Views of nature: or Contemplations on the sublime phenomena of creation / with scientific illustrations

by Alexander von Humboldt

Here the stream rushes foaming down the eastern declivity of the mountain, while far to the west traces remain of the ancient and now forsaken bank of the river. An extensive Savannah stretches between the two chains of hills, at an elevation of scarcely 30 feet above the upper water-level of the river, and here the Jesuits have erected a small church formed of the trunks of palms.

The geognostical aspect of this region, the insular form of the rocks of Keri and Oco, the cavities worn in the former by the current, and which are situated at exactly the same level as those in the opposite island of Uivitari; all these indications tend to prove that the Orinoco once filled the whole of this now dried-up bay. It is probable that the waters formed a wide lake, as long as the northern dam withstood their passage. When this barrier gave way, the Savannah now inhabited by the Guareke Indians emerged as an island. The river may perhaps long after this have continued to surround the rocks of Keri and Oco, which now picturesquely project, like castellated fortresses, from its ancient bed. After the gradual diminution of the waters, the river withdrew wholly to the eastern side of the mountain chain.

This conjecture is confirmed by various circumstances. Thus, for instance, the Orinoco, like the Nile at Philæ and Syene, has the singular property of colouring black the reddish-white masses of granite, over which it has flowed for thousands of years. As far as the waters reach one observes on the rocky shore a leaden-coloured manganeseous and perhaps carbonaceous coating which has penetrated scarcely onetenth of a line into the stone. This black coloration, and the cavities already alluded to, show the former water level of the Orinoco.

These black cavities may be traced at elevations of from 160 to 192 feet above the present level of the river on the rocks of Keri, in the islands of the cataracts; in the gneiss-like hills of Cumadanimari, which extend above the island of Tomo; and lastly at the mouth of the Jao. Their existence proves, what indeed we learn from all the river-beds of Europe, that those streams which still excite our admiration by their magnitude, are but inconsiderable remains of the immense masses of water belonging to a former age.

These simple facts have not escaped even the rude natives of Guiana. Everywhere the Indians drew our attention to these traces of the ancient water-level. Nay, in a Savannah near Uruana there rises an isolated rock of granite, which, according to the testimony of persons worthy of credit, exhibits at an elevation of between 80 and 90 feet, a series of figures of the sun and moon, and of various animals, especially crocodiles and boa-constrictors, graven, almost in rows. At the present day this perpendicular rock, which well deserves the careful examination of future travellers, cannot be ascended without the aid of scaffolding. In a similarly remarkable elevated position, the traveller can trace hieroglyphic characters carved on the mountains of Uruana and Encaramada.

If the natives are asked how these characters could have been graven there, they answer that it was done in former times, when the waters were so high that their fathers’ canoes floated at that elevation. Such lofty condition of the water level must therefore have been coeval with these rude memorials of human skill. It indicates an ancient distribution of land and water over the surface of the globe widely different from that which now exists; but which must not be confounded with that condition when the primeval vegetation of our planet, the colossal remains of extinct terrestrial animals, and the oceanic creatures of a chaotic world, found one common grave in the indurating crust of our earth.

At the most northern extremity of the cataracts our attention is attracted by what are called the natural representations of the Sun and Moon. The rock of Keri, to which I have more than once referred, derives its name from a glistening white spot seen at a considerable distance, and in which the Indians profess to recognize a striking resemblance to the disc of the full moon. I was not myself able to climb this precipitous rock, but it seems probable that the white spot is a large knot of quartz, formed by a cluster of veins in the greyish-black granite.

Opposite to the Keri rock, on the twin mountain of the island of Uivitari, which has a basaltic appearance, the Indians point, with mysterious admiration, to a similar disc, which they venerate as the image of the Sun, Camosi. The geographical position of these two rocks may have contributed to their respective appellations, for I found that Keri was turned towards the west, and Camosi towards the east. Some etymological inquirers have thought they could recognize an analogy between the American word Camosi and the word Camosh, a name applied in one of the Phœnician dialects to the sun, and identical with the Apollo Chomeus or Beelphegor and Amun.

The lofty falls of Niagara, which are 150 feet in height, derive their origin, as is well known, from the combined precipitation of one enormous mass of water. Such, however, is not the case with respect to the cataracts of Maypures, nor are they narrow straits or passes through which the stream rushes with increasing velocity, like the Pongo of Manseriche on the Amazon, but rather to be regarded as a countless number of small cascades succeeding each other like steps. The Raudal, (as the Spaniards term this kind of cataract,) is formed by an archipelago of islands and rocks, which so contract the bed of the river that its natural width of more than 8500 feet is often reduced to a channel scarcely navigable to the extent of 20 feet. At the present day the eastern side is far less accessible and far more dangerous than the western.

At the mouth of the Cameji the boatmen unload their cargo that they may leave the empty canoe, or, as it is here called, the Piragua, to be piloted by Indians well acquainted with the Raudal, as far as the mouth of the Toparo, where all danger is supposed to be past. Where the rocks or shelvy ledges, (each of which has its particular name,) are not above two or three feet in height, the natives venture to shoot the rapid with their canoes. When, however, they have to ascend the stream, they swim in advance of the piragua, and after much labour, and, perhaps, many unsuccessful efforts, succeed in throwing a rope round a point of rock projecting above the breakers, and by this means draw the canoe against the stream, which, in this arduous operation, is often water-logged, or upset.