Chalalán, located in the Amazon, is Bolivia's first eco-tourist venture run by an indigenous group, the Quechua-Tacana community of San José de Uchupiamonas.

The world’s largest rodent, the capybara, is within my reach. The snout-faced animal, the size of a pig, perches on the banks of the Tuichi River in Bolivia’s Amazon basin.

“They are very timid,” says my guide Alejandro from Chalalán Lodge. “Many people in the jungle have them as pets.”

We’re on a four-hour river ride, having left early this morning from the market town of Rurrenabaque, a short plane ride north from the capital of La Paz.

Chalalán is Bolivia’s first eco-tourist venture run by an indigenous group, the Quechua-Tacana community of San José de Uchupiamonas. Chalalán provides employment for 20 members of the 600-member community. It also funds schooling for the children and for a doctor to visit the village.

Porters await on the shore when we arrive. They carry our backpacks, we follow them towards the lodge. It’s not long before Alejandro motions us to leave the trail. He points up. It’s an orange howler monkey, which emits a raucous, ghostly wail. Several other howlers pranced across the thicket, making noises like Halloween in hell.

When we reach the lodge, a smiling woman brings a tray of tall glasses of a lime-colored liquid, a jungle fruit drink that tastes like grapefruit and lychee.

Afterwards, we are shown to our quarters - one of three adjoining cabins on stilts.

The inside is spare but comfortable with single beds and a huge mosquito net draped over each. We’re told to leave our shoes outside and to always keep the net tucked into the bed.

EVERYTHING IS CONSTRUCTED WITH INDIGENOUS MATERIALS

The cabins, which can sleep up to 24 guests, are made with termite-resistant wood and topped by water-resistant jatata fronds. Everything has been built with indigenous materials. All wastewater is treated and solar energy is used to generate some of the power.

The notion of eco-tourism was hatched in the early nineties when villagers earned a living by harvesting mahogany from the surrounding forests. Community leaders worried about the disappearing natural resource and scrambled to find other means of making money.

At the time, the region was not protected (it became Madidi National Park in 1995 and no logging is allowed within its two million hectares). The village approached a Washington-based development group, Conservation International (CI), to help them secure funding for a lodge. Chalalán opened in 1998 with 200 guests. That number has now ballooned to 1,100 yearly.

Most of the guests are from the U.S., Canada, England and Australia. Actor Harrison Ford, Prince Joachim of Denmark and several foreign ambassadors have also visited.

“We want this project to show (the banks) they can fund other projects so our people can sustain themselves,” says Alejandro on one of our hikes.

Each trail goes through a different habitat. They are named after animals: jaguar, toucan, paraba, tapacare and silbador.

KISSING FLOWERS AND WALKING TREES

It’s a casual atmosphere and the food is scrumptious. One night, we have a savoury meal of fried rice with bits of pork, peas and deep fried onions. Another night, it’s roasted chicken with sweet potato fries.

The park is home to more than 1,000 species of birds and numerous plant life.

On our trail adventures, we discover a myriad of plant life with names like the kissing flower (petals resembling lips) and the “walking tree” – its roots seek out the sun, causing the tree to “move.” Alejandro teaches us about the medicinal value of various plants. We also do a night walk and encounter bright, orange slugs and giant spiders spinning silk webs.

On our last night Alejandro takes us for a canoe ride on the lake where more than 60 caiman lurk. Caiman are a species of crocodile. Alejandro assures us they don’t attack humans. We spot one - its eyes, laser red in the dark - only a few feet away. The caiman is about 10 feet-long, it lies motionless while we train our flashlights on it. It abruptly turns around and glides over to our canoe.

"Don’t make a sound,” cautions Alejandro. I thought he said they never attacked? I am rigid with fear. It slithers next to the canoe and away. We paddle back to shore.

The next day, we say our good-byes in Rurrenabaque. As the plane lifts us away from the jungle, I feel an overwhelming desire to return -- to see how the village evolves.