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September 1999- Tom, Rob, and I hopped in my car and departed for Guatopo National Park one Saturday morning around 10:00 AM. We had to go through Petare (the barrio) to get there; that was an adventure in itself. As we were sitting in traffic the car was surrounded by lots of dirty little kiosks and unrefrigerated meat. I must say, if I had eaten meat before I moved to Venezuela (I didn't), I would have surely stopped eating it by now. There is nothing like a side of pork sitting out in the sun to whet your appetite! Traffic moved slowly and I was unsure if we were even heading in the right direction because there were no signs for Guatopo. Eventually we got out of Caracas and into the interior of the country. The road there was twisty, poorly maintained, and traffic was limited to large trucks at sporadic intervals. This was the real Venezuela, wide open fields dotted with small, dirty towns. Once we got into the actual park of Guatopo a canopy of large trees and vines immediately enveloped us. It was incredibly lush and green, as one would expect from the rainforest. Tom made the excellent suggestion to stop for lunch at a vista point overlooking the park's valley. We had the whole area to ourselves and were enjoying the view until we saw dark clouds moving towards us. Drops of rain started to fall shortly after we were done eating and soon turned into a driving rain. Continuing into the park further we encountered a ranger station that was similar to one you would find in a national park in the States. There was a lone ranger (no pun intended) at the station of La Macanilla, which contained several displays such as a small-scale model of the park and cross sections of the different varieties of trees found in the region. It was raining pretty hard by this point so Tom stayed in the car while Rob and I went in and talked to the ranger about what we should see during our stay in Guatopo. He explained to us that while there used to be a great hiking trail starting from this particular station, it was now closed. Apparently the trail goes over to a river carrying the water supply for the region and all the foot traffic from hikers was causing too much polluting. We lingered in the station for a bit while the ranger stared at my KISS army shirt and camouflage pants before continuing on. He informed us that there was a campground and more trails further into the park. |
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We continued on another half an hour from La Macanilla to Agua Blanca, the campground the ranger had referred us to. There was a beautiful stream running through this site, along with some covered picnic tables with barbecue grills. We parked the car and hiked around in the dwindling rain for a while. The one thing that seemed to be missing from the area was the usual droves of people. We attributed this to the foul weather and counted ourselves lucky. Tom, Rob, and I ended up exploring a wet, narrow trail with land crabs that would scurry out in front of you as if to guard the road. They were pretty feisty and one crab even tried to take a piece of Tom's foot. At this point we were getting soaked and the trail was slippery so we did not get far before turning back for camp. Once returning to the main area of the camp we inspected the accommodations. There was a large dorm-like building and some small bamboo cabins on stilts. Agua Blanca also had a replicated sugar mill called a trapiche on display for visitors, but we were going to sleep there. We ended up renting a cabin for the night for the sum of 2000 Bolivars (US $3.50). The hut was about six feet off the ground with stairs that led up to the single room. Underneath were a picnic table and a barbecue pit. We weren't planning on having a BBQ available for our use so we did not bring any meat to cook, much to the disappointment of Rob. After being badgered by some drunk Venezuelans in the neighboring hut we went down to the river and soaked our feet. It had stopped raining by this point but was still cloudy and wet. At dusk we made a fire and ate our dinner of cheese and tomato sandwiches and potato chips. Tom was not impressed and vowed to do the shopping for our next adventure. In the evening we just sat around the picnic table and talked. We tried to play cards but the deck that I had brought ended up being for pinochle. Finally we went to bed on the HARD wood floor of the cabin at a little after 10:00 PM. Tom was the only one smart enough to bring a sleeping pad. We have been going to the beach so much that the thought did not occur to Rob and I. The combination of the hard floor, semi trucks screaming by, and insects combined to make a night of little sleep for me. You might be thinking, "Semi trucks? National Park?" Apparently the road not only leads to the park, but through the park, and as such it is a major route from Caracas to Altagracia de Orituco, south of Guatopo. |
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On Sunday we got up with the sun and had some breakfast before setting off to conquer the trail from the day before. At the trailhead we heard a rustling noise and looked up to see monkeys eating fruit in the trees high above us. Tom was REALLY excited, having never having seen monkeys in the wild before. They were fairly small (a little bigger than cats) and shy, although they did throw some half-eaten fruit down at us. The hike we did was only about two miles long but it was slow going, as the trail was wet and narrow. We still made it back to the car well before noon and arrived to find the area crawling with Venezuelans. Apparently a church group had invaded Agua Blanca, signaling our time to go. Since it was still early in the day we decided to take the scenic route through the south end of the park instead of going back the way we came. We traveled down to the small town of Altagracia de Orituco before looping back around to Caracas. The road was terrible but the wonderful views made it worthwhile. I was wishing for Tom's Jeep at this point. There were several spots along the way where guys were "working" on the road and you had to give them a "donation" in order to pass. I only gave them 50 Bs. each (less than 10 cents) but Rob was still annoyed that we had to give them anything at all. In addition to the rolling green hills (the area is called the little Alps) the area had some of the best roadside geology that I have ever seen. At one road cut there would be a conglomerate of large and small rounded stones with red soil, then further along you would see black sedimentary layers with partial melting and severe folding. Tom and I had fun educating Rob about the joys of earth science. For lunch we stopped at a rustic restaurant on the side of the road with a big barbecue grill in the front. The food was cheap, the service was good, and it was all very authentic. The meal put us all in a good mood for the remainder of our journey. It took us approximately another two hours of winding through the hills before we were back to the noise and asphalt that is Caracas. |
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