Exploring the lost world of Roraima
Trip Start
Sep 28, 2007
1
36
91
Trip End
Jun 25, 2008
Santa Elena de Uairen,
Venezuela
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Southeast Venezuela is covered with this type of mountain, called tepuis, of which Roraima is the highest at 2800 metres.
There was some confusion about what the tepuis are made of. We were being told sandstone, which the top certainly was but we think the core is a harder rock so that it remained while the countryside eroded away around it over1.8 billion years.(Coming down, we were convinced that the hard gravel was volcanic.)
Roraima was the inspiration for the book 'The lost world' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle because the landscape of weather sculptured sandstone is so other-wordly and the steep cliffs means the plants and animals on the top followed their own evolutionary path. Many plants and animals are found only there, including the cutest non-leaping frog, but more on that latter.
There was a group of 14 of us that went with one guide and five porters. What made the trip was the wonderful range of nationalities and ages in the group. We had a German couple in their sixties, four guys in their forties: a German, an Italian and two Belgians. We also had, in their twenties or early thirties, a Slavenian couple, a Venzuelan couple, a Brazilian guy, an English girl and Mark and I adding the New Zealand perspective. It was a fantastic mix and by the end we all felt quite close.
The Italian and German guy followed the stereotypical characteristics of their respective countries - the German with his GPS, high-tech gear and dry-humoured approach to life while the Italian was romantic interested and enthusiastic about everything including the drape and style of clothes, food, music and using up the huge bag of condoms he had brought over from Italy.
The happy group before tackling Roraima
(He was appalled we all didn't have romantic tales to share and some of us didn't even know how our parents had met, whereas he knew about the first time his father had kissed his mother's forehead.) They were both great guys and they played off each other brilliantly.Sam, the Italian made the verbal lesson of how to use the transportable toilet for number twos hilarious with his earnest, detailed questions, 'excuse me, well actually, yes I have a question, how does one sprinkle the lime? Is there a scoop or do we use our hands?' Those of us with prudish Anglo-Saxon origins who think as little said about such matters the better were in stitches.
We were lucky it was such a good group as we often had the whole afternoon and night with nothing to do but chat and sing, while we waited for dinner.
Mark and I did, however, play one game of Scrabble in English on the French board the Belgians hd brought and only just won, which says something about the English skills of the others.
We really were blown away that, despite the various origins of the group, everyone spoke excellent English. As Mark and I struggle with learning Spanish, we are interested (and sickened) by all those who speak several languages.
But back to Roraima. We started the hike from a small Indian village called Paraitepui. The four hours on the first day were across gently rolling grassland. At the camp, we had a wash at the river and had our first puri puri experience.
Other world on top of Roraima
They are like tiny sandflies and where they bite they leave a perfect red fullstop, presumably from blood, and a pink circle around it. Some of our group were covered.The second day we crossed two rivers, having to swim across holding onto a rope for the second (which they only just put in after a porter died crossing), while the porters took our bags across higher up.
We then continued hiking up to basecamp through grassland. There were remains of tree trunks around which were destroyed in a huge fire many years ago. When we got close to the camp we passed through a beautiful meadow with pitcher plants and carnivorous ones with pretty purple flowers.
At this point we hadn't seen much of Roraima or the Kukenan tepui next to it, as they had remained shrouded in mist. This remained for our ascent on day three, only there was plenty of rain as well and we all got completely soaked.
Roraima was surprisingly easy to climb. You follow a natural fissure that is also the path followed by waterfalls (more water anyone) but by lunchtime we were on the top and the cloud started to break up and let pockets of sun shine on the bizare environment.
It really is amazing up there with weatherbeaten rocks, beautiful plants and crystal fields. We saw many carnivorous plants, that either stick the insect to itself or get them stuck in the bottom of the flower. Also delicate yellow orchids and a kind of blue-green stiff grass that starts as one plant and then is surrounded by offspring and the original plant dies away.
We hopped along, trying not to step in the sandy mud or puddles, though our feet were as wet as they were going to get, and after an hour we were at our camp inside a cave ledge.
The mist cleared for five minutes so that we could see back over where we had come that afternoon, but I didn't see the view until 6am the next morning when it was totally clear and we watched the sun slowly hit hillsides and tepuis, plus the impressive vertical sides of Roraima and Kukenan.
But the mist rolled in so by eight am there was no view.
Other world
We spent day four exploring the top. I had more opportunities to see the tiny green frogs smaller than a plastic bottletop even with their legs stretched out. They were perfectly camoflaged against the dark green moss-covered rocks with the cutest fingers and a yellow front. You can even pick them up as they can't jump. They are found only on Roraima and Mark read that they have more in common with African frogs than American varieties, so perhaps they are a happy hangover from Gondwana land. They certainly won me over.
After another cold night at the top (Mark and I were lucky to have gear ready for Patagonia so were the only non-freezing people) we headed back to the fissure to climb down. It was finally clear almost all day and we got great views from the top and looking back up once we were down past the basecamp.
Coming down the fissure, we saw trees that looked like pungas, but the new shoots were covered in a thick tan jelly. Bizarre.
The sun was fierce .The English girl and I wrapped up in sarongs to escape the sun arab-style and joked that we looked like Mark's two wives and what would he trade us for. I put sunblock on the back of my hands, but ended up with a first for me: sunburnt knuckles. I would not recommend it, given how often they brush against things.
We were hot when we crossed back over the big river. It is actually where two rivers meet and they are very different temperatures. There were warm patches in the middle and if you went up the warmer river you could notice a big difference.
Flax grass
The water was clear too whereas it was brown from tannins on the other side. We admired the huge clouds building up for our final bit of walking to the first camp. It turned into a beautiful evening with a bright moon and a grass fire in the distance burning a glowing pink. This was the night that we horrified the Italian with our lack of romantic initiative or intimate knowledge of how our parents met.
It was much warmer at that camp but the puri puris were pleased we were back and they were hungry.
So were we. Cooking for 20 must have been hard in the smallish pots the porters had and they made us some great meals. But my main memory is waiting and waiting and craving sugar like anything.
For the final day we walked back to the village and then, after more waiting, got in the jeeps to go to jaspe falls where we had lunch.
The falls are amazing, not for the waterfall but the brick red semiprecious jasper surface the water falls on. The rock is split in lines and rectangles and looks so much like a paved surface it is unbelievable. Some little boys were sliding down the smooth rock surface with water washing over it like a hydroslide.
We got back to the posada and were all rapturous about showering and putting on clean clothes.
Sadly we all then started getting into trucks and buses bound for different parts of Venezuela. The Roraima trip was over but it made a wonderful lead in to Christmas.
