Dante Viscarra’s Two-Week Adventure with Anastasio, Exploring the Wonders of Bolivia’s Amazonian Wilderness
My heart raced with anticipation as the small plane descended towards the lush, green expanse of Madidi National Park. I had always dreamed of an adventure deep in the Bolivian Amazon, and now that dream was becoming a reality. My guide and companion for the next two weeks, Anastasio, waited for me at the small landing strip. As a native of the region, he possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the park’s flora and fauna.
Madidi National Park, established in 1995, spans an impressive 1,895,750 hectares. Nestled in the northwest of the La Paz Department, the park is home to a rich tapestry of biodiversity and indigenous communities. It shelters 31 indigenous and peasant communities, totaling 3,714 inhabitants. Four indigenous territories overlap with Madidi: TCO San Jose de Uchupiamonas, TCO Tacana I, TCO Lecos de Apolo, and TCO Lecos de Larecaja, making it a significant cultural and ecological landscape.
As I stepped off the plane, Anastasio greeted me with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “Welcome to Madidi,” he said in Spanish. “This land holds many secrets and wonders. I am honored to share them with you.”
The days that followed were filled with exploration and discovery. Anastasio led me through dense forests, across crystal-clear rivers, and up steep mountain trails. The dense canopy overhead provided a natural shelter from the harsh sun, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The air was alive with the sounds of chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the distant calls of wild animals.
One afternoon, as we trekked through a particularly dense part of the forest, Anastasio paused and motioned for me to be silent. “Jaguar,” he whispered, pointing to a set of fresh tracks on the ground.
My heart raced with excitement and a touch of fear. The jaguar, Panthera onca, is the largest feline in the Americas and a symbol of power and mystery. We followed the tracks cautiously, hoping for a glimpse of this elusive predator.
As we moved quietly through the forest, Anastasio shared stories of his encounters with jaguars. “They are the guardians of the forest,” he said reverently. “They keep the balance by hunting the sick and the old, ensuring the strength of their prey populations.”
Our patience was rewarded when we spotted a magnificent jaguar resting near a riverbank. Its sleek, spotted coat blended seamlessly with the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. I raised my camera slowly, capturing the moment in a series of breathtaking photographs.
The wildlife encounters were not limited to jaguars. We observed spider monkeys swinging gracefully through the treetops, woolly monkeys foraging for fruits, and the rare Bolivian swallow-tailed cotinga perched high in the canopy. Each sighting was a testament to the park’s rich biodiversity.
One day, while trekking along a riverbank, we heard a loud rustling in the underbrush. Anastasio raised his hand, signaling me to stop. “Chancho de tropa,” he whispered. “These animals travel in large herds.”
The chancho de tropa, or white-lipped peccary (Tayassu pecari), is a crucial species in the lowland tropical forests of the Amazon. They are significant consumers of seeds, acting as ecological engineers and often moving in groups of more than 200. Their ecological importance is matched by their role as a primary source of protein for local communities through hunting.
Anastasio explained that, according to hunting records from five communities in TCO Tacana, the chancho de tropa provides the most biomass (in kilograms of meat) among the 16 most commonly hunted species, reflecting its importance for the subsistence of rural communities.
Between 2000 and 2006, six research campaigns were conducted, covering a total of 1,451 kilometers of linear transects in the areas of the Tuichi, Quendeque, Alto Madidi, Hondo, Heath, Undumo, and Tequeje rivers. The abundance rates of chancho de tropa in these areas were among the highest recorded for Bolivia and the continent, especially in the Hondo River area, where a density of 10.74 individuals per square kilometer was estimated.
To understand the home ranges, habitat use, and movements of the white-lipped peccaries, radio telemetry studies were conducted in the Hondo River area within Madidi. Eighteen peccaries from four different groups were captured and fitted with radio transmitters. With the help of towers installed on emergent forest trees, the peccaries were tracked for three years, revealing that their home ranges could vary between 33 and 110 square kilometers and that they could travel over 25 kilometers per day, showing a preference for palm-rich habitats.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, we set up camp near a tranquil lagoon. The sky turned shades of orange and pink, casting a magical glow over the water. Anastasio prepared a simple yet delicious meal of fish and wild herbs, and we sat by the fire, sharing stories under the stars.
“This place is incredible,” I said, feeling a profound sense of connection to the land and its people. “I can’t believe how much there is to learn and discover.”
Anastasio nodded. “Madidi is a treasure. We must protect it, not just for ourselves, but for future generations.”
Throughout our journey, Anastasio’s deep respect for nature was evident. He demonstrated sustainable hunting and fishing practices, ensuring we only took what we needed and left the environment undisturbed. He taught me about the delicate balance of the ecosystem and the importance of conservation.
One morning, we ventured into a remote part of the park known for its bird diversity. The air was filled with the vibrant colors and songs of macaws, toucans, and the iconic Andean condor. I was particularly fascinated by the condor, a symbol of Andean majesty and cultural significance.
Anastasio explained the challenges facing the condor population. “Their numbers are declining due to habitat loss and poisoning,” he said. “We must work with local communities to protect these magnificent birds.”
We spent hours observing and documenting the birds, capturing their beauty through my lens. The experience was both exhilarating and humbling, reminding me of the fragility of the natural world.
As the days passed, Anastasio and I developed a deep bond. We shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection. His knowledge and wisdom left a lasting impression on me, inspiring me to become an advocate for the preservation of Madidi and its inhabitants.
On our final day, we hiked to a vantage point overlooking the vast expanse of the park. The view was breathtaking, with lush forests stretching as far as the eye could see. I felt a sense of fulfillment and gratitude for the journey we had undertaken.
“This place changes you,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “It’s not just about the adventure; it’s about understanding our place in the world and our responsibility to protect it.”
Anastasio placed a hand on my shoulder. “You are now a part of Madidi,” he said. “Carry its spirit with you and share its story with the world.”
As we made our way back to civilization, I knew that my time in Madidi had profoundly impacted me. I was determined to raise awareness about the park’s beauty and the urgent need for conservation.
The adventure had come to an end, but the journey of preserving Madidi’s legacy was just beginning. Inspired by Anastasio and the wonders of the Amazon, I returned home with a renewed sense of purpose, ready to share the magic of Madidi with the world.
