By jeep the intrepid traveler can reach Los Nevados, which rests about 9,000 feet above sea level in the Venezuelan Andes in the state of Mérida. The road is dirt and more frequently than not, the traveler sees little “sanctuaries” which commemorate those brave or foolhardy souls who attempted to make the journey but fell off the bottomless cliffs running alongside it for miles.
The village was founded in 1591 and today has about 150 people according to the most recent statistic I was able to dig up (2019), plus about 1,000 in the small villages and farms surrounding it. That is down from the 2,000-plus total in 2011.
Los Nevados depended heavily on tourism, mostly European and American; one can still see fading French and English signs, still there for no one these days.
It is so isolated that the great industrial and infrastructure booms of the 20th century bypassed her. Although power blackouts are frequent and long lasting, Los Nevados’ dauntless people have never depended much on electricity. Internet connectivity is infrequent and forget about texting.
How is it that the village population is not down to zero by now?
I personally know folks who live in the Venezuelan interior, far from the major metropolitan areas of Caracas, Maracaibo, Ciudad Guayana, and such. They are finding it very difficult to acquire the basics of life such as food and medicines as well as simple necessities like soap. Some are about to embark on the long and dangerous trek to Brazil or Colombia, a trek that millions of others have taken, many having disappeared along the way.
But Los Nevados hasn’t experienced such an exodus, although to be sure, many have indeed emigrated. What do the remaining majority do?
The same as their ancestors have done for centuries, it turns out. They grow their own food, including potatoes, beans, tomatoes, berries, and more. Every household has a garden and many raise their own chickens and other small livestock. Theirs is mostly a barter economy.
And I am told their countenances continue to be serious but content and determined.
No, I am not for returning to some idyllic subsistence existence. However, I am for being prepared by learning a trade, knowing how to grow your own food, and loving your neighbors. That’s a start for any major upheavals which one may face in a given lifetime.
“The Roman Empire is luxurious, but it is filled with misery. It is dying but it laughs — moritus et ridet.” — Salvian (5th century)
As noted elsewhere, the title of this blog, The Pull of The Land, is borrowed from Whittaker Chambers of whom I’ve posted only once (Ghosts), where I noted my intentions to post more of or from him. This is the second such post.
Chambers was considered a pessimist who believed that in leaving Communism he was leaving the winning side to join the losing side. One need not share his melancholy to nevertheless correspond with or comprehend it. After all, Salvian would be considered an extremist today and yet he was not far from the truth, as a mere few decades later would confirm.
Chambers quoted Salvian in his essay on St. Benedict in 1952 and went on to write:
“What, in fact, was the civilization of the West? If it was Christendom, why had it turned its back on half its roots and meanings and become cheerfully ignorant of those who had embodied them? If it was not Christendom, what was it? And what were those values that it claimed to assert against the forces of active evil that beset it in the greatest crisis of history since the fall of Rome? Did the failure of the Western World to know what it was lie at the root of its spiritual despondency, its intellectual confusion, its moral chaos, the dissolving bonds of faith and loyalty within itself, its swift political decline in barely four decades from hegemony of the world to a demoralized rump of Europe little larger than it had been in the crash of the Roman West, and an America still disputing the nature of the crisis, its gravity, whether it existed at all, or what to do about it?”
In another context, he wrote that the conflict of the age is not really Communism vs Capitalism, but rather God vs atheism or, more precisely, submission to God vs submission to man personified by the state. Possessing a strong sense of history, Chambers understood that there is nothing new under the sun and he saw that Rome was beset by three great alienations which are present with us today as well: “They are the alienation of the spirit of man from traditional authority; his alienation from the idea of traditional order; and a crippling alienation that he feels at the point where civilization has deprived him of the joy of simple productive labor.”
He pointed to the parallels between AD 410 and 1952 when “three hundred million Russians, Poles, Czechs, Slovaks, East Germans, Austrians, Hungarians, and all the Christian Balkans, would tell you” the same “if they could lift their voices through the night of the new Dark Ages that have fallen on them.”
