VENEZUELA/COLOMBIA
Jan. /Feb.
2007
Where is Punta Gallinas?
VENEZUELA (2nd
time) In the cool Gran Sabana we stopped at Jasper falls
where water cascades over a rock bed of solid red jasper. We
crossed the mighty Orinoco River, by ferry, at Ciudad Guyana
and replenished supplies in Maturin at one of the many
large shopping malls of Venezuela. (The cheapest country in the
region, if one changes unofficially).
Oil birds. We
arrived at Guácharo Caves at sunset as the “guácharos”
(oil birds) were flapping their wings exiting the cave;
shrieking and making click-sounds. They have an in-built radar
location system (similar to bats). They fly huge distances to
feed on oily fruits of palm trees, returning before dawn. The
next day we walked 1,2 km into the cave. Up to 18000 noisy
“steatornis caripensis” inhabit the first chamber of the cave.
The total length of the cave is 10,5 km.
On the
Caribbean coast we found Playa Colorada, the palm-fringed
beach where we had stayed 25 years ago. We remembered how Liesl
and Ingrid had collected coconuts from the golden sand and how
the two little fair-haired girls had been the belles of the
beach. Sometimes we had seaside places all to ourselves. Other
times people would park right next to us with doors open and
music blasting, even at all hours of the night.
Maracaibo
is the capital of the oil-rich area next to the huge Lake
Maracaibo. A 9km-long bridge over the lake led into the morning
traffic. We had to obtain a new visa for Colombia. At the
consulate, we were referred to the vice-consul – The young man
was friendly and spoke English and later gave us maps and
printed additional information for us from his computer. We
filled out forms at his desk, which had to be submitted together
with two photocopies of all 32 pages of our (4th) passports,
which were now completely full. We would not have known where to
overnight but then the Colombian diplomat introduced us to his
Venezuelan/American friend who offered us secure guarded parking
next to his home. (The 24h guards carried short shotguns). We
had a moonlit view of the lake from the cool 3rd floor patio
roof when having meals with our kind new friends and their
families. We enjoyed the companionship and our host’s incredible
knowledge of Venezuela. He took us shopping and to see central
Maracaibo with the well-laid out parks, plazas and buildings.
After midnight we were still copying maps from the Internet.
North of
Maracaibo we saw scarlet ibis among the white egrets. We stopped
on a long white beach next to the Gulf of Venezuela to
write and reorganise everything, which had been shaken up by the
roads of the Guianas. The fishermen brought us fresh fish and an
off duty ‘Guardia National’ stopped to share his Polar Ice beer
with us. Being fully self-contained in Dipli, we stayed a few
days, watching pick-ups loaded with drums of petrol being
smuggled to Colombia along the seashore, and the fishermen, who
according to the GN, could be picking up Colombian drugs dropped
from planes.
COLOMBIA
(2nd time) Off-road to Guajira Peninsula Furthest
North point on the continent of South America.
South of
Puerto Bolivar we had to turn of the gravel road next to the
railway line, which is guarded all the way from the coal mine to
the port. A patrolling soldier on a motor bike asked us for
water and indicated the turn off into the remote region. The
main track split and soon it became obvious that we were going
in the wrong direction. We had no detailed map. The Google Earth
photo and maps from the internet showed a maze of lines. Two
women in long coloured robes, herding goats, came by to point us
East towards Taroa. They are the Guajiro Indians who have lived
in this semi desert for millennia. We had to cross dry pans and
on the other side guess which track to follow through clumps of
cactus and scrubby thorn trees. It was a relief to come upon an
army post. Ironically the soldiers were protecting a ghost town.
The entire village of Portete had been massacred three
years before. They assured us that the area was safe now. It was
nearly dark and we stopped on a flat windswept salt pan. On the
nearby ridge white tombstones seemed luminous in the moonlight.
The next day it soon was very hot. At Wayuu Indian settlements
men were lolling in hammocks under thatched roofs next to mud
houses and goat pens made of branches. Occasionally a donkeycade
of nomadic Guajirans passed us. There seemed to be no obvious
source of water anywhere. Distant views of bays or sand dunes
and the GPS finally led us to a few dwellings and abandoned
buildings marked on the map as Taroa. We were now close
to our goal. We had to presume which deep sandy track would lead
us over the dune. And there we were at Punta Gallinas;
the point furthest North on the continent of South America!
N12°27.498; W71°40.125. (We had been to the continent’s furthest
South in Chile; and the point furthest South on earth, by
wheels, in Argentina). We parked just above high tide next to
the light house, the shadow of which we had seen on Google
Earth, and watched the sun set over the ocean.
Before we could
leave, Dipli had to get a little TLC: a broken shackle bolt on
the rear spring had to be replaced. Returning was not all that
simple. We had not noted all the GPS readings at junctions and
could not always recognize the main track. A huge dust storm in
the sweltering heat did not make it any easier. We realized that
we were on the wrong trail but decided to navigate back the next
day. The scant information in our guide book included the
phrase: “NB. The Guajira Peninsula is not a place to travel
alone. Also remember it is very hot. It is easy to get lost …”.
However, on the second day, averaging 17 km/h, we reached the
railway line again, turning north to Puerto Bolivar and
then West next to the ocean.
The coastal
track, from Cabo de la Vela, was next to a pale turquoise
Caribbean Sea where Indians were busy hauling in nets or
collecting salt from dry lagoons. Occasionally we lost the trail
and had to drive through thick cactus forests or dense thorn
trees scratching at Dipli from all sides. Jan had to saw off
branches when Dipli could not pass underneath. We had to ask the
way at remote communities of Wayuu Indians. The children ran
away as if they had never seen a gringo’s vehicle. At Manaure
we were back in ‘civilization’ again.
A tar road led
past the congested port cities of Santa Marta and the
sprawling conurbation of Barranquilla to Cartagena,
where we planned to search for a ship to Panama. The camp sites,
indicated in the guide books, had made way for more high-rise
development. Behind the Cartagena Hilton, we found a quiet spot
to park next to a lagoon, where we were visited regularly by
friendly patrolling police.
Cartagena;
what a gorgeous place to wait. In the old city a series of forts
and almost impregnable walls surround the old houses with
flowering vines tumbling from the wooden balconies. A trendy
seaside resort has developed on peninsulas with narrow beaches
amid towers of holiday apartments and lots of restaurants and
super markets to choose from.
Shipping.
Although Colombia and Panama are joined on land, the Darien
gap, an area of marshy forests and rivers, (also with
guerrilla and smuggling activities) has no through road.
We obtained information about ships and possible sailing dates;
however, we could not finalise anything because we were waiting
for a visa for
Panama. Carnival
in Panama brought about 3 non-working days and inefficiency
caused a further delay of nearly 3 weeks!
This journey up to February 2007:
Time on the road (excluding home visits): 4 years, 4 ˝ months
Kilometres driven: 189 000
Countries visited: 78
