Up the Orinoco and down the Magdalena

by J. A. Zahm

The town is about seven hundred feet above sea level and counts nearly four thousand inhabitants. It is separated into two parts by the river Guali, which here enters the Magdalena. Being the centre of traffic for Bogotá, the upper Magdalena, and the mining district round about Mariquita, it is a place of considerable importance. As soon, however, as the Colombian National Railway, now nearing completion, shall have connected Girardot with Bogotá, Honda will lose the commercial supremacy it has maintained for nearly three centuries. There will then be little reason for a town in this place, and it will lapse into a straggling village similar to many others along the river.

And the Muisca Trail, over which we had so delightful a ride, will be no longer needed, and will soon disappear in the dense and rank vegetation through which it passes. Then, too, will disappear those long and picturesque mule-trains, that so often crowded us to the roadside on our way from Bogotá, and which have been almost the sole means employed for the transportation of freight and passengers since the capital was founded by Quesada nearly four centuries ago. We shall always congratulate ourselves that we were able to make the trip on mule-back rather than by a railway train. We can thus feel that we have, to a great extent, seen the country as it was in colonial times—before its character was modified by the innovations of modern progress and the introduction of modern inventions.

In 1805 Honda was visited by a terrific earthquake, from the effects of which it has never recovered. Everywhere are evidences of the frightful cataclysm. Some of the largest and most important structures are still in ruins. Nor has any attempt ever been made to restore certain quarters of the town to their prior condition.

After a few days’ halt at Honda, we were ready to continue our journey towards the Caribbean. The rapids of the Magdalena make it impracticable for steamers to ascend the river as far as the town. For this reason, it is necessary to go by rail to La Dorada, eighteen miles northwards. But, although the distance is so short, it takes two hours for the train to make the run. The road, however, passes through a picturesque country and time passes pleasantly and quickly. Before one realizes it, one is at La Dorada, where the transfer is made to the steamer bound for Barranquilla.

There are several lines of steamboats plying between La Dorada and Barranquilla and intermediate points. But all the boats, which are stern-wheelers, are quite small. The largest of them will not carry more than four hundred tons. Usually the tonnage is much less—not more than one or two hundred tons.[2] Our boat, which was recommended as the best and the most comfortable on the river, was one of the largest and newest, but, if it was the best, it is difficult to conceive what the others must have been.

A glance was sufficient to convince us that the craft on the Magdalena are in every way inferior to those on the Orinoco and its affluents. The Venezuelan boats are larger, and with incomparably better equipment and appointments. They are clean, well kept, and the service is good. Their cabins are commodious and well ventilated. They are, besides, provided with all necessary furniture and the berths are as comfortable as could be desired.

But how different is it on the Magdalena boats! In the cabins, in place of berths with neat bedding, there is a bare cot, usually of questionable cleanliness. Each passenger is supposed to supply his own bedding. As to lavatories and bathrooms, those that we saw were filthy beyond description. Our stewards were half-dressed, barefooted, slovenly, unwashed negro boys, who seemed to have been picked up on the streets at random, just before the boat left its moorings. The cuisine and service were in keeping with everything else, and left very much room for improvement. The natives, having nothing better, seemed to be satisfied with the conditions that obtained. The foreigners, however, and there were representatives of several nationalities aboard, could never become reconciled to the lack of so many things essential to comfortable traveling, and were always glad when their river experiences were at an end.

For ourselves, who had been roughing it so long, the trip down the river was not so trying as it was for many others. We were, besides, better prepared for such a journey than the other passengers. We had our camping outfits with us, together with clean bedding, which had received the attention of the laundress before we left Bogotá. We had, besides, good cumare hammocks, and mosquito nets, so that we had nothing to apprehend from filth, vermin or insects. Thus equipped, we really enjoyed our voyage on the Magdalena, but we were probably the only ones who did.

After we had gotten fairly started down stream, and could contemplate at our leisure the rich tropical vegetation that fringed both banks, our minds reverted to the first trip made down this river by Europeans. The travelers were the celebrated conquistadores, of whom mention has already been made, viz., Quesada, Belalcazar and Federmann. They embarked with a number of soldiers at Guataqui, a short distance above Honda. But they had scarcely started on their downward course, before they encountered the rapids at the mouth of the Guali. They were then obliged to unload their two brigantines and canoes and transport their contents to the lower part of the cataract, whence, after reloading, they were able to proceed again on their long journey to Cartagena.

It was while passing this point that Quesada learned from his Indian boatmen of the existence of gold in the valley of the Guali. In consequence of this information, the town of Marquita was founded without delay, and has ever since been a mining centre of considerable importance. It was in this place that Quesada died after his return from Spain. From here his remains were transferred to the Cathedral of Bogotá, where they still repose.