay strewn
around us in the jungle.

The casual way she dealt with the
mosquitos and other vermin

was the first thing that struck
us about Juliane.

Here, a coin purse found
just outside the camp.

It probably belonged to a little girl.

I'm going to take a look inside.

It contains two coins.

Old ten soles coins, which are
no longer in circulation.

Naturally, I have often pondered
of how I could have survived

a fall from two miles up and
escaped relatively undamaged.

There are three possible explanations.

It is most likely a combination
of the three.

Firstly, in very big thunderclouds
there are dramatic updrafts

which drive everything upwards, and
these could have slowed down my fall.

Secondly, the brief time that
I was conscious in mid-air,

I had the feeling that I was
spiralling downwards

and that the jungle seemed to
be spinning beneath me.

This might have happened because I was
strapped to one end of the row of seats,

which created an effect similar
to a falling maple seed.

At one end the seed, and then wing,
the whole thing spiralling down.

Finally, I was told by one of the men
who later reached the crash site

that where my seat was found tall trees
were densely intertwined with vines.

This maze, might have broken my fall.

It could be that I crashed into them
and my seat spun around.

And, with the seat under me,
I fell through this thickage.

And then, relatively softly,

quote-unquote: "struck the ground".

Very close to our camp, Juliana
searches the jungle with Juan,

one of our native indian Macheteros.

Here, the paint on the outer shell
is still visible, almost like new.

Juliane came face to face
with her own fate.

This here had been the very plane
in which she had flown.

Her nightmare, a nightmare of
each and every one of us,

had become so concrete that
it was finally palpable.

Here, even an emergency exit
with all the lettering.

And yet, Juliane seemed to be
emotionally untouched by all of this.

This shell, she later said, was a
necessary protective device,

part of a technique she developed
to lead a somewhat normal life.

Here, there are pieces of carpet,
the color is still there.

The strands have grown into the ground.

You can barely walk here.
The fragments are so densely strewn.

Here is an instrument panel, with
a mesh of cables attached.

We have an image of how a sunken
Spanish galleon is supposed to look.

The carcass of the hull, bronze canons,

an open coffer with gold
coins and pearls.

But, what a plane that has sunk
into the jungle looks like,

has not taken shape in our imagination.

We will probably walk right by.

We would recognize it only if
we paid close attention.

This must once have been a
suitcase; its metal frame.

It's strange that the locks
are still locked.

Here, the handle of a spoon.

This is the heel of a lady's shoe.

Here, a hair curler, as was the
fashion in those days.

Juan has found a piece of a tray.

Shortly before the plane crashed
we were served a sandwich.

Just before I awoke from my
deep unconsciousness

I had two strange and involved dreams.

In one, I was flying around
like crazy in a dark room.

I kept dashing along the
inside of the walls

and I heard a booming,
roaring noise in my ears.

As if I, myself, was equipped
with an engine.

In the other dream I had the
urgent need to wash myself

because I felt completely dirty.

I had the feeling that my entire body
was sticky and soaked with mud.

I now really needed to take a bath.

And then, I thought in my dream

"Well, it's so simple, you just get up
and walk over to the bathtub."

"It's not far."

And, the very moment
I resolved to do this

I woke up and found myself
under the row of seats,

completely drenched and covered
with mud and earth.

The rain must have poured
down all night long.

At this moment, I realized that I had
fallen from the sky to the ground.

This a row of three seats.

Down here the bottoms,
and here a seat back.

Roughly like this, I must have lain
under the seats after the crash.

A whole afternoon and the following
night, until the next morning.

When I came to, I realized pretty quickly
what must have happened to me.

I had crashed down in the middle of
the jungle, and the plane was gone.

I tried to get up and could barely
manage because my concussion

must have been very severe.

But I realized, at this very moment,
that I was all alone.

My mother had disappeared, even though
I had come down with three seats.

And, the obese man who had fallen asleep
on the aisle seat, was also gone.

And at this moment, I felt completely
helpless and godforsaken.

Totally abandoned. At first
I could hardly see at all.

