---August 18th 2016---
The couple who gracefully invited me over offered me a last ride to the Venezuelan border. My heart was pounding as I was getting closer and closer from the country with the most notorious reputation of my trips so far. When I tried to cross the border, the security guard told me to go in line… it took 7h before I could get my Brazil’s exit stamp. These seven wasted hours turned out to be a little comforting, since it gave me the opportunity to meet a few Venezuelans and two Argentinean tourists who told me the situation was a lot less bad than people said. That being said, raising my thumb in this 22nd and last American country to visit was indeed stressful. Thankfully, it took me just 10min to get a ride to Santa Elena.
Touring Venezuela for me was a bit of an issue as most location worth a while was closed to lonely wolf like myself, and required guides. Being quite expensive, I decided to choose Roraima as the place I was going to spend my budget upon. As I booked my tour, the lady at the counter asked me about my whereabouts for the nights. I told her I was still looking for a place to set up camp in town, but struck with fear for me, she jumped on the keys, and told me I could sleep in the room with all the broken bed. It felt nice to have a mattress to sleep on before tackling a 6 days hike.
The next morning, I got up, took all the useless stuff out of my bag and gave them to the agency, and climbed into the car. We passed by another resort to collect more clients, and headed off to Mt-Roraima.
By noon, we had arrived at the trailhead, and started walking. The table-mountains were covered in clouds, but as we walked, the clouds lifted leaving us a preview of our climb. We walked all afternoon through the beautiful savanna located at the bottom of the two massif monuments which are Kukenan and Roraima.
 |
| Walking the Gran Sabana, toward Roraima |
The second day was just like the first one, short but sweet; half a day. For most people, the second day is the hardest as not only do you climb, but the Sun is strong and no vegetation protects you from it. As for me, not having to carry my usual 20kg and having spent the last month or so hiking under the hot Sun of Brazil, it wasn’t too much of a challenged.
Then came the third day, finally a little bit of challenge. By that time, Ricky, our guide, had noticed I was comfortable with mountaineering, and allowed me to climb at my own rhythm, leaving the group behind me. Being free, I raced to the summit, trying to feel some sort of workout; boy did I feel it. My legs were burning and my cardio wasn’t doing much better, but I was happy, I had reached the summit of Roraima. I wish I could say the view was splendid, but the clouds were blocking everything; therefore, the rock formations surrounding me were very much worth it. Once everybody joined me at the top, we started looking for one of the hotels (campsite under a rock overhang, protecting us from the rain), and ate lunch. Knowing we were all tired, our guide decided to bring us for a small hike to one of the mountains located on top of this mountain: the Maverick. Still cloudy, we couldn’t see much, but this gave us the opportunity to explore Roraima to a smaller scale, and look at its biodiversity. Just as we were getting ready to climb back down to our camp, we notice the clouds getting brighter, and even ended opening up a little, just enough to have a glimpse of Roraima’s potential.
 |
| The sky may not be pretty, but at least, it's dramatic |
The fourth day started with a cold and humid breakfast, but not too long after eating, the sky started showing a little bit of bleu. We walked to the beautiful Crystal Valley, connecting to the Concentration Lake, and eventually the nearly dry Cathedral Fall, where we went for a cold dip. Once refreshed, we kept on walking south, toward the Window, but the clouds were obstructing the view. Not willing to give up, our guide gave us a few minutes to relax, hoping for the Window to open up; and it eventually did, well partially. Once the cloud covered the view again, we started heading back toward the camp to eat, but not without stopping for another dip in the Jacuzzi (ironically cold). To our dismay, a rainy cloud slowly slithered over our head as we were eating, delaying our afternoon. Once the cloud gone, we got back on our feet and left north; direction the Canyon. As we enjoyed the view of this odd canyon, the sky started to open up, giving us a small window were we could see the gorgeous view Roraima has to offer. We enjoyed this view for the time being, but as expected, the cloud eventually blocked the view. Happy to have seen what we had come to see, we walked back toward the camp. All tired, we ate, and when came 6:30, everybody went to sleep.
 |
| Taking a dip in the Jacuzzi. It was ironicly freezing cold water |
There it was, day five. The day we had to climb down. We got up at 4am and left camp at 6am. The Sun was barely up and we were already climbing down the slippery rocks connecting the summit of Roraima to the plains of the savanna. The climb down wasn’t too hard physically, but the risk of sliding on a rock, or knocking a rock down (tumbling toward someone else) meant we needed to be extra careful thus tiring us. Unfortunately for everyone, our hike wasn’t finished once at the base, as we needed to reach the first camp before night fall, roughly 20km. All this walking may have left us tired, but the night still proved to be hard. We all went to sleep hearing the thunders rolling over our head, while the clouds were pouring on our tents.
