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Eldorado or bust: How thousands of hopefuls have flocked to the Amazon rainforest to make their fortune
By Susan Schulman
Published: 01 September 2007
Buried deep in Brazil's Amazon rainforest, in the state of Amazonas, is what has been dubbed Eldorado do Juma, the site of Brazil's biggest gold rush in decades. As always with gold rushes, word of mouth has drawn people in. But here, for the first time in history, the word has spread on the internet. The mine was started in mid-2006, but it exploded in size after a schoolteacher-turned-miner posted his findings – and since December, between 3,000 and 10,000 hopeful people have joined him.
The jumping-off point for the mine is the small town of Apui in the southern Amazon. This is ranch land, where men on horseback herd beef cattle on ranches that can extend over more than 250 square miles. The gold rush has added considerably to the town's fortunes. Apui is crowded with gold-buying shops; in fact, all of its shops now seem to cater for the ubiquitous miners – selling hammocks, spades, gold pans and other essentials. Few opportunities are missed, and even transport to the mine is organised. Local drivers run trucks and taxis on the two-hour, 45-mile journey on the rutted red-dirt road to the edge of the Rio Juma, at a cost of about 20 reals (£5). From the edge of the river, boats line up, taking miners and boatloads of provisions the final 30 minutes up the river to the mine. The total cost of the journey from Apui is about 40 reals (£10); roughly the equivalent of a day's findings, about 1 gram of gold.
To get to Apui, which lies on the so-called Trans-Amazonian Highway, most people take the bus. The 450-mile journey from Porto Velho takes the skilled drivers 18 hours over the mud road, washed out in places. Alternatively, Apui Aero Taxi does the 90-minute flight from Manaus for 455 reals (£115), one-way, a fare boosted to exploit the demand of the gold rush.
As the boats make their way upriver, the first hint of the mine is the sight of plastic rubbish bags hung as canopies on twigs, under which hammocks are slung. Stepping off the boat, a mud area, cleared of forest, extends back from the water, its paths lined with makeshift bars, shops and gold buyers in a latterday incarnation of the Wild West. Bottles of 51, Brazil's biggest-selling brand of cachaça (a sugar-cane-based spirit), are everywhere. It's said that the miners spend most of their findings, on a normal day, on cachaça and prostitutes.
A 15-minute walk through rough, muddy terrain brings you to the start of the first mining area. Continuing into the forest, the scar of cleared land extends unbroken for miles, the earth varying in colour between gold, red and grey. In places the mines reach a depth of 30m.
Some two miles away, I reached the Grotta Rica – the Rich Mine. It's hard to imagine that a few short months ago this whole area was pristine, virgin forest. Now it's devoid of trees, with huge roots and trunks littering the muddy ground, a massive chasm and wasteland filled with deafening 24-hour blasting, gold-washing and panning. This pattern continues ever further down the forest. I was guided another mile beyond the Grotta Rica, to where the scar is narrower, but in the process of being extended, the sheared walls of the earth exposed under the still intact forest.
It's unclear how many people are working at the mine today: current estimates vary between 2,000 and 4,000. It is clear, however, that illness has arrived at Eldorado do Juma. When I was there, a stomach ailment, undoubtedly a result of the total lack of sanitation, was pushing the hospital in Apui to breaking point.
There are all kinds of people at the mine, of all ages. Some are career miners who have gone from mine to mine over the years. There are others, however, who dropped everything after seeing a Globo TV broadcast about the mine on Brazilian television. Manuel is an example. He left his office job to sling his hammock at Juma. Some of the miners are wary of talking – they do not want another report that brings people, and will say there is not much gold left here. Others are less cagey and tell a different story. Nineteen-year-old Lucas, from the state of Maranhao, told me there was a lot of gold, kilos of it. He had seen a kilo himself.
