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Published: October 12th 2005
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By the river
On the walk to El Morro (before the boot incident) El Morro
The journey to El Morro is one I won´t forget but for the wrong reasons.
We took the hot winding path down to the river. It was a route that not many people do because the path is pretty inaccessible. A rockfall obscures the path at one point and you need to wedge your feet into the stones in order to stop yourself sliding down the cliff face. We took our bags off, chucking them over the hurdle, and clung sideways to the rock pile, not looking down. Sal went first.
Once at the river, we worked out the best place to cross. It was deep and very fast flowing in places, but there was a spot that was shallower, tested by a stick we had found. We took off our bags and boots and chucked them over. Sal went first.
BUT THROWING MY BOOTS, DID NOT GO TO PLAN. LIKE A BLOODY IDIOT, I CHUCKED MY BOOT IN A LOOPY-LOOP THROW AND UP IT WENT IN THE AIR AND DOWN IT LANDED IN THE SODDING RIVER. I WATCHED IN UTTER DISBELIEF AS IT SHOT DOWN THE RIVER, OUT OF SIGHT, GONE, FOREVER. Anyone who
River crossing
Sal in his pants knows me well, knows that this did not amuse me and rage boiled up in my veins and fuelled me for the rest of the climb to El Morro.
El Morro is a peublo high up in the Andes. It´s a small, young town with steep, streets and a very tranquil pace. There is not a lot to do here, but it was interesting to hang out and meet some of the children who live on the outskirts of town.
The kids in this part of the town, immediately rushed out to say "Hi". No adults were around, their mother was in Merida and their father working, probably quite typical for them. Aged between 8yrs and 12yrs, some related, some just friends they chatted politely with us. Two of them grabbed a goat with its baby to show us, another three then wanted to show us their pet pigeon, but this meant catching it. A chase ensued with kids running in and out of houses. When it was finally caught, missing a few feathers, we duly took the photo of the pigeon on their heads. If only the picture could capture the pounding hearts of all involved. Hilarious.
The steep climb up to El Morro
In parts the roads were paved for the cars to grip the curves better On the walk back to El Morro, two of the kids ran up to us explaining they had a gift. A little bashful they handed us 4 bananas. It was one of those moments which brought tears to my eyes. They had nothing. Their houses were basic, mud buildings, their clothing hand-me-downs and their education was probably minimal, yet they were incredibly polite and generous.
The next day, we took the "linear" (the public mini bus) to the next pueblo called, Aricagua.
Aricagua
This peublo had a slightly seedy and edgy atmosphere. There seemed to be a few more hardened alcoholics around and the people a lot more guarded. Not many tourists go there and hence they were pretty suspicious of us, suspecting we worked for Interpol.
That evening we had some shots with the locals in their version of a bar, which is really an off-licence with a couple of stools. We met a very animated, Venezuelan, gay, nutritionist who insisted on putting on various cd´s from his music colletion - Queen and Robbie Williams! After hearing that we were going to Campo Elias the next day, the owner of the Liquer shop wrote
down the name of her cousin for us to stay with, as there are no posadas.
We asked around Aricagua to find out how long it would take to walk to the next pueblo, Campo Elias. Everyone we asked took a sharp intake of breath, exclaiming "Muy lejos", meaning "very far".
"How far?" we would ask, to which we got differing answers;
Most said 5hrs but we had as little as 2hrs up to 7hrs. They didn´t have a clue because they just didn´t walk anywhere. Bugger it, we were going to walk it the next day regardless.
Campo Elias
We set off a little hungover at 11am, with water, bread, onion, a pot of mayo and two cans of tuna. We even declined the offer of a lift from the police as we had to know how long it would actually take.
It was a beautiful walk, the "road" snaked through the mountains, hugging the edges of the cliffs to give us open views of the valleys. The "road" would plunge down to the river only to rise again for a steep climb up another mountain. We walked in and out of forests, passed small
House at El Morro
I love the step up for the front door farms, and a school, to arrive a solid 5hrs later ready for a shower and a good meal.
Campo Elias was an incredibly friendly and welcoming pueblo. As soon as we arrived, a shop owner, called over a school girl of about 9yrs, to find us our contact written down by the liquer shop owner in Aricagua. However, it turned out no-one knew her so this girl took us to her grandmothers house who said she would put us up for the night. It was a real insight to how she and her family lived.
I played vollyball with the many kids of the town, just infront of the church. There was no net or team, just keeping it off the ground was important. A brother and sister proudly showed me how they could count to 10 in English.
Before we knew it, we were taking the bumpy ride back to Merida.
Two observations I keep meaning to record:
1. This is how it goes seemingly anywhere in South America:
Hola, como estas?
, translated means ¨How are you?¨
The reply, no matter if you feel like shite, have just lost your job or your grandmother has died,
is always:
Bien.
2. Litter/rubbish is something that is in massive contrast to the West. Venezuela is not actually as bad as Colombia, but you will see in the streets, in National Parks, and in rivers all sorts of crap. People will openly chuck food packaging outside a bus window, or on the street or at the beach. Why don´t they care about pollution, the environment or their surroundings? They live amongst such natural beauty, which will not last forever if treated carelessly.
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crooked finger
Gary Timms
new boots
Have a perfect suggestion - i'll bring my boots out for you and then perhaps forget to go home for another couple of weeks. Gx