Finally, day six; our last day of hike. We woke up early, surrounded by low clouds. We ate breakfast, and left our camp behind. As we walked toward the trailhead, the clouds started to get lower and lower. We started to race them, but they still managed to beat us, and started raining. For everyone, this rain didn’t mean much as the tour was over, and it was back to the warm hotel, but for me, this rain meant back in the street while getting wet. It was a bit depressing, but I knew we were far from the main road, and that the clouds were most likely to stay close to the mountains, meaning there was hope; plus, we had one last meal in stuck.
As intended, the hotel had sent all my stuff with one of the car, for me to leave the group before town. My goal wasn’t to get back to Santa Elena, just to walk across town, and hitchhike back out, so I had asked to be dropped at the Quebrada de Jaspe, a neat waterfall flowing over red and yellow rocks. I enjoyed the hour spent on site, but eventually I had to head out of the park. The clouds were menacing again, and hitchhiking in Venezuela proved to be harder than I thought. The low economy and lack of food, due to a strike from the big companies, left Venezuelan poor as ever; and with poorness comes crime, meaning people we definitely scared of hitchhiker, but also left me scared. The longer I waited, the more I was questioning my decision to cross Venezuela. My heartbeats were fast, and I had the same goosebumps as the first time I raised my thumb all those years ago, but I kept on trying. I knew that if I wanted to cross Venezuela without any issues, I needed to change my way of hitchhiking: be selective, hitchhike from gas station or official road blocks, and make sure not to sleep in the street. It took me an hour before I could stop my first car, but for the first time of my life, I had to turn it down; no bumper, broken door, cracked window, and a guy dressed like a gangster, nothing to give me confidence. After two hours without luck, I managed to ask someone from the park to give me a ride to the military road block down the road, but once on spot, I realised I was worth nothing to them. Their speech figuratively said: “come back once you’ve been robbed, in the meantime, it’s your problem”. I was in trouble, no place to sleep, rain and thunder coming my way, and the police wanted me to camp on the side of the road for everyone to see. Still with a few more minutes of sunlight left, I tried hitchhiking to the next town as there was another roadblock I had seen coming back from Roraima.
 |
| The red and yellow rock of the Quebrada de Jaspe |
It took a few cars, but eventually, a guy accepted to lift me for the few kilometers separating the two towns. Once in the car, I asked him where he was heading: “Porto Ordaz”. This was perfect as it was my next destination. We graciously accepted to give me the full ride, and even offered me to stay over at his brother’s house for the night. That was more than appreciated as we stopped at km88, a small mining town, known to be dangerous. But, as long as I was at his brother’s house, I was in safe zone. The next day, we continued our ride toward the big city, but things didn’t go our way. The water reservoir for the radiator broke overheating the engine. We kept on stopping the refill the water tank, but ended up going at 9km/h for a 500km long road. Seeing we weren’t going anywhere, the driver’s brothers, who were now following us with their truck, decided to help us out. They went in the forest, cut down a tree, and tied it between the two cars. The idea was good, but the tree exploded before getting back on the road. Not having much option, we decided to try again, but with a bigger tree trunk, this time it worked. It was stressful, but we managed to ride all the way to the Porto Ordas.
Due to all the problem of the day, we got to the city by nightfall, meaning I needed to look for a place to pass the night. My driver had left me at the federal roadblock. I asked if I could throw my tent on their property, but as expected, they didn’t care about my safety, and said “no”. Being now in a big city, I wasn’t going to go without a fight, and finally got the “ok” the throw my tent where police eyes were looking.
