28/12/01
The Flight
Flight
was OK, though I was very nervous as we chose American Airlines
(cheap tickets), who had an attempted terrorist attach 2 weeks
before on a flight from Paris to Miami. Checked in at Heathrow,
just to find out that Mark and Oliver had  been
upgraded to Business Class, while I was left alone in economy.
Anyway good flight, no terrorists, got talking to some guy
from Middlesborough who was living in Irquitos, Peru. Basically
he was renting out his house back home and bumming around
learning some Spanish.
Had a
few hours to kill in JFK and the found that there was an endless
queue for the check in and we only had 1 hour left. We queued
for 50 minutes and were not moving at all, so I went up to
guard and told here that our flight was in 10 minutes, so
she brought us straight through the security check. There
was another thorough check at the gate which made me feel
fairly safe, and indeed we arrived trouble free on Caracas
just after midnight.
29/12/01
Caracas
- Porto Columbia
Took
taxi from the airport (B18,000) to the Hotel Cristal
in town, a fairly doggy place that seconds as a brothel but
is quite cheap. Next day tried to change some money, big problem
as there were massive queues at all the banks, but all the
ATMs had Cirrus/ Maestro so we were OK. Interesting to walk
around the busy streets though. There is a real mix of colours,
some look European, some native Indian, some African, most
somewhere in between. People seemed friendly, though very
few spoke any English.
Took
the metro (cheap, clean, fast) to the tourist office, but
unfortunately it was on the 42nd floor of some high rise and
the lifts did not work, so decided to give it a miss.Checked
out of the hotel at noon and went to the bus station to get
the bus to Maracay ( B2000), a 2 hour trip. Waited at Maracay
bus station for another hour before getting the bus to Purto
Columbia, in the Henry Pitter National Park.
A memorable
journey. We sat at the back of the bus, a bad idea as the
sound system was right behind our seats and they turned it
up full blast. The journey is suppose to take 2 hours, a scenic
route up a mountain pass (1800m) and down the other side to
Choroni, however we took slightly longer. The first incident
was just before the pass, an hour into the trip, when we suddenly
stopped, with a queue of cars ahead. Basically there was an
accident a few hundred meters up the road and traffic was
stuck in both directions. It was nothing bad, a jeep had hit
a taxi and the taxi was stuck in the middle of the road, unable
to drive on, but instead of simply pushing it out of the way
there was about 50 guys standing around deciding what to do,
without actually taking any action. We eventually moved again
2 hours later, more loud music, but after 20 minutes we stopped
again, this time a truck had given up coming up the steep
road form the other side, and again traffic was stuck in both
directions. More discussions, more waiting, until after an
hour or so someone manage to restart it, and traffic started
moving with the crowds cheering.
29/12/01
- 2/01/02
Porto
Columbia
Finally
arrive late in the evening, went looking for a room only to
to find that all the places were full. The Lonely Plante mentions
about 10, someone said there are now about 40 gues houses,
I swear we tried every one but there were all booked, basically
because Porto Columbia is a popular destinations for the locals
for the New Year. Eventually we found some guy who rented
us a shabby room for B20,000, a rip off but we were desperate
and slept well enough.
Next
day went looking for better accommodation and got a room at
Hostel Colonial, next to the bust station. This was
a lovely place place run by an old German guy, and at B9,000
for a room with three beds and incredible bargain.
 Over
the next day we pretty much chilled out on the various beaches
around P.C., which are very impressive. The main beach, Playa
Grande, is about 1km long, but was completely packed with
mostly middle and upper class Venezuelan's, many families
and couples, some incredibly beautiful girls, though an utter
lack of Spanish made communication difficult. Anyway, the
beach, though packed, was gorgeous and the water and the waves
perfect. We spent hours body surfing, drinking Polars on the
beach and generally enjoying not being back in cold England.