The fall of the Iron Curtain brought great changes to the political geography since Chambers wrote the above, however, not to the basic conflict: God or man? Hence, Chambers’ point still stands. And in such a conflict, we know Who the Victor is, although we may not be able to see His triumph at the moment.
But here is a hint: a sign of divine judgment on a people or nation is evidenced by the anomaly of such having rulers who do not love or appreciate them. In effect, of being ruled by their enemies: “…. they that hate you shall reign over you…. (Lev. 26:17)”. That can refer to rulers who are foreign to the nation or rulers who are internal to the nation.
In Rome we saw an empire often ruled by emperors whose cruelty is unimaginable. Gaius Suetonius wrote The Twelve Caesars in AD 121 and the events he records in his work, still considered a reliable primary source, often make chilling reading. Although some historians believe he was sensational and biased, other contemporary works, including works of art, substantiate his biographies in many essential points. Rome’s cruelty to Christians is well known and attested to (although increasingly ignored in today’s age of savagery and unnatural affections). One thing to note about Rome’s persecutions is that cruelty to Christians will eventually devolve to cruelty to all peoples. And such was the case in Rome.
In Venezuela, we have seen the anomaly of a large, once-prosperous country possessing the largest oil reserves in the entire world actually inviting a small basket-case island nation to take over their basic industries, intelligence services, internal security, and much, much more (I will be posting more about this in the future). All this was knowingly commanded to be so by “local” rulers who knew exactly what they were doing. One can say much about such rulers, but one cannot say that they love their nation or her people.
Examples, not as blatant but just as destructive, can be multiplied throughout the Americas and Europe.
To hate God is to hate man, for God is man’s Creator and Redeemer.
Now, having written the above, I will also say that although I recognize we may be seeing some difficult times that will likely go beyond our lifetimes, I do not share Chambers’ pessimism.
For I know Who wins and such a victory will one day be plain for all to see and acknowledge.
Caligula (AD 12-AD 41), was emperor AD 37 – AD 41. A most cruel, but not the only cruel, emperor. Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez (1954-2013) embraces his Cuban counterpart, Fidel Castro (1926-2016, but last seen alive July 11, 2009 when Evo Morales said he had met with him). Under Chavez and continuing under current strongman, Nicolás Maduro, Cuba took operational charge over most strategic sectors of Venezuela including the armed forces, social programs, identification and security, and much more, even her petroleum industry. Whittaker Chambers (1901-1961)
“We northern Europeans have a strange extravagant prejudice against the Spanish people. I have been living on intimate terms with all the classes of society from the Capuchins to the Viceroy. I have become as familiar with the Spanish tongue as I am with my own…. All these people possess, in my mind, the elements of grand character … warm, convivial, of likable candor, or great simplicity of manner….” — Alexander von Humboldt, late fall, 1799 writing from Caracas, Venezuela
The above impressions only deepened when, soon thereafter, Humboldt and Bonpland made their way to the Llanos of Venezuela. A flat, almost treeless plain covered with short grass, stretching from the Orinoco deltas to the Andes, the Llanos are considered by experienced explorers to be the “most remarkable plains of the world.” They appeared to be one vast desolation. But no, cattle could be seen miles away, dotting the landscape, and homesteads, or hatos, were there as well. Ranchers lived many miles apart from each other, yet, the hospitality of the people never failed. At every hato they were cared for, fed sumptuously, and always treated to that grand finale, a pitch black coffee, “so strong as to keep the travelers awake half the night.”
When Humboldt visited, Venezuela, known as the Captaincy General of Venezuela, consisted of seven “United Provinces,” covering an enormous mass of land covering over 420,000 square miles (over a tenth of the size of the continental US), wedged between Colombia and Brazil. Her population was one million, of which about 125,000 were Indians and 200,000, Black. Humboldt was amazed that all population elements of Venezuela — the Black, the Indian, the Mestizo, and the Criollo majority (Spanish descendants) could “be fused into a living, cultural symphony.”
Three centuries before Humboldt, Christopher Columbus, on his third voyage in 1498, had stopped in Trinidad, named by the famed navigator for the Holy Trinity. He entered the Gulf of Paria and planted the Spanish flag on the Paria Peninsula in Venezuela. Later on he landed on the Venezuelan island of Margarita.
