Up the Orinoco and down the Magdalena

by J. A. Zahm

To one unfamiliar with the suddenness with which mountain streams become raging torrents,[9] and the quickness with which they subside, these declarations of opinion were depressing enough. I had, however, spent many years among the Rocky and Sierra Madre mountains, and had often had occasion to study the modus operandi of the cloud-bursts that are there of so frequent occurrence. Besides this, while our peons were disputing among themselves as to what was best to be done in our embarrassing situation, I had been carefully observing the height of the water line and found, to my great delight, that it was gradually becoming lower. After making a few measurements, I found that, if there were no further rainfall, we should be able to cross to the other side before sundown.

As it was now long past noon, and we had had nothing to eat since early morning, it was suggested that we take a little luncheon, while waiting for the river to become fordable. Suiting the action to the word, a fire was started, our kit of kitchen utensils was drawn from its sack, and in a short time we had a large cup of fragrant, black coffee, and the remnant of our breakfast bacon fried in a manner to do credit to a New York chef. We still had a few soda crackers, and these, together with the coffee and bacon, furnished us with a repast that left nothing to be desired.

Having no doubt about our ability to reach Villavicencio before nightfall, we gave all the remaining eatables to our vaqueano and peons. They thankfully partook of the coffee and crackers, but a mere taste of the bacon quite satisfied them. They had evidently never eaten any before and, far from relishing it, found it positively distasteful. They had yet to acquire a taste for bacon as others acquire a taste for snails and frogs’ legs. They still had with them a few platanos—their staff of life—which they roasted, and with these and the crackers and coffee we gave them they fared even better than usual.

After luncheon was finished, it was found that the river had fallen enough to justify an attempt to cross it. Great caution, however, was necessary to prevent any possible mishap. First, the largest and strongest mule in the drove was relieved of his burden and forced to cross the river alone. He examined it very suspiciously and at first hesitated about entering the water. But he was so belabored with sticks and clubs that the poor beast had no alternative. After he had started towards the other side the peons all kept up such an unearthly yell that he was afraid to venture back. After a terrific struggle he succeeded in reaching the opposite bank.

The current was evidently still too strong to warrant another experiment of this kind. So we waited about a half an hour, when a second mule—a smaller one—was driven into the water. He had barely reached the middle of the river when he was lifted off his feet, and carried some distance down stream. It looked, for a few moments, as if he was going to be lost, but, by vigorous exertion, he got on his feet again, and stood in mid-river breasting the full force of the current and looking piteously towards his masters for assistance. But they merely jeered at him vociferously and asked him if he wished to return to Barrigón.

Seeing no help forthcoming, the terrified brute made a supreme effort and succeeded in getting back to the bank from which he had started. There he stood for a while panting heavily, after the strenuous efforts he had made, but all the while looking wistfully at his companion on the opposite bank of the Ocoa. After he was somewhat rested, and before any one realized what he was about to do, the mule was again in the water, making, of his own accord, a second attempt to reach the other side of the river, where his companion was awaiting him. After battling with the current for some minutes, he was successful in his venture, for which he received the unstinted applause of his masters. No sooner had he emerged from the water than he gave a long, loud bray of victory which awoke the echoes in the woods for miles around. The whole performance was so comical that it provoked roars of laughter from our entire party. As an illustration of mule-headedness in a good cause, in face of apparently insuperable difficulties, it was superb.

Having proved the fordableness of the river by mules, the peons determined to match their own strength against the still-impetuous current. Accordingly, one of their number, a giant in strength, taking the end of a hundred-foot lariat between his teeth, carefully entered the water, and, after successfully buffeting the angry billows, landed on the opposite bank, whence the two mules had watched his struggles with apparent interest and sympathy.

Now that the lariat was firmly stretched between the two banks, and that the river was still falling, it was a matter of only a short time to transfer the remaining mules and the baggage to the other side.

The jurungos[10]—a Llanero epithet for strangers—were the last to cross. Elevating our feet as much as possible, to avoid getting wet, we were soon in mid-stream. The motion of the water in one direction while our horses were struggling in the other, had a tendency to induce vertigo, but as we had to be on the alert every instant, in order to preclude all danger of miscarriage, we soon found ourselves happily landed, with the dread Ocoa at last in our rear.

It was now only a short ride to Villavicencio, over comparatively dry and slightly rising ground. Ere the sun had dropped behind the Andes we had alighted before our lodging house near the plaza on the main street of the town. Our host, who was awaiting us at the door, gave us a most cordial greeting, but seemed to be much surprised and embarrassed. He then explained that he had misunderstood the telegram that he had received from Orocué announcing our arrival and requesting him to have piezas—rooms—reserved for us. “I inferred from the telegram,” he said, “that you were Colombians and never, for an instant, dreamed that I should have the honor of entertaining foreigners. Had I known whom I was to have as my guests, I should have made more elaborate preparations for your reception. As it is, I can offer you only an unfurnished room. It is the best I have, and I trust you will excuse my not making better provisions for your comfort during your sojourn in our midst. We have no hotels here, and our people, when traveling, are accustomed to lodge with their friends, or take an apartment like the one reserved for you.”