Roderick Phillips's Blog, page 22

Merry Christmas everyone! Day 150

Merry Christmas everyone! Time to kick back, relax, and enjoy time with the family.  Time to eat too much and drink to excess.  Time to exchange presents and have a kiss or two under the mistletoe.  To tell you the truth after 5 months on the road and a tiring 6-day trip to the summit of Roraima and back, the only Christmas present that Christi and I are looking forward to sharing is that of doing nothing for one whole day.  I don’t know who put this blistering schedule together (Christi just reminded me that I am the one who organized our itinerary so I have no one to blame but myself.  And in case I don’t blame myself, Christi most assuredly does!), but tomorrow we move on yet again. Assuming we can get bus tickets.

In the meantime Ya-Koo may be eco-friendly, but the management does not extend the same courtesy to its paying customers.  It’s Christmas morning, our bodies are very fatigued after hiking Roraima and breakfast is only available from 7-8 am for goodness sake, so we’re up early despite our weariness.  In addition, Ya-Koo does not offer lunch, but it’s Christmas Day and we’re miles from town so we literally have to beg the management for some munchies.  To add insult to injury the hotel staff are having a Christmas lunch and playing secret Santa and generally having the time of their lives.  Bastards.  I beg the management to let Christi and I sneak a few mouthfuls of food.  The phrase (from Oliver Twist) ‘Please, sir, I want some more,’ springs to mind. We don’t get any presents, though.  So sad.

 Having satisfied our hunger pangs as best we can, Christi and I mix the day up with reading, updating our diaries with tales from Roraima, and editing the photos we took on the trek.  Of course we cannot truly experience Christmas in South America without at least trying to sing Feliz Navidad.  We’re much better with the English bits!  Dinner (yay!) is a rather tasty chicken casserole and later we watch a PBS DVD on Roraima and Angel Falls.  Angel Falls is our next adventure – also organized by New Frontiers Adventure who have still to be paid for the Roraima trip!  But first we have to escape the seductive clutches of Ya-Koo’s comfortable bed and Santa Elena de Uairen’s laid back vibe. 

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride

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Gran Sabana, Venezuela, Day 149

 

The Gran Sabana, part of Canaima National Park, includes some of the most unusual landscapes in the world, with rivers, waterfalls and gorges, deep and vast valleys, impenetrable jungles and savannahs that host large numbers and varieties of plant species, a diverse fauna and, of course, the tepuis.  And it these features that Christi and I have marvelled at over the last week or so.  Today is the last day of our Roraima trek in the wonderful surroundings of the Gran Sabana.  That is not necessarily a bad thing because tomorrow is Christmas and Christi and I are very much looking forward to a soft bed and, luxury of luxuries, a sit-down toilet.

A party atmosphere descended on the campsite last night – excitement that the hardest part of the hike was over and anticipation at the rapidly approaching festivities.  The noise outside our tent plus the very real prospect of financial issues around payment for Roraima and Angel Falls keep me awake longer than normal.  I awake early still and after a last breakfast begin hiking at 7:15am.  It is the hottest day we have had.  The hiking, through undulating savanna, is not overly demanding (just as well because our legs are seizing up) and there is virtually no one else on the trail this early either from Tek River or Paraitepui.  Life is grand in the Gran Sabana.  Ricardo catches up with us at appropriate moments, but generally lets us plod along in splendid isolation.  He’s like a caring parent giving us just enough freedom so that we don’t get into trouble! The last mile is more demanding than Christi and I remembered, but we finally make it back to Paraitepui and the trail head or in our case the trail finish.

We are surprised to see Keith and Dan there when we cross the finish line.  Due to their demanding schedule they returned to Paraitepui last night (i.e. all the way from the summit of Roraima to the trailhead).  They actually enjoyed dinner with us at Tek River and then hiked by headlamp and moonlight back to Paraitepui, arriving around 11 pm.   Frustratingly for Keith and Dan, Miraye has yet to appear with the bikes and food they will need for the next segment of their fantastic journey.  Christi and I are just pleased to have finished and are looking forward to a relaxing few days in luxury accommodation (fingers crossed).  The news from Miraye is mixed:  New Frontiers Adventures have still not been paid yet for the hike (expletive, expletive), while onward bus tickets to Porto Ordaz for December 26th are not on sale yet – and today is December 24th.  Our luxury accommodation at Ya-Koo is confirmed, however.  Our last act before returning to Santa Elena de Uairen is to dole out the tips.  We give Ricardo US$40 and the same again for the porters.  It is money we can ill afford, but money they deserve, although may be they were expecting more since no one smiles or says gracias.

