THE HIGHLAND SAVANNAHS OF BRITISH GUIANA
The shining tablelands,
To which our God Himself is moon and sun.
_Tennyson_: _Ode on the Death of
the Duke of Wellington_.
By contrast with the forest, the Baramaku savannah seemed fairyland. It
looks like an English park: smiling slopes of grass with here and there a
clump of bracken or a cluster of trees; undulating knolls and dells, and
a delicious little brook at its far end. Its area is between three and
four square miles, and it is situated about 2,700 feet above sea-level.
We walked right across it and pitched camp near the brook. A tarpaulin
shelter was quickly made, and we changed luxuriously into dry clothes,
after which Haywood produced excellent tea almost at once. In spite of
all the drenchings of the last week, my husband and I were in better
health and spirits than at our departure from Georgetown. The cool of the
forest had been invigorating, and the sole evil result of the ceaseless
damp was rheumatism in my shoulder, which disappeared after two days of
the savannah sunshine and dry air.
But the setting of Baramaku-toy is far from English, for all around
this little Eden looms the dark tropical forest, while to the north
cliff-faced, forest-crowned Kowatipu glowered at us from among his
rain-clouds some ten miles away. He rises a thousand feet or more above
the sea of forest, a rectangular plateau edged by precipices, true to
the Roraima _leit-motif_. He is the magnet for all the rain of the
neighbourhood, and is generally wrapped in forbidding cloud. But as we
gazed at him for a few minutes from Baramaku-toy, he stood out clear and
grand, until once more he wreathed his head in mist, while rain fell
about his feet. We watched, rejoicing in our escape, when, as it were,
he shook his fist at us by sending an ugly black cloud straight for us.
I ran to the shelter of the tarpaulin, having no mind to get my nice dry
clothes soaked again. But it was only an impotent threat. He could not
touch us in Baramaku’s charmed keeping, and the cloud drifted off on to
the forest-clad hills near by, whilst the thrushes sang on undisturbedly
and we basked in the sunshine, lying in the lush grass with no _bête
rouge_ to annoy us and fanned by cool breezes. The air had a delicious
mountain nip in it, the thermometer at 5 p.m. being only 69° F. The night
was quite cold, and I was glad of three blankets. Here we slept without
mosquito nets, untroubled by insects. No one at present inhabits this
savannah, but there are the remains of a deserted banaboo; and the spot,
when made less difficult of access, would be a charming little country
property. It has pasturage suitable for horses and cattle, with plenty
of room available for pleasure-grounds and park-land, as well as for a
kitchen-garden and poultry-farm. Within a short time a family established
here would make itself almost independent of supplies from the coast.
After our usual breakfast of porridge and coffee, we set off next
morning, having first been taken by Mr. Menzies to look at a little
meadow sprinkled underneath its grass with water-worn pebbles. He said
that he had once prospected this place for diamonds, and thought it
showed good promise, but could not go on with the work for lack of
dynamite. He had found some ancient beads in the ground, of a kind not
now used by the aborigines, and concluded that the place had been an
Indian settlement in bygone days.
Crossing the brook which bounds the Baramaku savannah, our trail plunged
again into forest, and ran uphill and down-dale over a number of small
rills that drain northwards into the Kowa River, until, after a hot, dull
walk of about five and a half miles, we reached the Quaibaru savannah.
Ten minutes before emerging from the forest we came upon a stream
with provision-fields on its banks, where cassava, yams, bananas, and
plantains grew plentifully; and here our droghers washed themselves,
brushed their hair, and titivated generally, preparatory to a state entry
into Quaibaru village, whilst one of their number sounded a cow-horn to
announce our approach. We could see that we were expected by the fact
that the path had been carefully and recently cleaned for us.
The savannah of Quaibaru is not nearly so picturesque as that of
Baramaku, but it occupies a commanding position high above the left bank
of the Kowa valley. As the forest veil falls, you step out on to the
ridge of a grassy hill, whereon are perched three banaboos, one on the
hill-top (2,550 feet above sea-level), the two others in _échelon_ lower
down the ridge. Then come in succession two narrow savannah valleys,
divided by two more savannah ridges, on which also are banaboos. The
houses of the savannah Indians are, as a rule, circular, about thirty
feet in diameter, and they accommodate a large number of people and dogs.
