The Arrival - and Beyond!

I arrived in Lima from Madrid at 17.45 local time on the 6th and after an anxious wait for my bag ventured out into the arrivals lounge, where fortunately Carlos, the friendly taxi driver the hostel had arranged for me, was waiting with a sign. The drive though Lima was my first true taste of culture shock, with a mass of traffic beeping horns and no apparent adherence to any road laws. Carlos, a veteran of the streets of Lima, took several shortcuts during what he liked to term the ´scenic´ route - which involved driving through a park, over pavements and through a garage. But I got to the hostel in one piece and Carlos kindly carried by bag in. After almost 23 hours of travelling I was shattered and decided to test the shower – the only thing was I couldn’t work out how to make it hot. The paranoia of being in a foreign place began to kick in, should I take my passport and cash into the bathroom? Should I lock my rucksack to the bed?

Fortunately Pete arrived and laughed at my paranoia! I was relieved that Pete had not adopted any of the ethnic paraphernalia of necklaces and bracelets that so many travellers seem to where as some form of uniform emphasising the fact that they have seen the world.

Adjusting to Latin American time seemed to be a bit of a challenge – I was definitely feeling that we should be up having breakfast at 4am in the morning! Eventually it got to a respectable time of the day and we had breakfast and took a taxi into Lima – I still couldn’t quite get over the hectic honking and ramming cars.


Plaza de Armas, Lima

We got to the central square, where there seemed to be some from of minor demonstration going on, we couldn’t quite work out what it was for but there seemed to be a lot of armed police and vehicles not so inconspicuously tucked away down the side streets. Deciding that we should do something cultural we visited Lima Cathedral, which was adorned with opulent art work and decoration; I found this kind of wealth of the church ironic compared to the local population.

Carrying on with the culture we visited the museum of congress and the inquisition, Pete got very excited about the various dungeons and torture implements on display, think it must be a vet thing.

Overall, Lima was certainly a busy metropolis but incredibly polluted and we decided to get out the city sooner rather than later.

Deciding to travel in a bit more comfort we took a “Royal Class” bus to Pisco - this meant we got slightly bigger seats, a suspicious looking ham and cheese sandwich and an appalling movie. Driving out of Lima you could see the shanty towns built on the outskirts of the city, the government had made the communities life easier by erecting flights of yellow wooden steps amongst the terraces of corrugated iron, tyres and chip board.

The drive through the countryside was not at all what I’d expected, I guess the tourist photos of Peru you see are all of the lush forest and higher land which incorporates spots like Machu Picchu. The landscape was pure desert; I had never been anywhere before where there were just no signs of plant life, the bleakness of the place was compounded by the grey sky which merged into the grey sand of the desert. The only signs of productivity from this harsh environment were the chicken sheds along the roadside.

After three and half hours of travelling we arrived in Pisco, which is a small town south of Lima, the atmosphere was a lot more laid back than that of Lima and we checked into the spacious Pisco Hostel. That evening we wandered around the vibrant town and booked a trip to the Ballestas Islands and the Paracas National Reserve the next day.

We had an early start at 7am when a mini bus took us to Paracas where we got on a small motor boat. We were instantly treated to a swim past of a pod of bottle nosed dolphins literally 200m from leaving the jetty - the trip had already been worth it. We then made it out to the islands along the coast so we could view the “candelabra” which had been carved out of the ground by the Paracas people 1200 years ago. It is thought to be symbolic of the San Pedro Cactus, which is a plant that induces hallucinations and used in shamanistic rituals.



The islands are an important breeding ground for sea lions and nesting colony for all kinds of sea birds including Humbolt penguins, Inca terns (our favourite), Pelicans, Peru Boobies (a bit like a gull) and various cormorants. We were also treated to an amazing display of sea birds feeding, on a shoal of fish diving bombing from a great height accurately catching their prey amongst the frenzied chaos of wings and water. We returned to shore where we joined a bus for the tour of the national park.


Paracas coast

The Paracas park was an area of great contrast - the land was fairly devoid of any biodiversity except for the occasional distant flamingo which can tolerate the harsh saline conditions. The soil is too poor and too salty to support many terrestrial plants (so much salt that the road surfaces were made out of compacted salt). This was a complete contrast to the rich sea which contained over 200 different species of seaweeds and a whole variety of marine animals and sea birds, all fed by the Humbolt current which bathes the western coast of South America.


