Thanks for following my adventures on this Blog post. I will be continuing my writing at www.paulnomad.com
Look forward to seeing you there!!
Paul Nomad - Intuitive Traveller
Paul Nomad is an Intuitive Traveller riding a BMW R1200GSA motorcycle around the world for a few years. Nothing is booked. Little is planned. Intuition guides the way.
Saturday, 16 April 2016
Friday, 17 April 2015
Venezuela Summary
I stayed a day to recover and prepare for my next
adventure – entering Brazil followed shortly after by Guyana. It was a fitting
finish to Venezuela and six weeks of what for me is Adventure Motorcycling
essence. Sure, I don’t do all the offroad riding many others do but Venezuela is
the road less travelled. I came and conquered it and let intuition guide the
way and guide me through.
From the moment I entered the country with the help
of Mario at the border and his selfless, generous hospitality with his family,
I’m forever grateful and we will remain great friends. The time with his family
and especially getting away to SocopĆ³ with his son Mario and meeting all the
great people there for the weekend. Merida, with your untamed mountains, a
friendly, beautiful city with some of the best food of my trip. Thanks to
Walter for your generous hospitality and time to take me to meet great people. The
Mucuchies region with the views and colourful hamlets nestled in the mountains
where I spent a night huddled around an open fire in a remote mountain hut. The
long plains heading east and the friendly, colourful and interesting Sucre
region bordered by the Caribbean. And finally down into Ciudad Bolivar and the
trips to Angel Falls, Canaima and Roraima.
Venezuela has captivated me with its diversity of
people, places and adventures and as I look at the map I have done a simple
line and missed so much of the country. A place to explore, for the traveller
with USD a bargain basement destination, a friendly place going through some
difficult times but with so much potential to bounce back. I never felt in
danger, I was never threatened nor even had rude words with anyone. It was a
great adventure that will stay fondly in my memory and my heart. I can speak now from
experience what I think Venezuela is like to visit and I say, what’s stopping
you?
Take a few precautions, know your limitations but get there and give the
people hope that they are not completely abandoned, that what you see on the
news is not a normal daily thing in the vast majority of the country. I nearly
didn’t come. It was only my intuition that screamed at me to turn around as I
approached Ecuador. I am so glad I did. Venezuela you did me proud!!
Venezuela Mt Roraima Part 2
The path led to a stream then immediately to the
orange scar that was dried mud with foot holes cut out of it. Not exactly
vertical but not far off, each step pushing us higher up the slope. It only
took fifteen minutes to reach the top of the visible scar and peer over the
camp that later will seem like a spec in the distance. The first obstacle
conquered, the path became slightly less vertical but more rocky and the
gravity started to feel heavy in the thighs and calves. It was fortunate that
Michael needed some help to keep going which helped also push myself on.
‘Come on Michael. Only ten metres more then there’s a
flat spot.’
‘I want to stop here, I’m tired, it’s too hard.’
‘Come on Michael’ came the encouraging voice of
Arturo, he and Liliana taking up the rear. Keep going, don’t stop yet, you can
do it.’
I kept up the encouragement from the front and we
managed to push Michael, and ourselves, to reach a good 100metres each stage
before stopping and catching out breath. The jungle closed in; towering wet
tropical rainforest, accustomed to being enshrined in low cloud, today reaching
up to a blue and sunny sky. The gnarly root systems entwined with the rocks,
threatening to twist and ankle at every step.
‘Ten metres more Michael.’
‘You told me that before, several times and I’m still
waiting for the flat spot!’
‘Just ahead Michael, just another 10 metres.’
In the last assault towards the rock I pulled ahead of the rest of my small group, feeling a bit dragged down by Michael’s pace and wanting to catch up with the stragglers from the rest of the group who left a few minutes before us. I reached the rock and found Antoine and Nausicaa finishing their rest before continuing on. I waited six or seven minutes for Michael and Arturo and by the time they arrived I was ready to move on. People from another group and some of the porters also arrived so I knew there was plenty of company for Michael, and I forged on. Downhill first for a bit clambering down large rocks but on a well worn path that was easy to follow. Soon ascending again, the rocky path hugged the immense cliff face above, surrounded by thinner jungle and a hotter sun.