The walls are of mud, about four feet high, and the thatch slopes up
sharply to a high pointed top, so that inside there is a sort of upper
story, where provisions can be stored out of the way of the starving curs
who abound in every village. The houses are only lighted by the doorway,
and are, therefore, very gloomy within, the reason for this being that
the pest of the savannahs, the biting kabouru-fly, never enters a dark
place. The doorways generally face north-east, so as to get all the
breeze possible, the wind blowing almost as steadily from that quarter
over the savannah as it does on the coast.
We had anticipated much delay at Quaibaru, for we feared that our
droghers, after short rations in the forest, would insist on celebrating
their arrival in inhabited country by a feast. Luckily for us, the
Quaibaru folk, who are Patamonas, were not in a hospitable frame of mind
towards our convoy, though friendly enough to us. They declared that
they had no cassiri and scarcely any cassava, so that our men were soon
anxious to leave. Accordingly we made and ate our breakfast beside
a stream in the first Quaibaru valley, a shadeless and uncomfortable
place, where the Quaibaruvians brought us some excellent bananas, a
limited supply of hard cassava—“wood-bread,” Mr. Menzies called it—and
a bucketful of limes. Mr. Menzies had given the villagers some limes to
plant a few years ago, and the trees had done extremely well. The limes
were welcome, as the stock we had brought up from Potaro Landing was
nearly exhausted. The villagers also undertook to fetch up for us the
salt which we had left behind at Akrabanna, and to bring it after us to
Puwa.
After a short midday halt we pushed on, winding in and out of the
little Quaibaru valleys under a blazing sun; but a fresh breeze saved
the situation. From a hill-ridge before descending a very steep forest
slope to the Kowa River, we caught our first view of the big savannah,
rising as a shining tableland high up behind smaller tree-clad hills on
the other side of the river. It was a sight for sore eyes, and looked
a veritable “Land of Promise.” An Indian trail always goes bang up the
side of a hill in a straight line, and bang down the other side, with no
thought of gradient or of avoiding unnecessary exertion, so down we had
to go, sliding perpendicularly to the Kowa, hanging on to handy trees
as we passed, and more than once taking an involuntary seat. We crossed
the Kowa on a _tacouba_, just awash with the stream; and after a short
rest and cool down, the process assisted by a limade, we went on through
a forest of luxuriant wild papaw and banana for some distance. Our path
then turned sharply out of the Kowa valley and proceeded to ascend a hill
very nearly as steep as a house in a bee-line upwards. It was a bit of a
scramble, and the stiffest climb we had had since the ascent to Kaietuk,
the last part being a dry watercourse. Once on top, the forest dropped
away. We had a superb view back over the Kowa to Quaibaru-toy, and we
could just see a savannah hill with a tuft of trees on it away behind the
Quaibaru forest. It was Baramaku-toy standing a-tiptoe to see the last of
us. Kowatipu would have been in sight had he not been characteristically
concealed in a rain-cloud. We sat down to admire the glorious breadth of
landscape, hoping also to see our carriers emerge from the bush, for we
were somewhat anxious to know how the Demerara River men would negotiate
the hill. Haywood, who always kept up well, arrived almost as soon as
we did, and inquired exultingly whether “Madam don’t think this country
worth the walk.” I said, “Indeed I did.”
Haywood always carried his possessions in a bag upon his head, and
managed most skilfully to look after his feet without upsetting his
balance. Indians carry their loads on their backs, with a strap over
each shoulder and a third strap across the forehead. Their hands are
thus free, though Haywood always gave each drogher of our party some
additional etcetera, such as a saucepan, lamp, or a teapot. I used often
to wish I could sketch the oddness of a pair of extremely stalwart,
naked, red legs, surmounted by a mighty bundle, trotting along in
front of me, naught else of the man being visible save a pair of hands
carefully conveying some absurdly civilized object, like a teapot or a
kerosene lamp!
