As night draws to a close
in the Andean Mountain Range, the weather promises to be splendid. However, the Inca gods
have decided otherwise. The rain took this driver by surprise. This road is bad,
but I'm going anyway, I like it. The danger is crashing
into the small cars that zip along here. David is making for Cusco,
where he lives with his wife and new baby. There's only one lane on this road
and it's narrow. Separating him from his family is El Nino, a meteorological monster
caused by global warming, which produces massive downpours
for months at a time. Seven hours later, the sun finally begins
to shine down on the road. David's journey
promises to be challenging. He's heading into one
of the most beautiful jungles in the world with a rich and amazing biodiversity. However, the jungle also attracts
those who wish to exploit it. Above ground,
its precious timber is being cut down. Below ground, the hunt for gas and gold has led to large areas
being deforested and polluted. Poor farmers take part in the destruction,
clearing the trees for agriculture. Amazonia,
one of the last untouched territories, is forever being scarred by the roads
used by these new conquistadors. Nothing stops them
when the paths reach their end, they keep pushing through braving
whatever nature throws in their path. Once he's reached Cusco,
David will set off for Nuevo Eden, the New Eden. Three hundred
and seventy-five kilometers of tracks, high mountains and impenetrable jungle. The natural barrier helps protect
the native Indian tribes that continue
to live like their ancestors before them. The same lament must have sounded out
over Machu Picchu when the 16th century conquistadors
destroyed the Inca kingdom. Today, the conquerors
are the Peruvians themselves. David, the truck driver, always takes his family part of the way
before he sets off for the big journey. Come on, climb, come this way. Punch up a bit. That's fine, he's in here,
hold on to the dog. Can I come with you? No, my dear, in the holidays you can. It's not far from where I have
to load up with cement and take it to Manu park. We go with him so we can say goodbye. Sometimes he's away for two weeks, so we make the most of spending
a whole day with him when he's here. -Are you all alone during the school year?
-Yes. -You do everything?
-Yes, I'm all alone, it can be hard. They load up with 15 tons
of construction material, cement, and scrap iron that will be used
to build the Amazon Pioneers' houses. There's one ritual before he disappears
for a couple of weeks. A little ice cream. -Can I try?
-No. Come on, eat your ice cream, kids. We need to get going. Once he's on his way, David's focus shifts
from his kids to the road. This will take us up to 5,000 meters. The route goes straight
through the jungle. To be on the safe side,
David only makes two trips a month, a total of 150km. You have to take great care and to focus. You must be well rested because getting tired
in the mountains is extremely dangerous. A lot of the time
drivers fall asleep at the wheel and the slightest mistake could be fatal. Last year, one of my friends
went off the road here because the road is
in such a bad state, his steering went. He went over into the precipice here. His co-driver was also killed,
he was just 16. Conquistadores were hunting for El Dorado,
the legendary Inca city of gold. In the mountains,
they discovered another city not glinting with a precious yellow metal, but shining
from its brilliant white mineral. For 2,000 years, the Maras tribespeople
have been collecting salt from the saline water streams
flowing down the mountainside. David delivers one of the tribe's
few concessions to modern life, cement to reinforce
the walls of their pools. It weighs about 65 kilos, it's heavy. It's a big stone and it's tiring. Because it's heavy,
we try and go as fast as we can. At 3,000m, the lack of oxygen
soon makes itself felt. Those not used to the refined air
could barely stagger a few steps with this sort of load
but the Maras are acclimatized. I've been working here since I was 11. I'm 33 now, so that's 22 years
I've been in the salt works. My back hurts the whole time
but it's part of our work. These stones will now allow us
to repair the wall. We can raise it up by a meter or two. Four thousand pools
have been dug out of the mountainside over the past 20 centuries. There are 424 families in this community
and every family has its pools. The number depends on what
they've inherited from their ancestors. Before they fill the pools
with salt water, the Maras carpet the bottom
with white earth. It's a means to ensure
the salt is white when it crystallizes and not the dark,
earthy color of the mountains. I'm making sure it's all flat. This white Earth is called conte. It takes about a month
to build one of these pools, helped along
