THE VENEZUELAN APPROACH TO RORAIMA
There, among the flowers and grasses,
Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;
Only the winds and rivers,
Life and death.
R. L. STEVENSON: _In the Highlands_.
From the ridge above the head-waters of the Chitu we descended gently,
and after fifteen minutes’ march we forded the Maipa, a deep, sluggish
stream, with a belt of forest at its farther side. On the projecting
branch of a tree a glorious purple orchid, the only one we saw during our
journey, was admiring its reflection in the water. The Maipa probably
belongs to the Orinoco watershed. We then traversed the narrow forest
belt on the farther bank, and emerged into a curiously-rifted savannah,
which led us to the foot of another abrupt hill-side. Up it we went,
and found ourselves at the edge of a vast rolling plain, Weitipu on our
right and far beyond a big fog-bank, which we knew concealed Roraima.
His great form loomed dark in the cloud. This tableland, at the extreme
south-east edge of which we stood, extends past the foot of Mount Weitipu
almost to the foot of Roraima, and then drops down to the Kukenaam River.
Its average level is fully 3,800 feet above the sea, its gentle grassy
undulations, broken here and there by clumps of trees beside intersecting
watercourses, spread out before us for a distance which it took no less
than five and a half hours’ actual march to traverse. This plateau is
a superb pasture-land, but no animals now graze there, save a few wild
deer. What a country to lie fallow!
We proceeded on our way, fording the Arataparu and the Weiwötö, both
large tributaries of the Arabupu. All these streams undoubtedly feed the
Kukenaam River, and thus form a part of the Orinoco basin. The ford of
the Weiwötö was just above a lovely flashing waterfall, and we camped on
its right bank. Now at last did Roraima and Kukenaam deign to take note
of us. First the head of the Töwashing pinnacle, which forms Roraima’s
south-east corner, emerged from out of a fog-bank; then a piece of grim,
grand shoulder, then cloud-drift once again; but gradually more and more
of the twin giants was exposed, never clear all at once, but hinted at
sufficiently for us to grasp their outlines. I felt smitten with awe and
fear. We seemed so minute and so presumptuous to venture unbidden into
the presence of these towering monsters in a land that knew us not. The
glory and the beauty was very great, as the evening sun fell on them, the
fleecy clouds now revealing, now concealing, the black precipices. Well
may the Indians feel that the place is holy ground!
I must try to describe the scene more exactly. Weitipu lay on our right
almost due north of us, rising sheer up from the plain. This mountain
seems to be made of quartz, cliffs of which stood out where the savannah
slopes had been washed away. Its southern end is roughly circular at the
base, the sides being terraced and the small plateau at the top being
surmounted by a sharp peak, which would afford an uninterrupted view to
every point of the compass. All this part of the mountain is savannah
dotted with occasional tree-clumps, and it is seamed by the gulleys
of small streams tumbling from its terraces in sparkling waterfalls.
To the northward the mountain is forest-clad, and is shaped into the
cliff-sided, flat-topped rectangular block, so characteristic of this
country. From its north-west side stretches a sea of forest, in which two
crags jut out fantastically side by side, the more conspicuous of the two
being known as Muköripö. Between Weitipu and Roraima the land drops very
considerably and is densely forested. Then arises Roraima’s south-eastern
wall, which is said to be ten miles long. From our camp at Weiwötö we
saw it, of course, greatly foreshortened, and the south-western face, up
which we eventually climbed, we could not yet see at all; but Kukenaam’s
southern end projected far beyond the Töwashing pinnacle. At one moment
the clouds cleared away almost entirely, and we counted six long white
streaks of water falling vertically down Roraima’s cliff-face. It had
evidently rained heavily, for we did not see these cascades again after a
spell of fine weather.
Our Weiwötö camp was very exposed and bleak. Joseph looked so shiveringly
cold that we spared him an outfit of clothes, which, alas! greatly
impaired the dignity and picturesqueness of his appearance. The Makusis,
with Mr. Menzies and Haywood, went off for the night to a little wooded
island amidstream for shelter. They had stretched one of our tarpaulins
for us over an old hut-frame on the open plain, and had made a most
inefficient wind-break with the other. As we tossed and shivered on
our narrow camp-beds through the chilly night, we could see the dim,
cloud-wrapped mountain forms looming against the moonlit sky.
[Illustration: THE SOUTH-WEST FACE OF MOUNT RORAIMA, SHOWING THE
TÖWASHING PINNACLE.
To face page 186.]
For the first and only time on the journey Haywood failed to have his
fire alight before dawn. His excuse, as he arrived by daylight, was an
entirely adequate one. To reach the bush-covered island, where he and
the Indians had slept, it was necessary to wade knee-deep in water, and
he did not like to attempt the ford in the dark. So we got off somewhat
later than usual, and after fifteen minutes’ march forded the Arabupu.
