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experience, for we would be passing through completely untamed jungle.

‘This Indian village isn’t full of souvenir shops, is it?’ I asked, having heard of villages like that. The guide lets out a warning whistle before he gets there with the tourists, and the Indians scramble about hiding newspapers, turning off tape decks, and changing from jeans to loincloths, and then go out to greet the visitors whooping and dancing.

‘No, of course not,’ Karl said. ‘It’s a big village; about six hundred Indians live there. I’ve been there twice. They aren’t hostile. But for myself, one other gringo, and perhaps a few missionaries, these Indians have never laid eyes on a white man. We can spend five days in the village, resting up, seeing what we like in the area. Kevin can take all the pictures he wants, we’ll get our provisions ready, and then we’ll head for the Tuichi, a two-day, downhill walk. There we’ll come to a place called Curiplaya, a gold-mining camp. It’s still in use, but when we get there, it’ll be deserted because they only work it from June to October. In Curiplaya we can pan for gold,’ Karl went on, ‘and we’ll stop over for five days or so. We’ll build a raft and spend the rest of the time panning for gold in the river. I can guarantee you one gram of gold for each day’s work; five days of work, five grams of gold apiece.’ He calculated the price of gold and concluded that we would make money from our adventure.