Andes Mountains – The Pull Of The Land

In the late 1960’s, during a summer trip back home to Venezuela, we took a road trip to the state of Mérida in western Venezuela. Mérida is in the giant cordillera of the Andes, the longest mountain range in the world; it is the principal physical feature of the continent as a whole. Lest I be accused of bias, let’s see what a non-South American had to say about these hills:

“Stretching in an uninterrupted granite flow for forty-five hundred miles from the Caribbean to Cape Horn, the Andes are the most stupendous mountains in the whole world; nothing can rival their solid and continuous immensity. There are many single peaks in the Himalayas that are higher, but the Andes include no fewer than forty-nine over twenty thousand feet, much higher than anything in the continental United States, Switzerland, or the Caucasus. Mount Aconcagua in Argentina and nine other giants are at least a mile higher than Mont Blanc or Mount Whitney.”

On the frontier between Argentina and Chile, more than twenty peaks rise over 20,400 feet and thus surpass Mt. McKinley in Alaska. Pico Bolivar, the highest in Venezuela at 16,300 feet is about 2,000 feet higher than Mt. Whitney and 4,000 feet shorter than Mt. McKinley.

One cannot help but be amazed when reading about Simón Bolivar’s crossing the Andes, surprising and beating the Spanish in Boyacá. But one is astounded when reading about José de San Martín (1778-1850), a major hero, only, unlike Bolivar, not tempestuous nor spectacular. An Argentinian Creole (Spanish, but born in the colonies) he trained a crack force, a small army of Chileans and Argentinians and led one of the most phenomenal campaigns in history.

He, two years before Bolivar, crossed the Andes, in his case from Argentina to Chile. The crossing was initiated on January 18, 1817 and it was rapid: just a few weeks to cover 300 miles of incredibly steep mountain trails. He led his men “through defiles, chasms, and passes that were often 10,000 to 12,000 feet high.” He became known as “The Hannibal of the Andes.” Simón Bolivar crossed the Andes in a like feat two years later, in 1819. Both crossings were decisive in the ultimate fate of South America.

The contrast between both crossings is instructive in considering the very real differences between the two. San Martín planned the crossing with great discipline and strategy. Bolivar deceived his men to get them to the foothills and many deserted then, but the sheer force of his personality was sufficient to compel many others to remain with him for the crossing. In both cases, the crossing was met with military success. But it illustrated the chaos of Bolivar versus the order and discipline of San Martín, thereby foreshadowing the results of their conference in Guayaquil in 1822 when San Martín in effect stepped aside and allowed Bolivar to come to Perú with no competition. Impetuosity triumphed and determined in large measure the course of South American history.

The Venezuelan city of Mérida is beautifully situated in an Andean valley and is home to the second oldest university in Venezuela, the University of the Andes (Universidad de Los Andes), established in 1810.

About 10 miles from the city center sits the majestic Pico Bolivar (Bolivar Peak), the tallest peak in Venezuela, one of many within the Sierra Nevada de Mérida which runs about 200 miles Southeast-Northwest, part of the northern extent of the Andes Mountains.

Mérida is home to the highest and second longest cable car in the world (1,600 feet shorter than the Tatev in Armenia). However, it is unsurpassed in combining such height and length. The journey is just shy of eight miles, reaching a height of 15,600 feet: a one-of-a-kind engineering marvel with over 40 years of history. It was conceived and built in the 1950’s under Pérez Jimenez and reached the end of its useful life in 2006 when it was closed. However, it was rebuilt and service was resumed in 2016.

But what impressed me the most from that trip were the roads. The exciting, thrilling, dangerous, crazy roads.

Many of these, including the Carretera Transandina were built during the military government of Juan Vicente Gómez. General Gómez provided badly needed leadership and enrichment to the country, principally through concessions granted to American companies. Many of these concessions were in remote and dangerous sites in far west Venezuela, on which also roamed unconquered Motilone Indians whose expertise included great accuracy with poisoned arrows. So, while Americans were foxtrotting to the “Roaring Twenties, western Venezuelans were waltzing away from poisoned arrows.