When in the gulf, he investigated the “Grande River” (the Orinoco) and seeing and experiencing the great torrents of fresh water flowing into the gulf, he understood that he had discovered another continent — “otro mundo”, because he saw that the vastness of the Orinoco and the water it cast onto the sea was far more than what an island can produce. He was convinced he had reached the outer regions of Paradise.
Since Christopher Columbus is little studied today, few know what our grandparents knew: he interpreted his travels and discoveries by the light of Scripture. He sometimes interpreted wrongly — especially in his calculations of the size of the earth — but his desire to do God’s work cannot be questioned.
On his return from this, his third voyage, the voyage in which he planted the Spanish flag in Venezuela and considered her to be the foyer to Paradise, he wrote to the king and queen of Spain. He was in chains as he wrote, for the Spanish soldier, Francisco de Bobadilla, who had been sent to Hispaniola by the sovereigns, was incensed when he saw that Columbus had hanged 5 rebellious Spanish soldiers in an attempt to restore order in what was becoming an anarchic situation. Upon arrival in Spain, he was immediately released and his honors restored. Bobadilla was unable to restore order and was recalled in 1502 but he and his fleet disappeared in a hurricane.
Columbus’ letter is most remarkable considering his chains and also his deteriorating health, including insomnia and rheumatoid arthritis, which many believe brought his death a few years later, shortly after his fourth and final voyage. The letter is written by a man absolutely confident and assured of his navigational abilities. Indeed, several of the men who sailed with him later expressed their amazement at his uncanny ability to know when and where to sail and his utmost confidence when on the seas. In fact, his final voyage resulted in shipwreck near Jamaica, but that was because he allowed his men to turn north too soon, against his better judgement.
In the letter, Columbus expressed his belief he had “found the outer regions of Paradise because the polestar rotation had given him the impression that the fleet was climbing. The weather had become extremely mild, and the flow of fresh water into the Gulf of Paria was, as he saw, enormous. All this could have one explanation only — they had mounted toward the temperate heights of the Earthly Paradise, heights from which the rivers of Paradise ran into the sea. Columbus had found all such signs of the outer regions … in his reading, and indeed they were widely known…. [Brittanica].”
On the basis of that letter, the Queen agreed to a fourth voyage in which, incredibly, Columbus came within a hair’s breadth of the Pacific Ocean. But that was not to be. He died shortly after his return, still convinced he had reached Asia sailing west.
But he had opened the doors to the Spanish colonization of much of America and to “three centuries of culture and civilization and progress”, to quote Simón Bolívar. That expression was affirmed by Alexander von Humboldt as he explored and analyzed the vast regions of Venezuela and Colombia while all the time deploring Spanish rule, and this, despite the fact that “enlightenment” France had refused to grant him passport for his travels and yet “obscurantist” Spain had. It was Spain who wanted more exploration and scientific inquiry, not France.
But Humboldt, whom i admire greatly, could not see beyond his prejudices. The same is the case with many.
A mere two decades after Humboldt’s and Bonpland’s visit, Venezuela had lost a third of her population in what can only be described as one vast bloodletting whose repercussions are still felt to this day. Bolívar had his way: he lamented that he had destroyed three centuries of progress.
Third voyage. Boca del Serpiente (Columbus had called it “Boca de Dragón” but that name was later transferred further north). I sailed there with my father on a trip to Puerto de Hierro (Puerto de Hierro). Very rough seas as the mighty Orinoco pours in. One of the many sights Columbus viewed during his third voyage. Venezuelan Llanos The Venezuelan people still retain their vitality, friendliness, and hospitality. With God’s help, they will survive and thrive again.
With this post we conclude Mike Ashe’s Mining Camp Memories. This final part of his memories speaks of his having to leave the camp for schooling as well as a bit about his parents’ background.
Just about every one of us in that time of El Pao history, early 50s to mid 60s, left home “early” to go to school. As one of the “small kids” I’d wonder where the big guys went during the year. My father would tell me about military academies and whatnot. But that was like telling me they all went to Siam. And then it was my turn in the mid 60s and, like Mike, I was told to write home every week and I did so “religiously”, as Mike puts it. In the 50s and 60s leaving El Pao to go to school in the US was like going to the moon. Very little communications and you truly were “far, far away.”