by a natural fortifying tonic. [Foreign spoken audio] It's corn juice, which is good for you. We work better with some chicha. Once it's flat, we compact it
with our feet until it's dry. [Foreign spoken audio] I'm 42 now,
and I've been doing this for 17 years. Snow, ice, wind, or sunshine,
salt production must go on. However, I'm always very tired. After the various stages of evaporation,
the white gold can be collected. We just lift it like this
and then we gather it all together. About 50 kilos is worth $9. On average, the Maras make barely
over $100 a month from the salt. David, the truck driver,
doesn't make much more, on top of which he has
to face all the dangers of the road. Ahead, a landslide has brought
about 50 vehicles to a halt. It's been raining for months
and the mountain is fragile. I've wasted six hours already. I'm going to be six hours late. Come on, get a move on. Now the ground here is unstable
and the rain hardly helps. Sometimes the drivers have to wait
for days before a digger shows up. This time they've had to wait
just eight hours. When I got here, they were already
a few stones that had fallen, but not as many as now. You could get past them,
but more stones fell, and I wanted to clear them out. It was still raining, and I couldn't do or manage it. More and more stones kept coming down,
so it was impossible to get through. I gave up. Now, all my clothes are soaked,
so I'm stark naked. The driver was right not to insist,
as another found to his cost, a few weeks earlier. The landslide dragged away
a four-wheel drive. The driver risked getting through,
but he got stuck in the river, dragged him off. The river has already taken a few people. After two hours, the road is almost clear. David tries directing the traffic
to avoid everyone rushing forward at once. Hey, boss, go on the other side
so those cars can come through. They can go by on the right,
now but then we'll all get stuck. There are a few cars on this side
and they can't all get through. Look, there'll be a traffic jam,
otherwise, get over to that side. Let's get going. -Is everything okay now?
-Yes, we can get through. The drivers take it in, turns to go,
and the discipline pays off, as each of them knows, a traffic jam
in this place could be fatal. All right, now there's another landslide
that's slowly taking shape up there. That's because of another
geological fault. The next time it rains, it'll get bigger, and then it'll be like on the side
where there was the rockfall. David now needs to make up for lost time
or face being fined by his clients. The roads in Peru
are not all made of mud and loose stones. However,
only the main arteries are tarmacked. The road from Cusco
to Pongo de Mainique leads straight to the gas fields of the Amazon forests. It twists and turns through the glaciers
of the Andean Cordillera. Then a five-kilometer descent
of hairpin turns. It's one of the highest roads
in the world. Valdemar and Lewis, his assistants
make this journey once a month, but each time they're uneasy. This bulldozer is destined
for the jungles. Yes, it's for the Trans-Andean gas. Every day, truckloads
of equipment heads for the work sites. We're now at 4,580 meters. That high and no heating in the cabin. It's cold, it's bad news
if you get a flat tire up here. It can be painful. It's really cold now,
five degrees to be precise. The air brakes
with rarefied conditions at this height don't function as efficiently. It's the air compressor,
it seizes up at this altitude. Yes, there's little oxygen up here. It's a steep descent
and the curves are tight. The road is narrow
and the edges hardly well defined. Every year the road claims its victims. Usually the accidents are caused
by the poor state of the trucks. Like this windshield wiper
which has given up the ghost. There's a problem with the wiper,
we're trying to fix it. The windshield wiper
never worked properly, so they compromise by driving very slowly
and at times as if blindfolded. As soon as the rain stops, the wind soon
clears the drops of water from the windscreen. For once, at least,
their prayers were heard. After descending for four hours,
the two friends, if not the truck, will make it safely the rest
of the way to the Amazon. As for David, he's still trying to make up
the time he lost at the landslide. He steps up the pace just where
the road is most dangerous. The customer doesn't want to know
about the landslide or all the other problems on the way. All he wants is his merchandise. I can't afford to sleep most
of the time I just keep driving. Well, they'll pay but the trouble is,
they may not call me again, and use someone else. Yes, it fits. It's still raining, we need to hurry up. At this rate, another landslide
will soon block the road, because here, there are about four
or five landslides every day. -It collapses often?
