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direction of Plaza Murillo. On our way we met up with Marcus, who himself had a companion, Kevin Gale. It was the first time I had met Kevin, but I already knew quite a lot about him. Every traveller did. Among the mochileros he was a legend. Kevin Gale had done it all. They said that he carried the heaviest pack in South America, that he walked faster than the llamas up the sides of mountains. He was an enthusiastic naturalist and photographer, and one more thing: he was Marcus's best friend.

'Are you interested in going into the jungle?' I asked him.

'The truth is, I only came to La Paz to catch a plane home,' he answered. 'I've been in Latin America for almost two years, and I had decided to go home for Thanksgiving, but the idea fascinates me. I haven't really been into the jungle.'

Karl was waiting for us in the square. He got out his photographs once again and told us about his past expeditions. Kevin bombarded him with questions, with Marcus translating from English to German and back again, since Kevin had difficulty understanding Karl's peculiar Spanish. Kevin was interested in a tribe of wild Indians that Karl promised we'd see. I took it all in attentively.

'Would it be possible to go partway by river?' Kevin asked.

'This is my work, not a pleasure trip,' Karl