In November 2008, I was contacted by Conservation International to take part in an expedition that would be made to the north of the state of Para, in Brazil. The whole thing consisted of flying first to Roraima, then journeying over land in a chartered van to Caroebe, close to the border with Para, trying to keep on track amidst the many holes in the road. The duration of this journey was actually up to the whims of the unstable weather offered by nature at that point. The next leg of the trip would be aboard a helicopter for an hour or so to some remote spot close to the frontier of Para and Guyana. A partially opened clearing on a more inviting hill slope of this region’s mountainous geography would afford us access to the encampment in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest. We would actually spend 3 days travelling to spend 4 days at our destination, wherever that might be. Madness? Perhaps, but my feelings tell me it will be worth it...

In January 2009, a call from Para’s Environment Office and I’m off to another phase of the seven expeditions already foreseen to the north of the state. The logistics for this trip did not differ from the others: a flight to Belem and from there to Santarem; then a ‘minor’ change of comforts and there I am aboard again, this time on a single-engine aircraft for an hour and a half flyover whose destination is a landing strip opened at an encampment belonging to the Rio Tinto mining company. Later on, I’m in for an hour’s worth of helicopter flight over forest and then more forest to finally reach another clearing that awaited us. From this point onwards any communications with the outside world for nearly a month will be only through a satellite phone.



Impeccable organization, camp infrastructure and the relentless good humor of local foresters, actually Amazonian people hired to help us out in the field, are the key-ingredients to ensure an expedition such as this. After all, we are looking at a situation in which 30 people, from several fields of scientific expertise, must share a living in a quest to obtain a detailed mapping of the region’s biodiversity that reaches out to cover some 22 million hectares. This is actually the largest mosaic of Conservation Units and preserved tropical forest in the world, known simply as Calha Norte (or North Channel, in a free translation). A veritable living and untouched lab that, similarly to other Amazonian regions that are separated by major rivers, has developed unique plant and animal life, a great region of endemism known as Guyana. 

However, the surprises this region has to offer are not restricted to what is yet to be discovered, which accounts really to almost EVERYTHING from a scientific standpoint, but rather to that which lies before our eyes. Instead of a forest plain traversed by several wide and long winding rivers, an image we all have of the Amazon Rainforest, one sees mountain cliffs cut by small river waterfalls, rocky grounds with a laterite cover, sinuous trees and close-cropped creeping vegetation, typical of the Cerrado region. This scenario in itself is alluring enough for any group of researchers, as it enables the discovery of endemic and/or new species and it also lends proof to the theory of forest refuges, where ancient savannahs of those remote periods of drought gradually gave way to forests. A very vast forest at that.

On both expeditions, my work was, besides taking photographs of the plant and animal life and the breathtaking landscapes that came up one after another, to also document the researchers’ daily routine, how they work, their particular expertise and their expectations before an unexplored region. Although each one of them had to prioritize their own technical activities between herpetology, ichthyology, ornithology, mammal fauna and botany, all worked closely together. Therefore, it was a common sight to see the ichthyology team return from shallow courses of water with a collection of curious amphibians. This solidarity and communion of interests makes their tasks more in line, alleviating the harshness of the routines of a “wild” sort of encampment. For although the camp’s infrastructure was sound and we had a power generator, mosquito nets around the lab and a field team always there to help us out, our daily routine included everything a tropical forest can offer: from trespassing and very unwelcome mosquitoes such as tatuquiras - a leishmaniasis transmitting fly -, poisonous snakes shuttling between our hammocks to having to get done with our body needs in holes in the ground, under extreme humidity and unrelenting heat. However, the great and exciting possibility of treading over untouched grounds lessens any weariness or anguish for living in isolation for so long.

Naturally, a nomad native or other may have traversed these regions, but considering that estimates on local inhabitants do not point to more than 5 thousand souls within an area the size of São Paulo state, it would not be such a stretch of imagination to think that we are the first human beings to set foot on that soil. A region where, human greed and land appropriation are incipient; where spider monkeys and other primates still gaze at us out of curiosity; where feline footprints are seen almost daily under lofty canopied trees and where countless species of bird ‘struggle’ with frogs and toads for some chanting space in the silence of the forest. Regions over which humid mists cling at every daybreak and timid sunrays carry a certainty that there is still room for life to multiply and transform itself at every turn.

Adriano Gambarini has been a photographer for 15 years. Graduated as a geologist, speleologist and also a diver, he is a Member of the Council for the Pro-Carnivore NGO and works as a photographer for WWF, TNC, CI and Terra Brasilis. He has authored seven photography books and two poetry books and owns 50,000 images of the biodiversity and culture of Brazil, the Antarctic and 17 countries.

(Translation IDStudio - Robert Rajabally)