The Lost Steps

After a scary night in the jungle, the narrator feels victorious as he watches the sunrise. He thinks he has conquered his fear of the dark and the jungle and thus passed what he calls his “First Trial.” However, the sunrise is not as bright and beautiful as he expected, and it seems to mock his sense of triumph. He realizes that the ancient connection between humans and nature, where light meant safety from danger, has been lost.

As the group ventures deeper into the jungle, the narrator notices how the trees compete for light. Alligators blend in with the surroundings, and the vines look like snakes. It’s a world of illusions that challenges the narrator’s understanding of what’s real. The birds are the only ones that remain true to their vibrant colors. Even the clouds seem to add to the narrator’s growing cynicism and bitterness as he realizes that nature’s beauty is just mimicry.

During a midday break, as Yannes wanders off in search of diamonds, the group’s idle time sparks a discussion between Fray Pedro and the Adelantado, touching on the themes of greed and spiritual versus material values. The narrator attempts to ingratiate himself with Fray Pedro by agreeing with the friar’s criticism of greedy jewel hunters and corrupt urban clergy. However, Fray Pedro redirects the conversation to honor the sacrifice of martyred priests at the hands of Indigenous tribes.

Their journey resumes under growing tensions as the natural environment becomes increasingly menacing, culminating in a violent storm that tests their resilience and unity. In his fear, the narrator clings to Rosario for comfort, like a baby at his mother’s bosom, framing this intense experience as his “Second Trial.”

Waking from the storm’s aftermath in an Indigenous village, the narrator finds himself amidst the villagers’ daily routines. Observing their craftsmanship and connection to nature, he reflects on the false notions of “savagery” often attributed to such communities. Among them, he sees Rosario washing his clothes, her presence embodying an ancestral grace. Additionally, the village architecture, with its monumental structures and “Cyclopean stairways,” strikes him with awe, further dismantling his previous misconceptions about the simplicity of Indigenous life.

After the Adelantado eagerly shows the narrator the Indigenous musical instruments he was searching for, a sense of fulfillment washes over him, marking the successful end of his mission.

Fray Pedro prepares for a Mass in gratitude for surviving the storm. Despite the narrator’s initial skepticism, he’s drawn into the solemnity of the ceremony, especially when Fray Pedro emphasizes their shared fear during the storm.

The narrator draws parallels between the Mass he witnesses in the Indigenous village and the religious ceremonies of the conquistadors searching for El Dorado, feeling as though he has traveled back 400 years. He marvels at the thought that the essence of life around him is deeply medieval. This realization leads him to ponder the continuity of human experience, stretching from the medieval times of explorers through to the Paleolithic Age. He acknowledges the ancient wisdom of the Indigenous people, who possess skills and knowledge far beyond his own.

The narrator tells Rosario they’ll continue their journey for several more days to see the isolated Indigenous people that the Adelantado kept secret. Rosario agrees, showing she’s content as long as she’s with him. She calls herself “Your woman,” showing a deep connection to the narrator without concern for the past or formal titles.

They encounter a community living at the very edge of primitive existence, far removed from any semblance of the narrator’s concept of civilization. This group lives nomadically and shows no awareness of their nakedness. The narrator is struck by their appearance and way of life, finding it both horrifying and fascinating, especially when confronted with two elderly individuals who, to him, seem barely human.

Among these people, he observes a clay object representing the Mother, a primordial deity symbolizing the female principle foundational to all religions. In a ritual for a deceased hunter bitten by a snake, the shaman attempts to communicate with the spirits. This ceremony is marked by a mix of sounds that the narrator describes as between speech and music. The narrator believes he is witnessing the birth of music, an attempt not to mimic nature (as he previously thought) but to transcend death.

The group embarks on a journey through a rugged terrain filled with ancient rocks and plateaus. They’re confronted with majestic natural formations like massive cylinders, pyramids, and natural arches as they navigate the rivers and carry boats over land between cascades. The landscape feels like it’s from a time before humans ever existed, with only remnants of prehistoric life in the rivers, and the narrator feels as though he is trespassing in a sacred space, witnessing the essence of creation and the deep solitude of the universe.