RORAIMA, FATHER OF STREAMS
It was the rampart of God’s house
That she was standing on;
By God built over the sheer depth,
The which is Space begun.
D. G. ROSSETTI: _The Blessèd Damozel_.
Saturday, 15th January, 1916, was the day on which at last we climbed to
the summit of Mount Roraima. We were most fortunate in having a cool,
grey morning; and after sundry delays, at which Indians are adepts,
we started off from Kamaiwâwong at 7.38 a.m. Our party consisted of
Schoolmaster and twelve other Arekunas, some to act as baggage-carriers
and some to cut open a trail where the ascent was through forest. Mr.
Menzies and Haywood also accompanied us, but none of our Makusi droghers.
We had asked Joseph and Daniel whether they would like to come; but
they said “No,” possibly under pressure, for I don’t think the Arekunas
particularly wished the secret of their mountain to be disclosed to
Makusis. However, Joseph and Daniel subsequently changed their mind,
hurried after us, and overtook us just as we were reaching the cliff-top.
Roraima stood in clear-cut outline before us, untouched by clouds.
There was heavy dew on the grass, and it was delightful walking up the
savannah slopes. The hill-track led us off to the right over ground which
was in places very stony but for the most part good going, if steep.
Schoolmaster pointed to the top of the mountain, and said, “To-morrow”;
but we firmly answered, “No, to-day,” whereupon all the Arekunas smiled
and shook their heads, and Schoolmaster shut his eyes, beat his breast,
and gasped, to show how exhausted we should soon be. I retorted by
running past him, laughing my contempt, and pointing up to the sky, while
I told him, “Paranakiri [_i.e._, _overseas_] mountain so!” He opened his
mouth, pointed down his throat, and said, “Brandina!” which I fear throws
a lurid light on the proceedings of former travellers. It was really
quite an amusing dumb-crambo argument; but our steady pace soon convinced
him that we meant business. The path wound unremittingly uphill over
long grass, with big boulders, doubtless once part of Roraima’s mighty
cliffs, lying on all sides, much as they do on Dartmoor tors, whilst the
depressions are boggy and filled with marsh-plants. The ever-widening
semicircle of panorama behind us was very beautiful and interesting.
From Kamaiwâwong to the forest fringe was a hard three hours’ walk, with
no halt save an occasional pause for breath. At 10.24 a.m. we reached the
highest point of the savannah hills, 6,510 feet above sea-level. Then
we dropped down some fifty feet to the edge of the forest, and made our
first halt, from 10.35 a.m. to 12.17 p.m., in thick jungle by the side of
a delightful gurgling brook, which dashes down icy cold from Roraima’s
bleak heights. The ascent to this point can hardly be less than five
miles by the trail in all its windings. Schoolmaster introduced the spot
to us as “English pappa banaboo”; and we believe he meant to indicate
it as the site of Sir Everard im Thurn’s camp, when he was searching
for a path to the top of Roraima. As far as is known, Sir Everard was
the first human being to find a way up the precipice and to set foot on
Roraima’s summit. He did so on the 18th December, 1884, after spending
about a month in camp at the edge of the forest-belt, whilst his Indians
cut a trail to the toe of the ledge, whereby alone the cliff-face can be
surmounted; and our midday halt must have been near the place where he
persevered with such patience. We had a thorough rest and made a good
meal. Our limes having given out, we took a bottle of lime-juice with
us; and I made Schoolmaster drink a spoonful of it, lest the appearance
of a bottle should make him believe that his “brandina” prophecy was
being fulfilled. Close by, there were growing some delicious-looking
blackberries; but, just as we were about to eat some, the Arekunas cried
“No, no!” and made so much fuss that we desisted.
Restarting, we addressed ourselves to the ascent through the forest-belt;
and this, to my mind, is really the only disagreeable part of the
whole climb. The ground here is a pell-mell of huge boulders, pieces
of disintegrated mountain that have broken away from the overhanging
cliffs above during long ages past; for Roraima and Kukenaam are but the
“fragments of an earlier world.” Over these rocks grows a dense mass of
small trees, and magnificent tree-ferns root upon the débris of earlier
decaying jungle, which is covered with a carpet of slimy green moss and
has a horrid corpse-like smell. The whole place is dank and cold, and
the thick matting of moss makes it impossible to know whether one is
stepping on a secure foothold, or on a rotten tree-branch, or on nothing
but a layer of moss and twigs concealing a chasm between two great rocks.