I had about 1500km to go before Colombia, so without wasting time, I started looking for a truck, heading toward San Carlos. It took me 30min, but eventually found it. The truck wasn’t going to San Carlos, but to a small intersection about 150km east. This was perfect for me as this ride took all day and once at destination, the truck driver asked the police which he knew if they could help me out for the night. They told me to shelter on the porch of the small cabin across the street as they would look out for me. The spot felt safe, allowing me to fall asleep fast. Unfortunately, I was woken up by huge “POW… POW-POW-POW”. Still half-asleep, I thought it was gun shots. Freaking out, I looked through the small opening of my tent, and saw a guy sitting next to me. When he noticed I was awake, he looked at me and laughed, but in a surprisingly comforting way. At the same time, an older lady I hadn’t noticed said to me with a calm and reassuring voice: “These kids are crazy”. That’s when I realised the POWs weren’t gun shots, but the sound of a car backfiring. Two cars were trying to show off their new muffler. Fully reassured, I fell back asleep; plus, if it was indeed gun shots, I would have heard people running and screaming.
The next day, I packed my tent and went to the police roadblock. I asked them if I could fill up my water bottle, and as I was still filling them up, one of the police officer signed me to come see him. Without me even asking, the police had found me a ride to Barinas. Just like that, without even trying, I had found a ride which was going to help me cross the third quarter of Venezuela, just 300km to go, and I’m back in known territory. Plus, the guy driving the convoy pickup truck offered me to sleep at the truck’s parking lot. I now had a barricaded place to sleep, with a private security guard and a roof to protect me from the rain.
In the morning, I tried to get a ride, the old fashion way, by waiting on the side of the road, but clearly this wasn’t going to work. I knew Venezuelans were scared of hitchhikers, so once more, I looked for some help from the police. It didn’t take 10min that I was riding the flatbed of a pickup. After an hour looking at landscapes pass by, I was dropped at another road control. The cops there seemed happy to see a gringo hitchhiking their country. I hung out with them for a little while, and even managed to get invited for lunch. After a good energy giving soup, they flagged a car and help me reach San Cristobal. As per usual, I asked a few questions to the two guys in the car, one being “What do you do for living?”, a very normal question, but the answer still managed to surprise me, and described quite well the current situation of the country: “I survive”. I asked him what he meant by that and he answered me that there is no job on the market, so all he can do, is look for any small job which could bring him a buck or two.
Once in town, my drivers got lost. I asked to be dropped off as soon as I noticed, not to enter too deep in town, but it was too late; I was on the wrong edge of town, and didn’t know where to go. I knew hitchhiking was futile, but while waiting for a moto-taxi, I still raised my thumb. Can you guess what picked me up, a towing truck, pulling another truck? I managed to find a car in the center of a city in Venezuela in just under a minute, and I got to ride the back of a towing truck, between the two cars. Well that one is new!! From their drop off point, a cop stopped and drove to the edge of town, where in just 5min, I found a couple heading to the border. Hitchhiking may not have worked throughout Venezuela, but it sure did at the border.
Crossing the border wasn’t too difficult, but costly. When I entered in Colombia, 9 month ago, the border patrol made me pay a “reciprocity tax”, for Canadian, telling me I had to pay it only once. Unfortunately for me, this new border patrol didn’t say the same thing, and I had nothing to defend myself with. So, I changed all my money and pay the damn tax, and entered Colombia without a dime. That being said, I was now in Colombia, a country I knew, and wasn’t afraid of, so for my night, I had no problem finding shelter in an old abandoned casino.
For the first time in my trip, I was tackling a country for the second time, with a few months in between. It was the opportunity to compare statistics and see if they make any sense. I hitched two buses to cross Cucuta, and raised my thumb up for my second first time, it took me 35min, then 30min, then 25min, an hour, etc. It seemed that I was averaging longer wait then before, but by not much; I guess it was the beard. That being said, it took me all I had to reach Los Estoraques by nightfall. Having tried to reach the “beach” to sleep, but only getting a ride about halfway in the maze of dirt road, I got stuck in the middle of the night without a place to stay. I eventually stopped a car heading the wrong way, which helped me find a car heading the right way. Once in town, I asked the police for help and they send me to a mission for homeless. The next day, I tried to walk to the rock formations and explore the area, but I simply couldn’t find and “hikable” trail. Luck stroke! As I was walking back in town, disappointed of not getting the opportunity to see anything, a guy waved at me; it was the guy from the car heading the wrong way from the night before. I asked him about any trail he knew about, and without hesitation, he signed me to hop on his motorcycle. There it is, the actual Estoraques Park. To my pleasant surprise, the park was actually very well maintained. The trail started in a cleaned valley without any trees blocking the view of the majestic towers of rock. I then entered a dense forest where everything was left as-is. Once the forest crossed, the trail headed uphill for an overview of that same forest, filled with these stone trees. Finally, as the path climbs down, you get to the view point where the trees have been removed giving you the greatest look of these formations.
