Orinoco, Casiquiare, Humboldt, and Monster Aguirre

During the rainy season, about April to August, the Orinoco River rises 40 to 60 feet at Ciudad Bolivar, the capital of the state of Bolivar, also known as Guayana. I recall, in my boyhood, dangerously flooded city streets in San Félix, about 70 miles east of Ciudad Bolivar. In the plains, the waters expand great distances, up to 120 miles or more in some places. During the dry season, the river continuously drops, exposing vast tracts along its banks and many islands.

Alexander von Humboldt explored the Casiquiare River, which starts as an arm of the Orinoco and finds its way to the Rio Negro (Black River), a tributary of the Amazon, thus forming a “natural canal” between the Orinoco and the Amazon.  The great explorer’s efforts in that area were cut short by Portuguese and Spanish authorities. Nevertheless, as much credit as Humboldt deserves, the channel between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers was known for centuries before his celebrated voyage: Spanish missionaries, which he was so fond of mocking, were well acquainted with it and often traversed it northwards from what is now Brazilian territory. Maps subsequent to the early missionary eras also note it, under various names.

As for Humboldt’s tendency to somewhat minimize Christianity, we must say that it was Christians who opened the doors to him. It was the monks, even the bad ones, who guided him. It was the mission Indians who led him and showed him the way — and did so without devouring him for supper, thanks to Christianity. In fact, besides some attempts at robbery, by unevangelized natives, we might add, the only obstacle to his endeavors was courtesy of, not the church, but politicians. He was expelled from Brazil because the Portuguese and Spanish civil authorities were not on good terms. But, ever the Enlightenment Man, he reserved his bile for Christ, not Caesar.

Be that as it may, others were at Casiquiare before him. In fact, two and half centuries before Humboldt’s great voyage, the infamous Lope de Aguirre formed part of an expedition headed east to the Atlantic Ocean from Lima, Perú. Aguirre was right out of central casting: hideously ugly and lame in one foot. The explorers were commissioned by the Marquis of Cañete with the purpose of verifying the truth or falsehood of fantastic reports by Indians, of various tribes, coming from the East, telling of the fabulous El Dorado. These stories were at times seconded by European explorers, such as the German, Felipe de Utre, who told the Spaniards in Perú of vast cities and great wealth further east.

So, the Marquis of Cañete appointed Don Pedro de Ursua as the Leader, but Aguirre murdered Don Pedro in his sleep and had himself named leader. Anyone who questioned or was not sufficiently enthusiastic about his leadership was promptly murdered, including Don Pedro’s concubine, Inés de Atienza, who was cruelly put to death.

The voyage continued, and a very bloody voyage it was. Indians along the way were massacred, and murders within the company continued as they made their way to the Atlantic Ocean, first ascending the Rio Negro, then following the streams of the Casiquiare and eventually the Orinoco. They killed, massacred, and slaughtered all along the long, bloody trek.

They eventually sailed across the sea to the island of Margarita where they committed the most horrible atrocities on the inhabitants without regard to age or sex, and murdered all of the officers of the Spanish government. Aguirre met his end in Barquisimeto, about 200 miles east of Caracas, where he was finally successfully ambushed, captured, and executed. His body was quartered and sent to various cities across Venezuela.

It must be noted that Simon Bolivar approvingly considered Aguirre’s acts as the first declaration of independence in the Americas. He wrote this about a man who, as his well-deserved capture and death approached, stabbed his own daughter, Elvira, to death, saying, “Someone I love so much must never be bedded by ruined people.” Compare his “declaration of independence” to that of the thirteen colonies, and you have a microcosm of the chasm between the two. And of the at times frustrating character of Bolivar.

As to the Orinoco, at places the shore is very broad and the jungle remains at a distance from the river. At other stretches, the jungle comes right to the river’s edge and even seems to invade or overhang it, as if to stake its claim over everything, even the wide Orinoco, whose name is believed to come from Orinucu, a Tamanak word meaning, so some think, “Great Water”. In fact, some tribes in the past called this river, Paragua, which also means “Great Water.”

