Travels and adventures in South and Central America. First series / Life in the Llanos of Venezuela

by Ramón Páez

Three or four days we sojourned among these jolly people, and then again set out for the scene of our future adventures, stopping for the night at San Jaime, once a thriving town, but now nearly deserted in consequence of the desolating civil wars which have afflicted the country for several years. On our way thither, we traversed a succession of beautiful prairies, bound by rings of magnificent forest trees, and watered by numerous creeks and lagoons filled with water fowl. Unlike the dreary wastes we had already crossed, which, “like the ocean, fill the imagination with the idea of infinity,” the plains stretching between the Portuguesa and Apure rivers are characterized by the rankness and luxuriance of the vegetation. Owing to the periodical inundation, the landscape wears here the green mantle of spring even during the hottest months.

This yearly inundation is one of the most curious phenomena of this region. At the approach of the rainy season, those two magnificent offsprings of the Sierra Nevada, the Apure and Portuguesa, tired as it were of their long repose, suddenly rise in their heated, muddy beds, and leap over their borders, at first in playful gambols; then in fearful and rapid course, converting these widely extended plains into a vast lagoon. To the few spots which escape the general submersion, the inhabitants retire with their chattels and flocks in canoes held in readiness for the purpose.

Thus the land is kept in a state of constant irrigation and fertility unsurpassed in any country, although at the expense of the comfort of the inhabitants, who are compelled to abandon their homes to the crocodiles and anacondas of the stream. When the waters subside, the intruders are expelled by the rightful owners of the dwellings; the few articles of furniture they possess replaced in the damp rooms, and they again devote themselves to domestic pursuits until the next inundation forces them anew to seek a home elsewhere. I was shown at the pass the marks left by the water on the walls of the cottages, indicating in some instances a rise of twelve feet.

I was struck with the size and luxuriance of the trees along the course of these rivers. My attention was particularly attracted by the saman, a species of Mimosa, with delicate, feathery flowers of a pinkish hue, and gigantic, umbrella-shaped boughs. There is in the valleys of Aragua one of these which, from time immemorial, has elicited the admiration of travellers, and received the protection of the law since the discovery and settlement of the country, for its magnificent proportions and the great age which it is supposed to have attained.

Extensive tracts of land are entirely taken up by individuals of this class. It would be impossible to conceive any thing more grand in nature than a forest of these trees. It might be said of them that each is a forest in itself; and were all the beautiful parasites that cling to their trunks and branches for support spread upon the ground, they would cover several acres. All along the course of the great rivers Apure, Guarico, and Portuguesa, the saman is found in such countless numbers that the combined fleets of the civilized world might be reconstructed from this inexhaustible supply. The axe of the northerner could readily convert those stupendous forests into vehicles of commerce and civilization, were it not for the wasting fevers, endemic of that region. Now they only serve as protective haunts for desperate bands of robbers and cut-throats, let loose by unprincipled politicians.

Equally rank and luxuriant are the grasses in these alluvial lands. We were compelled to drive before us all the relay horses and other beasts of burden to open a passage and save our bare feet from being dreadfully lacerated by the gamelote, a tall, cutting, and worthless grass, with blades almost as sharp as a “Toledo.” It grows so closely and rapidly as to obliterate in a few days the paths made by travellers, killing every other species in its way. Unfortunately, it is perfectly useless as fodder, except for Chigüires or water-hogs, which feed on it when nothing better offers, and to the flesh of which it imparts its disagreeable flavor; the gamelote is therefore consigned to the flames as soon as it is ripe enough to burn, which it does with as much seeming fury as it displayed against the feet and legs of travellers in its green days.

On the second night of our journey, we pitched our camp near several ponds, literally crowded with alligators and fish and water fowl of all varieties, which kept up a continual strife, to our great discomfort. Not only was the water rendered noxious by the numerous creatures in it, but even the air was filled with the effluvium and mosquitoes arising therefrom. We were compelled to dig wells in the vicinity of the lagoons to obtain water for our use; but no artifice could shield us from the unmerciful attacks of the mosquitoes, especially the kind called pullones, from the length and strength of the proboscis. We tried in vain to escape their painful sting by rolling ourselves from head to foot in our ponchos and hammocks, at the peril of suffocation; the needle-like proboscis of the insects actually penetrated through the folds of our covering so as to draw blood. Nor would the smoke of the blazing fires around the camp drive them off, as was anticipated. Fortunately, they only paid us an early visit, retiring all at once before midnight, and leaving us to the tender mercies of their kinsfolk, the noisy mosquitoes or zancudos. These, although not so tormenting with their sting, were none the less so with their music, while no part of our bodies could be left uncovered without being instantly besieged by swarms of these “howling-insect wolves.” This, however, was the only occasion upon which we were troubled by mosquitoes during our journey, as they only appear in force during the rainy season.

I noticed here for the first time a low range of hills or médanos, mere accumulations of sand tossed from place to place by the winds across the boundless plain; to-day, they rise above the surrounding prairies; to-morrow, they are levelled with the dust of the savannas: fit emblem of the ephemeral republics of the South! These médanos had been overrun by the gamelote, giving them the character of permanent hills, from which the place takes the name of Medanos de San Martin.