My left eye was swollen shut,

and with the other I could only
see through a narrow slit.

I had lost my glasses.

I had only one shoe, a sandal,
and a thin, skimpy miniskirt

as was fashionable at the time.

I struggled to my knees, and then it
got so black in front of my eyes

that I had to lie down again.

The concussion must have
been very severe.

After a while, I managed to sit up.

And then, I discovered the
injuries I had suffered.

My right clavicle was fractured,
and the pieces overlapped.

But, they didn't stick out through
my skin. It didn't hurt at all.

What astonished me, was
that here on my calf

I had a long cut, about this long
and an inch deep.

This wound really astonished me
because it didn't bleed at all.

It looked like a canyon, jagged at the
edges, as if ripped by a piece of metal.

It went deep, and it
didn't bleed at all.

Well, I saw that nobody was around.

And I thought: "Where is my mother?
I must find my mother."

As soon as I could get up somewhat,
crawling on all fours,

I started to search for her. I crawled
around and I called out for her.

My mother and I had always
been very close.

This is why it was inconceivable to me,

and I can barely describe it in words,

this feeling that when a person who so
obviously forms an intimate part of your life

is so abruptly, from one second to
the next, snatched away from you.

I think that anyone who
has lost a loved one

with such abruptness knows what I feel.

Juliane was happy with her parents.

As a young biologist her father desperately
wanted to do research in the jungle.

Shortly after the war, poor
and without a passport.

he dug himself into a cargo
of salt on a freighter

and reached South America as a stowaway.

He then crossed the entire continent
on foot until he reached Peru.

This is where Juliane grew up.

No doubt, she must have inherited some
of her father's dogged will power.

Juliane lived in a simple hut.

From early on she took care of her own
tucan and other animals that she loved.

She attended the German
high school in Lima,

but only in the jungle did she
feel really at home.

She would soon move about
like a native indian.

Juliane returns home.

A neighbor from the jungle station
awaits her at Rio Pachitea.

His proud name is Carlos
Aquilez Vasquez Mordina,

but everyone just calls
him El Moro, The Moor.

The boat trip on the Pachitea is brief,

then reach the mouth of the
small tributary Yuyu Pichis.

Yuyu Pichis is a word in a native tongue
meaning: "the river that lies".

The river that just pretends to be the
larger tributary Pichis, further upstream.

Everything seemed to be as always

while reminiscences returned to Juliane,

and yet everything was different.

It started with a newly constructed
road through the jungle,

The Amazon Marginal Highway.

Hour after hour, there was
nothing but deforestation,

dead trees and smouldering fires.

In those days, to get to our
ecological station

you had to walk through the
densest virgin rainforest.

Nobody lived here, but now all this has
been transformed into pasture land.

All the way to the horizon
and miles beyond.

Only the area of our ecological station
remains relatively untouched.

It's back there, where you see that tall
tree with a fanning crown, a Lupuna tree.

It's wood is very valuable and for years
we have been trying to protect this area.

In the area of this station, which
encompasses just over a square mile,

there are over 500 species of trees,

and at leats as many other
species of plants.

So far, 400 species of ants
have been found here,

as well as over 350 species of birds,

52 species of bats, which I
myself have studied here,

and close to 80 other
species of mammals.

Roughly 50 species of frogs, and at
least the same number of reptiles.

Of the insects, the butterflies are
particularly well-researched.

There are 280 species of butterflies,

not including the nocturnal ones, which
must number much more than that.

Erich, Juliane's husband,
is like her a biologist.

He is an expert on wasps.

Juliane has specialized
in the habitat of bats.

Here in the hollow of this giant tree

she observed bats for her doctrine
thesis for more than a year.

I see there are still bats inside
this tree, a small group.

I can see them fluttering around.

There is one hanging down.
It looks in amazement at me,

that I have penetrated its habitat.

These are not bats, or course,
but a species of cricket.

The dangers of the jungle
are basically misjudged.

I am standing here, in Yuyu Pichis, in
the middle of the water as you can see.

