THE RETURN JOURNEY
CHAPTER XI
THE RETURN JOURNEY
Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale; but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er,
Shall find wings waiting there.
H. C. Beeching.
Many farewells and the bringing up of piles of cassava for the support of our caravan delayed our start from Kamaiwâwong on the return journey to Mataruka. We had asked Schoolmaster to send two men with us to bring back from Puwa the salt and the cloth which was to be the recompense of those Arekunas who had assisted us; but instead of sending two men, Schoolmaster himself and the entire party who had climbed Roraima with us gaily accompanied our march back. It was a delightful morning, with alternate showers and sunshine and gloriously cool winds. We retraced our steps until we were close to the spot where we breakfasted on the 13th January, and here we halted again for our midday meal at a delicious spot under a big tree, sitting amidst fragrant bracken and pretending to be in England. The walk had unstiffened our muscles, cramped by the long descent of the day before, and we felt quite fit and fresh.
Schoolmaster, who now acted as guide, applied for permission to lead us back by a line different from that which we had traversed on the outward journey. We agreed; and in the end Schoolmaster brought us to Mataruka by a trail which interlaced with Joseph’s so as roughly to form the figure 8. Our first divergence was to the left in the direction of Weitipu; and plainly any trail which avoided the long sweep to the west round by the head-waters of the Chitu was likely to be a short-cut. Then, after wheeling to the left, we descended somewhat abruptly to a little plateau on which stands Maurekmutta banaboo, the home of a solitary Arekuna family. Here Schoolmaster showed us another line running almost straight towards Kamaiwâwong. It would probably have been preferable to the one we had walked, and might have saved some climbing. Why they had not led us that way we could not make out; but, of course, to an Indian time is of no importance, unless he is hungry, and the tramp of half a dozen extra miles is a mere trifle. No one was at home in this banaboo.
We next descended yet farther, until, after one and a quarter hours’ march beyond the point of divergence from Joseph’s trail, we reached and forded the Arabupu (3,780 feet above sea-level). Here we were met by quite a heavy shower of cold rain. Twenty minutes later we crossed the Gunguila, a confluent of the Arabupu; and another ten minutes’ march brought us to the brow of a hill, 4,060 feet above sea-level, where it became evident that we were making straight for the southern spur of Mount Weitipu across the folds and rifts of a plateau. We could, in fact, see our trail running ahead past the very toe of Weitipu; but as, on descending, the path followed a valley in the diametrically opposite direction, we were reminded—and not for the first time either—that Indian trails are like the paths in the garden of the talking flowers in Alice through the Looking-Glass, and that to get anywhere you must turn and walk in the opposite direction. We crossed two more small streams, and then, after a further fifty-six minutes’ march, we halted for the night on the right bank of the Erkoy River, in a little copse, evidently the recognized Indian camping-ground, and much preferable to the bleak camp at Weiwötö on Joseph’s trail. The Erkoy is another confluent of the Arabupu, and from a little clump of trees on a level terrace where we camped the ground dropped away abruptly to the river. A steep grass hill on the left bank protected us nicely on the windward side, whilst the lee-side was open to the savannah. In the watery rays of the evening sun Roraima and Kukenaam stood clear for the first time that day. We could no longer see the south-western wall up which we had climbed, but we had a splendid view of the south-eastern escarpment. The clear, swift-running Erkoy almost tempted us to bathe, but it was too cold to venture. We had a fine night, though once or twice, as the rush of the wind shook the tree-tops, we woke up sufficiently to rejoice that we were not on the exposed tableland. The Makusis camped all round us, while the Arekunas slung their hammocks in a clump of trees a little way downstream.