There are women here, too. One woman miner I spoke to echoed a commonly heard theme about adventure and freedom. In her forties, she was single and preferred it that way. Panning day after day on her own, she loved the life. There were also those miners who asked not to be photographed. They – for whatever reason – didn't want to be found.
kenb
By Susan Schulman
Published: 01 September 2007
Buried deep in Brazil's Amazon rainforest, in the state of Amazonas, is what has been dubbed Eldorado do Juma, the site of Brazil's biggest gold rush in decades. As always with gold rushes, word of mouth has drawn people in. But here, for the first time in history, the word has spread on the internet. The mine was started in mid-2006, but it exploded in size after a schoolteacher-turned-miner posted his findings – and since December, between 3,000 and 10,000 hopeful people have joined him.
The jumping-off point for the mine is the small town of Apui in the southern Amazon. This is ranch land, where men on horseback herd beef cattle on ranches that can extend over more than 250 square miles. The gold rush has added considerably to the town's fortunes. Apui is crowded with gold-buying shops; in fact, all of its shops now seem to cater for the ubiquitous miners – selling hammocks, spades, gold pans and other essentials. Few opportunities are missed, and even transport to the mine is organised. Local drivers run trucks and taxis on the two-hour, 45-mile journey on the rutted red-dirt road to the edge of the Rio Juma, at a cost of about 20 reals (£5). From the edge of the river, boats line up, taking miners and boatloads of provisions the final 30 minutes up the river to the mine. The total cost of the journey from Apui is about 40 reals (£10); roughly the equivalent of a day's findings, about 1 gram of gold.
To get to Apui, which lies on the so-called Trans-Amazonian Highway, most people take the bus. The 450-mile journey from Porto Velho takes the skilled drivers 18 hours over the mud road, washed out in places. Alternatively, Apui Aero Taxi does the 90-minute flight from Manaus for 455 reals (£115), one-way, a fare boosted to exploit the demand of the gold rush.
As the boats make their way upriver, the first hint of the mine is the sight of plastic rubbish bags hung as canopies on twigs, under which hammocks are slung. Stepping off the boat, a mud area, cleared of forest, extends back from the water, its paths lined with makeshift bars, shops and gold buyers in a latterday incarnation of the Wild West. Bottles of 51, Brazil's biggest-selling brand of cachaça (a sugar-cane-based spirit), are everywhere. It's said that the miners spend most of their findings, on a normal day, on cachaça and prostitutes.
A 15-minute walk through rough, muddy terrain brings you to the start of the first mining area. Continuing into the forest, the scar of cleared land extends unbroken for miles, the earth varying in colour between gold, red and grey. In places the mines reach a depth of 30m.
Some two miles away, I reached the Grotta Rica – the Rich Mine. It's hard to imagine that a few short months ago this whole area was pristine, virgin forest. Now it's devoid of trees, with huge roots and trunks littering the muddy ground, a massive chasm and wasteland filled with deafening 24-hour blasting, gold-washing and panning. This pattern continues ever further down the forest. I was guided another mile beyond the Grotta Rica, to where the scar is narrower, but in the process of being extended, the sheared walls of the earth exposed under the still intact forest.
It's unclear how many people are working at the mine today: current estimates vary between 2,000 and 4,000. It is clear, however, that illness has arrived at Eldorado do Juma. When I was there, a stomach ailment, undoubtedly a result of the total lack of sanitation, was pushing the hospital in Apui to breaking point.
There are all kinds of people at the mine, of all ages. Some are career miners who have gone from mine to mine over the years. There are others, however, who dropped everything after seeing a Globo TV broadcast about the mine on Brazilian television. Manuel is an example. He left his office job to sling his hammock at Juma. Some of the miners are wary of talking – they do not want another report that brings people, and will say there is not much gold left here. Others are less cagey and tell a different story. Nineteen-year-old Lucas, from the state of Maranhao, told me there was a lot of gold, kilos of it. He had seen a kilo himself.
There are women here, too. One woman miner I spoke to echoed a commonly heard theme about adventure and freedom. In her forties, she was single and preferred it that way. Panning day after day on her own, she loved the life. There were also those miners who asked not to be photographed. They – for whatever reason – didn't want to be found.
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