Vol. II. To face p. 34.
In the dry season snags and sandbanks render navigation almost impossible on many of these tributaries, and in some cases in the remote districts the hordes of savages who dwell on the banks add to the dangers of the voyager. There are miles of rapids on certain of the waterways, and great cataracts, whilst the forest comes down to the water's edge, forming an impenetrable screen of tropical vegetation, in which the traveller who strays from his way is lost. This jungle is flooded in the rainy season, the waters driving back all animal life to the higher ground.
From the east comes the great Ventuari affluent, with its unexplored head-waters in Guiana.
The Orinoco River is of much interest, whether to the traveller or the hydrographer, and doubtless some day its potentialities will be more greatly utilized. In some respects this fluvial system would lend itself to the improvements of the engineer, and might perform for the region which it waters services such as the Nile renders for Egypt, instead of being, as it is, largely a destructive agent. The general slope of the river is comparatively slight, and thus canalization and consequent improvement in navigation might be carried out. Nearly a thousand miles from the mouth the waters of one of the principal affluents are little above sea-level, but the rise and fall of the flood is sometimes as much as fifty feet, and confluences two miles wide in the dry season are increased three or four times during the rains.
One of the most interesting features of these rivers, as already remarked, is found in the singular natural canal connecting the Orinoco with the Amazon—the waterway of the Casiquiare Canal,[6] which cuts across the water-parting of the two hydrographic systems. Here the adventurous canoe voyager may descend from the Orinoco and reach the Rio Negro, falling into the Amazon near Manaos.
The endless waterways of the upper reaches of the Orinoco share often that silent, deserted character which we shall remark upon the Amazon tributaries, and which indeed, is common to tropical streams often. Bird and animal life seems all to have concealed itself. Even the loathly alligator is not to be seen, nor the turtle, nor other creature of the waters. Occasionally, however, a scarlet ibis appears to break the monotony, or an eagle or heron. For mile upon mile, league upon league, there may be no opening in the green wall of the dismal forest, until, suddenly, as we pass, the wall gives way, a small clearing is seen, with perhaps a Carib Indian hut, dilapidated and solitary, whose miserable occupant, hastily entering his canoe, shoots out from the bank with some meagre objects of sale or barter in the form of provisions or other.
Such, however, is not always the nature of these rivers. The scene changes: there are sandy shores and bayous, beautiful forest flowers and gorgeous insect life, the chatter of the monkeys and the forms of the characteristic tropical fauna. Rippling streams flow from inviting woodland glades untrodden by man, and high cascades send their showers of sparkling drops amid the foliage and over the fortress-like rocks around. Wafted along by sail or paddle, guided by the expert Indian boatmen, the craft weathers all dangers, and the passenger sees pass before him a panorama of the wilds whose impression will always remain upon his mind. Thus the charm of exploration never fails, and, borne upon the bosom of some half-unknown stream, the traveller's cup of adventure may on the Orinoco be filled to the brim.
For many hundreds of miles these western tributaries of the Orinoco flow through the llanos, as the plains of this part of South America—in Colombia and Venezuela—are termed, whose characteristic flatness we shall remark from the deck of the vessel. A sea of grass stretches away to the horizon on every side, giving place in some districts to forest.
The level plains, lying generally about four hundred feet above the sea, were once the home of enormous herds of cattle and horses and of a hardy, intrepid race of folk known as the llaneros, men who kept and tended the cattle and were expert in horsemanship and woodcraft. These folk flourished best in the Colonial period. They formed some of the best fighting material in South America, and made their mark in the War of Independence, when, under Bolivar, the Spanish yoke was thrown off. Again, civil war, revolution and hardships and losses consequent thereon seriously reduced their numbers, and to-day both they and their herds have almost disappeared.
The great plains which were the scene of these former activities might, under better auspices, become an important source of food supply, both for home and foreign needs. They could again support vast herds of cattle on their grassy campos, irrigated by the overflow of the Orinoco. This overflow, it is true, causes extensive lagoons to form, known locally as esteros or cienagas, but these dry up in great part after the floods, which have meantime refreshed the soil and herbage.