It was a thoroughly nasty scramble, and feet and hands had to be used
almost equally. Our rate of progress was necessarily slow, with many
short pauses, while the trail was being cut open ahead of us, and it was
2.15 p.m. before we reached the base of the cliff at the point where the
diagonal ascent by the jungle-covered rock-ledge begins. During these two
hours I must confess that I was very unhappy, and I reflected much on the
superior wisdom of all the other women in the world who had refrained
from placing themselves in this predicament. I expected to sprain knee
or ankle at every step, and the struggle was dreadfully exhausting—in
places more like tree-climbing than mountaineering. Schoolmaster with two
Arekunas kept ahead of us to chop open a track.
At the base of the ledge we were 7,680 feet above sea-level; and here it
was that Mr. J. J. Quelch camped in 1894, when he and his party climbed
Roraima. It is awe-inspiring to stand at the very toe of that mighty
precipice, with its blue and red stains, and, looking vertically up,
to see the overhang of great masses of rock, ready, it would seem, one
day to topple over and grind to pieces the ledge and all that is on it.
But until the day of that impending catastrophe the climb up the ledge
will present no great difficulty, although there are some bad places in
it. I put my ear against the cliff, and could hear the drip of water
percolating inside.
During the forest climb we had no view at all, but the vegetation on the
ledge, being stunted and less dense, permits not infrequent glimpses of
the glorious landscape below, spread out like a great green sea. Lovely
flowers abounded at our feet, and the cool air was like a tonic after
the damp oppression in the forest. We reached the first obstacle in the
ledge at 3.45 p.m., when it became necessary to use a rope to assist
the droghers in hoisting their loads up an almost vertical rock-face
some twenty feet high. An active man, unloaded, can, however, scramble
up without such assistance. A troublesome point about the ledge is that
it has three V-shaped dips, and its general nature can best be shown
diagrammatically thus:
[Illustration]
These three dips are very steep, and we had fairly to slide down them,
clinging on to every root, bush, or stone we could catch hold of, while
getting up again on the other side was, of course, an even more severe
struggle.
At the third dip we met the only other considerable obstacle presented
by the ledge. We reached this point at 4.20 p.m., and found a diminutive
waterfall trickling down the face of the precipice and falling in a
shower of icy-cold spray upon the ledge, which the action of the water
has swept clean of all bush and scrub. A sharp V-shaped depression has
here been cut in the ledge, which ascends under the waterfall in rock
steps, covered with moss and very slippery. Care is necessary, but in dry
weather, such as prevailed at the time of our ascent, there is little or
no danger. After heavy rain, however, it might be impossible to pass
beneath the waterfall, although I doubt whether, except in the case of
continuous rainfall lasting many days, a traveller would be held up long
by this obstacle, as water appears to drain away very rapidly from the
reservoirs on the rocky summit of Mount Roraima. For example, from our
camp at Weiwötö, after a rain-storm had passed over Roraima, we counted
no less than six waterfalls on its south-eastern face; but next day,
after some hours of fine weather, none of these could be seen with the
naked eye. They may possibly have continued as small trickles, but were
quite inconspicuous, as, indeed, was the waterfall under which we now
passed, for it could not be seen from Kamaiwâwong.
Save at this waterfall, the ledge is everywhere many feet wide, and there
is no danger whatsoever of falling off it. From the waterfall another
forty minutes’ direct ascent over rock-boulders brought us to the top of
the escarpment, 8,625 feet above sea-level. We reached this point at 5
p.m. The whole climb had, therefore, taken us three hours over savannah,
two hours through forest, and two and three-quarter hours up the ledge.