In days to come it is to be hoped that one of the main roads of British
Guiana may lead up to this plateau; and, when the time is at hand for
building such a road, its trace will probably be carried from the
watershed of the Sirani-baru into the Kowa valley by easy gradients, and
thence round hill contours, without ascending the Baramaku or Quaibaru
savannahs up to the high-level tableland. But the existing trail could
with a few détours at small expense be made into a bridle track suitable
for pack animals and for cattle; and if this were done the savannah
highlands, which are to-day within nineteen hours’ march from the Potaro
at Chenapowu, would be made economically and speedily accessible. A
launch would place Chenapowu within two hours of Kaietuk, and a motor
road would bring Kaietuk within a day’s journey of Bartika. It would
then be a matter of no difficulty and small expense to travel up or down
between the highland savannahs and the coast in three or four days.
We got tired of waiting for our laggard carriers, took tea, and started
off again. The trail now went once more into the bush for a few minutes,
up and down one more hill, and then emerged into savannah for good. The
sun was very hot and shone straight in our eyes; but the glorious air
prevented fatigue, for every breath of it was like a draught of strength.
Our path ran fairly level through high grass; but, like all Indian
trails, it was uncomfortably narrow, as the Indians put their feet down
one immediately in front of the other. The hills above the right bank of
the Kowa, below the point where we crossed it, form a grassy tableland
with high savannah crests; and, passing through a col between two such
crests, we debouched after two and three-quarter hours’ actual marching
from Quaibaru-toy on the magnificent plateau which forms part of Mr.
Menzies’ ranch. The path dipped down to the deep pool of a stream, near a
waving fringe of high bamboo. To the right rose a low tree-clad hill, and
at its foot we camped in a banaboo built by Mr. Menzies near the northern
boundary of his grazing land close to Karto village.
[Illustration: MOUNT KOWATIPU FROM THE KARTO TABLELAND.
To face page 128.]
Towards sunset my husband and I went up a neighbouring knoll to take
observations. The view over the lovely rolling plain, with its smiling
valleys, was entrancing, and old Kowatipu actually put his head, rather
crossly, out of his cloud for a few seconds. The Karto tableland is a
flat, grassy plateau some 2,400 feet above sea-level. It is bounded on
the east by the Kowa River; on the north-west and south-west by the
Chiung River, both flowing in rifts far below the plateau level; on the
south-east and north by hills which divide the Kowa from the Chiung
valley. Its extreme length from north to south is about seven miles,
and its extreme width from east to west is some eight miles. Its area is
roughly fifty square miles; and the distance across the plateau by our
trail, which ran in a tolerably straight line, my husband estimated at
five miles. The whole tableland forms an excellent grazing-ground; and,
although there was at the time of our visit no water on the central part
of the plateau, there were many streams at its edges, falling into the
Kowa and the Chiung, while across it ran a few dry channels, which are,
no doubt, full of water in the rainy season. The Indian village, named
Karto, stands at the north-west corner of the plateau, not far from Mr.
Menzies’ banaboo. Its provision-fields are partly in the tree-clad hills,
fringing the plateau to the north, and partly down in the fertile Kowa
valley near the point of our crossing. We saw no cattle on the tableland;
but the Karto villagers told us that there was a herd on some very
attractive-looking pasture-grounds near the head of the Chiung River. For
it must be understood that the highlands suitable for grazing are by no
means confined to the tableland which we crossed, and from which we could
see the savannahs round the upper reaches of the Chiung only a little
below our level, while across the valley of the Chiung, lower in its
course, we looked up to a yet higher, and apparently not less extensive,
savannah plateau. These attractive and spacious highlands deserve to be
developed, and would support a considerable population. They would, as it
is, make an admirable hill-station. The scenery is beautiful. The climate
at the season of our visit was delightful. The locality could be made
easily and cheaply accessible from Georgetown, and would, I venture to
think, prove much superior as a health resort to the West India Islands.