Hannah's favourites - Inca terns

On returning to Pisco we decided to take of advantage of the happy hour in our hostel and I was treated to my first Pisco sour, a Peruvian cocktail consisting of Vodka, syrupy water stuff, lime and a whipped egg yoke - “sour” was certainly an appropriate name!

The next day we took a 2 hour bus to Ica, then immediately jumped into a taxi to take us out to the desert oasis of Huacachina, some 4km from Ica. Huacachina is a small village which centres around a stereotypical lagoon bordered by palm trees and exists on the income from the gringos who come to go dune buggying and sand boarding in the surrounding mountains of sand.


Huacachina

We checked into a hostel and went to book a dune buggying and sand boarding trip for that afternoon. At 3pm we met at a neighbouring hostel and piled onto the buggies with 6 other gringos and our driver – who promptly zoomed off into the dessert. Dune buggying is most similar to being on a roller coaster flying up and then down huge dunes with near vertical faces - it was excellent fun. We then stopped at the top of a steep dune with several other buggies full of gringos and we all threw ourselves down the dune on board; fortunately landing on the sand was definitely softer than falling on snow! We then watched the sun go down behind the dunes and enjoyed another adrenaline packed ride back to Huacachina.


Sand mountains!

This used to be a Skoda

The following morning saw us trying to arrange a telephone interview for a ski job, but the phone lines were all down in Huacachina. We rapidly packed and got back to Ica, where we made our call from the bus station - only to postpone the interview. This was also the morning I found about my credit card being cloned - I'd love to tell you more but it's a total shambles, and the less said the better. Instead, we caught a bus to Nasca that arrived around lunchtime and found ourselves a nice hostel – albeit with water supply problems. We weren’t planning on staying long so booked a flight as we arrived over the famous Nasca Lines – a series of geometrical shapes and animal figures etched into the surface of the nearby desert.

The lines originally to public attention when Eric von Daniken proclaimed them to be alien spaceship landing strips; since then, many other theories have come and gone. One of the most abiding is that of Maria Reiche, a German archaeologist who spent her life studying the lines, who thought them to be a astronomical calendar. The most current – and widely accepted – theory is that the lines were processional features marked out to draw the attention of the Gods to the area; during times of drought the landscape was used as a large scale map of their surrounding area, the lines being markers as to where water was needed. As hard as the Nasca people may have tried, it appeared their efforts were in vain – their culture died out before the Incas.


If you look really hard...... it's a hummingbird

The flight was good – another rollercoaster ride. It was Hannah’s first time in a Cessna and she felt she had been in more structurally sound 2CVs – especially when we were banking hard to see the animals from both sides of the plane.


2CV with wings

We spent the following day waiting to take an overnight bus to Arequipa, second city of Peru. We spent the day looking around town – it was a pretty relaxed place with a nice market. Our night bus was not up to the standards I enjoyed in Chile and Argentina, but it wasn’t bad – and it’s always nice having someone to lean on!

In Arequipa we installed ourselves in a hostel with “the best breakfast in Arequipa” – Hannah’s choice. We had a look around town and sorted out a 3 day trip to the Colca Canyon for the following day. The centre of Arequipa is a World Heritage Site – despite the fact it has been destroyed three times since it was founded by earthquakes (there was a long tremor 2 hours before we arrived in town). The local building material of white sillar is used almost exclusively in the centre, and there is an imposing Plaza de Armas and cathedral.


Plaza de Armas, Arequipa

We put off the Colca Canyon tour for a day as I was feeling rough – instead we visited the Santa Catalina convent, a small city-within-a-city that was several hundred years old. The 2 hectare convent still has some 30 nuns living in seclusion, but the majority of the site has been restored and opened to the public. The architecture was amazing, and there was a warren of tiny courtyards and cloisters, divided by narrow cobbled streets and brightly painted walls. It was great.







The following morning we departed bright and early for our Colca Canyon trip. The initial journey there was by public bus, and the bumpy, dusty 5 hour ride was totally enjoyable - although we reach an altitude of 4800m, from where the road started a long and winding descent into one of the deepest canyons in the world.

