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This time Marcus and I devoured it hungrily. For second helpings Karl pulled out the monkey’s tail and cut it into pieces. Marcus and I declined, but Kevin and Karl munched around the tail the way you would corn on the cob, leaving only the bare, white cartilage.

We sat a little longer studying the map.

‘We have to keep travelling down the Cocus to here,’ Karl said, pointing. ‘Then we’ll cross back over the mountains and come down to the Colorado-Chico. I’ve been told that there’s a lot of gold to be found in that river,’ he added. ‘If we find any traces, maybe we’ll change plans and set up camp there instead of Curiplaya. I think we should be able to pan a good few hundred dollars’ worth.’

Kevin and Marcus weren’t particularly impressed. They didn’t really take him seriously, but I was intoxicated by Karl’s enthusiasm and wanted to believe that we might go home rich.

After a few more hours’ walking over rugged terrain, we set up camp. Karl added the last of the monkey meat to the rice soup. He broke open the shrivelled skull and tossed in the brains. Marcus was absolutely disgusted and wouldn’t take a bite of the soup. I was reluctant at first but overcame my aversion and dug in with the others.

Another day of arduous walking in the river, the fifth since we had left Asriamas. According to Karl, this was the day we would find that Indian village.