Edge of the Wild: Walking from Kaieteur to Menzies Landing

A quiet trail across the plateau reveals strange plants, shifting landscapes, and one of the most remarkable carnivorous bromeliads on Earth — ending at the forest’s edge and the soft flow of the Potaro River.

From Airstrip to Rainforest Trail

Your journey begins on a gravel path near the Kaieteur National Park station, where the open plateau breathes under a wide sky. A short walk takes you across the airstrip — a ribbon of cleared land where small bush planes occasionally touch down, delivering the few visitors who reach this remote corner of the world.

From there, the trail turns. The trees close in. And the land begins to shift.

This is not a hike through endless forest. It’s a walk through transitions — a patchwork of ecosystems strung along the edge of a sandstone plateau. And each step brings something new into view.

Where the Bromeliads Rule: Brocchinia reducta

About halfway along the trail, the path skirts a clearing where dozens — maybe hundreds — of Brocchinia reducta plants rise from the rocky ground. These upright, pale-green funnels stand tall and silent, like sentinels watching over the plateau.

At first glance, they look like any other bromeliad. But Brocchinia reducta is anything but ordinary.

It is one of the few truly carnivorous bromeliads in the world.

Its central water-holding cup emits a faint sweet scent, attracting ants and small insects.
The inner walls are smooth and waxy, causing prey to slip and fall into the water.
Once trapped, the insects drown and decompose, releasing nutrients into the water.
The plant then absorbs these nutrients, supplementing what it cannot get from the poor soils of the plateau.

It’s a quiet, efficient predator — perfectly adapted to an environment where nitrogen is hard to come by. In the tough conditions of Kaieteur’s stone gardens, Brocchinia doesn’t just survive. It eats.

A Walk Through Shrubland and Memory

Soon the trail crosses an area of low, scattered vegetation — the site of an old airstrip, long since overtaken by shrubs and grasses. Here, the land is more open, and the soil is shallow. It’s a reminder that even light human impact can leave a mark — but also that nature is patient, and always returning.

In this transitional zone, you may hear the sharp buzz of insects, the soft flutter of butterflies, or the high-pitched call of a small bird hidden in the brush. It’s a place between places — neither fully wild, nor fully tamed.

Into the Forest, Toward the River

The trail narrows again, slipping beneath a green canopy where vines stretch across the path and orchids cling to tree trunks. The air is cooler here, and wetter. You walk on damp earth now, and the trees rise higher with each step.

Then, almost suddenly, the forest opens once more — and you arrive at the sleepy clearing of Menzies Landing.

There’s a shelter here. A few signs of human presence. And just beyond, the Potaro River slides silently by, its waters dark and slow, curling through the jungle like a ribbon of memory.

You are now 5.4 kilometres upriver from Kaieteur Falls — far enough to leave the roar behind, but close enough that the air still tastes of mist.

A Living Edge: What This Trail Reveals

This short journey — less than six kilometres — passes through a surprising range of habitats:

Open stone slab, with its carnivorous bromeliads and glistening moss
Shrubland and recovering ground, where the old airstrip fades into green
Lowland rainforest, filled with sound and scent
And finally, riverside forest, soft and quiet, at the edge of everything

Each zone reveals the resilience and inventiveness of life on the plateau — from plants that trap their meals to forests that reclaim old scars.

Final Reflection: Quiet at the Edge

Menzies Landing is not dramatic. It is not loud. But in that silence — broken only by insects and river sound — you can feel the wildness differently.

The falls are far now. The thunder is gone. But the life that surrounds Kaieteur is still here — in every leaf, every drop of river water, every funnel-shaped plant waiting patiently for a meal.

This is the edge of the wild. And like all edges, it holds more than you expect.