We arrived in the town of Cabanaconde for lunch, as a local festival to some Virgin Saint or other was being celebrated. The costumes and music - a massed brass band - were great. We started out after lunch on a steep and dusty track down into the canyon. From Cabanaconde - already some 1500m down in the canyon - we dropped another 1000m to the river at the bottom, passing sheer walls, condors and a good few pack donkeys en route. There was a suspension bridge at the bottom to cross, after we we climbed briefly to reach a small village. Here the vegetation was a lot more lush than higher up, and citrus fruit groves, small fields of wheat and opuntia cacti covered in coccinea beetles made up the agriculture. We trekked on to another village named Cosñirhua, where we were to stay for the night in a mud shack with a bamboo floor - Hannah thought it was really romantic.


Walking down the canyon


Agaves in the evening light


Local lady cooking our breakfast


Wheat field in the canyon

After a cold night we arose early for a walking tour of the village farms by a local man. It was really interesting, and we tried avocados, oranges, apples, lemongrass and some fruit that looked like a bean crossed with a banana. After breakfast we then continued on our trek, arriving after an hour and a half back at another suspension bridge to recross the river. This time, however, the crossing was a little more fraught - there is something less than reassuring about crossing on the cables because the planks have been removed, whilst laborers drill away at the foundations on either side.



Without a hitch our group arrived on the other safely, and carried on to the small tourist spot aptly named "Paradise". A spring fed pool, palm trees, bamboo shacks and llamas and sheep grazing around made for a very relaxing afternoon.

The next day was anything but; we got up at 2.30am - officially silly o'clock in my book - and started the 3 hour uphill walk to Cabaconde. We made it in 2 hours, then sat for an hour freezing waiting for the rest of the group, after which we were thankful for the warm breakfast supplied in town. But 7.30am we were off again, this time to visit Cruz del Condor - a narrow spot in the canyon where condors (and tourists) tend to congregate in the morning. We were not incredibly lucky - there were about 6 in the distance, but only saw 4 up close.



We boarded another bus to reach the town of Chivay, lunch stop on our route back to Arequipa where we were able to enjoy a hot spring swimming pool before taking a much less crowded bus back to our hostel. We arrived back tired and looking forward to a hot shower and bed, only to find our reservation had vanished and the hostel full.

As I said, there's always something.

Hot under the Collar

We pulled into Ciudad Bolívar, sitting on the banks of the Orinoco river at the narrows of Angostura, after an air conditioned sub-zero overnight bus journey, into tropical heat and humidity. We were met by the tour company as we had hoped and planned; the morning passed in a blur as we were taken to their office for breakfast, and we sorted out our filthy clothes left from Roraima and tried to get cash out to pay for the trip we were about to leave for - 4 days in Canaima, at the heart of Canaima National Park and close to Auyan Tepuy and the highest waterfall in the world, Angel Falls.

Still rubbing sleep out of eyes, we were driven to the airport for the 1 hour flight in a 6 seater Cessna to Canaima. Gidi, Karin and myself were joined by Jean and Brigitte, a French guy and German girl, to complete our small group. The flight was great fun - although something akin to flying in a pedalo, the views afforded were excellent as we crossed huge areas of land flooded by the Orinoco river, then went over huge unbroken stretches of jungle before descending to Canaima as the first tepuys came into view.


En route to Canaima

Canaima sits on a lagoon formed below a series of waterfalls on the Carrao river - there is a beautiful white sand beach and palm trees grow in the water in one of the iconic images of Venezuela. The water is a deep red colour but not too cold, and the setting has allowed Canaima to become the centre of operations for visiting Angel Falls, 70km south east up river. There is a wide variety of accomodations in Canaima, but being backpackers we had the cheapest included in our tour - hammocks. After a short swim under the searing sun and a slow lunch, we were taken by small boat across the lagoon to view the impressive waterfalls close up before landing and walking over to 2 smaller waterfalls on another brach of the river. Here, at Salto Sapo we were able to walk behind the waterfall before going for a swim in a natural pool above the waterfall (no gap big enough to be washed over!) - I was burnt already.