There are stingrays,
crocodiles, piranhas

and other fish that would love
to have a bite of your leg.

And yet, nothing is happening to me.

The prianhas are found her sparsely

and in moving water they
are absolutely harmless.

Here I have learned how important it is to
find water if you are lost in the jungle.

A small creek leads to a larger one,
which eventually takes you to a river,

where you can find human
habitation and help.

When parents were still here
at the ecological station

an incident occurred which served
as a precedent for me.

An American team made an expedition
into the Sierra mountains

about 30 miles further upstream,
and there an accident occurred.

The leader of the expedition
shot himself in the leg.

He was a tall man, over seven
feet and quite heavy.

So, they sent a young
student to get help.

The young man soon became
hopelessly lost in the jungle,

but then did exactly the right thing.

He luckily came upon a small spring
and followed the water

and in this way reached Yuyu
Pichis, this river here,

and two days later arrived, wading
through the water at our station.

Right at this spot where I am standing.

Back at the site of the crash...

we almost overlook the largest
piece of the plane

which had become engrafted
in the landscape.

Here, filling the frame
from left to right.

For the first time, Juliane appeared
deeply affected by the site of this.

Only now did the catastrophe and her
solitude acquire real dimension.

The most extensive search in the history
of Peruvian aviation turned up nothing.

Even helicopters could detect no trace.

The jungle had mysteriously swallowed
the plane and its 92 passengers.

When I looked up into the canopy of trees,
I saw that there were no broken branches.

The jungle was completely untouched.

There was no sign of a path of impact.

I was all alone with my row of seats.

Not until four days later,

did I find another row of seats
with three dead bodies.

It was the only contact I ever had
with anyone from this plane.

It was a horrible experience.

The seats were stuck in the ground, they
were literally drilled three feet deep.

They must have hit like a bullet.

Three women had been sitting there.
They must have been killed instantly.

They were driven into
the soil head first.

Only their feet stuck out.

At first, I was agast when I saw this.

I didn't know what to do, but I wanted
to know if my mother was one of them,

even though it should have been
obvious to me that she couldn't be

as she had been sitting next to me.

I approached the bodies slowly.
I didn't dare.

I took a branch because I didn't
want to touch them.

And, I turned one of the feet over and
saw that the toenails were painted.

And, it then became clear to me that
this could not possibly be my mother,

because she never painted her toenails.

The only things I found at the crash
site were a bag of candy

which I later took with me, and a
Christmas cake, about this size,

as is typical here in Peru.

It was completely soaked
and full of mud.

I tried to eat some but it tasted
so bad, that I left it behind.

That was obviously stupid.

I should have taken it along,
but at that moment

I didn't realize I would be
in the jungle so long.

While I was searching there, all of
a sudden a sound materialized.

It penetrated my consciousness.

It had been there the whole time,
but somehow I hadn't noticed it.

It seeped slowly into my consciousness.
It became louder and louder

and finally filled my entire head.

It was the soft dripping,
the trickling of water.

I followed the sound and I
discovered a tiny, little spring

where water ran over a stone and
dripped into a small puddle.

At this very moment I knew,
with absolute clarity,

that I had to follow this water
to get out of this jungle.

Anyone else would probably have stayed at
the site of the crash and waited for help.

But for me, it was clear
that this was futile.

And, I followed this runnel because
I knew that a small body of water

flows into a larger one, and that
I would eventually find help.

The course of water Juliane is following

is without doubt the same one
she followed then.

Eventually, she reached this creek.

Not having the slightest
idea where she was,

and uncertain whether she would
ever make it out alive,

she never had any moments
of mortal fear.

Her concussion was simply too severe
to allow for any thoughts other than

advance, keep going,

no matter what might lurk under the
fettered surface of this water.

Juliane, when I hacked my through here
sometime ago with five macheteros

I discovered this.

According to what you had told me

it was obvious that this must have
been the propeller blade

and engine you came across back then.

However, you must have come from this direction

because the water flows this way.

Yes, that must have been the engine
which I found on the third day.

Following the course of water,
it was on the righthand side.