The path came to another peak then down again into a
small valley that led to the final assault. In the distance I could see tiny
figures at various spots on the shaley ascent, passing through the waterfall
that once seemed so distant, was now part of the path. I climbed down to the
base of the ascent and started the careful step by step climb over rocks that
were wet but not slippery, some loose and some solid, passing under the chilly
water of the misty waterfall and letting the fresh liquid wash away the sweat
and drench my shirt from the outside. It was all about focus, one step at a
time, pushing aside my fear of heights as I climbed ever upward towards the top
of the path, the top of the ramp, the top of Mt Roraima.
The last push, void of trees, exposed to the hot sun, clambering over billion year old rocks, the body and mind focused on one thing and one thing only…reaching the top; and suddenly there it was!
The last push, void of trees, exposed to the hot sun, clambering over billion year old rocks, the body and mind focused on one thing and one thing only…reaching the top; and suddenly there it was!
The large black boulders and cliff edges with wind
weathered shapes like animal faces sitting teetering in impossible places
standing as sentinels to the plains now so far below.
Step by step the scene below had fallen further away and now some three or four hundred metres below was the second camp, a collective of dots, and stretching into the immense distance was a small narrow winding path leading back to the little basecamp village.
We could take time to enjoy the views from here as we waited for the last of our group, all of us buoyed by the magnificent views surrounding us.
Once all together and having lots of photos we walked to our cave that was to be home for the next two nights. A tall overhang facing the opposite direction to the travel of the ever-changing weather was assured to keep us dry.
The half hour walk took us through a new land, a black landscape peppered with small and large ponds, little clumps of green each a micro garden of a dozen species of ancient plants, insectivorous, ferns, basic daisies, lichens and mosses.
The occasional tiny orchid in yellow, red or orange, each little patch a complete world, a functioning ecosystem, a colony of codependent plants symbiotically surviving this harsh, wet environment, probably unchanged for millions of years.
The keen eye of Antoine picking up an ancient frog species that hadn't yet evolved enough to jump.
The black rocky outcrops, the moonscape, this was The Lost World made famous by the book of the same name in the 1930s, inspired by what lay before our eyes now.
Step by step the scene below had fallen further away and now some three or four hundred metres below was the second camp, a collective of dots, and stretching into the immense distance was a small narrow winding path leading back to the little basecamp village.
We could take time to enjoy the views from here as we waited for the last of our group, all of us buoyed by the magnificent views surrounding us.
Once all together and having lots of photos we walked to our cave that was to be home for the next two nights. A tall overhang facing the opposite direction to the travel of the ever-changing weather was assured to keep us dry.
The half hour walk took us through a new land, a black landscape peppered with small and large ponds, little clumps of green each a micro garden of a dozen species of ancient plants, insectivorous, ferns, basic daisies, lichens and mosses.
The occasional tiny orchid in yellow, red or orange, each little patch a complete world, a functioning ecosystem, a colony of codependent plants symbiotically surviving this harsh, wet environment, probably unchanged for millions of years.
The keen eye of Antoine picking up an ancient frog species that hadn't yet evolved enough to jump.
The black rocky outcrops, the moonscape, this was The Lost World made famous by the book of the same name in the 1930s, inspired by what lay before our eyes now.
A couple of others arrived with the tents and started erecting them in the narrow sandy space in front of the shelter, but the ground was not flat and with the thin mattresses several sleepless nights were assured for most. Almost arrogantly I visualized my 7cm mattress and new warm sleeping bag and dared not speak too loudly about how comfortable I would be for two nights.
We suddenly had a sense of the cold we were to expect during the night and this became the point of discussion. After a while the temperature started to rise and as if by the sweep of a magician’s cape, the cloud disappeared and the sun shone again, its white and yellow rays glistening rainbows in the pools as it started sinking in the west.