Canaima lagoon

Salto Sapo

After that we were on our boat, a long thin outboard-powered dugout, and racing upriver. We disembarked briefly to walk around the Mayupa Rapids ("No tourists have been allowed over since the accident" our guide said knowingly) before rejoining with our crew and baggage and continuing on. Here the Carrao is wide and slow, bordered on both sides by dense jungle with occaisional Indian villages on the banks. I found the ride tranquil and calming, skimming over the water that seemed to glow with a metallic sheen. After about an hour an a half we pulled into our camp for the first night at Ahonda River. Here was a huge barn-like structure capable of housing at least 80 tourists in hammocks - but we were along apart from the staff, our crew and young American guy.

The sun set in a short blaze of red glory over the tepuy surrounding the camp. The Auyan tepuy is the largest tepuy, in terms of surface area, surrounded us even here, and I was at a loss to orientate myself with its vast walls. We settled down to a quiet night in our hammocks, but the rain started not long after, and drummed on the corrugated roof all night long.


Sunset, Aonda camp

The next morning we were up early and headed upriver again, taking the Churún river up the Devils Canyon. This river was a lot smaller and shallower, and we made slow progress against the many series of rapids that we negotiated. Despite it being the rainy season, rain this year is in short supply; the lowering clouds failed to fulfill their promise (the downpur of the night before was "nothing") and the low water level hampered our efforts to progress. The terrain became more varied and vast boulders lay across the river in places, islands of rock amidst the riot that was the jungle.


Jungle camp

We got to our camp just before lunch and set up our hammocks and went for an explore around; it was a "basic" camp (I'll leave the facilities to your imagination) but was much smaller than our previous and bang in the middle of the jungle - great. We marked the spot in camp from where you could see the Angel Falls, still obscured by cloud at that time. After lunch we set out on the hour long walk to see the falls, and instantly became soaked with sweat in the humidity and heat.

The Angel Falls were "discovered" in 1935 by American airman and explorer Jimmy Angel - he later crashlanded his plane on top of the tepuy, and the falls were then named after him. They rate as the highest single drop of water in the world at 983m, from a trickle in dry season to a full-fledged fall in the wet season. The tepuy landscape, as I have mentioned before, is perfect for waterfalls, and there are literally hundreds in the area; as always though, the biggest is the most popular.


Angel Falls

We reached the mirador and started taking photos - as everyone does. The top of the falls were invisible and it was difficult to gauge the scale of the falls - until a Cessna flew over somewhere close to the top, and looked really small. There is always a danger at these places that so long is spent looking through a lens that you fail to appreciate the beauty with your own eyes - but fortunately we had time and space; there seemed to be no-one else around. The falls were not huge, despite it being the rainy season, but as they collected on the rocks at the bottom they formed a second smaller fall into a natural pool.


View from the pool

We walked down to the smaller fall and pool to go for a swim - we were incredibly fortunate to have the icy-cold pool to ourselves. As hypothermia set in we climbed out and admired the stunning view across Devils Canyon to another part of the tepuy, lower slopes cloaked in jungle and glowing in the sun. The top of the tepuy cleared of cloud and we suddenly had excellent views of the whole fall; once again, good fortune was with us. We made our way back to the viewpoint and took in the view again before returning down the path - passing a small hoarde of tourists coming up.


Swimming at the bottom

Walking back through the jungle was fabulous; there is something about the stillness and quiet inside any kind of forest that makes me feel both instantly at home and very curious about my surroundings. I slowed up my pace and wandered back in a kind of state of meditation.

Back at camp we only had a short time until the rain struck - this time is was a genuine downpour that lasted several hours and we ate our dinner under the palm leaf shelter as rain pounded the ground all around. It was still raining as we went to bed.

Early the next morning we were up and back in the boat, hurtling downriver with the current, and reached our camp of the first night for breakfast before continuing on. We got back to Canaima just before lunch and made our home in the hammocks in the camp of our tour company. We had chosen to stay an extra day in Canaima for a possible flight over the falls and a bit of beach time. After lunch we arrange with our guide to go walking behind Salto Hacha, a much larger fall than the previous Salto Sapo we had walked behind. The weight of water thundering down just feet from us was awe-inspiring, and we sepnt almost half an hour exploring the area behind the waterfall that could usually only be reached in dry season.


"Behind this?"