The Ya-koo resort is rustic and purports to be eco-aware in practice this means no Internet, no in-room TV, no lunch (although breakfast and dinner is included in the US$120 rate), variable hot water and an inconvenient distance from town.  It does offer a laundry service and blissfully, a real toilet.  We enjoy getting cleaned up and equally their Christmas Eve dinner – a sumptuous roast pork dish.  A perfect way to end our fantastic experience on Roraima (I’ve forgotten the rain already).

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart, a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching story

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Roraima escarpment, Venezuela, Day 148

Before our brief visit to the Lost World comes to an end and the long slog back to civilization begins, we make an early morning visit to a few of the more interesting formations on the summit of Roraima, including the colored Jacuzzi pools (the pigment is derived from decaying plants) and the Car for great views of the escarpment.  At least the views are great until cloud, mist, and eventually rain billow across this unique, pristine landscape, creating a potentially deadly whiteout.  Fortunately guide extrordinaire, Ricardo, gets us all safely back to our hotel, where the porters continue to do an amazing job providing us with tasty, filling meals under the most challenging of circumstances.

A subplot to our own adventures on the Roraima escarpment is a stranded Canadian woman, aged 66, who took 12+ hours to do the final ascent but has no hope of making it back down again.  She is waiting to be rescued by helicopter from Santa Elena and for the last few days has had no shelter (not even a tent) and food only courtesy of our expedition.  The helicopter finally shows up this morning and whisks her away to civilization.  Her 30-minute ride costs US$1500. 

With that excitement over (together with an earlier coati sighting) we leave the ancient escarpment of Roraima and slowly, very deliberately, and safely return to base camp (4 hours) in time for a late lunch.  Aside from the odd sprinkle the weather is kind.  Meet several groups rushing to spend Christmas on the summit of Roraima – good luck to them.  Later, we retrace our 10-km trek back to Tek River.  There are no swollen watercourses to negotiate this time, thank goodness, merely stepping-stones across the placid Kukenan River.  Both Christi and I are relieved to have the most arduous part of the journey behind us now. 

Our reward for (almost) surviving yet another crazy adventure is a bath in the bracing (i.e. freezing) and refreshing waters of Rio Tek.  It does feel good to be clean, even though we have no clean clothes to change into.  One other point I’d like to add is that Christi and I are the fittest and healthiest we have ever been – and we’ve lost weight.  Traveling is such a healthy pastime!

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart, a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride

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Roraima trek, Venezuela, Day 147

Sleeping on rock is no more comfortable than the dirt of the last few nights.  We have had no opportunity to wash our bodies, which are now rife with sweat, dirt, sunblock, and Deet.  And no organic matter including human waste can be left on Roraima, hence one has to evacuate into a bag, which is then carried down the mountain again – by someone other than me, thank god!  Perhaps for these reasons Christi elects not to go exploring today, preferring to relax and read at our hotel. 

Even the gung-ho Keith and Dan prefer an easy day, so the 8-hr round-trip visit the Triple border marker is aborted in favor of a more relaxing hike to the Guacharos crevice on the south wall of Roraima.  The area is home to a colony of oilbirds.  Ricardo begins the hike like a man possessed and Keith, Dan, and I struggle to keep up.  We splash through surface water, walk over jagged sandstone outcrops, jump from boulder to boulder, and make our way between the maze of labyrinthine formations that dominate the endless bleak landscape.  Many of the colorful flowers on the summit are actually carnivorous, trapping insects to supplement the meager nutrients available on Roraima.  Ricardo does not dawdle, however, and while I stop to photograph the stunning vistas or beautiful flowers he and the others continue hiking and soon disappear from view.  The beauty of Roraima would quickly change into a menacing environment without a trained guide like Ricardo.  I temper my photographic ambitions, therefore, in favor of keeping up with Ricardo.

