Down the Orinoco in a Canoe

by Santiago Pérez Triana

In due time we came upon the first camp, a most welcome sight to our eyes; a whole village of tents stood pitched on the bank of the river, and upwards of twenty or thirty canoes were moored along the shore. Amongst them we saw a small one-masted schooner, which raised its graceful lines above the surrounding small craft. We gazed upon it with covetous eyes, and decided to make every possible effort to acquire it, if it could be had for love or money.

We did not attract any attention at first; the people in the camp thought that we were tonga-bean-gatherers like themselves, coming from some point above; but they showed great interest and courtesy on hearing that we came not only from beyond the rapids, but from the upper affluents of the Orinoco. We soon closed a bargain for the schooner, into which we transferred our belongings, and the next day the three small sails were let loose to the very breeze that, during the past few days, had nailed us to the shores.

Besides the schooner, we obtained a supply of provisions, though not as much as we wished. The traders had only what they needed, and were loath to part with them, especially as we were going towards the centres of supply.

In the course of a day or two we stopped at a large flat island, some twelve miles in length, as we were told, and varying from two to four miles in breadth; this is known as the Beach of Lard (Playa de la Manteca). This island is the laying-place of hundreds of thousands of turtles, which come to it every year in the laying season. The island belongs to the Government, who place a small detachment of soldiers to watch over it. The traders buy the right of working a given section of the ground. They dig out the eggs, from which the oil is extracted. It is used for cooking, and is a substitute for lard and butter—hence the name of the beach.

The turtles swarm in myriads, and are forced by those coming up behind them to go further into the island. After laying their eggs they seek the water, but are so numerous that it is necessary for the soldiers and traders to keep a pathway open, otherwise many of them could not get back to the river.

It is a marvel to see countless acres of ground covered with turtles as thick as the stones of a pavement; and the fact might be incredible if it were not vouched for by so many travellers.

A turtle lays, according to its size and age, from fifty to three or four hundred eggs. The men—traders or Government agents—are free to take as many turtles as they like; the eggs are the only article of barter upon which a price is set.

Some idea of the number of turtles laying eggs on the beach may be gathered from the reckoning of a French traveller who investigated the subject.

The oil extracted from the eggs is gathered in demijohns holding on an average seven gallons each, and the average yield of a good year is about ten thousand demijohns. Each demijohn requires from four to five thousand eggs; ten thousand demijohns represent from four to five millions, which means that there must be from four to five hundred thousand turtles. The tale seems extravagant.

It is needless to say that we took in as large a supply of turtles and of eggs as we could carry. The sailors of the schooner were delighted at the prospect of turtle meat and turtle eggs ad libitum. The eggs are boiled in salt water, and keep for a practically indefinite period.