Back at camp, and Gidi and Karin discovered that they had had some money stolen at some point during the trip. It put a real dampener on the trip, not in the least because the tour company seemed indifferent, unlike our guide and the younger member of our boat crew, who were both very concerned. Over the course of the evening (dinner was cooked on an open fire) and the following morning Gidi and Karin tried hard to get a copy of the Police report without success (whilst I basted myself in the sun on Canaima beach). Only as we were elaving, and Gidi and Karin refused to get on the plane with a copy of the report, did things happen - but we all knew the chances of seeing the cash again were nil.


Sunset over Canaima lagoon

Back in Ciudad Bolívar we went to the original tour agency who we had booked with - they contracted out their Angel Falls tours to a cheaper bulk operator (you pay backpacker prices, you get backpacker tours....). Whilst overall very happy with the experience the theft was clearly a large negative point. Luis, the manager of the agency, was a lot more concerned and believing than those in Canaima - to the point that he reimbursed the money stolen. Gidi and Karin (and all of us) were genuinely lost for words at the act - it made a very good impression.

That afternoon Gidi, Karin and myself took a bus to Puerto La Cruz, on the Caribbean coast. After not stopping for 10 days we felt a bit of beach time was in order - and I was due to meet Hannah in just 6 days in Lima. I had already arranged the flight from Puerto La Cruz to the capital Caracas, from where I would catch a flight to Lima - avoiding the capital by taking a flight in and out on the same day seemed like a sound idea.

We arrived in Puerto La Cruz at night - never a good idea - and spent over an hour trying to find a reasonably priced hotel with hot water. Eventually we did, and watched our cable TV and took scalding showers until the small hours. Puerto La Cruz, formerly beachy tourist town, has evolved into a major oil refining town and seemed over priced and without an attractive beach to help matters. The morning after we decided to leave for Mochima, a coastal national park to the east, as soon as we had got money out and sorted out CDs. It was very hot and wet in Puerto La Cruz; even in the rain I could feel myself sweating as we tried various banks to get out money.

By the afternoon however we were happily in the tiny town of Mochima, in an entirely different atmosphere. It was laid back to the extreme, and although had no beaches, it did have a series of beautiful waterfront restaurants and a plentiful supply of small launches ready to take us to the beach of our choice.


Cautaro beach

The morning after the weather was excellent and we took a boat out to a quiet beach, past the popular main ones. Here the warm clear blue water of the Caribbean gently washed against the white sand of Cautaro beach as thousands of brightly coloured butterflies moved like cherry blossom in the wind, and we lay in silence, still recovering from Roraima and Angel Falls.

The National Park in the area covers a series of small islands, hundreds of tiny white sand beaches, and areas of coral reef. We took a tour the following day around that park, equipped with snorkelling gear, and in the company of a friendly Venezuelan family on holiday. It was a good day - the coral was some of the best I have ever seen, we spotted some dolphins, and got to visit several more remote beaches. And I didn't get sunburnt, thanks in part to my rash-vest that I was finally using after months of carrying it in my rucksack.


On the beaches tour

My last full day in Venezuela (or so I thought....) was as unplanned as the next. The weather was poor and we headed into Cumana, a small city further east, for a look around and to find the ever present Internet cafe. I reconfirmed my flight with TACA from Caracas to Lima, Peru, for the following day - I would arrive almost 24 hours before Hannah. Gidi, Karin and myself enjoyed a last evening together before I set off across to the other side of the continent the next day to meet Hannah.

There is an expression, I think, "Even the best laid plans can be laid to waste". I left Mochima early to get to Puerto La Cruz, from where my flight would depart for Caracas. I reached the airport with hours to spare, and began the long wait for my flight - I was due to arrive in Caracas 4 hours before my other flight. Despite the Arrivals and Departure boards reading everything normal, planes seemed to be failing to arrive from Caracas. My flight didn't arrive - I could see my bag on the tarmac - and I went in search of information. Concisely put (the Venezuelans were anything but) the power was out in the National flights terminal of Caracas airport, but the International terminal was functioning 100% fine. There was nothing I could do but wait, and hope.

I arrived in Caracas 4 hours late, just as my other flight was taking off. Seriously aggravated, I set about trying to sort out a flight - afterall, I had a girlfriend to meet. My initial attempts hit brick walls - "You can fly with Aeropostal - but they're not going today" and "Yes, we have seats for this evening, only 800 dollars....". With the help of a kindly TACA employee and an even kinder airport employee I found myself on the toll-free number to TACA, where they transferred me, for free, to the flight on the following day. I was overjoyed - only arriving 2 hours after Hannah.