We all wandered off in various groups to discover more intimately the new world that we had become part of, the old world that has stood unchanged through a thousand generations of men, mountains that saw dinosaurs come and go, stood silently as the Andes rose from the plains to the west, from a time when Gondwanaland was still intact.
The cloud had different ideas about our photo opportunities, moving in quickly to obscure latter attempts.
Cliff edges, the so-called Jacuzzi, a string of jade-green coloured
pools where we swam; the crystal gardens and numerous other features.
We
covered some distance to see the changing landscape but the constant black
rock, small pools and bizarre wind-formed outcrops dominated.
It was a fun day
with three of the group opting for the much farther walk to the Triple Point,
where the countries of Argentina, Guyana and Brazil met at their lofty peak. We
had plenty of time just to look and take in the wonder of this place. Dinner
was an uninspiring rice with warm milk followed by another rough night for some
and a simple oatmeal breakfast, not an ideal preparation for the descent. Our
time here was up.
Despite the cloud moving in and out we had very little
rain and mostly clear views and as if scripted, before we started the descent
we were taken to another lookout point to see the majesty of the walls, the
distant undulating view shimmering under a perfectly blue sky.
We followed the same path down. The lack of rain had dried up the misty waterfall and the loose shaley stones were mostly dry. Although every step required utmost concentration and there was no illusion about the difficulty of the descent, this time we had gravity on our side.
The steep loose part was quickly covered and the rocky path started as the narrow track found its way first into the canopy and then into the thicker jungle. Motorcycle boots were not the best option for this but it was more effective than my sandals and easier than carrying them. If I brought them all this way I was going to wear them! However another critical thing is to make sure your toenails are trimmed. Although not long, I had a longish end to my left big toe nail and I remember the exact step where my foot slid forward in my boot and pushed the nail hard into my toe. This was gonna hurt!
We followed the same path down. The lack of rain had dried up the misty waterfall and the loose shaley stones were mostly dry. Although every step required utmost concentration and there was no illusion about the difficulty of the descent, this time we had gravity on our side.
The steep loose part was quickly covered and the rocky path started as the narrow track found its way first into the canopy and then into the thicker jungle. Motorcycle boots were not the best option for this but it was more effective than my sandals and easier than carrying them. If I brought them all this way I was going to wear them! However another critical thing is to make sure your toenails are trimmed. Although not long, I had a longish end to my left big toe nail and I remember the exact step where my foot slid forward in my boot and pushed the nail hard into my toe. This was gonna hurt!
The four hour ascent became a two hour descent and we
were back at second camp for lunch. Because it was faster we also had to complete
the nine kilometres back to the first camp. I took off my boot and my worst
suspicions were confirmed. My nail was already becoming black from the blood
underneath. I was going to lost the nail. The nine kilometres was agony as I
kicked the odd rock and slid my foot several times to the front of the boot
again, putting more pressure on the toe. The hot, troubled faces of the new
groups approaching second camp, left me with just a smile and a wave, knowing
that if today was hard for them, tomorrow would be another challenge. Slowly we picked
our way along the narrow rocky path, going ever down but at times steeper than
others and the forgotten ravines and small river crossings leaving a steep
uphill bank on the other side.
We hobbled in to the cheers of the rest of the group. A final meal and a final night in the tents, a large moon illuminating Roraima, now deep in the distance and not looking so large, marked the nearing of the end of the journey.
In bed soon after dark and up at first light, I found myself a new walking partner from another group, Keiko from Japan, a four-year travel veteran in her forty eighth country. We had a similar pace and lots to talk about so we walked out the twelve kilometres together, before farewelling at basecamp. She is heading north to Central America.
Our group all came in and soon after we bundled into the two 4wds and were driven back to a little town in the Gran Sabana where I had stopped for lunch a week ago.
We were delivered back to respective accommodations and some of us met up for pizza and beers later that night. I returned to my hostel just out of town, Los Pinos, and that was it. My adventure to Roraima all but over. Severe muscle soreness and a throbbing toe stark reminders every time I tried to walk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)