We did not see Mount Roraima from the Karto tableland; but I do not doubt
that from one or other of the savannah hills which surround that plateau
it would be possible to see Roraima, if by fortunate coincidence one
reached the proper point of observation at a time when the mountain was
free from cloud; for on our way back we saw Roraima from many hill-tops,
and even from valleys, which on the way out vouchsafed us no such view.
We did, however, from Karto get our first sight of Mount Chakbang,
standing out conspicuously far away to the west, a rugged finger pointing
to the sky, and the mountains of Mataruka were plainly visible.
We awoke next morning to find a slight drizzle falling, but it soon
cleared off into a brilliantly sunny day. All the Karto people came to
see us—men, women and children, dogs and waracabra. Indians are very
fond of tame birds, but do not keep them in cages. They fly about as
they like. These villagers were Makusis, and appeared very friendly. Our
droghers were revived and gay, having had overnight a feast of cassava
and cassiri. Cassiri, which is a drink made from cassava, has a magical
effect on these people. It seems to cheer without inebriating—in fact, it
has rather the effect which a cup of good tea or coffee has on a tired
European.
Our road for a couple of hours now lay over the glorious grass plateau
which forms part of Mr. Menzies’ ranch. Walking was perfectly delightful
in that exhilarating highland air. We had enchanting views of blue
distance in all directions. Far on our left the tableland was bounded
by the rift of the Kowa River, beyond which rolling forest-clad hills
faded into the horizon, whilst nearer to the right the head-waters of
the Chiung River wound away among green savannah mountains, in the knees
of which lay little rounded terraces and small gulleys, studded with
eta-palm. These hills form another tableland about five hundred feet
higher than the one which we traversed, and would probably be a good
country for sheep. None of these smiling, healthy highlands are marked
on the Colony’s maps, and their very existence has, in the past, been
steadfastly denied.
Mount Mataruka lay south-west of us, almost in a straight line with
our path; but, although we ultimately climbed over its shoulder, our
route first made a wide détour, taking us to Puwa village. From the
south-west end of Mr. Menzies’ tableland we descended some seven hundred
feet in half an hour to a narrow gorge, where four streams, falling in
picturesque cascades from the plateau, converge to form the Kowyann, a
tributary of the Chiung. From this point the Makusis had opened a bridle
track for us through the small forest belts which separate the wide
stretches of savannah; and we could have ridden on horseback the rest of
the way to the Ireng but for the fact that, owing to a misunderstanding
between the chief at Mataruka and a chief in the Kotinga valley, where
the horses were, “shanks his mare” had still to be our mount. We
breakfasted beside the Kowyann, and then took our way down its valley,
steep grassy hills rising on either side of us. We travelled alternately
through little savannahs, whose long waving grass and crooked trees,
pretending to be apple-trees, had a queer resemblance to an English
orchard, and through patches of woodland. The shade in these little
forest belts was very grateful, as the sun was extremely hot. A march
of one and a quarter hours down the Kowyann valley brought us to Chiung
village, where we spent the night.
This village stands on the left bank of the Chiung River, and here a
large gathering of Makusis had assembled. They seemed very pleased to see
us, and explained that they had cut a broad trail all the way to Puwa.
They also provided an abundance of cassava and cassiri for our droghers.
The village consisted of two houses, with a third unfinished one, which
was being erected for us. The frame was all in place, the wooden bars
tied neatly together with bark-fibre, according to Indian fashion, for
these people do not use any form of nail. The roof of our house was only
partly thatched, and the sides were all open, a fortunate circumstance,
as it was very hot in the enclosed valley. We used our tarpaulin to
screen ourselves off from the rest of the village, which was about fifty
yards away, and at night we enjoyed the brilliant stars, looking down
upon us. We placed our beds immediately under the small portion of thatch
which had been completed, for the excessively heavy dew of the savannahs
makes it unpleasant to sleep entirely _à la belle étoile_. Until
darkness fell we were much troubled by the biting kabouru-flies, which
are slightly larger than the ordinary sand-flies. Their bite is much
more irritating, and raises a red lump with a black spot in the centre.
