Madidi National Park

Listen first. Under the canopy, the air is thick and warm, and it carries a steady hum of insects. A bird calls somewhere above you. Something answers further off. The ground is soft with fallen leaves, and the light comes down in green, broken pieces. This is Madidi, in the north of Bolivia's La Paz Department. Here the Andes run down into the Amazon basin.

Madidi became a protected area in 1995. Its full official name is long: Madidi National Park and Natural Area of Integrated Management. That second part matters. It means people still live and work inside parts of the protected area, under rules meant to balance their lives with conservation. The park covers roughly nineteen thousand square kilometres. That is larger than many small countries.

The first surprise is height. Most visitors picture Madidi as flat, steaming jungle, and much of it is. But the park climbs from lowland rainforest near two hundred metres above sea level to glaciated Andean peaks close to six thousand metres. Within one protected area you pass through tropical forest, cloud forest, high grassland and bare mountain rock. Few parks anywhere hold such a range of climates inside their borders.

That range explains the life here. Each band of altitude holds its own plants and animals. Scientists consider Madidi one of the most biologically diverse protected areas on Earth. More than a thousand bird species have been recorded here. Jaguars, tapirs and giant otters live in the lowlands. Spectacled bears, the only bear species native to South America, move through the cloud forests higher up.

Most travellers arrive through Rurrenabaque, a small river town on the Beni River. From there, long wooden motorboats carry people upstream. The boats are narrow and low in the water. The engines roar, then settle into a steady drone. On the banks, you may see herons standing still in the shallows, or capybaras resting at the water's edge. Capybaras are the world's largest rodents, and they look calm about almost everything.

The Tuichi River is one of the main routes into the forest. Its water is brown with sediment from the mountains. Here is a story many visitors know before they arrive. In 1981, a young Israeli traveller named Yossi Ghinsberg became lost in this region after a river expedition went wrong. He survived alone in the forest for weeks before rescue. His account later became a book and the film Jungle. Guides on the Tuichi often mention it.

Now a quieter story, and perhaps a more important one. Deep on a lake inside the park stands Chalalán Ecolodge. It is owned and run by the community of San José de Uchupiamonas, whose people are of Quechua and Tacana heritage. Tacana is one of the indigenous peoples of the Bolivian lowlands. The lodge became an early model for community-run tourism in the Amazon. Visitors' money stays with the people who know this forest best.

That local knowledge is something you feel on a walk. A good guide stops and points at a tree you would never notice. Some trees have bark used for medicine. Some palms supply roofing for houses. Some vines hold drinkable water. Often the guide hears an animal long before you see it. Ask questions. Often the best part of a forest walk is the small knowledge that never appears in a book.

Here is a second surprise. In the early 2000s, scientists described a new species of titi monkey from this region. Titis are small monkeys that live in family pairs. They often sing together at dawn. The naming rights to this monkey were auctioned to raise money for the park. An online casino won the auction, and the monkey's scientific name still refers to that company. So a wild Amazon primate carries a casino's name.

Madidi also shows how much remains unknown. Between 2015 and 2017, a Bolivian scientific expedition called Identidad Madidi surveyed the park's different altitudes. The teams recorded animals and plants that had never been documented in the park before. Some were completely new to science. Even now, after decades of study, researchers expect more discoveries in these valleys. The forest around you may hold species that no one has named yet.

The park also has a history of debate. For many years, Bolivian governments have discussed plans for large hydroelectric dams on the Beni River near the park. Supporters point to energy and income. Critics, including many local communities and conservation groups, warn about flooded forest and displaced families. The question has returned several times. It is a reminder that protected places stay protected only through people's continued choices.

If you visit the lowland savannas north of Rurrenabaque, you will see another landscape. These open wetlands, called the pampas, sit outside the main park. The pampas are wide, flat and bright, with slow channels full of caimans. Caimans are close relatives of alligators. Pink river dolphins sometimes rise in the channels. Many travellers combine a forest stay in Madidi with a few days on the pampas, and the contrast is striking.

Before you leave, stand still for one minute. Look up at the layers of the forest, one canopy above another. Notice the smell of wet earth and rotting leaves, and the small movements in the undergrowth. This forest was here long before the park had a name. With care, it will still be here long after your boat turns back downstream toward Rurrenabaque.