We reach the crevice in 90 lung-busting minutes and down below on the shelves of the vertical cliffs noisy oilbirds go about their business free of predators.  The crevice is a major invagination into Roraima, but so deep and precipitous that it’s impossible to see the bottom.  We stop for snacks and a few photos before Ricardo is off again, this time to explore a little of the extensive cave network that exists on Roraima.  We enter (our headlamps on) and scramble over rocky sandstone boulders, the dark impenetrable after only a few feet, until we reach a large chamber and waterfall.  Keith uses some fancy flash equipment to take photos and then it’s the crazy return journey to our hotel, which leaves me exhausted.  We’re back by lunchtime with a plan to visit ‘the window’ on the north wall with scenic views (if there are no clouds) in the afternoon I decline the offer even before the clouds close in, content to have an easy time of it, especially with a long hike back to the Tek river tomorrow.  Roraima has one final gift in store for us, though a sunset through the clouds which is the equal of any on the journey so far – magnificent.  We go to sleep content and privileged.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale

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The Lost World, Roraima trek, Day 146

Thankfully the day dawns bright and clear and Roraima reappears out of the gloom in all its majestic glory.  This little victory is enough to change the mood of the camp and we set off on our summit attempt.  It’s only 3 km from our base camp to our euphemistically entitled hotel for the night, but most of the hike is vertical: base camp is at 1870m, the hotel Indio at 2700m.  It takes more than 4 grueling hours of clambering over rocks, sloshing through muddy trails, and scrambling through dense, lush rainforest to reach the top. On the final summit ramp there are even water falls to negotiate and Christi is thankful for the stick one of our porters cut for her to help with her balance.  We are exhausted by the time we finally drag ourselves off the trail and onto the summit of Roraima.  Marketing departments must love working with the spectacular natural features found in South America because they all have such inspiring tag lines: The Lost City of the Incas (Machu Picchu) and The Devil’s Throat (Iguazu Falls) to name but two.  And Roraima sits happily in this company with the tag-line, The Lost World.

According to legend, it was the mystique surrounding Roraima that gave Sir Arthur Conan Doyle his inspiration for the book, ‘The Lost World’, where dinosaurs still roamed in splendid isolation.  Sadly the dinosaurs are feeling a little camera shy today. None come to check us out – or try to eat us.  Although tepuis such as Roraima are made of sandstone, cyanobacteria have stained them black, aside that is from the trails where the pink color stands out against the dark, eerie mist-shrouded summit.  Our main goal is to grab a hotel (no advanced bookings accepted!) and fortunately we get one with a 5 star view, the hotel Indio.  The remainder of the facilities, basically a dry overhang, are a little less inspiring, however.  (Note tepui is a Pemon word meaning mountain). 

Roraima tepui has sheer cliffs over 500m in height and covers an area of 34 km2.  Roraima is simply the biggest tepui in Venezuela.  Its weathered sandstone surface has given rise to some weird rock formations, such as the flying turtle and the Jacuzzi.  Flash floods and constant rain have created a harsh, but life still finds a way.  Mice and black frogs are the main endemic animal species, although oilbirds nest on the cliff face, and the amazing coati wanders up occasionally from the lowlands.  There are also a surprising variety of plants, including small trees that cling to life in this nutrient-poor, shallow soil environment.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching story. 

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Crossing the Kukenan River, Day 145

Rain came during the night washing away our earlier enthusiasm and much of the campsite.  We’re awake by 6 am and only Ricardo remains unfazed by the conditions and still exhibits undiluted happiness.  We struggle into our waterproof clothing and brave the inclement weather.  First up is crossing the Tek River.  It’s easy to wade across in Teva’s, my boots strapped to my daypack.  Not so the Kukenan River, a little further up the trail.  On a pleasant summer’s day (i.e. not today) we could almost skip across using a series of stepping-stones.  But rain had bloated the Kukenan River into a raging torrent, 100-feet wide.  The ever-industrious Ricardo and his colleagues sling a rope across the river, and we struggle across, gripping the rope as tightly as we can to avoid being washed away.  While Christi and I barely manage to cross without drowning, Ricardo glides effortlessly back and forth ferrying our daypacks to safety. Our Canadian compatriots, Dan and Keith, struggle a little, but they do insist upon carrying their own 30-pound packs “just to make it interesting!”  Personally I think these guys are nuts.  