As to his parents’ background, I was reminded that no one comes into this world a “blank slate”; we all bring a heritage of the previous generations and much more. Sitting at the club bar as a kid in a time and place where that was not frowned upon, I heard the men there talk about mining accidents and lessons learned before coming to El Pao and how they applied such lessons to their current employment, not to mention their own parents or grandparents, and even politics and religion, at a time and place where such topics could be discussed without ending in blood and warfare.
Many years later, I realized that, listening to those men, I was developing an inchoate understanding that no one comes into this world with nothing. We are born into homes we did not build, eat food we did not grow, learn languages we did not invent, and much, much more.
El Pao welcomed men and women and children with manifold exciting backgrounds and experiences. Those of us whose childhood was nurtured there were very fortunate.
As you read these last few paragraphs in the Memories, I hope you too are reminded of your own heritage and grateful for it, whether good or bad, because, properly understood and viewed, it all works for your and my good.
And I know you will appreciate the photos Mike appended at the end. I am pleased to remember and respect all the men Mike names.
Thank you again, Mike.
Michael John Ashe II
Admiral Farragut Academy
In 1959 I had to leave Venezuela at age 12 (Company School only went to the 6th grade). The company paid for me to attend Admiral Farragut Academy in Saint Petersburg Florida. Getting into Farragut was not easy, you had to have good grades, pass an entrance exam and obtain a letter of reference. Mr. Shingler and Mr. Belfonti provided a letter of reference. Mr. Shingler’s son Jimmy thought I was pretty cool (the one and only that thought that) he and his Dad built a log cabin fort on the water tower road and Called it Fort Farragut. Seventy-five % of Farragut graduates made it to Annapolis (US Naval Academy). Apollo Astronauts Alan Shepard (first US astronaut in space) and Charles Duke are Farragut Astronauts.
The Academy was very demanding with extremely strict discipline and academically challenging. Reveille at 0600 taps at 2100. God, Duty, Honor, Country and welfare of fellow cadets and teachers was a part of life at Farragut. Although not a denominational school, the practice of one’s religion was expected and prayers were said before all meals and at assembly. Honor meant that cheating was not tolerated and anyone caught cheating was expelled. The Flag was raised daily at reveille with all cadet’s present, accounted for, and at attention. Retreat required that those outdoors stop activities and face the flag being lowered. Those in uniform were always required to face the flag being lowered and salute. At Farragut there was a live bugler at the all-daily ceremonies. Love of country was taught by staff and teachers.
Inspections were performed twice a week without warning. Barracks, bunks, uniforms, shoes. foot lockers, and the bathrooms, “AKA-The Head”, were all under close scrutiny. Demerits were issued for non-compliance, missing homework assignments, talking in class or assembly. For every demerit over three a week resulted in one hour of marching in uniform with rifle on the parade grounds. More serious offenses such as fighting would result in a “Captains Mast”. Rule of thumb: if you needed to fight don’t get caught.
My weekly allowance was $2.50 most of which was spent at the canteen (owner was not part of the Academy) for candy and soft drinks. In the front of the canteen there was a coke machine sitting on a wooden deck with boards that were spaced so that any coin dropped would quickly end up under the deck on a wire screen. Latticework blocked any attempt to retrieve ones lost treasure. Chuck snooped around and discovered that there was a hidden entrance that would lead to the coins but would involve crawling about 20 feet in a very dirty space. So, one Saturday evening right before sundown (when everything was quiet) we executed operation treasure hunt. We made quite a haul: enough to keep us in coke, candy and movies in downtown St. Pete for a long time. The canteen owner sealed up the entrance after that so no more treasure hunting, but we couldn’t complain.