Next morning (18th January) was gloriously fine, and we saw Roraima and Kukenaam for the last time at close quarters, shining red in the dawn. We forded the Erkoy, which flows swiftly and came icy cold well over our knees; and then, ascending the steep bank on the other side, we found ourselves once more on a rolling plateau with the trail we had seen passing over the toe of Weitipu, now just ahead. I loved the walk over the fresh grass of this shining tableland, amidst the indescribable peace of its mighty silence. The trail was almost level, save for little descents into the channels of the many streams that come racing down Weitipu’s steep flanks; and in the keen, fresh morning air mere movement was a joy—different indeed to one’s feelings on the low, hot coast-lands! In succession we crossed the Kamaoura-wong, two small swamps, the Tongkoy, and the Sappi, all streams which tumble in picturesque cascades from Weitipu; and after an hour’s march we crossed the southern spur of Weitipu himself. He is a very attractive mountain, majestic, but without the bleak austerity of Roraima and Kukenaam. His southern summit would afford a splendid camping-ground, and several of his terraces would make beautiful house-sites. In China such a mountain would have been studded with temples and monasteries, but I have never heard of anyone climbing to the top of Weitipu. It would not be difficult to do this, though rather strenuous, and I should love to go back one day and make the ascent. On the spur of Weitipu, where we stood (4,100 feet above sea-level), Schoolmaster showed us yet another trail—the most direct of all—branching off to Kamaiwâwong!
We then crossed two more streams—a small one called the Apa, and a larger one called the Perumak. The latter is fringed by forest, and is probably identical with the river Maipa, crossed by Joseph’s trail. A glorious grassy savannah spreads out on both sides of this narrow strip of woodland; and in it, just beyond the Perumak ford, an hour’s march from the spur of Weitipu, stands a solitary banaboo, near which the trail to Tumong, by which Dr. Crampton travelled in 1911, branches off to the left. We kept to the right, and eighteen minutes later reached the crest of a ridge, which appears to form the divide between the watershed of the Orinoco and of the Amazon. At this point, therefore, we presumably returned from Venezuela to Brazil. The divide here is 3,860 feet above sea-level.
We now descended into a charming valley, and, after forty minutes’ march, halted for our midday meal beside the Muruïna, a pretty little tributary of the Kotinga. Once more we recognized the jasper formation, and we established ourselves on a tree-shaded ledge above a deep, clear pool. This place is a recognized Arekuna camping-ground. The creek is forded just above a waterfall, where its two branches meet. Within the fork is a copse, and at the season of our visit there ran along the side of the stream a dry rock-ledge which would form a roomy and level tent-floor. I remember that, whilst we waited for Haywood’s preparations, we regaled ourselves on the last of the delicious pineapples, carried with us from Kamaiwâwong. It tasted most especially nice after our three hours’ walk.
Another ascent and descent brought us, twenty minutes after restarting, to the Tunâpun creek. We crossed it, and thirty-eight minutes later we had climbed to the top of the hill-ridge (3,670 feet above sea-level), overlooking the full width of the Kotinga valley right across to “Landmark Peak.” This was the same hill-ridge that we had climbed, much farther to the west, on the 12th January; but the fierce midday sun had sucked up all colour from the landscape, and it no longer looked the fairyland which it had seemed on that early morning. Now came an abrupt descent, very warm work and lasting just an hour, to the point where the Töpa creek is forded close by a solitary banaboo. Suddenly our procession halted. The magic word waikin was passed along, and we all squatted down on the ground, while Schoolmaster and Joseph stalked two big deer not far away. Schoolmaster crept to within point-blank range of one animal and fired. Alas! his stock of powder and shot was practically exhausted, so he had given his old fowling-piece a most insufficient charge; and the deer, though hit, bounded away uphill with its companion. Behold Joseph and Schoolmaster racing after them up the steep slope like a pair of dogs! They rejoined us later very crestfallen; and Schoolmaster gesticulated to me as graphic an account of the whole business as ever disappointed sportsman poured into the ear of sympathizing lady.
