After uniting the large metal gate that blocked our path, and travelling down a long beaten track which would have made even the most seasoned land rover enthusiast moist with excitement, we came to a few dilapidated cabins and an ancient petrol pump. Two sun-dried farm hands sat around fixing tools whilst drinking guarana juice (you’ll find it in Red Bull and the like). As we approached the shorter of the two sidled up to our 4×4. We greeted them as our Portuguese/Brazilian colleges began explaining our reasons for disturbing their morning break. They seemed fairly relaxed about our presence; the farm had long ceased to operate commercially and they were simply baby sitting it for the owners, who undoubtedly lived in Sao Paolo or somewhere else completely removed for the rainforest. We hopped back into the 4×4 with one of the farm hands who had agreed to show us the entrance to the old…