My best friends were Keller (from Cuba), Gould (from Michigan) and Freeble (from Florida). Chuck Gould was my roommate the years that I was there he was 6’2” 210 pounds and a very fast runner. All four of us in 8th grade were invited to spring training with the High School Football team. Chuck was faster than all the high school players and he ended up playing football for one of the Big Ten Schools (maybe Michigan State)
Keller was the top cadet and I was second. The award was limited to just two cadets per year and it was the first time that two Latin American cadets received this award. The best athletes at Farragut were the Cubans, hands down.
A lot of the boys there came from Cuba and South America. Even though I was 12 when I left home, I had always been mature for my age and adapted well to being on my own. However, I must confess that when you only get a couple of letters a month (only communication with the family) sometimes was a bit of a letdown. I was required to write the family one letter a week, which I did religiously.
When my parents returned from Venezuela, I had to leave Farragut which was not at all what I wanted.
The Chile Connection
Not Completely Related but interesting is Herb Ashe’s story-for his Brother Don Ashe who is now 93 years old:
Dad’s father Michael was a self-educated man who was orphaned at a very young age. He managed to secure a career with a lot of determination and hard work in all things electrical working for the New York Subway system. Along the way, he thought it would be a career changer if he could move to Anaconda’s mining operation in Northern Chile. The mine was the largest open pit mine in the world at that time and for many years thereafter, Chuquicamata or referred to as simply Chuqui.
During that time, he was dating my Grandmother Martha, whose family seriously objected such a wild idea from a guy driving a motorcycle. Without getting into the weeds, my father Herb was born in 1922 and the three traveled by steamship to the northern coast of Chile. I believe in 1923 after Anaconda Copper bought the mine from the Chile Exploration Co (Guggenheim) but I don’t know how Grandpa was hired by them. Mine development was mostly done by the Guggenheim group, bringing Andes water to the desert and providing electric power for mine operations was critical. Also, I don’t know if the steamship was able to unload in Tocopilla or they might have disembarked using long boats when arriving in Chile.
The mine is located about 800 miles north of Santiago at an elevation of over 9,000 Ft in a high plain desert (Atacama the driest desert on Earth). Grandpa was assigned to the power plant and remained there, until he was offered a job for Anaconda’s Copper mine as the power plant superintendent around 1942-43 timeframe in Cananea Mexico until he retired in the early 60’s.
Martha was a business woman. She represented Ramos Catalan (a very accomplished and famous Chilean Artist) while in Chile. She knew how to pinch pennies. One of the stories involved Grandma’s trip to Naco, AZ for groceries. She arrived at the border with no gas in the tank and stopped in the first gas station she could find only to find out that they did not offer S&H green stamps so she drove on looking for an S&H gas station before running out of gas. I always admired my Grandma.
Dad’s brother (Don) and his sister (Aunt Carroll) were both born in Chile. Herb and Don where really handfuls for their parents. Dad was six years older than Don: maybe a good role model or maybe not? Camp schooling was provided through the 8th grade so dad had to leave Chuqui for a Christian Boarding School (I think it was St Andrews Affiliated with the Presbyterian Church). Anyway, Dad boarded a train in Chuqui for transport to Santiago, he arranged transport across the Andes to Mendoza Argentina and then by rail to Buenos Aires. Below is the famous switchback road from Santiago to Mendoza Argentina. Not an easy trip alone for a fourteen-year-old?
Dad and I traveled to Chile together on business in 1993 it was a great experience; something I will never forget. Chile was simply breathtaking. I would like to take Cristy there when COVID is over to see Venezuela and Chile. Allende was a big mistake that did a lot of damage in Chile. General Augusto Pinochet cleaned this mess up in short order. The US left-wing media portrayed the General as a terrible villain but in reality, the country became an economic model for South America thanks to his reforms.