-Yes. If we'd had a bigger load,
we wouldn't have been able to get through. Meaning the road is saturated
that it could give way at any moment. I'm scared because I feel it might fall. Get through, I point the truck
in the right direction and just go for it. Once you set off, you can't see a thing. Ten seconds and then you threw it. Determination and laughter
to boost morale. Over there, there are some wreckages
that are beginning to rust. Here some other truckers
drove off the road over there, the crosses
to the drivers who were killed. It's their memorial because they were alive
when they drove through this way. Look, these chapels are just temporary. The mountain is about to collapse,
and we'll bury them. Everything will disappear
and after a while, with the help of the wind,
we'll no longer remember the accidents. Every five kilometers,
someone has been killed on this road. David's truck has run up
three million kilometers on the clock, but there's nothing
that will make him change it. If you feel the truck's going to go over,
then you jump, save your life. Having a really nice truck isn't worth it,
it's too much money. My truck is old, but it still works well. Never causes me any trouble
and we understand each other. After 15 hours on the road, David reaches the heart of the so-called
lungs of the world, Amazonia. Every trip he makes here, this forest
seems to retreat a little further. The illegal destruction of rare trees
for their wood is largely responsible. However, the jungle now harbors
a large number of other people. They are known as the Landless and in a similar manner
to the conquest of the American West, they grab huge swathes
of virgin territory. Our group consists of several families. We owe nothing, no land, no home. We found this land
and we don't know who it belongs to, so we occupy it as best we can. It's about a hectare and a half. If no one shows up to remove them, they will hope to make a living
from cultivating the land. Most are mountain people, farmers who have fled
the poverty of their villages. This is mine, you see. Idalia used to be
a tourist guide in Cusco. After being without work for two years
and with no unemployment pay, life became very hard indeed. She left town, taking her two children. When we first arrived here,
there were plants everywhere. -All that area there?
-Well, it was like that. People clear the land
by burning off the plants. We've made four roads in an X shape
and it ends over there. Is that where you slept last night? Yes, this is my bed. -Did you get wet with all the rain?
-No, I used a plastic cover. Fourty-year-old Sabina
is flattening the entrance to her hut. I built my own home. -By yourself?
-Yes. -You did all this on your own?
-Yes, all by myself. The kids are too small to help,
they tried, though. I have nothing to cook with. Now my children are coming. They went to the market
to beg for some rice and pasta. I'm a single mother with no husband
or family to help me financially. I sell a few spices,
and that way I can feed my children. One day, the landless
might be able to make something of this village in the jungle. Maybe one day, they'll even be a road. It might be David who
brings them their first goods. The ravines of the Cordillera
may be left behind, but there is still danger on the road. It's the tree that stopped me. I went too far forward
and now everything's ripped. That's all I can do,
I just have to keep going like this. It's ripped through the cover. That's the way it is, that's why everything
falls apart out here. I ended up in this river once. I was carrying some freight from Cusco
and the current swept it all away. It was the 25th of December, Christmas,
and I ended up in the river. The rain can wash away
the track at any time. One day it's smooth, and the next
it's like it's been bombed. A lot of people have been killed here. I had an accident here ten years ago. There was a lot of undergrowth
on the road back then, and it hid a big hole
that the rain had made. I came and the wheel
of the truck went straight in. I tipped over here, and all the wood
I was transporting went that way. A woman, a neighbor who was traveling
with me was sitting up on one of the logs at the time. We tipped over and the woman was killed, she was crushed between the logs
and there were a lot of logs. It was an unfortunate accident
and it still affects me, ten years later. Every time I come this way,
I think of my neighbor, this dead woman, her name was Olivia,
and she had three children. Ever since then, I never take
any passengers, just goods no more. David still has 200 kilometers
of jungle to go. In Amazonia, there are millions
of kilometers of rivers and streams. They provide a link
between the most remote villages. Marco is in charge of a river canoe. We're on our way
to the village of Curuguaty. It'll take seven hours to get there. Sit here, move that mattress along
and the bottle of gas. Okay, let's go. The river Urubamba provides a lifeline
for a dozen or so villagers. However, a lifeline
that's at the mercy of the river. It's a dangerous path,
many have already been killed. If you capsize,
the chances of survival are zero. You need to know how to maneuver
the engine in these fast currents. That's the secret. There are many accidents
with people losing control of the canoes and smashing into the rocks. Stones there and wham
or a chunk of wood and wallop. Once there was a guy in his canoe
with a heavy load of cement and he must have had some bad moves,
as he wasn't that experienced. Three of the five passengers
on board were killed. We're coming
