Venezuela: the Lost World by Mark Davidson

Professor Challenger set a startling pace that, along with the threat of being attacked by pterodactyls, was enough to scare anyone to death. We had to reach the summit to see for ourselves the monsters and beasts that roamed the plateau of Roraima, the largest Tepui in Venezuela.

As we reached our goal, one of the porters was savagely attacked. Although I tried to help, I felt the razor-sharp claws sink into the back of my neck… I awoke from my dream. I’d been reading The Lost World, by Arthur Conan Doyle, the story of a group of explorers discovering Mount Roraima.

I myself was on a two-week tour, travelling into territory virtually unknown to the outside world. I was to make an ascent of the table mountain of Roraima as well as traversing up the Churun River to see Angel Falls, the world’s highest waterfall at 979 metres.

The capital, Caracas, is a sprawling suburban city, typical of South America, with a mixture of Spanish and native Indian influence. As we drove towards Peraitepui de Roraima (the start of the trek) I saw long industrial pipelines carrying oil and realised that this was the main source of income for the country, allowing wealth for a few, but poverty for many. I couldn’t help but imagine what it was like for those with disabilities.

Roraima, at 2,810 metres, is the largest of all the Tepuis, the table-like mountains, and it was to take us over two days to reach the summit, El Carro, named due to it resembling the shape of a car.

Each night, we camped in tents, with only a bed roll providing protection from the hard rocks beneath. Meals were provided by the porters, who were able to cook a feast with only the bare essentials. Beef and chicken were the main types of fare, with an accompaniment of termites in hot sauce to make the meal more interesting. The porters, despite being smaller than westerners, were able to carry the equivalent of two backpacks in their hand woven baskets, supported by leather straps on their backs. Yet never a complaint was heard. They were well paid by Venezuelan standards and they took great pride in carrying our luggage.

The pathways were never designed for anyone with full mobility, let alone for those with impairments. Unfortunately, there was little to hold onto as I scrambled upwards. It was a case of having to climb over large boulders, or grabbing lianas and even loose rocks. Rivers, sometimes overflowing from the daily rainfall, had to be crossed with the help of the guides, often using ropes as the water levels meant wading up to our waists. A good tip was to take off my boots and keep on my socks as they offered better grip on the slippery stones underfoot. I was always aware of having cerebral palsy and tended to rely on the porters and guides more than the non-disabled people on the tour.

After reaching the top of Roraima, we were able to explore the fauna and flora unique to this part of the world. There was even the opportunity to walk to Triple Point, where the three countries of Guyana, Brazil and Venezuela meet. However, due to the low-lying cloud I decided to forego this and stay around camp.

Once our descent of the mountain was complete, we took a small aeroplane flight across the Gran Sabana (Great Savannah) to where we started our jungle river cruise towards Angel Falls.

The spectacular falls, called Parecupa Vena by the Indians, were discovered completely by accident by an American pilot and adventurer who was searching for gold. Jimmy Angel, after flying off-course on 16 November, 1933, spotted a huge table-top mountain below him, with a magnificent waterfall cascading from the top. Angel landed his monoplane on top of the mountain on 11 October, 1937, where it became mired in marshy ground. He made his way back to civilisation, but his plane remained embedded on the mountain until the Venezuelan airforce extracted it in 1969.

As we canoed up river, we were able to see small plantations where Kamarata Indians grow crops such as limes and chillies. Each evening, we retired to our hammocks in the jungle shelters provided for the tourists. Despite plenty of discomfort when sitting in a canoe, I was still able to enjoy watching the Green-and-rufous Kingfishers seemingly race our craft as we sped along.

The trip culminated in a night at Canaima where we watched the sun disappear over the Hacha Falls, which continuously pour amber-tinted water (from the tannin leached from the rainforest) into the lagoon. The following morning we had the chance to visit Salto el Sapo, where it was possible to walk behind the curtain of water as it tumbled over the falls. When viewing its tranquil setting, I reflected on the holiday and realised it was paradise found, not paradise lost.