Angel Falls, Venezuela

Angel Falls (Venezuela, January, 1997)




Saturday, January 11, 1997.

I am in the Hotel Colonial, in Ciudad Bolívar, Venuzuela. Today was a fine day. I got up early and got to the airport about 7:30. I flew (Rutaca, $40 one way) to Canaima in a 5-seat plane. The scenery was superb, and the flight (about 45 minutes) a delight.

Once in Canaima, I hung around trying to get a plane to Salto Angel. I finally got the Rutaca pilot to agree to take me to Kavac, via the Falls. (He was waiting there for 5 other passengers.)

The flight was absolutely spectacular. The tepuis, huge purple mesas, rise from the green forest into the clouds. Angel Falls is a narrow stream flowing down the side of Auantepui, and it is the highest waterfall in the world. Perhaps even more spectacular than the falls themselves is the surrounding area, where vastness and remoteness produce an impression of otherworldliness. How Jimmy Angel ever got off Auyantepui is hardc to fathom.

The pilot put down in Kavac, a small encampment of thatched huts. I walked short way to a nearby waterfall and enjoyed the beauty of the tepuis surrounding the camp.

I spent an hour or so drinking warm beer with some Indians. I got on the short wave that they had in their hut and demanded some cold beer. In response, a static-filled voice responded, “cállate.”

We then flew back to Canaima. The pilot lugged out two cans of fuel, filled the plane’s tank, and we were back to Ciudad Bolívar. The flight was breathtaking. The word “vast” kept popping into my head: vast green expanses with absolutely nothing in them.

The day cost $160. The pilot pocketed both fares. To say that the plane operation was “relaxed” is grossly to abuse language. I got overcharged, but I’d do it again, and just the same way.

The camp at Canaima is very touristy: the tour-group infestation has hit here in a big way

Sunday, January 12.

Ciudad Bolivar. I got up at 7:30 and took a por puesto to the Bus Terminal, in order to find the schedule of buses to Puerto Ayacucho. Then I ran (1 ½ hours) to the Puente de Angostura, where I was turned back at a military checkpoint for lack of a tee-shirt.

I walked through town along the Paseo del Orinoco, which is extremely pleasant. The view of the bridge in the distance is very fine.

Being Sunday, the town is pretty much shut down and tranquil. I went to the Tasca La Playa and had sierra al ajillo, which was excellent. It was an agreeable bar, with everyone watching soccer on T.V. The fish, with rice and 4 beers, came to $5.oo.

Venezuela is a cheap country to travel in. Things are relatively disorganized. Several people mentioned that there are virtually no Venezuelan hotel owners. Everything is in the hands of foreigners. (One person told me, “Somos muy flojos.”)



Monday, January 13.

I ran for about 45 minutes along the river and got to the bus station in time to get the 8:00 bus to Puerto Ayachuo (10 hrs, $10). The ride was a bit unpleasant at first, since I was seated in the very back, cramped up alongside 4 Italians, with the heat from the motor coming up on me. The road was very poor, and the bus was old a rickety. Later I moved up front, and things improved. We had a military check as we got to the entrance of Puerto Ayachuco.

I got a room at the Hotel Orinoco ($11), and went out to eat at “El Fogon.” The owner was warm and friendly, and I enjoyed playing with his daughters (1 and six). I was joined by three very pleasant guys who informed me that the fish I was eating (pigon?) was illegal. Even if I had wanted to be politically correct, I’d already eaten most of it. Besides, it was delicious. (One of my companions politely informed me that it was O.K. to eat it with my fingers.)

I had several Polars at the nearby cantina/pool hall, and I turned in early.

Tuesday, January 14

Puerto Ayacuho. I got up early and ran out to the airport (about 45 minutes) to check the flights out. There was only one. After breakfast (rice and beans, $1.50), I went back to the airport and took the 1:00 flight back to Caracas, stopping at San Fermando de Apure)($62). Then I got a Laser Air flight—a very good plane—to Polamar, Margarhita ($110 roundtrip). I checked back into the Hotel Eden, and I was eating pizza and beer at Guaicari by 7:30. I had been a great little trip.

Wednesday, January 15.

Margarita.

I ran to the Mirador Constanza and back (1 hour). I met Tony and his Aunt Pilar at Enrique’s, and I spent an hour with them until they had to leave for the airport.

Late in the afternoon, Victoria Ames showed up at my hotel, along with her brother Tim, an unpromising blighter whose cockney accent I found virtually unintelligible. (Victoria will be going to Madrid to study.) I took them out to eat at Guaicari. Vicente, the barman, was pleased.

Thursday, January 16.

Ran to Isla Bonita and back (1:40).

Friday, January 17.

Juangriego (1:55).

Saturday, January 18.

Ran to Constanza (1 hr.).

Sunday, January 19.

Ran for about 30 minutes. I felt tired and unenthusiastic. It rained most of the dasy. I said goodbye to everyone at Mari’s and Guaicari.