Venezuela

by Leonard V. Dalton

A few miles east of Carúpano is the small port of Rio Caribe, where the roadstead is not sufficiently sheltered to allow steamers to lie; small sailing craft carry away the local produce, which consists principally of cacao. Beyond Rio Caribe is the peninsula of Paria, a beautifully wooded mountain mass rising sheer from the water’s edge and separated only by a narrow strait, with numerous islands, from Trinidad. The northern side of the peninsula is practically uninhabited, but the coast facing the Gulf of Paria has several settlements, chiefly occupied in cultivating cacao or cutting timber; their produce is shipped across to Trinidad.

Cristobal Colón is the most easterly port of Venezuela, and its position at the eastern end of the peninsula of Paria, opposite to the Delta of the Orinoco, led Castro to suppose that a small expenditure of public money would lead to a diversion of all the freight now passing via Port-of-Spain to Ciudad Bolivar, from Trinidad to Venezuela—an ill-founded hope, however, as events proved, for the roadstead is very poor, open to a continual heavy swell coming in through the Bocas, which could only be overcome by extensive harbour-works, the cost of which is entirely unwarranted by the circumstances of the case. The wharves and warehouses erected represent, therefore, a sacrifice of public zeal to a private whim as reprehensible as the construction of the Carora and San Timoteo road.

The trade with Southern Venezuela is normally carried on through Port-of-Spain, goods being there transferred to the Orinoco steamer Delta, which crosses the Gulf of Paria to the Caño Macareo, up which lies the normal route to Ciudad Bolivar. Columbus named the Gulf of Paria “Golfo Triste,” and when one has left the beautiful hills and islands on the north side behind it certainly wears a very gloomy aspect, particularly on a cloudy day.

Near the mouths of the Orinoco the water becomes muddy and musky, full of floating masses of water-hyacinth or dead timber, while away on the horizon one can see a dark band of mangroves marking the beginning of the swampy Delta territory.

Pedernales is the only settlement on the coast of the Delta proper—a gloomy, unhealthy-looking spot, though the islands on which the houses are built are more solid than the surrounding swamps. For the new town one lands at a stone causeway leading across the black mud to a single row of houses, one of which has a flagstaff indicating it as the seat of authority. Crabs crawl on the slime and mud all around, and the black patches of natural asphalt along the main street and foreshore offer no contrast to the dirty pools which necessitate a wary eye and foot in walking. The ruins of the German asphalt and oil refinery a mile or so away add to the desolate effect, and the greeting from outlaws from Trinidad, broken-down whites, and villainous-looking negroes make one even more ready to leave this fever-stricken spot, where the floors of the houses are flooded by frequent downpours in the rainy season. The inhabitants exist chiefly by cutting and exporting mangrove-stems for dyeing and tanning purposes; the asphalt industry seems to be quiescent.

Up the caño the scene is one of great beauty, in the varying foliage of the high green banks, whose inundated forest is hidden by the mass of creepers, bamboos, &c., which come down to the water’s edge; beyond only the tops of the high trees can be seen, though sometimes behind a bank of reeds or water-hyacinths, looking in the distance like well-kept turf, the forest itself can be seen. The masses of floating hyacinth, as they float down the stream, the muddy water, and the alligators on the banks here and there, with the macaws, flamingoes, and parrots above and around us, complete the picture. Here and there through the creepers there is a narrow archway cut by the Guaraunos, who live behind in huts raised above the swampy ground, and eat, drink, and clothe themselves with the products of the Moriche palm, besides making their roofs of its fronds.

Higher up there is unflooded forest and open country, where the savannahs bear rich grass for thousands of herds of cattle, and on the banks scattered groups of a few houses mark partly civilised settlements. A fine cacao ranch is passed on the right bank not far below Tucupita, the capital of the Delta-Amacuro Territory, a dismal, unhealthy-looking place, though with some signs of commercial life in the number of goletas in front, not to mention steam craft.

Soon after Tucupita the mountains of Guayana come in sight far to the south, and an hour or so brings us to Barrancas, the lowest port on the Orinoco proper, whose grass-grown streets and broad laguna behind the settlement do not suggest health. Here the character of the navigation changes, and one begins that journey, so finely described by Humboldt, up the thousands of miles of waterways, which will conduct the traveller, if he wishes it, through to the Amazon, and even by devious routes to the Plate.

The Delta territory southward of the main stream consists, in part at least, of hilly country, and here on the flanks of the Sierra Imataca there are rich deposits of iron ore, soon to be worked by a Canadian company by whom the rights have recently been acquired. To aid in the work the company has the right to establish a port (Nueva Angostura) with a custom-house on the Caño Corosimo, in order to avoid the long journey up to Ciudad Bolivar and back.

A few miles above Barrancas, on the south bank of the river, is the castle of San Thomé, now known as Guayana Vieja or Los Castillos, where Raleigh had several encounters with the Spaniards on his last fatal expedition. There are only a few houses round the citadel to-day, and the place possesses no importance.