One
observation about the locals is that they seem to be very
image conscious. As a guy it seemed imperative to wear designer
underwear, mostly Calvin Klein, under knee long surfer shorts,
ensuring that the shorts were always pulled down enough to
reveal the lable of the boxers. Equally it seemed a favourite
pastime of the wealthy to drive around the 5 streets of PC,
with the windows open and the music turned up full volume.
While I am at it, a word of caution as well. There is no Internet
facility in PC, and there is only one hostel that can arrange
international phone calls between 12:00 and 1:00 every day.
There were public telephones, but none of them could be used
for international calls at the time I was there.
We did
a half day trip to Playa El Diario, a small uncrowded
beach to the west side of the town. It is a bit of a trek
to get there (40 minutes+, directions in the Lonely Planet),
but well worth it as the beach is beautiful and the waves
again perfect for bodysurfing.
We also
did a day trip to Chuao, a nice village/beach half
an hour by boat from PC. The beach is not quite as cool as
the other mentioned, but Chuao has a very relaxed atmosphere,
and we spend an agreeable afternoon drinking beer, bodysurfing
and playing volleyball with sime old local guy.
New Year
was OK but nothing special. Every evening a crowd go together
at the plaza down at the waterfront, and we expected a big
party during New Year's Eve, but although it was busy it was
not busier than other days and there was no music, just noise
from fireworks that the local kids fired randomly into the
air and into the corws. We were hanging out with some Swedigh
guys from our hotel, some guy from York University and a group
of young locals who were also staying at our place, but again
a lack of Spanish ment that all coversation with the locals
had to go through Mark.
Trip
to Merida
A long
trip. The journey back to Maracay was, thank go, without incidents,
but we had five hours to kill at the bus station before the
bus to Merida left at 9:00 pm. We met an English couple, Rob
and Loraine, who had just started a 1 year round
the world trip. Fun people, she worked, or had worked, for
Bass in Burton, and their were making extra money by  renting
out 3 houses in the Birmingham area. I had arrange to meet
Henrick, and old friend from school who was coming
over from Brazil, at the bus station bu there was no sign
of him. Eventually we found an Intent place near by and learnt
that he was not allowed to leave Brazil for Venezuela as he
did not have a Yellow Fever certificate. Anyway, we left just
after 9:00, p.m., and after an 11 hour overnight journey,
somewhat helped by Valium, arrived in Merida
Merida
(3/01/02 - 11/01/02)
Got a
cab to Hotel Italia, again the only place with any
rooms, and had a couple of hours sleep. In the afternoon went
down to 24th street, where most of tour operators are located,
to inquire about hiking trips in the area. Basically Merida
is the place where most outdoor activities are organised,
similar to Queenstown in NZ. Activities include horse riding,
mountain biking, canyoning, hiking, as well as a number of
tours to different parts of the country. Most cost about $40
-50 dollars a day, all inclusive. We were innterested in hiking,
and most places offered a 5 day trip that went up the two
highest peaks of Venezuela, MtHumbold and My Bolivar, both
only 14 km away from Merida. We were looking for an operator
called Guamanchi, recommended in the Lonely Planet,
however by mistake went to an operator next door called Guaguanco
Aventours, where, to cut a long stroy short, a lovely&beautiful
local girl called Wendy talked us into doing their tour up
the mountains leaving the next day.
Mt
Humbold/ Bolivar trek ( 5days/4 nights,
or that we the plan...)
Day
1
Met our
guide at the tour operators the next morning, with our packs
half empty, only to get them packed up with kilos of food,
sleeping bag, sleeping mat, tent, helmets, crampons, ice ax
and super cool sun goggles. At that stage I was getting slightly
concerned about the true nature of what I thought was going
to be a tough but non technical walk up some mountains.
Said
good bye to Wendy, who resisted our numerous attempts to persuade
her to join our little group, and set of for a 40 minute ride
up into the mountains to the start of the walk at La Mucucy.