For purposes of comparison, I may here say that the descent of the ledge
occupied one and three-quarter hours, the descent through forest one hour
and fifty minutes, and across the savannah two and a half hours. Roraima
was kindly disposed to us, for we had splendid weather for the climb—a
grey, cool morning, followed by a sunny, windless afternoon.
The scene when one has at last scaled the cliff-face of Roraima is
fantastic and almost grotesque. Little meets the eye save rock, which the
weather has blackened and worn into many weird shapes—a dragon, a frog,
and a couple of umbrellas, all of rock, were conspicuous objects at the
spot where we camped for the night; but there is in general a monotonous
lack of differentiation in the rock-shapes, making this rugged plateau a
maze where one would soon be lost, especially if mist settled down on the
mountain. Here and there are stunted trees (_Bonnetia Roraimæ_): but all
wood on this bleak summit is so sodden with moisture that it is difficult
to kindle a respectable fire for cooking purposes, and quite impossible
to make such a blaze as would keep out the cold. Water is abundant, clear
as crystal, and icy cold. We found no really satisfactory camping-ground;
but Schoolmaster took us to the spot where, it would appear, all those
who before us had spent the night on the top of Roraima took shelter. It
was in the middle of a big amphitheatre of crags, encircled by what one
might almost call waves of stone, about five minutes’ walk from the edge
of the precipice. Here two large rocks converge at an angle which gives
protection from the prevailing winds; and by spreading a tarpaulin over
the gap between them we made ourselves a rock-sided tent, commodious
enough to contain our two camp-beds. Unfortunately, the floor was not dry
rock, but spongy, wet moss.
[Illustration: CAMP ON MOUNT RORAIMA.
To face page 208.]
Haywood had ready-made Bovril in his kettle, and soon supplied us with a
hot drink, after which we made our arrangements for the night. Directly
the sun had disappeared, it felt desperately cold, and we longed in vain
for fires to warm ourselves. At 6.15 p.m. the thermometer was 51° F.—not
very low, of course, but when you are used to a tropical climate it feels
like freezing. A fire can only be maintained by an Indian squatting
beside it and tending it all the time. Even then it gives but little
warmth. Mr. Menzies arranged his tarpaulin in a place somewhat similar
to the one where we were camped; but when the wind rose in the night
he discovered to his cost that the entrance to his cave-dwelling was to
windward. He sheltered (if “shelter” is the word) Haywood, Joseph, and
Daniel with him. We gave our spare tarpaulin to the Arekunas, and as many
as could got behind it; but several preferred the lee-side of our rock,
where the poor things chattered, shivered, and blew up fires all night
long. The night was clear, and Roraima looked wonderful by moonlight, the
fantastic shapes around us being even stranger than by day. We slept a
little, not much; and I think that my husband and I were the only ones of
our party who slept at all.
Next day was gloriously fine. We rose at dawn to find gusts of icy
wind and wisps of cloud blowing all over the place. Our naked Indians
looked numb with cold; and, as the few of them who could boast of a
shirt or trousers were not much better off, my husband and I reluctantly
decided that it would be impossible for us to spend another night on
the mountain-top. It would have been inhuman to expose all our company
in this shelterless place. Any party that may come hereafter, really to
examine Roraima’s summit, would have to organize matters so as to let
their Indians spend the night in the forest below, and occupy the days
in bringing up firewood for them.
We had, however, a few hours to spare, and we spent them in exploring
the vicinity of our camp. From the edge of the cliff the panoramic view
to the south-west is vast and superb, the landscape resembling a map in
green plasticine with the rivers shown in blue. All the hills we had
toiled over looked the merest little crinkles; but the effect of that
glorious stretch of open country is wonderfully impressive; and as the
sun, gaining power, dispelled all mist, we revelled in the great sweep of
air and space in front of us. Our old friend Chakbang was the only hill
that looked more than an earth-wrinkle, save for some huge cliff-faced
mountains miles away in Venezuela, which must be as high, if not higher,
than Roraima. Roraima itself concealed Mount Weitipu from our sight, and
we could see hardly anything of the line by which we had approached. The
call of the mountain was clearly to go on, on to the Orinoco, but we
could not obey. We had reached the end of our tether, and from this point
the return journey began.