Rare picture of Dad and Mom together in Venezuela Dad, Ted Heron, and Dick Guth at the El Pao mine site. Notice all wore khaki and most sported their military style belts. Dad showing off mining techniques and really looking like Castro! Dad was about 5’8” but his hands were huge. When you shook hands with him it was like shaking hands with a bear. Couple of mining camp engineers: Dad and Corky. Great photo. Left to Right-Lou Hintshaw, Dad, Walfredo Jimenez, and Bernie Gerbrecht talking mining on the front porch of our company house. Mr. Jimenez was the head of mining operations in El Pao. Olive Ruff on left and Mom on the Road to Cananea Mexico. Art Ruff was a classmate of Dad’s at Colorado School of Mines. He worked in Cananea and was the General Superintendent of Cerro Bolivar, US Steel Property in Venezuela, Circa 1955 Passport Picture of Mom, Me and Mary Ellen taken just prior to leaving the US for Venezuela. Ted Heron-always Dad’s friend and colleague for life. Michael Ashe -Farragut Picture at age 14. Now the family knows where they get their ears! Dad at 90
With gratitude I am pleased to continue posting Michael John Ashe II’s recollections of his life in El Pao and related events. As he remembers certain individuals, especially those we used to call “the big guys and gals”, my own memory is awakened to recall those years, those folks, and the joys lived. Also, as readers know, I was one of those who had great fun running behind the DDT truck (see Clouds) and I do remember that green poisonous snake and the Picaojos and Conucos. Most of all, the lifelong friendships and life lessons. We were — we are — truly blessed.
I am grateful for Mike’s wonderful powers of recollection and his gift in putting these down so vividly.
Thank you again, Mike.
Mike Ashe:
Risks to be Considered:
Health care was an issue, in an emergency there were no good options. During the polio epidemic they would spray the camp on the roads with clouds of DDT. All the kids thought it was fun to run after the truck! Billions of tons of DDT were sprayed in the US and throughout the world with disastrous results, all on false premises offered up by the so-called experts. The Salk vaccines were made available in 1955. The spraying continued in El Pao to combat malaria. I believe DDT was banned in the US in 1972. DDT is currently being produced in China, India and North Korea but most of the world has outlawed its use.
My mother lost several children in child birth in a Mining Camp in Arizona, so when my mother got pregnant with my two brothers, she traveled to Pensacola FL to have them. Women with high-risk pregnancies rarely stayed in camp.
There was no dental care available in camp or elsewhere, the long-term impact of poor dental care and the lack of fresh dairy in the diet did impact children growing up in the camp. Any emergency oral issue would almost always guarantee an extraction by the one doctor in El Pao.
I can’t remember who had a serious stomach blockage issue that required emergency surgery, but the camp doctor had little to no surgery experience. Dad said several folks would read the surgical procedure during the operation while the doctor did his best to perform the operation. I understand that the patient had years of painful side effects and several additional operations but was lucky to survive an operation under such conditions.
I can’t imagine anyone surviving a major heart attack or stroke in the camp. I remember my brother Tim came down with amebic dysentery, which proved to be hard to treat. At one point they did consider asking that the company plane be used to get him to a hospital in Caracas. Thankfully, that was needed.
Snake bites were the main concern for parents, I was bitten several times but the snakes were not poisonous. There was a green snake that hunted in the tree tops which are very venomous so we would always look for green snakes and bee hives before climbing. My mother would find snakes in her washing machine which was on the back porch. I don’t know how they got in there, in her garden and on the front porch. I was told when they built the RR and cleared the land around El Pao workers suffered some serious safety issues including many venomous snake bites. The dozers used to clear trees would be equipped with safety steel enclosures and wire to guard against falling trees and snakes. Workers would also sport leather snake bite leggings.
Boys will be Boys:
One of our sports was to crawl into a very long storm water culvert pipe running though the bottom of the staff camp — “not too smart”. We would also play in the Johnson Grass (grass would cut you) and there were bees’ nest in the grass. I happened to grab a nest and the bees would attack the eyes. My mother didn’t recognize me when I came home. It was a miracle that I didn’t get really sick from the poison. Richard Barnes calls them “PICAOJOS” (well named).
Sling shots were very popular in Venezuela. Every self-respecting boy in camp had a well-crafted homemade sling shot and a machete. We would practice shooting rifles but ammo was rather scarce so the sling shot became the go-to weapon. All of us became expert with a sling shot. One of our fun sports was to get close to a bee hive (hanging from the trees and shoot at them with a sling shot and run. The killer bees would chase you for quite a while (slow runner would sometimes pay the price!).