The first
day was a tough 6 hour walk through the jungle to a lake at
3000m, called Laguna La Coromoto. It was heavy going with
the full packs and altitude beginning to make itself felt.
The first have of the walk was quiet monotonous, up through
dense jungle with little views, but further up the jungle
was opening up and giving some impressive views of the high
cliffs that surround the valley of the lake. We got to the
campsite at dusk, too late as it was quiet busy and we had
to settle for a rather rocky place to put the tent up. The
tent turned out to be fair too small for four people, especially
as the guide insisted we had all our bags in the tent so that
nothing would get nicked. Dinner was OK and we went ot bed
short after, however the night was bad, as it also tunred
out that the slepping bags we had been given were for too
cold for the altitude we were in.
Day
2
 We
left late , around 11:00 a.m., as it took as ages to get ready
and packed up. The days walk was tough, but the scenery beautiful,
we were basically following the river up the valley, and soon
there were impressive views of the My Humbold glacier and
peak up ahead in the distance. We walked slowly, the air noticeably
thin and the path at times steep with some scrambling required.
Finally arrived at the campsite, again at dusk, at another
Laguna, and it was soon getting cold. I had a bad headache
from the altitude, and was generally feeling poor. Oliver
cooked a rather disgusting pasta with veggie sauce, but things
were not helped by the cooker that took 30 minutes to boil.
The night was again cold and uncomfortable and I was doubtful
I was going up the mountain the next day.
Day
3
Felt
better that next day and joined the others to go up MtHumbolt.
Our guide took as up the long route, round the back of the
mountain, avoiding the steep bit of the glacier on top. The
first hour was a steady climb up to Laguna El Suero, from
there on a steep scramble up 800 meters to the glacier. We
proceeded slowly, our guide always going ahead to check out
the best route and the calling us to follow him, and further
up breathing was becoming real difficult.
We reached
the galcier around 3.00 p.m., very late, and it took another
30 minutes to sort out crampons and rope. The walk on the
glacier is only 30 minutes, but fairly steep and hard going,
and Marc's crampons falling off caused further delays. When
we eventually reached the end of the glacier, form where it
is a 50 meter scramble up the final rock face, the guide told
us that we were too late and had to turn around. This was
gutting, we were so close, but I was quiet dizzy at that stage
and did not object too much. We retraced our steps on the
way down, again hard as it was steep and we had run out of
water, and by the time we eventually got back to the tents
at 7:00 p.m. we went straight to bed, having dinner in the
tents.
Day
4
The original
plan was to hike across a mountain range to Pico Bolivar,
the highest mountain in Venezuela at 5006m, and then climb
it on day 5, however the camp for day 4 would have been at
4700m, and we felt that with our poor sleeping bags we could
seriously freeze to death, so we decided to head back to Merida
that same way we came up, and try to take the cable car up
the following day and climb Pico Bolivar that way.
The way
down was amazingly quick, hard to believe that a 6 hour up
hill can be down on 2 hours going down, and early in the afternoon
we arrived at the Park Range station, where we got a lift
back into Merida.
The trip
was OK then, the mountains beautiful, the walking challenging,
but the equipment and food were really a problem, and we failed
to get up the final bit of the mountain I guess the lesson
is to check more carefully who you are going with, and to
make sure that the equipment is decent before you set off.
Back in Merida
The next
day was rest day and we just hung out and slept a lot. Our
plan to take the cable car was somewhat flawed, as it was
not possible to get tickets for the day, and it was also looking
bad for the day after. So we booked ourselves on a canyoning
trip for a 2 with two Canadian guys.
It was
the first time I had ever been canyoning, and I was a bit
scared as I am not to good with heights ( we were told the
trip ended with a 50m abseil down a waterfall) and I a friend's
boyfriend had died in that famous canyoning disaster a few
years back in Austria (Interlaken I think). But as it turned
out it was good fun. The drive there was an adventure on its
own, high up into the mountains on good roads first, but then
up further on cattle tracks that were almost too much for
our powerful 4-wheel drive.