Venezuelan infrastructure, much of which exists today, was built. Cattle paths became paved highways; wooden structures became skyscrapers, only surpassed by the public works fomented by yet another dictator in the 1950’s. And all foreign debt was paid. By the end of his rule, the Caracas-La Guira; Caracas-Colombia; Caracas-Soledad (on the Orinoco River) and a network of many other highways had been built. This contributed powerfully to national integration and to reaching heretofore terribly isolated regions of the country.

Even his enemies, and they are legion, admit that the Gómez years were characterized by peace and unprecedented progress. He was a great admirer of Simón Bolivar and built most of the monuments to his honor, including the one in New York City. To the consternation of his enemies, he died the very same calendar day, December 17, of Bolivar’s death, but 105 years later.

We will be reviewing more about Gómez in future posts.

The roads are what I most remember from that trip and my understanding that they were built with prison labor.

I also recall stopping at a small restaurant at the edge of a cliff and my father reading over the menu. Suddenly he laughs, “Look at this. It says ‘Pie de Manzana’.”

We all joined him in laughter. In some countries the anglicized translation and pronunciation for apple pie is accepted (pie de manzana). But not in Venezuela, at least not back then. The translation would be “pastel de manzana.” The Spanish word pie (pronounced pyeh) means “foot”, not pie.

We then went back to seeing what the menu had for lunch, when my father breaks out in louder, infectious laughter. The menu had an English page and for dessert, it said, “Apple Foot.”

We all laughed heartily.

I don’t recall seeing any more such menu items during my life in Venezuela, but years later I did see some menu items an Englishman read in Ecuador:

Hays Krimm (ice cream)Airistiu (Irish stew)Wide Navel Wisky (White Label Whiskey)

Apple Foot is my favorite.

The crossing of the Andes can be recreated for those with a more adventurous bent. Explorers Passage offers “world class guides” who are “the pioneers of trekking along San Martín’s infamous route.” Unlike San Martín, for “nights off the trail” you can relax in comfort and luxury in premium accommodations.

José de San Martín, circa 1848, two years before his death. Photo taken in France. After his explosive meeting with Bolivar, San Martín exiled himself to Europe where he lived the rest of his life. Unlike Bolivar, he was modest and disinterested. He was a devoted husband. When his wife, Doña Remedios, died he had the words, “Wife and Friend” chiseled on her tombstone. She embroidered a flag for him when he set out for Chile across the Andes. The flag never left his side.

Artist rendition of the meeting between Bolivar and San Martín in Guayaquil, Ecuador. The meeting actually took place in an office, not outdoors. Little is known of what was actually said. But San Martín was disappointed and shortly thereafter resigned his command, returned to Argentina, and sailed into exile to Europe. He never returned to Argentina.

City of Mérida, Venezuela. Pico Bolivar is about ten miles distant.

In 1935, Enrique Bourgoin and his guide, Domingo Peña, were the first to reach the peak of this, the highest mountain in Venezuela. Many previous attempts had failed in the 19th and 20th centuries. Above map shows the route they took.

View of Pico Bolivar within its range, the Sierra Nevada.

Cable car which reaches to Pico Espejo, relatively close to Pico Bolivar.

I recall my mother telling me that many of the roads were built with prison labor.

Near Apartaderos, Mérida, one of the highest towns accessible by car on earth. Built during the military government of Juan Vicente Gómez, early 20th century.

Part of the Carretera Transandina built in the Gómez era.

Photo taken in 1925, shortly after the inauguration of the Transandina Highway.

The old Caracas – La Guaira Highway, also built during the Gómez era, inaugurated in 1924. This was still in use into the 1950’s. I recall excitedly looking forward to being driven to the airport during our annual family leave.

Readers will have noticed something of a reluctance to go much into the mystique of Simón Bolivar (Bolivar) in these posts.

A cursory look at the countless Bolivar-related videos or sites in the internet universe will help explain why this blog has skirted around and about Bolivar. Reactions to Bolivar are often loud if not violent. This does not encourage overall understanding.

Be that as it may, it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela, or South America for that matter, without grappling with Bolivar, one of the most enigmatic figures in history, much more so than Napoleon, in my opinion.