I arranged a hotel in a less than salubrious area close to the airport, and settled in to wait until my flight the next day - even as, in a city I had never been to in the south of Venezuela, someone was using a clone of my credit card to withdraw money.

There's always something.

The Lost World

I arrived in Boa Vista, a whole 1º north of the equator, at the dead of night and in sweltering heat. Boa Vista is capital of the northerly Brazilian province of Roraima, and is a modern city laid out in an all-too-functional plan; it seemed totally devoid of character and short on buses taking you to essential places. Fortunately it was only a stopover - I wanted to recheck my entry requirements to Venezuela (despite what I was told in Buenos Aires) before taking a bus there. Lucky I did too - it took a day to sort out the required photocopies before I received my tourist card.

After 36 hours in Boa Vista - too long - I caught the bus to Santa Elena de Uraien in Venezuela, just over the border but 800m higher than Boa Vista and thankfully cooler. On the bus I met Gidi and Karin, an Israeli couple who I met months before in Antarctica Hostel, Ushuaia - Gidi remembered me for the caramel shortbread I made there.

Santa Elena is a small town that survives mainly on cross border traffic and tourism. It is the centre of operations for visiting the Gran Sabanna, the huge rolling plains-like area of southern Venezuela that are interrupted by vast granite tepuys that dominate the landscape for hundreds of miles. The tepuys are the result of some timeless weathering process that my pidgin geology can't explain (someone in the know please post a comment!), but their precipitous cliffs, often rising 1000m from the surrounding savannah, make them almost inaccessible and home to various unique species of flora and fauna, as well as huge waterfalls that drain from the tableland on top.

Of the tepuys, Mount Roraima is the tallest and possibly the most famous. First "discovered" in 1840-something it was theorised that, due to the inaccessibility of the top, an entirely different course of evolution could have taken place - and there could even still be dinosaurs. As such it became a candidate for Sir Arthur Conan Doyles' book "The Lost World", and now has that moniker.

In fact, Roraima was not impenetrable as first thought, and access to the top was gained by a steep narrow "ramp" that leads up the west wall. Having convinced Gidi and Karin that it would be a good idea to undertake the 6 day trip to climb it, we set about searching for an essential 4th person to join our intrepid group - and waited in the heat and mosquitos in the meantime.

Three days later and the total lack of willing tourists in town was causing us to rethink our plans - until in walked Davide, a 30-something Spaniard who was keen to leave for the mountain the following day. We celebrated the success with a trip to a local cave and waterfall - and were eaten alive by the dreaded puri-puri fly (akin to the beloved Scottish midge) - it was a taste of things to come.


Starting out - tepuys Roraima on the right, Kukenan on the left; from left ot right, Alex, Davide, Karin, Gidi and myself

The following day we set out with our Pemon Indian guide Alex and porter Hilario, to cover the 11km to the base of the slope leading up to Roraima. To reach it we crossed past of the Gran Sabanna, the apparently natural grassland that lies between the tepuys. I struggle to believe that it shouldn't have been jungle, and indeed in the '20s a fire destroyed a large tract of forest in the area. The savannah it gave way to is periodically burnt by the local Indians in an effort to control the problem of snakes. We reached our camp, just past the second big river crossing of the day at Rio Kukenan, early and were deluged with an hour downpour that soaked the tents through - but did quieten down the puri-puri.


Roraima, morning light, day two

The following morning we started the short 8km walk - all uphill to reach Base Camp - from where the real climb onto the top of Roraima begins. Walking in the day in temperatures of 30ºC, with near 100% humidity, is never good; fortunately we had all accepted the fact that we would stink at the end of the trip. After several hours of solid uphill trudging through grassland, we reached the edge of the jungle at the base of Mount Roraima and the base camp. Here, out of reach of the puri-puri and with hours to kill, I had a freezing bath in a nearby stream before setting to and carving some more wooden tent pegs for our mismatched flysheet - it was a relaxing enough afternoon, and a nice way to prepare for the day ahead when we would climb the steep ramp that led up the west wall.