The canyoning
itself was pretty cool, we changed into wetsuits at the river,
then jumped/fell/crawled down the stream 2 hours, twice abseiling
down 10 meter waterfalls. Good fun, but there were 5 of us
and it takes a while to set up the ropes and get everybody
down, and it got pretty cold while waiting. Also I manged
to hit a rock while jumping from 2 meters into a pool, though
the guide had indicated that was OK to jump there. The final
waterfall, more 25 than 50 meters, was still quite impressive,
I looked down right at the start, but was not too scared and
managed to somehow make my way down the rope. All in all a
very enjoyable experience.
We finally
managed to get tickets up the cable car for our last day in
Venezuela, and another guide to take us up Mt Bolivar.
We got the first trip up, going from 1600 m to 4700 m in just
over 1 hour. The cable car was packed, but most people got
off at the station before the top, and of those who went all
the way up only us and 2 other guys with their guide wanted
to climb Mt Bolivar.
We only
had 5 hours or so before the last cable car went down to Merida,
so our guide set off at some pace towards the peak. The climb
up was actually less strenuous than I had expected, I guess
even after 4 days at low altitude we were still pretty well
acclimatised. Basically it is a steep slope up the south face
of the peak, with lots of scrambling and some danger of rocks
falling down on you (luckily we were ahead of the other group
at that stage). There was one tricky bit where we had to rope
up and then a final steep 30 meters, again
roped, up to the statue of Bolivar that marks the highest
point in Venezuela. We stayed up there for about 30 minutes,
having lunch & taking pictures and, in my case, developing
abad headache, before we started our descent. The way down
was a bit of a rush, as we had to make sure that we got to
the cable car station before 2.30 p.m., and there is a tough
uphill bit right at the end, but we managed OK.
Back
in Merida, we got off the cable car and bought some beers
to celebrate. This tunred into a bit of a session, as our
guide knew most of the local people that were at the place,
and soon there was about 10 of us drinking round after round
of ice cold Polar, slowly getting pissed and my headache getting
worse and worse. We decided to meet up with three of the guys
later that night, for more beers and some clubbing, but headed
back to our hostel for a few ours keep.
Oliver
and Marc were up for a big Friday night, our last night before
going home, I was more for slepping, but after a headache
pill I was better and decided to join the others. They picked
us up in their batterd car late in the evening, the three
of them in the front, the three of us squashed in the back
seat, and we went for a drive up into the mountains drinking
beer and smoking grass. We eventually made it back to Merida
and stopped at a bar for more drinks, but I called it a night
pretty at around midnight while the others when on clubbing
until the early ours of the morning.
Trip
home & Reflections
Got up
early the next day and caught a flight from Merida back to
Caracas, tiny plane but actually a very scenic flight, with
beautiful views of the mountain ranges around Merida. Flew
back to the UK via Miami, again with American Airlines, again
I was terrified, but again there were no terrorists, just
a bumpy flight which meant I hardly slept despite valium.
Managed
to forgot my passport on the plane at Heathrow, I only realised
at the passport control, and it took some effort to find the
right plane and get allowed back on board to pick it up (1
hour+), but I was so happy to be back safely that I did not
really care.
Thinking
back on the trip now, some two weeks after we returned, I
think it was pretty cool holiday. Not many people I know have
been to Venezuela, but I think it makes a great holiday destination.
The beaches were amazing, as were the mountains, the people
are friendly and the beer is cheap. My biggest regret was
not speaking Spanish, but luckily Marc never grewtired of
translating for us. It also inspired me to go to the mountains
more back here in the UK, though it is tough when it is cold,
rains all day and gets dark at 3:00 pm, and as yet I have
not been.I would definitely go back, though I think I will
wait to 1, learn some Spanish, and 2, save some money so I
can go for a few months...October 2004 is the date I have
in mind, but that is a long time away and a lot can happen...
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