But something kept troubling me. I kept wondering why, well into the dry season, the rivers were rusty brown, filled with suspended sediments. We had noticed one dredging operation after another -- gold miners seeking their fortunes on the Rio Tambopata. We motored past dozen or more of these simple rigs -- two canoes lashed together with a blue tarp enclosed platform, a couple of bare-chested men working a noisy generator and wielding a twelve-inch diameter suction hose.
After returning to Lima, I learned these miners were working illegally, unregulated, and ignored in the buffer zone of the 675,000 acre Tambopata National Reserve, just established in 2000. They pump silt and gravel from the river bottom or, using monster front loading rigs, dredge up the forest floor in their quest for gold deposited in former river flood plains that stretch for miles inland. They dredge to a depth of 30 meters, causing massive destruction zones in and along the river. Huge quantities of sediment become suspended the rivers and tributaries, which suffocate the fish. Worst of all, the miners use a toxic mercury soup to extract the gold (it sticks to the mercury) as they sluice the silt. They then heat the mixture water, vaporizing the deadly mercury into the air and water. In a sad, sad cycle, the miners and local community members breathe toxic fumes, their families eat fish with levels of mercury unacceptable in developed countries, and now, their children suffer high rates of birth defects.
Reflecting back on our stay, I remember hearing the almost constant drone of generators, wondering about the scarce and skittish wildlife, and meeting a bright, friendly guide, whose arms were short and twisted. I still don't know the meaning of all of this, but I worry about the future of the Amazonia's rainforests and wildlife.