There were not too many boys my age in camp. I had four friends during the time I lived there, John Tuohy, Jorge Menendez, Antonio Ristorcelli and Herman Gerbrecht at different times during my stay in camp. Jorge was my first friend in camp and on occasions we would fight and Jorge would always win, but Jorge had a younger brother Carlos who used to beat us both up. So anytime I had an issue with Jorge, I would get Carlos on board! We managed to get in a little trouble, but kept most of the things that would get us in real trouble to ourselves.
When not in school we would be gone from sun-up to sun-down. The jungle was always a great place to build forts, practice shooting with our rifles. The road up to the water tower was a favorite spot. Whenever we ventured into the jungle, we took our machetes, how would today’s parents react to that! My brothers Herb Ashe Jr and Tim Ashe I think were too young to remember much about El Pao. When I left Venezuela, they were only 4 and 5 years old.
Antonio Ristorcelli and I might have been the original skate boarders at least in El Pao. We would set a board over a skate and sit on the board lift our legs up and cross them and proceed at great neck speed from the top of the camp to the bottom about a half mile all the while shifting our bodies to turn the skate. Needless to say, we’d crash a lot and ruined our jeans (clothing came from the States and I only had two pairs to last the year) not to mention some very badly scrapped knees and arms, but thankfully no head injuries.
Reading was an important part of my life in camp. Books provided a lot of entertainment and I read every book I could get my hands on. It’s too bad that kids now days don’t have that opportunity.
Other things:
Bob Brundage was the Company’s Railroad Superintendent. He had a Trinidadian assistant Mr. Oscar (both were true brothers and great guys). They built a series of miniature rail cars along with a locomotive that was powered with a lawnmower engine (kids would ride on top of the cars). Bob and I laid tracks around his family’s camp house. Great fun for camp kids. I understand when Bob and his family left El Pao they shipped the train and track to the US.
Puerto Ordaz was a nice town we use to travel there sometimes it was an outing since we would go by a two/three car ferry. I understand that the ferry has been replaced by a bridge across the Caroni and Orinoco. They would have the annual soap box derby races there which was always a fun event. Ted Heron Jr would enter the races and all of us would work on his car. Cheap hydro power resulted in a surge in industrialization in the area.
L-R Herman Gerbrecht, Me, Mary Ellen, A man Cannot make him out. Mom. Herb, Tim and Dad Watching Soap Box Derby in Puerto Ordaz.
Conucos:
Conucos, Fincas and Fincas Granderas are the three main agriculture systems in the 1950’s. Conucos or family farms, typically a small leased property for subsistence living. When we lived in Venezuela a feudal system in agriculture was in place where 80% of the land was controlled by 2% of the owners. After we left Venezuela the Government began a land reform program but do not know the results. Most of the Fincas are located in the Llanos (plains).
Conucos lined the road from El Pao to Palua which was typical in a jungle environment. Farming used slash and burn farming techniques.
Traveling by air:
We would only travel to Ciudad Bolivar to catch a flight out to the states. We stayed in Caracas only once, since there was a coup in progress when we landed in Maiquetia and all domestic flights were cancelled. I think we stayed in the Tamanaco Hotel which was beautiful, but under siege, so we had to hunker down in our rooms. Entrance of the Hotel was sandbagged and armed guardia troops on guard outside. Dad said that there were some small arms battles in the street in front of the Hotel, too bad I didn’t see that!
We ended up staying there a couple of days and didn’t get to see Caracas at all. IMCOV had an office in Caracas, my friend Jorge Menéndez’s father ended up being the top executive in Venezuela. He was the right choice for that position since he was from Cuba, but became a Venezuelan citizen and I understand was very well respected and qualified. My recollection of Mr. Menéndez was that he had a Pancho Villa mustache!
Leaving El Pao for the last time Liesha Ten Houten and I managed to get a ride on the company plane (usually reserved for upper management and their families not Liesha and me). Liesha was a very sweet girl with blond hair and glasses and she was scared to death of flying. We sat in seats right in back of the pilot and held hands. Approaching Maiquetia and viewing the Andes on one side and the Caribbean on the other from the cockpit was an amazing experience.