to the most dangerous part now. Each year, many people are drowned. We have to pay tributes
to appease the rapids. Before we used fermented plants,
nowadays it's wine. We're paying the river. After this next turn where it bends,
it's the rapids. The river cuts
through the Megantoni region and the sacred Indian land of Machiguenga. The sanctuary of Megantoni
is a sacred place for us, it's where our ancestors
are resting in amongst the rocks. Under these rocks lies gas, the greatest threat
to the Indian way of life. The Peruvian state keeps granting mining
and hydrocarbon concessions, which only serves to destroy our ancestors
and the reserve at Megantoni. The exploitation of gas
began ten years ago, and as there were no roads, the equipment is brought in
by boat or helicopter. The Indians say the drilling
and gas works have damaged the ecosystem. Game and fish have virtually disappeared. There are always gas leaks
and the fish are affected. With all the trawlers and boats,
there's a lot of pollution. After eight hours,
the canoe ends its journey. This is the Curuguaty native community. Curuguaty means carpenter because before there used
to be carpenter birds here. The sacred bird has disappeared, another tune has replaced its song. We hunt and fish far less. We're losing the old traditions
and values. Just ten years ago, the Machiguenga Indians
survived as hunter-gatherers. Today they survive off
monthly state handouts. The village chief says civilization
has invaded the jungle. There's a gas well, here. Repsol pays compensation for its impact
on the people and on the river, and all the noise the helicopters make. They also give us some money
when they drill for gas and when they start exploiting it. We only get compensation
for the indirect effects and causes. That's about $75,000 a year per village. There was nothing before, nothing to eat. There were no shops, now there is one
and you can even listen to music. Everybody has a TV now, and most people have the same standards
of living as everyone else in the country. We all have food, ice cream,
and especially beer. There's always plenty of beer here. Beer is just one of the scourges
that's been inflicted on the Indians since gas exploration began. Wild animals have disappeared,
which has led to a winged mammal with a ferocious appetite
descending onto neighboring farms. There are a lot of bats. It's not like before,
there were hardly any. Now there are a lot, they injure the cows. There are an increasing number of them
and they suck their blood, and there's nothing we can do
as bats are nocturnal animals. He's over here, come and have a look. In fact, bats don't suck
their victims dry of blood, it's the infection their bite causes. That is the problem, and the farmers here rarely
have the necessary medicines. There are a lot of bites
and that's why it's bleeding so much. Between them, gas, subsidies, and alcohol are slowly destroying
the Machiguenga Indians. Other tribes face a similar fate. After two days behind the wheel, David
finally reaches the Indian reservation, where he has to drop off
the construction material and load up with a new cargo of wood. He's a native, he's a Chintuyas Indian. This is the village
they call the New Eden. This is the end of the road. From a distance, it might indeed resemble
a small piece of paradise. A closer inspection reveals the truth. The lumber arrives from several places,
it's shipped in by boat and then small trucks bring it here
so we can load up. -Hello, how's it going?
-I'm all right. David is six hours late
by the time he arrives, but no one is complaining,
and with good reason. I have no idea
when I'll be able to load up because the news is bad. There are a lot of trucks here now
and I'll just have to wait. I've been here almost three days waiting
for the freight for Cusco. Three days without work, and the only compensation for the drivers
is the shelter and somewhere to eat. Three months earlier, he was in the middle of the jungle
and had witnessed a rare scene. -Did you film this?
-Yes, with a small camera. It's incredible,
I can hardly believe it, but it's real. The Indians that are shouting
from the opposite bank of the river are Mashco-Piro
and their lifestyle has barely evolved. The law in Peru forbids any contact
with the tribe on the pain of prison. The Mashco-Piro are not immune
from the diseases of modern man, and a simple flu could devastate them. It's amazing in our day
and age to see people who live the same way
as primitive man, completely naked. [Foreign spoken audio] They have no contact with civilization. They only emerge out of necessity
if they need food or clothes. If they were happy
to be in the jungle, they wouldn't try and leave it. I think they want to be part of our world because their needs make them want
to get out and see the world. A world that is all too often limited
to the closest village, and what lies at the bottom of a bottle. I'm from the jungle. I'm now civilized, my friend. I live here, and I'm slowly dying here, because I have no land to go to. Four days later, David gets
his consignment of ten tons of wood. Each year, the Peruvian jungle is reduced
by some 1,500 square kilometers, the equivalent of two New Yorks,
and that figure is constantly increasing. I like the jungle,
the rivers and going fishing. I like being in the jungle. However, if nothing is done,
some experts predict there will no longer be any jungle
left by the year 2030. It's hard with an axe, it would have taken
two days to do this before. Now, with the modern equipment we have,
it's just two hours. It's nothing.
