The Catañapo is a turbulent stream of clear, cold water that dashes down from the near-by Cerro Sipapo. Not far above its mouth is a good-sized village of Piaroas, who come down occasionally with plantains, pawpaws, and other fruits which they exchange for cloth and sugar at Atures. When the Indians come down they apparently bring with them numbers of freshly killed monkeys, the flesh of which is greatly esteemed as food. We saw several heaps of the charred bones near frequently used camping-sites, here as well as at Zamuro.
The clear water of the Catañapo abounds in fish which may be seen twenty-five feet or more beneath the surface. Some were fully two feet long and resembled giant black bass; they refused to be tempted with meat bait, but rushed greedily for bright-colored objects such as fruit and flowers; they would take half an orange at a gulp.
Atures, consisting of six or eight mud and grass huts, owes its existence to the fact that the governor lives on the Catañapo and all the residents are his employees. Formerly the town was larger and there were thirty ox-carts plying back and forth across the portage; but the governor promptly selected the few he wanted and then discouraged competition in such a manner that he was shortly left alone in the field. To us he was most cordial, and immediately placed his carts at our disposal; nor did he examine our luggage, which was his self-imposed duty, and extract anything that suited his fancy.
The two miles from Atures to Salvajito, the port of embarkation above Atures Rapids, were covered in ox-carts which lumbered slowly along over the uneven semiarid country. Salvajito was only a small cleared space in the forest fringing the river.
The next step of the journey was to traverse the forty miles of river between Atures and the second great cataract at Maipures. Only a small canoe was available, so leaving my assistant and a number of the men to guard the left-over luggage, I started with three paddlers. The canoe was only eighteen feet long, with about two inches of freeboard, but fortune favored us and after two days we reached the mouth of the Tuparo. The first night out had been spent on a laja, or shelf of rock which extends over the water; the men set the dry vegetation in back of the camp afire in order to keep away jaguars, and built a fence of brands along the outer edge of the rock to frighten off the crocodiles. The second night was spent on a large sand-bank just below the rapid of Guajibo. In approaching this site the canoe had been caught in a sudden hurricane and swamped before land could be reached; but fortunately we had gained shallow water, so nothing was lost. On this sand-bar lived three species of terns, one of very small size that came in immense flocks after nightfall and, dropping on the sand, immediately disappeared from view; also numbers of yellow-legs and a few gulls. The wind blew steadily all night, so that by morning everything and every one was half buried in the loose sand.
The rapid of Guajibo is one of the most treacherous in the whole Orinoco. Each year the rubber-gatherers pay heavy toll in lives while traversing this notorious spot. A great horseshoe-shaped ledge of rock extends across practically the entire river, and over this the water rushes at great speed; below is a series of scattered rocks extending for a quarter of a mile, and forming a raging, roaring gorge. We portaged around the spot, although the country is very difficult, owing to the many high rocks and the deep crevices between them. An acquaintance who had just passed attempted to have his men drag their boat through, with the result that they lost the canoe and three men. Shortly after a large piragua coming from up-river attempted to run the rapids to save time; seven of the crew, as well as the owner of the outfit, paid for their folly with their lives, and the entire cargo of rubber, together with the boat, was lost. A few days later another party wrecked their canoe and lost two men. These are all cases which came under our notice, and I was told of many others.
The port of Maipures is on the Rio Tuparo, about half a mile above its mouth. This river, some two hundred yards wide, comes rushing out of the interior of Colombia down a rocky river-bed. Where the landing was effected we found only the parched plain, a trail leading away from the river to the settlement of Maipures, a good three miles away. We pitched camp near the water, and the canoe and two men were immediately sent back for another load of the equipment. There was not much life along this part of the river. Numerous iguanas spent the hot hours burrowing in the sand, and if disturbed either ran away in the brush or plunged into the water. Both green and blue kingfishers clattered noisily on the opposite side, and a few large gray herons flapped up and down over the centre of the stream. We could constantly hear the loud roar of the Maipures Rapids, and the water rushing down the course of the main river was covered with foam.
Five days after our arrival the second load, in charge of my assistant, arrived. They had met with a mishap in the rapid of Guajibo, and one man and the canoe were lost. For nearly two days they had been stranded on an island and besieged by a party of Indians from the Sipapo; the occupants of a passing canoe, seeing their plight, came to the rescue, and brought them on to the Tuparo. While the borrowed canoe returned for the remaining members of the party, we busied ourselves transferring camp to Maipures, above the head of the rapids. The intervening country is level and covered with a sparse growth of clumps of wiry grass and patches of low woods; near the watercourse the trees are taller and the vegetation more dense. The town, consisting of six adobe houses with thatched roofs, nestles in a little grove of mango and tonca-bean trees, and from a short distance away is very picturesque; but like all the rest of the plain it is insufferably hot and the myriads of sand-flies quivering like heat-waves in the air make life almost unbearable.
The village of Maipures.