Then there’s the Boto, or Amazon River Dolphin, known in Venezuela as the Tonina, the largest sweet water cetacean in the world. These were plentiful in my childhood, and their mighty antics in the middle of the river formed a delightful distraction. I recall during a trip down the Orinoco how they undulated, seemingly in majestic slow motion, upstream as the ship continued its journey. These fresh water dolphins seemed to fit perfectly in the Orinoco whose attributes at times resemble the ocean.

Much more about the Orinoco and Humboldt in future posts.

Pedro de Ursua. Aguirre murdered him and his widow in 1561. 
Lope de Aguirre, 1510-1561
Salto de Aguirre in Perú. Here, Aguirre faced grave danger and chiseled some mysterious symbols on a rock. He escaped to bring mayhem to Venezuela. To this day the symbols are venerated by many.
The Orinoco River Basin. Note the Casiquiare “Canal” to the south.
Various images of the Orinoco River
The great confluence of the Caroní and Orinoco Rivers at Ciudad Guayana
The Casiquiare River (also called Canal or Waterway)
Reproduction of map made in 1800 based on the observations of Alexander von Humboldt. Map traces the Casiquiare River’s route from the Orinoco to the Rio Negro (Black River) which in turn will connect with the Amazon. The inset to the bottom right traces the Maypures Rapids of which Humboldt wrote in thrilling prose. 
Orinoco Tonina. Largest sweet water cetacean in the world.
Aerial view of Palúa, the Bethlehem Steel port on the Oricoco.
Tarpon fished from the Orinoco near Palúa, circa 1950.
En route to the Atlantic Ocean, circa 1960.

The Lost World and Green Mansions

Green Mansions, the 1904 William Henry Hudson novel, was made into a 1959 movie starring Anthony Perkins and Audrey Hepburn. The director, Mel Ferrer, after concluding that he could not stage the film in the thick and impenetrable, not to say dangerous, jungles of Venezuela, had, nevertheless, taken the equivalent of about an hour of footage south of the Orinoco (not too far from the mining camp) and also in Canaima, much of which was incorporated into the movie. Although the motion picture, in its denouement, is not faithful to the book, it was pretty popular in Venezuela. The full title of the book included this subtitle: A Romance of the Tropical Forest. In sum, a young man fails at leading a revolution in Caracas and avoids execution by escaping to the deepest jungle, convinced he’ll never be able to return to civilization. There he meets an ethereal, mysterious beauty. Where did this non-Indian woman come from? Why do Indian tribes seek to kill her?

The Lost World, the Arthur Conan Doyle novel, published in 1912, was written after Doyle had bid farewell to Sherlock Holmes. It is a science fiction account of Englishmen who explore South America and discover an unknown jungle where dinosaurs roam. A major character is a young man who is determined to accompany the expedition in order to demonstrate his courage to a lady in London whom he hopes to marry. Upon his return he finds his efforts have availed him nothing and he goes back to the lost world. The inspiration for this work was most likely Venezuela, though some believe it’s Bolivia.  However, Venezuela is the one most often alluded to, especially Canaima, a vast region of interminable forests occupied by massive tepuys, which are, in essence, huge mesas or table top mountains with vertical walls. One of these is Auyantepui, the site of Angel Falls, the tallest uninterrupted water fall on earth. Another is Roraima, most likely Doyle’s inspiration for The Lost World, much of whose adventures take place on a tepui.

Incredibly, it has had over 5 film adaptations, the first being in 1925 with Wallace Beery in the title role of Professor Challenger and the next in 1960 with the inimitable Claude Rains in that role. If you’ve seen the great movie, Grand Hotel, the one with Greta Garbo’s plaintive, “I want to be alone! I just want to alone”, you’ll remember Wallace Beery as the unscrupulous General Director Preysing. As for Claude Rains, if you’ve seen Casablanca, you’ll recall him as bribe-taking Captain Louis Renault who, deadpanned, utters some of the most famous lines in the movies: “I am shocked! Shocked! That there is gambling in this place!” And also, “Round up the usual suspects.”

