of the sparkling Paikwa River twisted northward,
growing turbid as it passed through the scars of
the encroaching mines, which every year draw a
little bit closer to this Shangri-la of biodiversity.
As I turned to begin packing up for the long
trek back out of the jungle, Edward pulled me
aside. From an inside pocket he produced a
small plastic vial holding a pea-size raw dia-
mond. Now that our expedition was over, he was
hoping I might buy it from him. Holding that
tiny stone between my fingers, I thought about
all the pork-knockers who wanted to dig mines
to pull these out of the ground and all the money
they could provide to their families. I marveled
at how such a small rock could threaten some-
thing as ancient and primordial as the Paikwa
River Basin and the tepuis that surround it. And
I thought about how my old friend would prob-
ably never see this place again—and about the
new species that he now carried in the water-
proof bag between his feet.
If the tepui gods were smiling, maybe one of
these creatures might prove so rare and singular
that the world would finally realize what Bruce
Means has known all along: The real treasures
of El Dorado aren’t gold and diamonds—they’re
the plants and animals that call this magical
place home. jWriter Mark Synnott and photographer Renan
Ozturk last teamed up to search for George
Mallory’s lost camera on Mount Everest. Their
story appeared in the July 2020 issue.UP THE MOUNTAIN, TO A WORLD APART 71