Photo Essay: National Parc Noel Kempff Mercado - Trying to cut the forest in half

Normally just rich tourists can afford to go to 'Campamentos' flor de Oro in National Parc Noel Kempff Mercado. Flo de Oro is a base camp in the middle of one of Bolivias largest National Parcs from where you can take tours into the deep dark Amazone.
Small planes will take the visitors in two hours or so from Santa Cruz to the luxury of nature.

There we didn't have the cash to go there by plane we tried to get to the base camp backpackers-style. Allthough it took us three days of minibusses, missing bags and visaproblems, it saved us enough cash to undertake a trip to the centre of wilderness.

Campamento Flor de Oro consists of several buildings. There is a beautiful kitchen and dining area, two lodges for visitors, a watchtower and an office- and sleeping spot for the guards. At the moment we arrive there are no tourists present which makes Flor the Oro an oases of quietness.
Apparently you can spot all different types of animals along the riverside. Capibara's (largest species of rodents in the world) alligators and tortoises are commonly seen, while jaguars, tapir and anacondas are more rare but also frequently spotted. A real feature of the park are Pink River Dolphins, which, if you spend some time on the river, can't be missed.

The morning after our arrival at Flor de Oro we plan to do a trip into the forest. Abalardo, who is a guard at the parc, and Heitor, who owns a boat, are joining us.
It is cold, the first part of the boat ride. Our pace is twenty-five kilometers an hour, wind blows in our face and there is no sun. Abelardo disappears under a blanket to hide from the cold and to catch a couple of hours more sleep. Heitor is not sleeping at all. His eyed are sharp and trained and he is making an effort to spot animals for us. We don't see very much but we do spot a capibara family twice, a couple of tortoises and a rare black alligator.
At Catamarca, an abandoned village, we get on shore. From here we will try to trek into the forest for at least three miles. We minimize the weight in our bags, take a machete and start cutting. Abelardo goes in front. Despite his short and chubby body he is amazingly strong. He cuts his way through the thick bush with impressive blows of his machete. Nevertheless our progress is slow, very slow. Three hours after we've left the boat we've just covered one mile.
Because it will be dark soon we have to think about pitching our tent somewhere. When we arrive at a spot where the vegetation is a little bit less dense we stop to make our base. On a fire we prepare pasta and when it is ready we eat it together with a foul tasting wine we brought along.

When I open my eyes the next morning and look outside I find my view blocked. On the netting of our tent an entire colony of ants is marching around. For some strange reason they are also attracted by the odor of my hiking boots as they are covered as well. After some extensive shaking, pounding and shouting I manage to get my boots ant free enough to wear. We enjoy a breakfast consisting of water and some cookies and at half past seven we start cutting again. Our luck is that we can leave our tent and most of our luggage at the base, to pick it up on our way back. Again Abelardo goes in front to clear the way and Heitor and I make sure we broaden and mark the path so it will be easier to find the way back.
Our average pace hasn’t increased much. One mile takes us more or less three hours and this affects the mood of Abelardo. His hand is hurting because of all the cutting, his body is tired and he is thirsty and hungry. I try to take over a couple of times but I am not half as good in cutting the vines, branches and trees as he is. Sharp 'needle trees' scratch my hands until they bleed. Leaves like razorblades make cut s in my neck and the vines, which are everywhere and seem to be alive, try to strangle me. Time for Abelardo to take over again. When all our water is really almost finished, Heitor teaches me a survival trick. If you cut a vine, first on the top and then two meters more down, water will start pouring out. He shows us the trick a couple of times and it is amazing how much water you can drink from it. The water is pure and fresh like it just came out of a refrigerator. When we've walked for five or six we think it has been enough. The GPS says we’ve covered over three miles. It is time to go back.
The minute we stop walking, small stinging flies swarm in. The amount is beyond imagination. They are literally everywhere. The arms of Abelardo and Heitor his back are entirely covered with them. I try to change film in my camera but a couple of them try to stay in the camera body. Just with difficulty I manage to close it without imprisoning one or two.

These were probably the toughest five kilometers I have ever covered.

Heitor perfectly knows to find back the trail we cut and within two hours, around half past five in the afternoon, we are back at the boat. It is too late to return to Flor the Oro and the nearest campamento of Noel Kempff is even four hours by boat. But Heitor knows a settlement on the Brazilian side of the river two hours by boat downriver and that's where we are heading. When we arrive at the settlement we are taken in like old friends. We can cook a meal, get a drink and can sleep in a proper bed. Tomorrow we will go back to Flor de Oro.