I confess to having seen the 1960 Lost World adaptation but only recalling the scene where a member of the expedition is eaten by a dinosaur. Sorry. I was just a kid. I also saw Green Mansions. I have not read either of the novels. But both books and movies have been a continuous presence in my mind given their link to Venezuela — even to the area where I was born — and the many times they were referenced in conversations as I was growing up.

As noted above, Angel Falls is in Canaima, on the spectacular Auyantepui. Although first seen by a European explorer, the Spaniard, Felix Cardona, in 1927, it bears the name of the American aviator, Jimmie Angel who, following the directions given to him by Cardona, flew over the falls in 1933. He returned in 1937 and attempted to land atop the mesa only to have his plane nosedive and sink in the marsh. He, his wife, Marie, and two other companions were faced with either staying atop a site where no one ever visited — the Pemon Indians, reasonably,  considered it too dangerous — or to descend the mighty mount by foot. It took them 11 days. It is entirely possible that the Pemon Indians had never seen the falls until after its discovery by air. It is a fact that they avoided Auyantepui and only began approaching it regularly after Angel’s fall (pun intended).

This adventure brought Angel Falls to the attention of the outside world and it in turn honored Jimmie Angel by naming the falls after him. His monoplane remained atop the mesa until 1970 when it was lifted by helicopters and now, restored, sits at the airport in Ciudad Bolivar, the capital of the state where the El Pao Bethlehem Steel mining camp operated.

Sir Walter Raleigh also explored Canaima in the late 1500’s. Some say he was the first European to have seen Angel Falls, but that’s doubtful given the extreme remoteness of Auyantepui. Even today, to get there, the traveler flies to Canaima from Ciudad Guayana. Then by foot, donkey, and canoe, he arrives at the foot of the falls days later, assuming the weather permits it. I visited once but never made it to the falls due to weather and having run out of time.

As a side note, the incident which led to Raleigh’s execution took place in Venezuela. It was his second expedition, in 1617. Against his orders, and against the express conditions of the English crown, a detachment of his men attacked a Spanish outpost, Santo Tomé de Guayana on the Orinoco. (The ruins of the fort are still there and the mining company arranged outings there several times. As can be imagined, this was exciting for us kids.) Raleigh’s son was killed in the attack. Raleigh returned to England where he knew he would be executed by beheading. 

Both Sir Walter Raleigh and Jimmie Angel kept being pulled back to Venezuela. Raleigh suffered great loss with his son’s death, exacerbated by knowing he also would die upon his return to England. Angel kept being drawn back time and again, and, during a rough landing in Panama, he suffered severe head injuries followed by a heart attack from which he never fully recovered. He died 8 months later in Panama but not before making sure to ask that his ashes be taken back to Auyantepui. Venezuela, especially Canaima, has drawn and continues to irresistibly draw explorers, naturalists, novelists, cinematographers, and many others. And will continue to do so.

They, and such as they, understand the pull of the land.

As to the tepuis (tepuy or tepuyes in Spanish), let’s get off the beaten track of precambrian quartz sandstone and go into the science fiction, Twilight Zone world of some contemporary theorists. Giant trees. Yes, some believe these structures were of a time when trees were giants in the land, composed of the equivalent of silicone and used by earth’s gods and priests to communicate across vast distances. So, suspend reality for a moment and when you see the photos of tepuis below, imagine them as tree stumps.

Giants indeed!