Rivers are also the favored hunting grounds of the evil, near-invisible, biting insects known as puri puris.  Within the space of an hour this morning we’re exposed not only to a flood of near biblical proportions, but  a plague of biblical proportions as well (and I’m only slightly exaggerating here!)

It’s another 9 km to our second camp at the base of Roraima.  The first part of the trail is reasonably flat, but then becomes increasingly steep and challenging.  Christi and I struggle up the slick and slippery slopes, while an impromptu river rushes down the trail to meet us.  At the same time sheets of horizontal rain hit Christi and I in the face, soaking us and everything we’re carrying in our daypacks (with the exception of my camera).  Even the massive bulk of the Roraima and Kukenan tepuis have disappeared beneath the low, black clouds and torrential rain. 

Christi and I arrive at our camp site (a single, overwhelmed hut) about 4 hours after leaving Tek River.  It’s 1 pm and we are completely drenched.  We shelter in the hut for a while relishing the hot tea our porters have brewed for us.  We can’t stay in the hut for too long, though, as other groups which arrived before us have claimed dibs.  As soon as our over-worked yet still smiling porters have erected our tents we scuttle inside and remain there (the odd pee-break aside) for the next 18 hours.  Our guide, Ricardo, who seems immune to the grim conditions, continually plies Christi and I with all manner of hot drinks and snacks, but this does little to assuage our discomfort.  We are literally confined to our small, damp tent for hours on end, while the rain pours down and forms streams around and beneath us. Call me a wimp if you wish, but, seriously, where is the nearest Four Seasons?

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching story.

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Canaima national park, Day 144

 

Two other hikers (Canadians Dan and Keith) will accompany Christi and I on the 6-day trek to the top of Roraima (located in Canaima national park in south-east Venezuela).  We meet them at the offices of New Frontiers Adventures in Santa Elena at 10 am.  We learn that Dan and Keith organize and participate in academic research expeditions to the Arctic for a living. Hiking Roraima would appear to be an afternoon stroll by comparison.  And apparently it is, so the guys are embarking upon a more ambitious exploration of this massive national park (which is the same size as Belgium or the state of Maryland).  Much of the park comprises the fascinating rock formations known as tepuis (flat-top mountains or mesas).  Roraima is the largest of these tepuis, while the tallest waterfall in the world, Angel Falls, plumets off another tepuis 140 miles away as the crow flies.  It seemed quite natural to Dan and Keith to travel between these two iconic features overland (bike, raft, and if all else fails, leg power).  New Frontiers Adventures will be dropping off supplies periodically, but Roraima apart (where a guide is obligatory), they intend to travel without guides relying on their own survival skills to reach their destination.  They expect to complete their crazy adventure in one month.  Good luck with that crazy idea.

Christi and I feel quite pathetic by comparison and especially so when we give all our kit to porters to carry while Dan and Keith each carry 30-pound packs.  Our guide is the immediately likeable Ricardo, 29.  He is perhaps the happiest man in the world.  We begin with a painful minivan ride from Santa Elena to the trailhead at the Pemon (indigenous tribe) village of Paraitepui 100 km away. 