This stream, running very fast and deep, at times nearly carried me off
my feet. The water rose well above my husband’s knees, and the squat
little Indian women were up to their waists. From now onwards until we
halted for breakfast we were walking over prairie land, mostly on the
upward trend, towards the nearest corner of Roraima’s south-eastern wall
where the Töwashing pinnacle separates itself from the mass, and we came
gradually round to face the south-western side. Flights of locusts rose
in all directions on our approach. We walked sharply to keep ourselves
warm. Roraima and Kukenaam were at first impenetrably hidden in fog; but,
as the day wore on, the sun came out and very gradually dispersed the
clouds. Nearer and nearer we came, the great cliffs, rendered peculiarly
mysterious by the flying clouds that partly enveloped them, for ever
changing their shapes, till I said to myself: “Either I am dreaming it
all, or else I have had a touch of sunstroke; but that scene cannot be
real.”
We breakfasted in sun and wind in a hollow by a small brook, and then
set off again, proceeding to the edge of the tableland, which then falls
abruptly down in steep-sided terraces to the basin of the Kukenaam
River. We dropped down some one thousand feet into this valley in the
course of an hour, and then walked up the left bank of the Kukenaam
River over flat ground, intersected by streams and swamps, under a
broiling sun, in blinding glare—not a pleasant walk. A march of one and
a quarter hours through this country brought us to the Töwashing, a
stream which leaps from the Töwashing pinnacle of Mount Roraima to join
the Kukenaam, and, fording it, we filed into Kamaiwâwong village half an
hour later, amidst an ominous silence. My mind had been plagued with a
presentiment that some hitch would befall us here. Several travellers
have reached this spot and yet failed to conquer Roraima, one of the
last being Dr. Crampton, a professor from the United States, who became
convinced that the Arekunas meant to murder him, and simultaneously that
the ascent of Roraima “to satisfy a purely personal ambition” would be
“unjustifiable.”[2] The fact that Kamaiwâwong was entirely empty and
deserted was far from reassuring. Not so much as a dog was there to bark
at us. We sat down in the shade of one of the banaboos and sent Joseph
with a deputation up a small hill to the village of Tekwonno, about half
a mile off, across the Kukenaam River. This, too, looked ominously empty,
and soon the deputation returned saying, “No man.” Roraima and Kukenaam
stood for the first time entirely clear of cloud, gazing down upon us as
much as to say, “There is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.”
It was rather an uncomfortable position. We had about thirty very hungry
people with us. They had been reckless with the food-supplies; and,
when Mr. Menzies remonstrated, Joseph had declared: “Arekuna, plenty
cassava.” But at the “breakfast” hour this day more than half of our
followers had had nothing to eat. We resolved, therefore, to establish
ourselves at Kamaiwâwong as comfortably as possible for the night, and on
the morrow, if the Arekunas did not return, as we hoped they would do, to
send out a raiding party to find their provision-fields and to bring in
cassava, whilst we, with another party, would attempt to make our way up
the mountain. With field-glasses we could see quite clearly, running up
the cliff-face, the ledge by which all ascents of Mount Roraima have been
made since Sir Everard im Thurn first found the way in 1884, a line of
green across the red face of the rock.
Roraima and Kukenaam stand on the same vast pediment of highland
savannah. Doubtless in remote ages they were one mountain.[3] Above
the savannah slopes is a girdle of forest, out of which the gigantic
cliff-walls start up vertically a thousand feet into the air, dominating
and dwarfing all beside. The whole scale is so huge that eyes
unaccustomed to it are easily deceived as to the distances involved. The
precipices seemed to be close at hand, but in reality they were not less
than four miles away from us in the direct line of vision to the nearest
point. The twin mountains are divided by a deep rift between their
cliffs, and from the summit of Mount Kukenaam on the west side of this
rift the Kukenaam River leaps in a mighty waterfall, the spray and mists
of which surge to and fro in the gorge, filling and concealing it, and
often making the cliffs of the two colossi appear to be one continuous
escarpment.
Rather glumly we established ourselves in Kamaiwâwong. The village
takes its name from the Kamaiwa, a small stream which, after springing
vertically a thousand feet downwards from the point on Roraima where
the ledge athwart the cliff-face reaches the summit of that grim wall,
flows past Kamaiwâwong, between it and Tekwonno, to join the Kukenaam
River. The banaboos are built on a little plain, some 3,700 feet above
sea-level. We chose a circular one for our dwelling. Only its walls to
windward had been filled in, so that it was the reverse of stuffy. Mr.