The novel was made into a 1925 movie of the same title.
Wallace Beery as Professor Challenger in the 1925 adaptation.
Claude Rains as Professor Challenger in the 1960 version.
Claude Rains as Professor Challenger in the 1960 version.
Mt. Roraima, in the southernmost region of Canaima, near the border with Brazil. It is almost certain that this phenomenon inspired Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel, The Lost World.
Kukenántepui provided inspiration for the movie Up.
Upuigmatepui
They do look like giant tree stumps!
Auyantepui and Angel Falls. 
Outpost, Santo Tomé de Guayana on the Orinoco. Attacked by the British in direct contravention to Raleigh’s orders in 1617.
Artist rendition of the execution of Sir Walter Raleigh
Jimmy Angel. Another example of the pull of the land. He was born in Missouri, but he was always pulled to Venezuela. He died in Panama, in 1956 after suffering head injuries during a rough landing. He asked that his ashes be taken to Angel Falls. His wife and children did so four years later.
The plane, restored, in Ciudad Bolivar
Plaque honoring Jimmie Angel in Canaima National Park

Guayana: The Reverse Miracle (Guayana: El Milagro Al Revés)

The book is in Spanish, but richly deserves translation into other languages, especially English. However, those of you who read Spanish and have an interest in the massive industrial works of Venezuela’s interior and their catastrophic decline in recent decades, or have an interest in understanding how seemingly eternal, gargantuan enterprises can indeed be short-lived, will find this book of great interest.

Although its subject matter includes pretty technical themes (lots of engineering and mining, and capacity and waste, etc.), the author has a certain talent for making such esoterica comprehensible for those of us who are not versed in those professions but who do have an interest in Guayana (southeastern Venezuela, mostly the Venezuelan state of Bolivar) either because we were born there, or because we love Venezuela, or we simply want to understand what has happened in an area so critical for the well-being of a country

A few excerpts from chapter 11 will have to suffice to give an idea of the treasures inside, which will amply reward the interested reader:

“Sixty years ago, in what today is the industrial emporium of Guayana, all we had [there] was what Venezuelans would refer to as ‘bush and snakes’. Old San Felix was a small, ramshackle embarcadero for cattle driven from southern villages like Upata and Guasipati, to be shipped across the Orinoco to Ciudad Bolivar and from there to Trinidad, Carupano, or La Guaira [Caracas port]. Puerto Ordaz did not exist….

“From the years of [Medina Angarita and Perez Jimenez] steps were taken to conceptualize and realize a massive steel project with an experienced and renowned Italian enterprise and to begin construction of a small hydroelectric dam, today’s Macagua I, with 360 MW generating capacity….

“Later, towards the end of the 1960’s, a major expansion and modernization, Plan IV, were launched.

 “Those who have never visited Guayana have no idea of the magnitud of the wondrous Sidor. A look at the data at the end of the 1990’s, taken from one of the brochures that were then handed out to visitors who in those years engaged in ‘industrial tourism’ will give the reader an idea: ‘CVG Siderúrgica of the Orinoco, C.A., located on the right riverbank of the Orinoco River, in the Matanzas Industrial Zone, in Ciudad Guayana, Bolivar [state], 200 nautical miles from the Atlantic Ocean, sprawls over an area of 2,838 hectares of which 87 are covered. It includes 17 KM of perimeter fencing: 2 KM along the Orinoco River; 70 KM of paved roads; 132 KM of internal railroads; 13 mess halls; 19 production plants; 1 port with all modern facilities. For perspective: 2,838 hectares are about 28 square kilometers, which is double the municipality of Chacao [one of the larger municipalities of the Caracas area, the federal district]. It’s internal roads and highways covered 70 KM in length. Placed linearly, this would cover two round trips from Caracas to La Guaira [the capital city, in the northern mountains, to the major port on the coast]. Its 132 kilometers of railways would be enough to travel from Caracas to Maracay and some 20 kilometers beyond that. Or to go from Ciudad Bolivar [the state’s capital] to El Tigre [in another state]….

“All schools, hospitals, commercial buildings, manufacturing plants, universities, housing, buildings, stadiums, museums, theaters, and transportation infrastructure that exist in Venezuela and which were built in the last 50 years, were erected with rods supplied by Sidor or Sevensa-Sidetur [the private venture associated with Sidor]. That datum alone indicates how important Guayana is to Venezuela; but there is much more….”

The book is: Guayana: El Milagro Al Revés: El fin de la soberanía productiva (Guayana: The Reverse Miracle). I found it in Amazon.