Napoleon at least recognized that a people who could not govern themselves individually could not legitimately seek to be self-governing as a whole. Reading through Bolivar’s voluminous declarations, letters, orders, and musings, one sees that at times he appeared to agree with Napoleon in this regard; at times he disagreed, and vehemently so.

When one reads Bolivar’s denunciations of those who sought to be loyal to Spain, one is perplexed. Perplexed because Spain had devolved greater amounts of self-government to its American colonies than the British crown had devolved to its own. And Spain continued to concede more self-government, while England, a quarter century earlier, was reducing such.

So, where was the beef with Spain?

This is a subject that requires setting aside, or at least tamping down a bit, some anti-Spanish prejudices which Northern Europeans and North Americans have cultivated over five centuries.

It will require questioning the propagandistic reporting of Bartolomé de las Casas, who did far more than the British and the Dutch to besmirch his own country. What he reported was, to put it mildly, highly questionable. And if one takes the time to read through a fraction of his writings, one would see that much of what he said was designed to incite hatred towards Spain.

The British and the Dutch used him to good effect, especially the engravings of the Dutchman, Theodor de Bry. But in so doing, they managed to obfuscate much of South American history for centuries after. And this obfuscation, in turn, facilitates our superficial understanding of Bolivar.

By the way, las Casas’ actions, denunciations, and writings, and the use of such by Spain’s enemies bear a vivid resemblance to today’s use of “narrative” in propaganda and public debate. Nothing new under the sun indeed!

But we need to break away from the mainstream, popular narrative and be as fair as we can in looking back and judging how that narrative has molded our thinking and, where necessary, we need to revise such thinking to be more just. Just thinking will result in just action. To borrow the old Arthur Andersen motto: “Think Straight, Act Straight”.

Did you ever hear that the Spanish colonies in South America enjoyed more political self-government than the North American colonies?

Have you ever wondered why the South American revolutions spilled far more blood than the American? Hint: it’s not because of Spain.

Have you ever questioned why the South Americans rebelled against Spain? Hint: the causes, thought processes, and models they sought to imitate are not a mirror image of those of the North American colonies.

As for Bolivar, at one point he laments the destruction of three centuries of civilization (civilization cultivated by Spain). At another, without so much as a pause for an irony alert, he condemns Spain for having kept the Americas in prehistoric conditions. Well, which is it?

At one point, he condemns Spain for heartlessness; at another, he orders the execution of helpless prisoners.

His military exploits are a wonder. He rivals Hannibal in his crossing of the Andes. Twice.

Some of his writings reach stratospheric heights and are deeply moving and prescient.

But a man is known by his fruits. And it can be argued that the fruits of South American revolution are not a compliment to any man.

I grew up admiring Bolivar. I still admire him because he possessed much that is worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also possessed much that is not. His actions and reactions towards Spain require understanding and mature analysis.

Alexander von Humboldt, the great 18th and 19th century explorer and naturalist, told of an encounter with a savage looking Indian who startled him as he knelt to take some water from a narrow stream deep in the Venezuelan jungle. The Indian stood across the stream. As Humboldt rose, ready to defend himself, the Indian raised his hand and spoke to him in perfect Spanish. He then proceeded to lead the explorers to a mission not far away. The great explorer wrote that he was amazed at finding such a creature speaking a civilized tongue in the middle of nowhere.

As we shall see in future posts, Humboldt was a creature of the Enlightenment; he was no friend of Christianity (though, ironically, he was a product thereof) and this more often than not blinded him to the obvious. For example, he reported that the Waraos lived atop stilts on the shores of the Orinoco in order to keep missionaries from reaching them. This is so preposterous that one marvels how despising Christianity can make intelligent people dumb! However, even Humboldt was complimentary of the work of the Spanish missionaries with the Indians in South America. (The Waraos lived in huts on stilts for protection against the massive Orinoco floods, in case you’re wondering.)

Notwithstanding my comments above, I greatly respect Humboldt, as you shall see in future posts. And I am a fan of the English also, but not uncritically so.

Spain did a phenomenal work in the Americas. Not at all perfect. Sometimes terribly imperfect. But it deserves a more just assessment.

And that assessment will serve to help us better understand Bolivar. And Venezuela.

There will be more posts on Bolivar. And Humboldt. And Spain.