Imagine a waterfall so powerful that its roar could be heard more than thirty kilometers away, and whose flow more than doubled that of Niagara. It existed, and not so long ago: until 1982, on the border between Paraguay and Brazil, the Paraná River plunged over the Saltos del Guairá —known in Brazil as Sete Quedas, the 'Seven Falls'—, one of the most colossal natural spectacles South America ever had. Today, where all that water roared, there is silence and a still lake. This is the story of the wonder that the twentieth century erased from the map.
The most extraordinary thing about the Saltos del Guairá was their flow. It's estimated they discharged about 49 million liters of water per second through 18 falls grouped in seven great drops —hence the Portuguese name Sete Quedas—, with the largest around 40 meters high. For that volume they were considered the mightiest falls in the world, with more than double the flow of Niagara and far above the famous Iguazú Falls. The force of the water, the permanent mist that rose from the gorges and the continuous roar formed an overwhelming landscape that left speechless all who saw it.
For centuries, these falls were a geographical landmark of the region, known by the Guaraní peoples —from whose language the name 'Guairá' comes— and, later, by explorers, travelers and naturalists. They were a reference point in the course of the great Paraná River and a natural emblem of this area of the heart of South America. The Austrian writer Stefan Zweig, who visited them in the 1930s, was dazzled by their magnitude, and during the twentieth century the site became a tourist destination that drew visitors from all over the continent.
The name 'Guairá' has Guaraní roots and is deeply tied to the history of the region. This whole eastern area, on the upper course of the Paraná, was the territory of Guaraní-speaking peoples long before the arrival of the Europeans. For them, the great river and its falls were an essential part of the landscape, the mythology and daily life.
In colonial times, the Guairá region acquired historical relevance: here the Jesuits founded, in the early seventeenth century, a set of reductions (the 'Guairá missions'), which gathered Guaraní populations. These missions, however, were ravaged by the incursions of the Paulista bandeirantes who came from Brazil in search of indigenous people to enslave, which forced a dramatic exodus of the Guaraní and the Jesuits to the south. Thus, the name Guairá became associated both with the geography of the falls and with that tragic chapter of the history of the missions.
The place name survived the passage of the centuries and the disappearance of the falls itself: today it's preserved by the Paraguayan city of Salto del Guairá, in the department of Canindeyú, and the Brazilian city of Guaíra, one across from the other on the shore of the reservoir. The name is, in a way, the living memory of a landscape and a history that the waters could not entirely erase.
The fate of the Saltos del Guairá was sealed with the decision of Paraguay and Brazil to build the binational Itaipú hydroelectric dam on the Paraná River. The agreement between the two countries was signed in 1973 (Itaipú Treaty) and the works advanced through the decade. The dam, which would be one of the largest in the world, required forming an enormous reservoir upstream to feed its turbines, and that reservoir would reach precisely the area where the falls were.
The end came in October 1982. On October 13, 1982, with the Itaipú gates closed, the reservoir waters began to rise, and in barely fourteen days they completely covered the falls. In a little over two weeks, one of the mightiest natural spectacles on the planet —the one that had amazed for centuries— was buried under the great artificial lake. In the preceding months, thousands of people made pilgrimages to say goodbye to the falls; it's estimated that in the last days alone tens of thousands of visitors reached the site, and a tragedy marred that farewell when a suspension bridge opened for the tourists collapsed, causing deaths.
The flooding of the falls generated deep debate and much grief, especially on the Brazilian side, where the site had been protected as a national park (the Sete Quedas National Park, created in 1961). There were protests, campaigns to save the falls and desperate attempts at a mass farewell to the place. The case remained one of the most-cited examples of the tension between energy development and the conservation of natural heritage in South America, and even today, in Paraguay, there are those who demand compensation for the loss of that unique heritage.
After the disappearance of the falls, the name and memory of the place became embodied in the city of Salto del Guairá, capital of the department of Canindeyú, at the far east of Paraguay. Overlooking the Itaipú reservoir and situated right on the border with Brazil, facing the Brazilian town of Guaíra, the city carries in its very name the memory of the lost falls.
Salto del Guairá developed as an active border commercial center and as the administrative head of Canindeyú. Its daily life revolves around trade with Brazil, the agricultural activity of the region and its condition as a border city. The reservoir, which covers the site of the falls, is today part of its landscape and its economy, with navigation, fishing and resorts.
For the visitor, the city serves as a gateway to a singular place of memory: the site where nature offered one of its most colossal wonders and where progress made it disappear. Getting to know Salto del Guairá is, to a large extent, remembering what was there and reflecting on what its loss meant, facing the calm waters that today occupy the place of the old roar.
The story of the Saltos del Guairá transcends the geographical fact to become a symbol. Their disappearance is one of the most-cited cases when reflecting on the environmental cost of great infrastructure works and on the tension between development —in this case, the generation of clean and abundant energy from Itaipú— and the conservation of irreplaceable natural heritage.
For many, the loss of what were considered the mightiest falls in the world was a sacrifice hard to justify; for others, the inevitable price of a work that transformed the economy of Paraguay and Brazil. That debate is still alive and is part of the region's environmental consciousness, feeding the reflection on how to balance progress and nature in the future.
In tourist terms, the area today offers a 'memory tourism': you don't visit the falls —because they no longer exist— but the place where they were, the reservoir that covers them and the city that keeps their name. To this are added the attractions of the eastern Paraguay circuit (Itaipú, Ciudad del Este, the Monday Falls, the Iguazú Falls). Visiting Saltos del Guairá is, thus, an exercise in memory and reflection facing a landscape that the twentieth century transformed forever.