Though the lump soon dies down, the black speck remains for several days.
I defended myself from the kabouru with a dark veil and gloves, but my
husband and Mr. Menzies were soon sorry objects. The savannah Indians
appear to suffer little, if any, irritation from the bites of kabouru,
but the poor fellows from Arnik and from the Demerara River, being
unaccustomed to this pest, which is not known in the forests, were very
much afflicted. In the highland savannahs kabouru-flies are generally
found near water, and the larger the stream the worse the kabouru; so
we had to pay for our close proximity to the Chiung River, which flowed
with a delicious gurgling noise close to our banaboo. During the night
Mr. Menzies’ quarters were invaded by a raiding dog, who carried off our
excellent ham. This would have been a serious business had we not been
approaching Puwa, the “Land of Plenty” as far as food is concerned.
Next morning (6th January) we left Chiung village at dawn with a large
convoy, for all the village, including women and babies, came with us.
Ten minutes after our start we forded the Chiung River, an operation
which took another ten minutes and was great fun. The water, deliciously
cold, rose to my knees. But very little walking in that savannah air soon
dries one again completely, a delightful contrast to the bush!
The path we followed from Chiung to Puwa was nothing more than a big
circuit round a hill. We should have preferred a short-cut over the
summit; but the Indians having prepared a level track for us with much
care along the valleys, we felt that it would be ungrateful not to take
their line. This track ran through a thick belt of forest, fringing the
banks of the Chiung; and the Makusis had most carefully straightened and
cleared the forest path to a width of six to ten feet, removing most
of the tree-stumps, while in places they had actually swept the ground
clean of fallen leaves. The job must have given them a great deal of
trouble, for the trees, though small, were of hardwood varieties, such as
purple-heart and letter-wood, and the road-makers were justly proud of
their work. We were two hours in this forest, but I was walking slowly,
being tired by the unaccustomed exposure to sun during the two preceding
days. Then the trail again emerged into savannah, having left the river,
which winds away to the left round some hills that we crossed over a low
col (1,550 feet above sea-level).
We now found ourselves in the Ireng valley, though at some distance from
the river, and we halted for breakfast in the little belt of forest
beside a small brook. Here we discovered that we were an enormous party,
for half Puwa village, including Johnny’s wife and sons, had come out to
meet us. The Makusis, as young men, are extremely handsome and well-made,
full of life and movement. Johnny’s sons it was a treat to see, the
eldest especially, a lad of about fifteen. He wore only a loin-cloth and
necklace, with bracelets of beads, carried a bow and arrows, and simply
flew about the place—never walked, but he ran, and every movement was
as graceful as a cat’s. Then there was a dear little fellow about six,
Edward by name, who greeted Haywood most affectionately, and became
a zealous little cook’s mate. I remember we gave him and some small
companions a few of the dried prunes we were eating, and they tied up
each one most carefully in a separate leaf, and said they would take them
to their mothers. I also remember in connection with that meal that Mr.
Menzies and I incautiously partook of red peppers, supplied us by some
hospitable friend, and cried in consequence many bitter and involuntary
tears.
Our path next lay through a succession of little valleys with graceful
eta-palms growing in all the creeks, and occasionally patches of bush,
through which the Makusis had cut us a royal road. The trail, which had
hitherto run east-south-east, now turned back on itself, the direction
being west-north-west to the Puwa creek, which we forded after another
two hours’ march; and from the ford it took us twenty minutes more to
reach Puwa village. Our path was practically level and very good going
all the way from Chiung to Puwa. The distance, as the crow flies, between
those villages over the hill-tops is only some six miles, but we had
come at least twice that distance. The provision-fields of Puwa village
are in forest, close by the ford, and are very fertile. One yam brought
from these fields and given to us was as much as a man could carry. The
village itself stands on the right bank of the stream from which it takes
its name, and is situated in a ring of hills, two of which we climbed,
being rewarded by a very good view of the Ireng valley and of the river
itself, flowing in a deep-cut trench. Everyone in Puwa was drawn up in
festal array to meet us, very anxious to shake hands, and all who could
boast clothes of any sort had them on. The ladies mostly had their
skirts hung round them, immediately below their arm-pits, whilst the
correct Puwa wear for trousers is to hang them round the shoulders, the
seat forming a sort of mantle behind and the trouser legs quite handy
to flap away flies or wipe a perspiring forehead, as need may arise.
