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.
