The whole march through the forest between Holmia and Baramaku-toy can be done, and was done by us on our return journey, in fourteen hours and twenty-six minutes. My husband estimated our average rate of progress at two and a half miles an hour; and the length of the trail in all its windings would therefore be some thirty-six miles. On the outward journey this march through the forest occupied sixteen and a half hours, and was spread over four tedious days, because of the inefficiency of our Demerara River droghers. The gradients of the route are shown in the diagram (p. 237), drawn by my husband.
At Baramaku-toy our forest trek ended, and we never again spent a whole day in the forest during the remainder of our journey to Roraima, although frequently we passed through belts of woodland fringing a river course between one savannah and the next. The British Guiana jungle is certainly a place where you cannot see the wood for the trees. The effort of getting along quickly without catching your feet absorbs the attention, and I am afraid that I have laid much emphasis on the damp and gloom. Nevertheless, the magnificence of some of the forest giants induced us often to stand still and marvel. The mora-trees, in particular, grew to a great height, and their trunks, when a few feet from the ground, spread out ribs of twisted wood like bastions all round them. When they lie fallen, you are astonished to see how short a depth the foundations of the monster penetrated into the soil. We saw no orchids in flower in the forest, but orchidaceous parasites grow everywhere on bush and stone, and send out fibres to suck moisture from the earth. Even those perched on the tops of mighty trees, more than a hundred feet above the ground, drop down these little, thirsty, fibrous mouths. Occasionally we noticed brilliant blossoms lying at our feet, fallen from some creeper, stretching itself in light and air over the tree-tops; and at one point we picked up and enjoyed some delicious suwarri nuts. But, taken as a whole, primeval tropical forest is a hostile thing. It can harbour no fairies, though there might be demons and goblins. To be alone even for a minute in the jungle is alarming, for such is the profound silence all around that one has a terrifying sense of being inimically watched by unseen things, and I can imagine nothing worse than to be lost in the bush.