 |
| The overlook overlooking the stone forest mixed with the actual forest |
There it was; the last touristic point in South America. I could now say “next stop New-Zelande”. I took me two days to reach Cartagena, but I made it. Therefore, it wasn’t all happy. I had tried to reach people though Couchsurfing to help me out, but no one had answered. I started looking for a hostel to work for, but no one wanted help, just a few answers saying to come back the next day to talk with the manager. But what really killed me were the very last few minutes of my day. When I got a hold of my email, I say an email from my mom telling me my bank account had about half of what I thought. It seemed that I had lost 7000$. Being too late to contact my parents, I couldn’t anything but depress about it. What if someone had robbed me from all this money? I knew I couldn’t waste money on shelter even if I had no other choice. I first asked the cops which told me to reach the Canadian Consulate. While heading there, I saw the firehouse, asked for help, but after three hours wasted, as they told me to wait for the captain, they told me to piss-off without even telling me why. I decided to try the consulate, but it was closed. I then tried the hospital, but was told to sleep in the street. Started to be scared about having lost all my money and now be stuck sleeping homeless-style in a huge city, I tried the military. Still nothing “come back once you’ve been robbed”. I had nothing left, but still needed a place to lie down. I saw another military officer in his tower, and asked him for help. When he told me his supervisor was one of the jackasses who didn’t want to let me sleep in the front of the base for safety, I exploded. I simply couldn’t take it. I explained my situation while tearing and insulting is superior, but rather than kicking my out without remorse, he felt pity; finally a human in Cartagena. He obviously couldn’t fully help me, but told me where I could find another, smaller police office. I walked toward this last resort, wiping my tears, and once there, finally got help. They didn’t have a place for me to sleep, but seeing how desperate I was, offered me to next to the small police station. I left my bag inside, and slept homeless-style on the dirt next to the office. Still in my wet and sweaty clothes, I lay down of the dirt, leaned my head on my arm, and tried to sleep. I woke up a few times due to ant’s bits, and eventually changed spot to a wood plank left in the bush. This time, I felt slight comfort, but this night wasn’t to finish with sure “ease”, it started raining! I got up, and as I turned, I saw one of the cops running to come wake me up. I got in the small office but not having enough space for the 6 cops and I, I just sat down and tried sleeping with my head on the table. The splashing water was still able to reach me, and my arms may have felt numb, but that was the best I had. Eventually, the rain stopped, and the cops went back out, leaving me the table to lie on. I most certainly snooze a little, but never did I feel like I slept; finally waking up sore and still dead tired.
It was now time to figure out what had happened with the 7000$ missing. I walked to the McDonald, and contacted my siblings, so they could let my parents know I needed to contact them. We finally got into contact and started looking and the numbers. Boy was I relieved! To understand the mistake, we need to go back 6 month ago, when my parents had come to visit me in Bolivia and Peru. I had asked my mom for my bank status, and a number coming from my stock-exchange account, which I had based my budget on. But when I asked her for an update, she gave me the number from the actual account I was using for my trip, which had less money. FIEW, I may still be stuck with 4$/day, but at least, no one is hacking my bank account. I can start looking for boats in peace.
_____________________________
Country's Statistics
Venezuela
Number of nights : 10
Numbers of days on the road: 6
Percentage of invitation at night : 10%
Overall waiting time : 6h
Average wait : 42min
Longest wait : 2h
Male vs female : 75% male – 0% female – 25% mixed
Total amount of rides : 8
Average spending per day : -40,40$/day
Place visited : 2
Total km : 2 072km
Meal offered : 13%
Colombia (part 2)
Number of nights : 10
Numbers of days on the road: 3
Percentage of invitation at night : 70%
Overall waiting time : 12h
Average wait : 30min
Longest wait : 1h 55min
Male vs female : 88% male – 0% female – 12% mixed
Total amount of rides : 24
Average spending per day : -15,02$/day
Place visited : 1
Total km : 759km
No comments:
Post a Comment