It was smeared all over with black
oil and crushed like this.

Are you aware that after the crash
in Cusco, the previous crash,

it was discovered that the mechanics
who maintained these engines had

up till then only repaired motorcycles.

And, apparently the pilots hadn't
any appropriate licenses.

And the worst was that in Cusco, 101
bodies were retreived from the wreckage.

There was single survivor, the co-pilot,
who had suffered severe burns.

But, the capacity for the plane was 92,

which means that they jammed an
additional ten passengers on board.

Their reputation was really
the worst imaginable.

Well, I only flew this line because it
was the cheapest, I had to save money.

You were lucky that nothing
happened to you.

-Their reputation couldn't have
been worse. -Yes, I knew that.

Juliane has her safeguards
against the horror.

She has frequent dreams about
shelves, cases and racks.

Where millions of butterflies
are stored away

all existing species of this world.

"It is," she says, "as if I could safely
lock away all the airplanes in the world"

"...so that they could not
hurt me anymore."

But then, the dream turns
into a nightmare.

Suddenly, there are no
more living beings,

no animals, only trophies.

They are stored away in large halls,

old warehouses are filled with them,

and the trophies are for sale.

And then, animal skins of every species

with only a few remaining frozen
in poses from a distant past.

They will never move again...

They will never stir.

They are caught in the abyss of time.

This on of my saviors, so to speak.

They are crested chickens,
very primordial birds,

with a peculiar and awkward behavior.

They live in groups by larger rivers.

They produce a snorting sound,
highly atypical of birds.

When you approcah them they
get extremely agitated.

They keep flapping their wings and
seem to bow to each other.

It looks quite hysterical.

The young ones live in slovenly built
nests, in branches overhanging the rivers.

Quite often they fall into the water,
but they have claws on their wings

like the primordial bird,
the archaeopteryx.

And, with great agility they
climb back up

through the branches into the nests.

They are also good swimmers.
They are pretty indestructable.

This is one of my saviors.

There! There are some crested chickens.

You recognize them by their
beautiful crests.

It is a relatively large bird...

which has a peculiar...

Oh, that was just a woodpecker. For a
moment I thought I had heard one.

It's a large bird which has an atypical,
but in the jungle, very distinctive call.

Some sort of wheezing snort or snarl.

I don't remember it precisely,
somewhat like this:

Something like that. I can't
really imitate it well.

But, three days after the crash
I suddenly heard these calls.

And I thought: "This is my salvation!"

Because wherever those birds are, there
must be a larger body of water.

I immediately changed direction

and headed straight for those calls,
because I hoped I might find people.

The mud is quite deep here.

Exactly at this point I reached
the R�o Shebonya.

You can rcognize this spot by
the amount of giant cane.

There is no other place along this river
where the cana brava grows so densely.

And, Juliane immediately recognized
that this river was not navigable,

that she would not encounter
people here.

Initially on R�o Shebonya, I saw and
heard planes circling above me.

After a few days, this
ceased altogether.

And, I realized that the search
had been called off.

I was aware that I was now all on my own

and that I could no longer expect
any outside help.

This is why my feeling of solitude
and abandonment grew deeper.

All Juliane had was a single sandal
and no tools of any kind.

If she had only had a machete
and a lighter,

her survival would have
been much easier.

She could have built a simple shelter.

She could have taken out the soft core,

the heart of a certain type
of palm, and eaten it.

She could have cut through a certain type
of liana and found pure, fresh water.

She could have cooked the easily
found shiwawaku nut.

You can also roast them in hot ashes.

These nuts have a very high
nutritional value.

I felt no hunger at all. During the
entire time I ate nothing.

I felt no need to. However,
I did drink a lot of water.

The only thing that really alarmed me
was this wound that I had on my arm.

The flesh flies had laid
their eggs there.

Maggots had hatched and they had eaten
themselves deep into my flesh.

They had burrowed a deep hole.

When I turned my arm like this,
I could look inside.

They were half an inch long.

The hole was this large

and I saw this maggot swiggling around,
that's when I got frightened.