One boy there was who had, I should imagine, been away to work on some
Brazilian ranch, for he was most magnificently got up in a white coat,
blue trousers _on_ his legs, and three necklaces; and he had a larger
number of pins stuck through his lower lip than anyone else. He evidently
fancied himself no end, so we christened him the “Nut.” Both Patamonas
and Makusis have a habit of sticking pins, or, failing these, pieces of
stick, through their lower lips. The Makusi women are very much shorter
than the men, but their figures, save in girlhood, are not pretty. They
carry splendidly, and I should think are as strong as the men. They are
very squat and have immense legs, being beasts of burden from childhood,
whereas the men only carry loads on state occasions. Indians generally
live at a considerable distance from their provision-fields, and often
at some height above water, so that the women are perpetually engaged
in droghing. The Indian children seem to abound everywhere and to enjoy
life. Indeed, I think they live in a children’s Paradise—no lessons, no
clothes, no bed-time!
Puwa village consisted of three houses, and another, in process of
building for us, was in much the same state as that we occupied in
Chiung. The villagers made me a nice little dressing-room in one corner
of our _benab_ with tarpaulins and a cowhide; and on arrival I subsided
into my hammock to enjoy a glorious cool breeze blowing up the valley,
whilst my husband climbed the steep rocky hill just above the village
to take observations. Meantime all sorts of offerings came in. Piles of
cassava, plantains and bananas, enormous yams, pumpkins, eggs, and a
couple of fowls, one of which Haywood had in the soup in a jiffy. The
people seemed to have a great affection and respect for Mr. Menzies,
and he usually got them to understand somehow what he wanted, although
he does not speak more than six words of their language. “Walky” takes
the place of “makey” in pidgin Makusi. “Um” represents “piecey” of
pidgin Chinese. We went to bed early, the young moon and stars shining
in beautifully upon us; but dogs marauding about amongst our baggage
disturbed us a good deal, as did attendant fleas. Indian dogs are never
fed, so that they may be keen hunters, and they are always mangy and
horribly thin.
Next day we spent in Puwa, as there was so much to do. Everyone was very
busy. Haywood did some satisfactory and much-needed laundry work. The
Indians drove up a herd of fine short-horn cattle for our inspection,
then a bullock was separated from the rest, driven down to the edge of
the stream, and killed at a blow by a Makusi, after which all the village
assisted at the cutting up and salting. The rest of the cattle smelt
blood, and set up a fearsome bellowing. This herd had been purchased by
Mr. Menzies from Indians in Brazil, and by him driven across the Ireng
River. Another matter to be settled was the method of carrying me, when
necessary, on the line of march. My husband insisted that from time to
time in the heat of the day I should be carried in a hammock slung on a
pole between two carriers. This, of course, was never possible when the
trail ran at all steeply up or down hill. It was quite impossible in the
forest, and my hammock did not come into use for this purpose until we
left Puwa. The expedient was adopted principally to give me opportunities
of rest without thereby delaying the progress of our caravan. Johnny and
Jack, two stalwart Indians from Chiung village, undertook the carrying
job. Then we selected from our stores what we thought we should ourselves
consume during the next fortnight—jam, oatmeal, sausages, chocolate,
dried fruit, cheese, biscuits, tea and coffee, enough to make a load
for one man. The rest, together with a few of our personal belongings,
we handed over to the headman of Puwa, to keep in his banaboo until we
returned. We also settled that the whole of our droghers from Chenapowu,
save two, should remain and be fed in Puwa during such time as we were
on our way to and from Roraima. The two we took with us were Edward and
Moses, both Makusis, who particularly requested to be allowed to come.
The Amik boys went with us next day to Mataruka, and then returned to
Puwa to rest, so that they might be fresh for the return journey through
the Kowatipu forest.