The third day was short and sharp - we started out on a very steep ascent of the lower slopes, before reaching the foot of the wall after an hour or so. The route here is a well trodden path - nothing like the thick jungle encountered by the original explorers - but in quiet moments when only the buzzing of cicadas, calls of birds and cries of frogs can be heard, you maybe get a feel for what it was once like. Davide and I pushed ahead, reaching the first mirador from where there were great views of the immense granite walls stretching southwards, and to the north the Kukenan tepuy.


The west wall, from the mirador

After the viewpoint we continued up, underneath at least a 300m waterfall (but currently only a trickle) before starting the final push to the top admist a changing landscape - the jungle was giving way to fewer, smaller plants and many colourful flowers.



We reached the top in good time an had our first glimpse of the "Lost World". In the bright sunshine we could see an undulating tableland of rock, interspersed with thousands of deep fissures, wind carved sculptures and areas of greenery. It was not the dense jungle many people expected, but it was totally unique. Alex proceeded to guide us to our "hotel", a sheltered spot under a cliff where we could camp. On the way he pointed out many examples of plants on the top - orchids and insectivourous plants abounded.


Insect-eater!


On top

That afternoon we went for an explore in the area around our hotel - much of the top of Roraima remains unexplored, and as such we didn't go anywhere without Alex to guide us. We visited the "Car", highpoint of Roraima (2700m) , so named because of it's long distance resemblance to a Ford, the jacuzzis - a series of stunning natural pools, apparently sculpted for having a bath, and the "Window" - a viewpoint over Kukenan but, at this point in the day, covered in cloud. We returned to our camp in light rain and went to bed early, ready for a full day of walking to reach the "Triple Point" - the border of Venezuela, Brazil and Guyana.

Our "hotel"

We started out in dense cloud the following morning that did not shift until that afternoon - and then only briefly. Karin didn't come - nursing her sore legs from the way up - so Alex and the 3 of us made our way north east, stopping at the various scultpures with seem to have had a human helping hand on the way. We reached the Valley of Crystals after a few hours; there are many seams of quartz crystals on top of Roraima, and many of the best crystals have now been stolen, but a small valley full of them cannot fail to make an impression - it was like a treasure trove.


Crystals!

"The Woman's Head"

Shortly after we reached the Triple Point - we had crossed into Brazil en route but the small detachment of Brazilian soldiers on top didn't seem to mind. After a brief photo stop in the rain and wind, we made our way to the Pool, where Alex, Davide and myself had a freezing bath whilst Gidi played photographer.


Triple Point - Davide, myself and Gidi


Jumping into the pool (yes, I am wearing shorts!)

We returned that night just as rain started to fall, glad to be in shelter as the 2 hour downpour struck. After dinner we had an early night, listening to the small waterfall in front of our tent; the following day we we would descend all the way to Rio Tek - the first big river we crossed and only 10km from our start point.

The next morning we awoke to a ghostly Roraima, shrouded in cloud and silence. We struck camp in the damp and moved out after a brief 36 hours on top - and a lamentable absence of velociraptors. We left the top quickly and started down in the all enveloping mist - this was truly the lost world of which I had been thinking. With a vertical granite cliff on my left and a steep drop off on my right, descending through the jungle in the quiet was a mesmerising, ethereal experience.

As always, it was all too soon that we broke out the bottom of the cloud and back into our view of the Gran Sabanna. We reached the Base Camp in time for an early lunch then pushed on to reach Rio Kukenan, our camp of the first night, in time for the regular afternoon downpour. Then we headed back across the rivers - carefully watching their level as they rise within a hour - to Rio Tek camp, where we set up tent and things to dry out. Roraima was still enveloped in cloud but Kukenan was clear, and a huge 600m waterfall could be seen from miles away, in full flow after the rain, plunging off the top.

The next morning we made very good time back to the village of Paraitepuy, our start point, where sandwiches and cold beers appears exactly on time. On our way back to Santa Elena we stopped in the Quebrada del Jasper - a small river where the bed is made entirely of jasper. Backed by a series of small waterfalls it was a very pretty place - well worth the stop despite our tiredness.


Quebrada del Jasper

Back in Santa Elena, we barely had time to wash and change before continuing on the next leg of our trip - further north to Ciudad Bolívar, for where we would go to Angel Falls... watch this space.