I thought I might develop blood poisoning
and eventually lose my arm.

That really worried me.

The wound was completely inflamed.

Two days ago this horse was injured
on a barbed-wire fence.

Now the wound is full of maggots.

Exactly the same kind of maggots
I had up here in my arm.

Most of the time I swam down (???),
waded or simply let myself drift.

I saw crocodiles everywhere,
mostly in groups of two or three.

Whenever I approached them, they would
hurl themselves from the riverbanks,

diving into the water straight
at me, directly at me.

Normally, anyone would flee
in panic into the jungle.

But, I would have perished
for certain there.

I simply stayed in the water because
I knew from the ecological station

that crocodiles do not
represent a danger.

These came and flee at the sight of men,
and always hide in the water.

It was very strange because I would
get extremely close to the camen,

and then, from either side

they would splash wildly into the
water and dive right under me.

In shallow water, I always carried a stick
and poked the river bottom ahead of me

because there are a lot of poisonous
stingrays in the muddy shallows of the river.

Stingrays are the really dangerous
animals of the jungle, of these rivers.

Much more dangerous than the
poisonous snakes, jaguars,

and tarantulas which people
generally fear.

The extraordinarily bad film
about Juliane Kopcke

thus teems with crocodiles and
other creatures eager to bite.

The sensationalism of the alleged
dangers of the jungle

and the abysmally bad leading
actress annoy Juliane.

The girl that plays my part stumbles through
the jungle with the look of a hunted doe.

And everywhere, behind each bush
or tree, lurks some danger.

She looks around and (gasp) she sees
a tarantula crossing her path.

There, all of a sudden! A snake dangles
from a tree and brushes her face and...

She sees a jaguar! She like pounces from
a bush and kills a mother monkey

who happens to be nearby with her baby.

The terrified young one leaps
onto the girl's lap

and they cower together and find
consolation in one another.

The baby monkey stays with
the girl during the night.

The next day the girl has to move on,

but the little monkey doesn't want to
leave its home, and they separate.

And, the girl cries out to the baby:
"Don't leave me alone! Don't go!"

How did you spend your nights?

While it was still light I searched
for a place

where I had some protection for my back.

A small slope or a thick tree trunk.

And, I collected some large leaves
I could cover myself with.

During rainless nights the mosquitos
were particularly bad.

They almost ate me alive, as I wore only
a tiny, and by now torn miniskirt.

And when it rained, there
were no mosquitos,

but the rain was ice cold like
stinging needles.

And sometimes, it rained all night long.

When that happened, the
leaves were no help,

and I sat shivering and sleepless
until morning.

Here, below us, R�o Shebonya.

It seems to consist only of
meandering bends.

You can imagine how great a distance
Juliane had to travel in vain.

But for ten days, she
stuck to her route.

Has she only known that R�o Sungaro
lay in the opposite direction

she would have been saved
within two or three days,

as this river is navigable for
boats all year round.

Barley an hour passes without
a raft or a boat going by.

Along the riverbank there
are quite a few huts.

But, running off blindly in any given
direction could have led Juliane

to the deepest expands of jungle.

Juliane did the right thing, even though
day after day she got closer to death.

As the days passed, my apathy
grew deeper and deeper.

Sometimes, I let myself just drift in the
river and I had no thoughts anymore.

I must have lapsed into
some sort of trance.

Then, on the tenth day, I settled down
on a sandbank, towards evening.

I had by now grown very weak.
I looked around.

I didn't see anything in particular
and half-dosed off.

But, there was something that
I should have seen,

only I didn't see it in my
semi-conscious state.

Suddenly, I must have come to,
and I saw a boat right in front of me.

I thought: "This can't be real.
Have I gone crazy?"

"Is this a hallucination?"

I slowly approached it and touched
the boat, and it was real.

At this moment I became wide
awake, looked around.

Where are the owners?
There was no one there.

I discovered a small path at the river
bank. One I hadn't noticed before either.

There was steps carved up there. The
embankment was but nine feet high.