For the rest of the day’s march the trail lay over spacious undulating pasture-lands, crossing three small streams, fringed by eta-palms; and, after two and a quarter hours’ march from the Töpa crossing, we reached and forded the Kotinga at the same point as on our outward journey, thus completing one loop of the figure 8. We then made our way over rocks up a little ravine on the left bank and camped in bush upon a small level terrace at the edge of a brook. It was a nasty, stuffy place, full of ants; but we cared little for that, as we were practically free from the kabouru. My husband unfortunately caught his foot in some bush rope lying on the rocks and fell heavily, breaking the little finger of his left hand, which caused him great pain. The Kotinga valley, it seems, was destined to be disagreeable to us.
Mount Weitipu from the left bank of the Kotinga River.
When, next morning, we emerged from our ravine on to the brow of a bluff above the Kotinga, we were delighted to see a most interesting and novel aspect of Roraima, which was really rather astonishing, for there had been no hint of such a view either the evening before or on our outward journey. The morning was gloriously clear, and on the left, behind Weitipu, the south-eastern face of Roraima projected clear and red, and beyond that again Kukenaam’s southern end; whilst on the right of Weitipu we saw plainly, not only the other end of Roraima’s south-eastern wall, but also a small and foreshortened portion of the eastern escarpment. This view enabled us in a small degree to grasp the enormous area of Roraima. It is impossible to do so when opposite one great wall only; for Roraima is an immense, irregular quadrilateral, of which the south-eastern side, ten miles in length, is the longest, and the area of the summit, flanked all round by precipices, cannot be less than fifty square miles.
From the Kotinga ford to the pass at “Landmark Peak” Schoolmaster’s trail coincided with Joseph’s, but from “Landmark Peak” to the Rera valley we traversed a new line of country. This time we swung off to the right, and we hoped to be led along the ridge of the mountain amphitheatre which encircles the Warukma and Karakanang plateau. But an Indian trail is nothing if not surprising. For the first half-hour we did indeed continue on the high tableland at the same altitude as the pass (3,150 feet above sea-level), crossing two streams; but then we wheeled sharply to the right, and, passing between two low knolls, left the tableland by a narrow path skirting round the contours of a hill and affording a view over a sea of jagged peaks tumbled together without apparent rhyme or reason. It was a most astonishingly tangled-looking country, with valleys running at angles to each other and hills flung about pell-mell in the midst of them, as though the powers engaged in making this place had got tired of their work and flung it all down anyhow and left it. The colouring, too, was curious, vivid red, black, and green; for many fires had evidently seared the countryside, the most recent leaving black patches, which contrasted oddly with the bright green of new grass springing up where the land had peace, and with the red soil on the hillsides, whence heavy rain had washed away the black ash, but where as yet forgiving Nature had not reasserted herself. For half an hour our path clung to the hill-side, but it then gave that up as a bad job and dropped abruptly into one of the narrow valleys beneath. The prospect was certainly not an inviting one. We consoled ourselves, however, with the reflection that the divergence to the right must have put us in a direct line for Mount Mataruka. A short but heavy shower of rain now drenched us to the skin; but it was welcome, as relieving an unwonted sultriness of the atmosphere. Round the base of the hill we curved, climbed over a knoll in the valley, and so, after three-quarters of an hour’s march, we came to the left bank of a creek called the Walamwötö, presumably a tributary of the Kotinga. Here we pitched camp in a small winding valley (2,450 feet above sea-level) by the side of a charming pool. As we were establishing ourselves under our tarpaulin, a storm of wind and rain almost blew it away from its moorings, and six Makusis had to hold it up on the weather side until the fierceness of the gusts abated. We caused the ridge-pole to be lowered considerably so as to afford less target for the wind, and I was somewhat anxious about the night. But after dark the weather became beautifully still and clear, a full moon making diamonds everywhere of the lingering rain-drops. This was the only rain-storm of any moment which we encountered from the day we left the Kowatipu forest until the day of our return to it. During the whole of the rest of our savannah journey we enjoyed superb weather, sunny, breezy, cool, and rainless, save for occasional Scotch mist upon the hill-tops.