When the chief part of cutting up the bullock had been accomplished and
long strips of it had been salted and dried in the sun, Mr. Menzies
worked a gramophone, to everyone’s great delight. This gramophone had
been brought up in fulfilment of a request from Albert, the headman
of Mataruka. He had asked for a church bell, a gramophone, and “high
wines”—that is, rum—as a reward for the services which he would give us
in connection with our farther journey. Mr. Menzies had undertaken on
our behalf that the first two of his wishes should be fulfilled if he
arranged to have his people ready to convey us from Mataruka to Roraima.
With the gramophone we supplied half a dozen records; and as I listened
to the hideous machine screaming out its ragtime, “Tipperary,” etc., sung
with an appalling Yankee twang, I wished we could have done something
better for the poor dears.
A nice breeze blew all day, and we were not troubled by kabouru save in
the very early morning. After tea-time we strolled up a little hill close
by and enjoyed the cool of the afternoon and a lovely view of the Puwa
and Ireng valleys. We had excellent grilled steak for dinner; but the
dogs were worse than ever at night, trying to get at the meat that had
been hung up to dry. The Indians sat up eating the remains of the bullock
nearly all night. They made remarkably little noise over their feast, and
appeared perfectly fresh and gay next morning.
On the following morning there was great delay in getting off owing
to the redistribution of loads; so my husband and I started off by
ourselves, with my hammock-bearers ahead to show us the way. But more
haste, less speed! Johnny and Jack, for reasons best known to themselves,
saw fit to guide us down into a low stuffy valley, shut off by high hills
from any breath of wind, and we struggled along for an hour and a half
through bush and old yam and cassava cultivation by a path which at times
did not admit of our standing upright. Finally we climbed out of the
valley, up a steep col, where we joined our caravan of droghers and Mr.
Menzies, who had come by a shorter and quicker route along a hill-ridge,
affording a fine view of mountain scenery far and near. From the point
where the two trails converge, an hour’s march over a charming and
spacious savannah valley, in which there are some rice-fields, and up a
low hill, leads to a banaboo, beautifully situated some six hundred feet
above the Ireng, now in full view, and commanding a superb panorama. To
the south lay the fertile, golden-looking Mataruka plain, crossed by the
line of the Waikana creek; to the south-east was a tangle of big hills
beyond the Ireng; to the east the Puwa hills and a glimpse of the Karto
tableland; from north through west to south, beyond the winding Ireng,
the most glorious stretch of open rolling grass hills and valleys that
one could wish to see; and beyond all that, in the far, far distance,
was Roraima’s great block, some sixty miles away in the direct line of
vision. Of course, it was impossible at that distance to distinguish
between Roraima, Kukenaam, and Weitipu. We merely saw a dim blue mass,
obviously very much higher than anything near it.
The air on our hill-top was absolutely glorious, and a strong breeze blew
steadily. The place is too high for the kabouru, and we spent a couple
of hours enjoying ourselves, and ate a most excellent midday meal. Our
menu consisted of beefsteak, potatoes, onions, yams, biscuits, cheese,
prunes, lemonade and coffee; and we laughed at the idea of the starvation
journey which an expedition to Roraima is always supposed to be. Haywood
cooked inside the banaboo, to get out of the wind, and his grilled steak
was first-class. The banaboo gave us pleasant shade during the meal, for
we sat in the open immediately under the thatch-eaves. In the afternoon
we descended sharply to the left bank of the Ireng, which is here the
boundary of British Guiana. By the river-side the kabouru were one black
cloud, and I was thankful for my dark blue veil, which appeared to scare
them off me. The boat we wanted was on the Brazilian side of the river,
so one of our men sprang into the water, swam across for it, and paddled
gaily back to us, apparently not the least out of breath, although the
Ireng here is wide and flows with a swirling current. We hastily got into
the dug-out and crossed the river, landing at a point where the Waikana
creek from the Mataruka plain flows into the Ireng. So we left British
Guiana for Brazil.
A CORNER OF BRAZIL