The first day is a relatively easy 12-km hike to our campsite beside the Tek River.  The route is rolling savanna dotted with trees, particularly beside the many streams we cross.  The skies are blue and the horizon is dominated by the massive bulk of Roraima and its near neighbor Kukenan (less imposing, but easier on the eye).  Both tepuis are ringed by cloud, their sheer size creating microclimates around the summits.  We encounter only a few other hikers (and their industrious porters) but nothing like the madness of the Inca trail.  We arrive at our campsite after 4 easy hours of walking.  There are a few huts, but no facilities.  The porters are busy putting up our tents and making dinner.  Dan, Christi, and Ricardo bathe in the freezing waters of the Tek River (the last opportunity to do so for several days).  I on the other hand am content to remain dirty, but warm.  The toilet situation is anywhere; just be discreet.  Dinner is, as usual on these treks, sumptuous and filling, while the talk is of the grand adventure to come.  Darkness arrives by 6 pm (this is the tropics) and we are tucked up in bed by 8 pm.  So far, and I know I’m tempting fate, here, the hike is a doddle.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale

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Manaus (Brazil) to Santa Elena de Uairen (Venezuela) Day 143

The Eucatur bus from Manaus to Boa Vista leaves on time, but the experience is so different from the luxury Cruz del Sur buses Christi and I experienced in Argentina and Peru.  The only seats available tonight are semi-cama (we cried real tears when we purchased them).  No food is served and there is no entertainment available.  The bus stops for dinner 2 hours out of Manaus.  It’s unclear where in north-east Brazil we are exactly, but Christi and I have no time to explore. Instead we rush to a nearby food stall and buy way too much chicken, rice, and beans, which we proceed to eat on the bus.  This proves to be a very messy business and we have nowhere to toss our leftovers, which we place on the floor under our seats.  The food gives off an increasingly rancid aroma as we journey through the night.  I do manage some sleep, though, because I distinctly remember dreaming about exploring Paraty, gazing at the wildlife on Copacabana beach – and then paying penance in one of the many churches in Ouro Preto, before going mano-a-mano with an Amazonian alligator. My dreams were so captivating, in fact, that I completely slept through the bus blowing a tire, the ensuing near crash, and the hour it took the Eucatur drivers to fix it. It takes 13 very long and painful hours to reach Boa Vista.  

The border between Brazil and Venezuela is 3 hours north of Boa Vista.  Our Lonely Planet Guide is full of dire warnings about safety, but it is probably the easiest border crossing we’ve had.  Change 750 Brazilian Real (R$750) for 2250 Venezuelan Bolivars on a very open black market (giving us an exchange rate of 3:1, whereas the official rate is 1:1). 

At first blush, Santa Elena de Uairen is a pleasant enough town, which is just as well since we will spend Christmas here.  Prices feel much cheaper than in Brazil, assuming you are living on the black market rate.  Befriend an Oz/Brit couple who are unaware of the financial shenanigans that are symptomatic of life under Hugo Chavez. (Note since our visit to Venezuela Hugo Chavez has died and the socialist revolution continues under the leadership of Nicolas Maduro). The Oz/Brit couple can’t find a working ATM, are forced to take a cash advance (paying extortionate fees), and then taxi back to the border to get Brazilian Real from the ATM there.  This currency they can then change on the unofficial / official black market for the quite useless Venezuelan Bolivar.  Needless to say, it is Hugo Chavez who has gerrymandered the exchange rates to suit Venezuela and screw Western corporations doing business in the country.  Of course, rather less affluent backpackers are also screwed, unless they resort to the black market.

Exchange rates are not the only annoyance.  PayPal continues their refusal to transfer money from my account to New Frontiers Adventure to pay for our Roirama hike, which is scheduled to leave in the morning.  Our last resort is to contact Christi’s family in Los Angeles and ask them to pay on our behalf (and we’ll reimburse them at some vague point in the future).  New Frontiers Adventure do at least appear happy that we are trying to pay, so the hot, sweaty, tiring, multi-day hike is on!