I tried to negotiate it,

but I had grown so weak that even
by crawling on all fours

I couldn't manage to overcome
this little slope.

It probably took hours,
but I finally made it.

And up there was a small, fetched hut,

where an outboard engine laid
wrapped in a plastic tarp.

There I settled down and found
shelter for the night.

Juliane and Moro are trying to catch
a special species of frog,

a so-called poison arrow frog.

The native indians used its
poison for their arrows.

In this hut, I was completely apathetic.
Although I felt no hunger

I knew I had to eat something, otherwise
I would die within a very short time.

All around me were this species
of poison arrow frog.

And I still wanted to eat them.

My mind was in a fog. I tried everything
to catch one of these animals.

It was like mockery. One sat this close
to my face, but I was already too weak.

Normally, eating one wouldn't kill you,

but in my weakened state it
could have been fatal.

Puerto Inca, a village at Rio Pachitea.

The man who is assisted by relatives
up the embankment of the river

is Marcio Ribera.

He is a lumber man and he worked
in the area of R�o Shebonya.

He was the one who found Juliane.

As he was well aquainted
with the region,

we sent him out before the
shooting of the film

to locate the crash site.

He set out alone and this almost
cost him his life.

This was a month ago.

A poisonous stingray had stung
him and Marcio lay near death

on a sandbank for three days.

Then a boat happened to pass by

and as he had no money on him,
they refused to take him along.

He finally traded his shotgun
for the fare.

Juliane found the rifle and
bought it back.

She wanted to surprise her
savior with it.

Don Marcio, what a joy to see you again.

Marcio Ribera was one of three native
indian lumbermen who found Juliane.

The other two have since died.

Something bad has happened to you.

The stingray stung me, there are
quite a few of them out there.

For a whole month I was very, very ill.

How deep the puncture is. This
must have really hurt a lot.

Marcio demonstrates with a leaf
how he stepped onto the ray.

Naturally, he wore his rubber
boots for protection.

The ray struck with the sting-armored
tip of its tail, and hit Marcio's heel.

It went straight through his boot.

Marcio shows the hole.

I thank you, Senora, for coming
to pay me a visit

after so many years.

It's been so long since I've seen you.

I would be dead if you hadn't
saved me then.

I was very weak, and lay
half-conscious in this hut.

And suddenly, I heard voices
approaching from the jungle.

At first, I couldn't believe it.

And then, I had a feeling
of boundless relief.

He was the first person I saw.

And it was as if an angel
had come unto me.

The three men cleaned her
wounds with gasoline

and drove out some of the maggots.

Then they took off in their boat.

Eleven hours later they reached the
Pachitea and the first village.

As a result of her fall, Juliane's
eyes were still so bloodshot

that people whom she met
on route fled in panic

because they thought that they
had seen a forest demon.

From a small airstrip she was flown out
to Pulcallpa, to a missionary hospital.

Months later, released from hospital,

Juliane is in an airplane again.

As in a tunnel view, forwards and
backwards in time, she sees herself...

left behind in the jungle at
the site of the crash.

All around her there is no one,

only the voices of the forest.

Further and further she moves
away from herself.

Further than thoughts can reach...

an ocean of jungle extends around her.

She wants to continue her search.

She wants to find all the
fragments of the plane

and lift them for the ground
and resurrect them.

She wants to reassemble the whole thing.

But, it dawns on her that
nothing can be reversed,

that nothing can be annulled.

Did she sit behind on of these windows?

Was she perhaps hurled into the
void through this exit?

Juliane sees herself again during
her flight into the void.

Alone, strapped to her seat, she
sails on further and further.

Around her there is nothing
but a yawning abyss.

She flies on for weeks.

Then, it becomes dark.

As it becomes bright again, she sees
a way out, a door of deliverance.

She walks through the door...

and all of a sudden she beholds
an angel engulfed in light.

All fear departs from her.

All screaming falls silent.

She does not breath anymore.

Overwhelmed by bliss, her heart
stands still for an entire minute.

Then she knows that a boat will come,
slowly and softly,

to carry her away,

to rescue her at last.