We rose very early next day (20th January), and broke our fast by lamplight. But the sun soon rose clear and very hot, and I realized that the strenuous exertions of the five preceding days without a rest were beginning to tell on me. So the start did not find me very fresh. An hour’s march in narrow winding ravines, followed by a short climb over a long black-bouldered slope, brought us to James’s banaboo (2,720 feet above sea-level), perched upon a hill-top. The inhabitants came out in a string to greet us, and the second man in the line, as he shook my hand (the ceremony none of them will forego), ejaculated questioningly “Mamma?” and all his companions echoed the cry. It must be seldom, if ever, that a white woman is seen by these people. The view from this lonely banaboo was certainly enchanting; but, alas! no tableland such as we had hoped to see lay unrolled before us, only a fresh tangle of hills and valleys; and, though the country looked most interesting, it also looked very arduous. Moreover, there ensued an argument between Joseph and Schoolmaster as to the right road onwards, and we wondered whether they really knew the way, or were merely proceeding by trial and error. The long ridge of tableland, over the crest of which we had hoped to travel when we turned aside from Joseph’s line at “Landmark Peak,” looked most provoking away to the left. At length our guides reconciled their difference, whatever it may have been, and led us three hundred feet downwards over a broad hill-shoulder across a small stream. Then, after a long, gradual ascent over another broad hill-shoulder, we came to the top of a commanding hill, 2,960 feet above sea-level. Here indeed we were comforted, for we saw again Mount Mataruka, and realized that we were making for it by a much more direct line than if we had returned through Enamung. Besides, a nice undulating ridge lay before us, and the view was grand. We could see a magnificent expanse of country on all sides. Far, far behind lay Weitipu, with Roraima and Kukenaam at his back, bidding us a last good-bye. We saw them no more after this. I wonder if we ever shall again! On the right we had an excellent view of our former line of journey, the plateau of the Karakanang and the grassy peaks of Enamung, as well as of a big waterfall shining white in the distance, whither our outward journey had unfortunately not led us. Our guides said that it was a fall on the Wairann; and at close quarters it must be a fine sight, for even at a distance of about seven miles it was a striking feature in the landscape. At this point we were one hour and six minutes’ march from James’s banaboo.
We continued for another forty minutes along the crest of the hill-ridge, enjoying intensely the glorious scenery, and finally reaching a point (2,810 feet above sea-level) whence, beyond a cleft in the hills, cut athwart our line of march by the Karakanang River, we could see the long, straight line of the Paiwa valley, down which lay our forward path. Fifty minutes’ sharp descent, largely through forest, then brought us to a ford of jasper slabs over the Karakanang (1,960 feet above sea-level). Here we made our midday meal, and thereafter we ascended the valley of a brook, which falls into the Karakanang at the ford; and, climbing over some hillocks shut in between high hill-ranges on both sides, we came, after an hour and a half, to the Paiwa River (2,210 feet above sea-level), down which our trail then ran for three and a half hours’ actual march. It was most fascinating scenery. The turquoise-blue Paiwa in its rose-pink bed (for the blood-red jasper weathers on the surface to pink) flowed clear as crystal through opal-green pools and in rippling white cascades, whilst shade trees, dotted here and there, relieved the glare of the brilliant light. Beneath one such tree, seated on pink sand close to the edge of the stream, we enjoyed our usual tea halt. The sides of the valley are seamed with confluent brooks, many of which had water even at this height of the dry season. In wet weather the smiling stream must be a very torrent.
At first the Paiwa had all the appearance of making for the Ireng; but at a point a little more than halfway in that part of its course which we followed it turned abruptly off to the south and swept past Mount Pakara to join the Kotinga. Towards sunset we crossed to its left bank, where was a broad level stretch of sand, evidently a favourite Indian camping-ground, but rather a disappointing one to me, as there was a rift in the jasper formation just here, and the stream merely gurgled over quite ordinary stones, while the sand was a commonplace white. Moreover, the steep hill-side across the stream had been hideously burnt, and there were evidences of recent Indian encampment and of fish-poisoning in the river. Indians are an admirable people in many ways, but they scarcely deserve their goodly heritage, since all that they do for their beautiful country is to poison the fish in its exquisite streams and to disfigure the fair hills by continual grass-burning.
