I hope you enjoyed the pretty pictures of my last post – and so I’ve included some more for your viewing pleasure. Above is the “Angel Falls”. It is the highest free-falling waterfall in the world at 976m, with an uninterrupted drop of 807m.
From the last place I blogged about, Ciudad Bolivar, I forked out a pretty decent sized wad of cash to get on a small plane for an hour. Twas quite fun, with beautiful views of rivers, trees and mountains. After a sharply-banked turn we landed safely in Canaima, a small town that seems to be half tourist resort now.
In Canaima airport we were met by our guide – Freddie, though of course he had a real name, which was in his native tongue. It meant something about running with fire. He took us to the lodge in which we weren’t to stay that night, then we were lead to a motorised canoe. (Oh joy. More pain in the backside from hours of hard seats). The five people (including myself) from my tour were joined by an Italian, Brazilian and Columbian couple. We were all there to brave the rain and high prices to see the natural beauty of the area, climaxing with the incredible “Angel Falls”.
At first it wasn’t raining, but the changeable skies of the start of the wet season were looking ominous. Four hours in a canoe. After walking around the rapids, and stopping for lunch and a swim, it started raining pretty much straight away. It rained hard, and barely stopped. My new jacket, for a second time (the first being in the Amazon) was proven to be not so waterproof – though it was a lot of rain. There were many rapids along the way too, which were difficult to navigate, and made us wet anyway. Between the clouds we got peeks of the beauty of the area – massive cliffs with hundreds of waterfalls. And just as we were near our camp, the clouds parted. We saw the side of the “Angel Falls”, and then it was gone again.
We arrived at our “cabin” to discover someone had forgotten to put in walls and decent toilets. This was no matter, but I wouldn’t call it a cabin, unlike he who sold us the tour. We ate like kings and associated important people, and slept in hammocks.
The next morning we awoke with the sun. That’s right, sun. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Down by the water you could see a golden “Angel Falls”, lit up by the sun. After breakfast we climbed to the viewing point, and already they were being hidden intermittently by clouds. It was very beautiful and spiritual to be next to such an awe inspiring sight.
The guide told us how the “discovery” of “Angel Falls” by Jimmie Angel about 80 years ago had ruined things for his people. They have their own name for the Falls, and a legend about how they were formed. They are very important and spiritual for the people in the area.
After the morning of awe (and luck at clouds not ruining our experience) we were back in the ass-wrenching canoe for our downstream travels. Though it seems to be nice when we got up, sure enough it was raining again by the time we were on the river again. Wet for the second time.
We got back near Canaima, and did the other highlight of the trip. We crossed the top of a waterfall so that we could go behind it on the way back. It was pounding next to us, in our hovel in the rocks that allowed us to walk through. Then we were back to the beautiful lagoon, which is fed by a steady diet of waterfall (above), to go back the next day.
And where do the sandalias fit in? Well, day two was a dark day for jandals (or flip flops for those who don’t speak kiwi). Firstly, in a river crossing, one of the fellow tour people lost her jandal. The river fed straight into the main river, and we got into the boat straight afterwards, so the guide got us to have a look for it. It was to no avail, and the others in the boat sang out “sandalia!” to mourn the loss of an old friend. Then, another sandalia deathtrap. The waterfall crossing. I had taken mine off, but the person in front of me left hers on. Just then, a cry for help – another jandal sailing away! Quick witted and heroic, I did the only thing a man could do, and dived for it. Splashing water and manly movements ended in probably one of the greatest rescues this summer, and you wont find this one in cinemas. But after the struggle was over, I turned around, and what should I see, but one of me sandalias sailing down the waterfall. “Noooooooooooooooooo!” I screamed. Somehow I let this one slip out of my fingers, and it was gone. May God have mercy on my sole, and all right-footed jandals.
Disclaimer: The above story about sandalias may have been edited for dramatic effect.