To explore the summit of Roraima itself would be a difficult task, and
not without danger. It would be unsafe to go any distance without white
paint, or some other means of marking one’s way; for one would very soon
be lost in the labyrinth of extraordinary rock-forms, and, when mist or
cloud was on the mountain, it would be impossible to see more than a
very short distance ahead. We clambered up to a point from which there
was a good view of the summit of Kukenaam. It appeared to be the same
fantastic jumble of black weather-worn rock that surrounded us where we
stood, arranged in the same curious amphitheatres. Then we set off in an
endeavour to reach the edge of the cliff between Roraima and Kukenaam;
but it is slow going where every step is a climb either up or down. I
soon gave up and made my way leisurely back to camp, while my husband
pressed on. But he found a great chasm across his path and had to turn
back also. We next visited the mark erected by Mr. C. W. Anderson on his
boundary survey, and walked to the source of the Kamaiwa creek, which lay
in the trough of the rock-wave wherein our camp was situated. There is a
sort of fascination I cannot describe in these silent waterholes, where
the eternal moisture of the “Father of Streams” gathers on beds of white
sand and shining crystals. The stillness and the deadness of everything
was extraordinary, and yet somehow wonderfully refreshing. There was
not a trace of animal life. In an eastern land Roraima would have its
“patient, sleepless eremite,” seeking revelation in meditation amid its
great silent peace, “in height and cold, the splendour of the hills.”
At 10.30 a.m. we “breakfasted”; at 11.7 a.m. we commenced the descent;
and we reached Kamaiwâwong without misadventure by 5.30 p.m. The
steepness of the descent made it almost as slow a business as scrambling
up had been. I did a good deal of it by sitting down and then lowering
myself with the help of my hands. Mercifully the forest trail was much
improved by the fact that all the droghers had climbed it after us, so
that the slippery moss had to a great extent been trodden away, and we
could see where to put our feet. How the Arekunas managed to negotiate
that climb with loads on their backs without breaking their legs is
beyond our comprehension. They were a good deal cut and scratched, it
is true; but their prehensile toes saved them from more serious injury.
Indians catch hold by their toes in truly monkey fashion; and, if a man
drops anything on the line of march, he picks it up with his toes and
puts it into his hand to avoid stooping. Our feet seemed stupid, clumsy
things by comparison. By the time I reached the savannah slopes I was so
very stiff that I could only move slowly. These lovely savannahs had all
been set on fire by our men, and were charred and grievous to see.
At Kamaiwâwong we were received with great acclamation. The village had,
during our absence, been repeopled. Evidently everyone from far and near
had come to see us, and there was much excitement and, unfortunately,
a great desire to shake hands. The Arekunas would seem to have thought
that our arrival broke the evil spell which the death of Jeremiah had
cast upon the place. They pulled away the earth-sods that blocked the
doorway of their late chief’s banaboo, reoccupied both it and all the
other banaboos, and held evensong in the village church, singing the same
hymn and intoning the same prayers which we had heard at Mataruka. There
was much cassiri-drinking and general rejoicing; and as soon as it was
dark the men trooped out and set fire to the grass in a circle round the
village, to drive away all evil spirits, we supposed. They danced round
the fires they had lit like madmen, in order to “send kenaima far.” Next
day a feast was held in honour of the reopening of the village. Tekwonno,
we gathered, had never been really abandoned. Indeed, it is more than
likely that its inhabitants, having news of our approach, with a large
following of Makusis, considered it prudent to evacuate Tekwonno until,
by observing us from the neighbouring hills, they were satisfied of our
peaceful intentions.
Roraima wore a cloud-cap during the evening, so we congratulated
ourselves on having decided to come down; and during the night we saw
the wonderful effect of a brilliant moon lighting up the gleaming clouds
that rested on the black precipices of the twin giants—our last view of
them from Kamaiwâwong, for next morning they were quite invisible. We had
an excellent night’s rest, which I think we well deserved; and, having
blocked in with a tarpaulin a good deal more of the sides of our banaboo,
we were quite warm by comparison with our experience of the previous
night.
THE RETURN JOURNEY