Next day we ate our porridge and drank our coffee before dawn, as the moon sank behind the trees. Then, after following the river for a short distance, we climbed up through a copse to where a banaboo was perched on a bluff, the Paiwa below making a right-angled turn, so that those who live here have an excellent vantage-ground whence they can watch all wayfarers whether up or down stream. At the banaboo we found Schoolmaster and his Arekunas, who had evidently spent the night there, leaving the Makusis with us; and after a short colloquy Joseph led us down into the Paiwa valley once more. The Arekunas remained behind, and made for Mataruka by that line of their own which Joseph had graphically described as “Mountain-top, mountain-top, mountain-top,” on the day of our trek to Enamung.
The Paiwa, which had grown to a considerable size, now reverted again to a jasper bed, fringed this time with eta-palms, and looking prettier than ever. We walked along its bank most of the way; but at times the valley would close in to a gorge and the river run in cataracts, while we would have to climb over rocky bluffs. At last we crossed the blue waters of this pleasant river for the last time, and finally quitted the Paiwa watershed. Our trail now wound away to the left, choosing most cleverly a low divide, and then equally cleverly winding in and out on the level round the spur of our old friend Kumâraying, until we found ourselves in the Rera plain once more. It would have been a pretty path but for the desolation and destruction wrought by fire. Some men ahead of us actually started two fresh fires, which were fiercely burning as we passed.
At the special request of our people we went to Joseph’s banaboo for our midday meal. His wife provided us with abundance of delicious fresh eggs, and I confess, without any desire to teach my grandmother, that at times the best way of eating eggs is to suck them. A few minutes’ walk brought us back to the trail by which we had travelled on our outward journey, so completing the second loop in the figure 8. We now followed our former line of march the rest of the way back to Mataruka village, where we were warmly received by Albert and the inhabitants. The Arekunas we passed at a brook a few minutes from the village, busily engaged in washing and painting their faces afresh. They then made a state entry behind us, beating a tom-tom.
The rest of our travels needs no description, for the line of our homeward march was identical with that of our outward journey. The distance between Mataruka and Kamaiwâwong by Joseph’s trail was a march of thirty-two hours forty-seven minutes; and the return journey between the same villages by Schoolmaster’s trail was a march of thirty-two hours fifty-one minutes, of which eleven hours twenty-eight minutes were occupied in retraversing those parts of the route where the two trails were identical—namely, the Kukenaam valley, the ascent from the Kotinga ford to “Landmark Peak,” and the line from Rera to Mataruka. There is, therefore, little to choose between the two routes. Both mean five stages of rather more than six hours’ march a day. Schoolmaster’s line was slightly more direct, but Joseph’s was appreciably less arduous.
We reached Georgetown, after forty-six days’ absence, on the 3rd February, 1916, resting on the way back for one day at Mataruka, one day on the Karto tableland, and one day at Kaietuk. There was a new and lovely note of colour on the Potaro; for the river was lit up by a beautiful pink blossom (Syphonia globifera) all along the banks, very much like peach-blossom in appearance and in its manner of growing on a leafless tree. Also there was much more water going over Kaietuk than when we passed upstream; and magnificent was the amber swirl that descended, to change into gleaming spray flashing like diamonds, as it fell into the black depths. Grey-green cascades dashed down the crags on all sides, flashing out of the mists that lay heavy on the summits, to mingle with the blossom-strewn river—a country for Undine indeed!
So our brief journey in the mountains ended, alas! below sea-level; nor did we “find wings waiting there,” for the aeronautical service of the British Guiana Government is as yet only an aspiration.
Route from
HOLMIA IN BRITISH GUIANA TO MT. RORAIMA
SECTION OF COUNTRY TRAVERSED BETWEEN KAIETTUK FALL, ON THE POTARO RIVER, AND MT RORAIMA
Horizontal Scale 1/2,000,000. Vertical Scale exaggerated 50 times.