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride

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Meeting of the Waters, Day 142

The Meeting of the Waters is the point where the Rio Negro and Rio Solimoes meet.  The rivers collide just to the west of Manaus, an easy bus ride away.  We’d planned an early start, but yet again the weather refuses to cooperate.  Rain lashes the hostel, so we catch up with some reading, hoping the weather will improve.  Checkout is midday and although the skies remain black as night, it’s now or never.  We dodge the rain drops hop aboard a bus to Porto da Ceasa, some 12 km east of town.  We quickly negotiate a R$35 fare for a speedboat ride to the actual site of the Meeting of the Waters and it’s truly amazing (despite the horrid conditions) to see the black slick of the Rio Negro (which could easily be mistaken for oil pollution) running parallel to the coffee-colored waters of the Rio Solimoes.  The Negro and Solimoes flow side by side for several kilometers without mixing due to differences in speed, density, and temperatures of the two rivers.  The source of the Amazon River is in the Peruvian highlands and some 6,200 tortuos kilometers later the river enters the Atlantic at Belem, Brazil. A few fast facts about the Amazon River:  there is 12x as much water in the Amazon as the Mississippi; the Amazon carries 20% of the world’s fresh water; and the Amazon discharges as much water into the Atlantic in a 24-hour period as the River Thames dumps into the English Channel in a year.  Everything about the Amazon is BIG.  And here’s another interesting point.  In about 5 months from now Christi and I hope to be standing at the confluence of the Blue Nile and the White Nile in Khartoum, on the edge of the Sahara desert in the Sudan.  With a little bit of luck!

Sadly, it’s time to leave Brazil.  We probably should have devoted more time to this country, but we would have probably drowned had we done so, judging by the amount of rain we’ve encountered.  We leave Manaus at night and in the rain for the long, uncomfortable ride to Boa Vista, the last town of any size before the border with Venezuela.  And I for one am hoping that we have better luck with the weather in the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela as it is officially known.  In truth I know little about this country, other than that they take the Miss World competition very seriously.  I’m expecting the views to be simply breathtaking! 

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride

 

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Amazonia, Brazil, Day 141

Christi and I continue our lazy progress down the Rio Solimoes this morning.  The scenery in Amazonia is easy on the eye, not requiring too much attention.  We look up occasionally from our books and scan the wide river and the river banks to see the locals fishing, or laundering their clothes, or bathing.  Life in hammock class (on deck 2) is even more relaxed.  These people (admittedly pretty squashed together) sway gently back and forth as the MV Monte Sinai II makes relentless progress towards Manaus.  The hammocks are brilliantly colored and two-tiered with children sleeping above their parents while the luggage lies exposed and inviting on the deck. 

Sod’s law Monte docks on time in Manaus (capital of the Brazilian state of Amazonia) and Christi and I reluctantly leave the river.  Taxi back to the uninspiring (but cheap) hostel Manaus and settle in to a room of little character and warmth.  Finally find a helpful staff member who explains that the only way to purchase tickets to our next destination, Santa Elena de Uairen in Venezuela, we have to physically go to the local bus station.  This is a drag because it’s raining stair rods.  We’re talking biblical proportions here. 

Before going to the bus station we slosh and slide to a nearby internet café.  The main reason that Christi and I are going to Venezuela is to attempt the 6-day Roirama trek, which is Venezuela’s equivalent of the Inca trail.  Trouble is Venezuela is something of an international pariah, at least in terms of financial transactions, and PayPal is refusing to transfer US$1130 to the travel agency, New Frontiers Adventure, who run the treks.  PayPal are convinced that my account has been hacked, because why else would anyone want to send money to Venezuela!  And no amount of begging, persuasion, or coercion on my part will change their minds.  I can’t even prove to them that I am who I say I am because I’m not in America and my account originated in America (God forbid you should consider leaving the country).  Abuse doesn’t work either.  In fact abuse ends the call.  Bastards.  The news gets even worse, however, when Dragoman (the overland company with whom Christi and I will travel around West Africa) announces they have canceled the second  5-week leg of our trip (through Mauritania and Morocco) due to political turmoil in Mauritania.  Well that’s just ducky.  The carefully crafted plans we made for South America have worked out well (PayPal aside), but Africa is a chaotic continent that defies order and logic.  The Dark Continent will be a whole other level of adventure.

The misery of the internet cafe is more than matched by the torrential rain and flooded streets of Manaus.  We grumpily take a damp, dirty public bus to the main bus station and secure our onward tickets to Santa Elena de Uairen.  We can at least get to Venezuela now, although quite what we’ll do once we get there is another matter.  It’s a depressing night in a dismal hostel and the rain continues to thunder down.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching story.

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