Venezuela

by Leonard V. Dalton

Up the Torbes Valley and across the páramo of El Zumbador (8,000 feet), a day’s ride brings one to La Grita (I shall have to refer to páramos again later on). Near the watershed a road branches off to the east to Pregonero, capital of the Uribante district, in a valley whose products range from potatoes and wheat at the top to coffee and sugar at the bottom; out on the plains, too, there are big cattle-ranches whence comes much of the meat consumed in the Andine towns. The district needs roads for its development, and at present is rather an isolated, unvisited region.

Vargas or El Cobre is a pleasant little village on the northern or western side of the pass, and its alternative name is said to refer to mines of copper in the hills near by worked by the Spaniards, who made the bells of the little church from the metal.

Forty miles is the estimated distance from Táriba to La Grita, but the road is sufficiently good to make it seem shorter, and the view up the valley, with mountains rising tier upon tier into the clouds, is superb. The town was founded in 1576, on a gravel mesa or tableland, necessitated a steep climb before actually entering the town. Its position makes it peculiarly subject to earthquake shocks, but in spite of this the old churches and Government buildings are still standing. The many stores are an indication of the importance of La Grita as a market town, and on Sunday one finds the streets full of countrymen in charge of mules laden with the wheat, wool, tobacco, and cotton of the surrounding country. At 6,000 feet above the sea, the town has the reputation of being one of the healthiest in Venezuela, and certainly the apples, apricots, and peaches in the patios, with roses and violets beneath them, are a pleasant sight to the man from the north, who has found the “luscious fruits” and gorgeous flowers of the tropics a snare and delusion. A few miles down the river towards Uracá is Seboruco, with its copper-mines, soon, it is said, to be worked again. Not far above the town is the Pass of Portachuelo, which marks the boundary with Mérida, the central of the three Andine States.

Mérida is the mountain State par excellence of Venezuela, including within its boundaries the highest peaks and some of the hottest valleys in the country. With this variety of climate it is natural that the range of products should be wide, but bad roads and resulting high cost of transport have kept the country largely undeveloped.

The capital was founded in 1542 under the lengthy appellation of Santiago de los Caballeros de Mérida, and it has long been the seat of the Bishop of the Andes. A colporteur having recently been found in the diocese selling Bibles, the energetic occupant of the see promptly excommunicated him and all who had purchased the forbidden books; his zeal, however, seems merely to have rendered more marked the indifference of the male portion of the population to public religion of any kind.

The city is built on a high plateau like that of La Grita between the Rivers Mucujun and Chama, and towering above it to the east is the white-topped Sierra Nevada, while a lower but equally steep range bounds the valley to the west. The snow on the Sierras is said to have been retreating of recent years, but there are still perpetual snow-fields and glaciers round the summits, the permanent line being now at about 15,000 feet. The city has often suffered severe damage from earthquakes, but new buildings have always quickly taken the place of those destroyed. Partly, probably, on account of the humidity of the atmosphere of the valley, Mérida has a somewhat deserted look with its grass-grown streets, yet there are looms turning out cotton and woollen cloth, and it is an important market centre for the coffee, wheat, and sugar from the various zones in its neighbourhood.

The torrent of the Chama immediately above Mérida has been requisitioned to supply power for an electric lighting system in the city. The turbines were brought at great trouble and expense over the mountain track from La Ceiba, the journey occupying about a year, but in view of the determination which carried through such an enterprise, it is to be regretted that the results are not more impressive. Strings of three or four bulbs each across the street at regular intervals might provide an efficient light, but as a matter of fact they do not, the total number of lamps being far in excess of the capabilities of the present turbine installation, though much below the available water-power. As a result, while one may have the electric light in the house, it is better to resort to the homely candle for reading or writing after sunset.

What is chiefly needed for Mérida to-day is a good road to connect it with the lake, across which all the produce of the region has to travel to the sea. Long ago the project was formed of building a railway along the Chama Valley to connect with Santa Barbara on the Escalante, but the engineering difficulties in the gorges would probably prevent the carrying out of any such scheme just yet; a second idea, which has never received much attention, was to carry a line up the Mucujun, and so over the pass of the outer range of the Cordillera to Bobures, on the lake, a feasible scheme enough, though at the present stage a road would better supply the need of the place.

There have, from time to time, been reports of mines in the Sierra, but the best authenticated occurrence is that of gold and silver, near Estanques, on the main road to the lowlands; these deposits have never been worked, as far as I could ascertain. The chief assets of the district are at present the fertile lands of the Chama and tributary valleys. Down the former, on the way to Ejido, about seven miles from the capital, the road passes all the way through coffee and cacao plantations, with some open pasture-lands; beyond Ejido the valley becomes more and more barren towards Lagunillas, famed for its mineral lake, containing large quantities of urao or trona. The view over this little town to the snow-clad peaks above Mérida is very fine in the early morning, but the place seems to have little commerce. I must not omit mention of a pleasant incident which occurred near Lagunillas, showing the hospitable temper of the Andinos. We asked at a wayside store (empty of goods) if we might buy some of the oranges growing profusely in their garden. “With great pleasure,” said the proprietor, and brought us chairs that we might dismount and rest. Presently came plates of oranges cut up into a salad, a very welcome dish in these hot valleys. “And the charge?” we asked. “Nada, señores.” Nor would our kind hosts accept a centimo. We knew they would not have eaten the fruit themselves, but the spirit of hospitality was the same.