Menzies, with Joseph, Haywood, and Thomas, occupied a house near by,
whilst the others spread themselves about in other buildings. Kamaiwâwong
was quite as large as Mataruka village, and had an imposing church. The
house of Jeremiah, its late chief, stood in the centre, the doorway
blocked up with earth-sods. He had recently died.
We unpacked and settled down, and it was beginning to get dusk, when
Joseph called out “Arekuna yebu” (_i.e._, _coming_), and pointed to a
hill on the other side of the Kukenaam River, where his keen eyes had
detected moving figures. The word went round the camp, “Arekuna yebu.”
It was a very great relief! Just as night fell, three stalwart fellows
strode up in single file, all carrying guns, the first and last naked,
the centre one attired in a blue coat and trousers and brown wide-awake
hat. All had ear-rings and painted faces. They wore an absurdly jaunty
delighted-to-see-you air, held out their hands, ejaculated “How-do?” and
laughed cheerily. They then pointed to the mountain and said: “Roroyima
(such is the Arekuna pronunciation) piff-piff-piff-paff-whizz,” or
at least that is what it sounded like; and it clearly meant: “It is
a long way up there; do you want to go?” We signified that we did,
and, moreover, that we wanted cassava and _kapong_ (_i.e._, men). They
squatted down beside us, and said: “Yes, yes, to-morrow, Schoolmaster
yebu.” “Indeed?” we said; “but what side Schoolmaster and what side all
man?” They pointed across the hills, over which they had come, and said,
“Wrayanda-aniafpai banaboo”; so we sent off the blue-suited fellow with
a lamp to return to, and hasten, his people, the other couple remaining
with us.
Kamaiwâwong had evidently been abandoned by the villagers, Indian
fashion, so that Jeremiah’s _manes_ might have peace; but we never
discovered for certain why Tekwonno also had been deserted. The Arekunas
afterwards said, “Wrayanda-aniafpai plenty cassava,” as though to imply
that they were all employed there preparing cassava; but this would
not account for every man, woman, child, dog, and fowl having cleared
out. It is more likely that they misdoubted our intentions, and removed
themselves and their belongings until they were reassured. Mr. Menzies
laid it to a “guilty conscience.” He said the Arekunas are often
brigands, raid Makusi fields, and carry off their women; and that, seeing
a large party approach, they preferred to seek safety in flight until
they were assured that vengeance was not about to overtake them.
We went to bed much relieved, and hoping to make the ascent next day—a
fallacious hope as it proved; but really we were all the better for
having a day’s rest forced upon us, after six consecutive marches, during
which we had covered the distance of some ninety-three miles between Puwa
and Kamaiwâwong. The night was very cold. We piled our mackintoshes on
top of our blankets to keep in the warmth; but from 3 a.m. onwards it was
too cold to sleep, and we were up at dawn preparing for the climb. Only
our camp-beds, our two bedding-bags, and one small canister, were to be
carried with us, and we were ready to start before any more Arekunas had
come in. So we sat down to solace ourselves with “the virtuous Macaulay,”
hoping to make at all events a half day’s march. At about 11 a.m. a long
string of Arekunas arrived, beating a tom-tom, and much decorated with
paint and necklaces. One man had painted coat-buttons down his naked
chest! They brought with them cassava and bananas, a clucking hen, and
sat-on eggs, also nineteen magnificent pineapples, which they laid out in
rows on the floor of our banaboo. Those pineapples were quite the most
delicious I ever tasted. But to all inquiries as to making a start the
Arekunas merely replied, “Schoolmaster yebu,” so that we had to resign
ourselves to further delay. The newcomers brought a gourd of _paiwarri_
with them, which they offered to our people. This is a highly alcoholic
beverage, and made the eyes of the drinkers shine unnaturally. We were
glad to see that there was not much of it.
The day was brilliantly fine; not a cloud speck on either of the great
mountains, whose cliff-faces shone red above the green tree-belts.
We felt we were letting opportunity sadly slip by us, but there was
nothing to be done. The glare from the barren earth-terrace, on which
an Indian village always stands, was blinding, so we spent nearly all
day within the welcome shade of our banaboo. Arekunas—men, women, and
children—arrived in small parties at intervals all day long, and our
hungry Makusis were regaled with the much-desired cassava and cassiri.
Towards nightfall Schoolmaster came in, evidently the chief of the
tribe. Why he has this peculiar name I do not know. He is a big, stalwart
individual, all muscle and sinew, full of gaiety and laughter, as seems
to be the Arekuna habit, and we explained to him, pointing to the summit
of Roraima, that we wished to be there the next day. After nightfall
the moon shone brilliantly, so that we had an opportunity of seeing the
mountains in all lights. It was an unforgettable scene of mystery and
beauty.
RORAIMA, FATHER OF STREAMS