Yes, they are the highest in the world. A lot of people know that, and so you would think that it is fairly easy to get there. Well, try on a Landi; NO. Try by bicycle; NO. Try hiking; with some difficulty.
I was surprised to see this long runway in the middle of that dense
forest. At the end of the day we were on the outskirts of the Amazon Jungle.
I had never seen such an old plane on the runway of the industrial town of Puerto Ordaz, about 1 hr flight from Canaima Camp, the base of "Salto Angel" (Angel Falls). It was an old DC-9 and I must say I had always been curious whether those things were still operating. After check in I was happily sitting next to a babe. Unfortunately I could only introduce myself after the trip, the noise was so loud I could hardly hear myself. But there was not much to talk about, we were dazzled by the beauty of Venezuela, mountains covered in rich dense forest, everything was green. Our DC-9 flew over the Auyan-Tepuy plateau (Devil’s Mountain) and followed a river for most of the way until finally descending on a gravel runway, about 80 km downstream from the highest falls in the world.
Canaima is the base camp of The Angel Falls, it is a beautiful little village in the Canaima National Park where the staff of three main tourist companies live. There is a curio shop where every tourist is first directed to and a picturesque wooden bar by the side of Canaima Lagoon which is surrounded by "Moriche" palm trees.
It was about 11 in the morning and about 35° C. We met all the other parties involved in the expedition over a refreshing drink, a couple of Chileans, some Germans, some Americans and myself, 10 in total. Since there was quite a mixture of languages the whole expedition was carried out in English. Our guides came to pick us up. Miguel, a local from a nearby village and Marcelo, an Argentinean who on a holiday fell in love with the beauty of Canaima National Park and decided to stay.
We gathered all our stuff, a couple of shorts, a towel, some T-shirts, a jersey for the night, some mosquito repellent, and some rain cover just in case. Just in case did I say?
We started on a small hike upstream. We took the opportunity to bombard the guides with questions about the falls, climate, snakes, spiders, flora, life in Canaima, etc. About half an hour later we met what would be our new means of transport for the following 3 days.
A "Curiara" is
a carefully hand made canoe by the local tribes. It is made in most cases
by only one big log. Carved inside, filled with hot rocks to give it a
concave shape and finally covered with some resin from the local forest.
The Yamaha engines at the back took away some of the aborigine enchantment
but I would not recommend anyone to row 80 kms upstream on a Curiara.
All of us got in the narrow canoe and we were taken up until our first stop, "Salto el Sapo" (The Frog’s Waterfall). This is the closest and most popular of the Carrao river waterfalls near Canaima camp. It carries a lot of water and you can actually walk under the waterfall among a mist of water and always holding tight to a chain that is bolted to the rock. The full power of tons of water falling across your eyes just mere inches from your body makes you realise how weak you are against the power of nature.
After a very wet walk we got back on our Curiara and we embarked on a 2 hour trip upstream towards our camping point.
The Carrao river varies in width from about 20 to 100 Mts. There is always dense forest on either side and all degrees of green and foreign noises constantly remind you that you are in fact in the middle of a tropical rain forest. Some time during the trip we got caught on our first wet encounter. Being a tropical forest you cannot expect not to have rain, and you can not expect to be a drizzle either. The canoe carried a big black plastic blanket to cover ourselves but everyone was dazzled by the scenery and the fact of being totally soaked did not bother anyone. The blanket was however used on other occasions.
Around 40 km from our departure point we finally got to our camping ground. "You mean we are staying here?" asked one of the German ladies. You could not distinguish absolutely anything in the middle of that jungle. On arrival we were met by Perico, a Diostede Toucan with the most vivid colours I had ever seen. Black, white, yellow and blue was its vivid flag and the distinctive borders between these made it look like Picazzo had something to do with it.
I was so exited I just wanted to sleep under a Moriche palm tree. To our surprise there were some toilet facilities and there was a big roof under which we all slept. There were beams across this thatched roof and hammocks hanged all over the place. I had slept many siestas on a hammock but a full night was a totally different experience. According to the guides that is the only way to sleep in the forest, Miguel even confessed and related some of his amorous encounters and how romantic it can get.
We had quite a dinner by a fire and we listened to the rain, the birds
and the river. Everyone was so tired we all had an early night. Mosquito
repellent everywhere, which at the end of the expedition I realised was
a waste since I was never bothered not bitten once on the whole trip.
I slept like a king. Some people complained about their backs, and some fingers were pointed at me for snoring. We had an early breakfast with tropical fruits and off we went to come face to face with what we had gone there to see.
We were still 40 km from the base of the Angel Falls and it took us again about 2 hours to reach the base. This time some of the rains got a bit too much and the plastic cover came in handy on more than one occasion. Even though we were close to the Equator and it was summer, those rains in combination with the wind on your face (since the Curiara moves rapidly) tend to make you body shiver
By the time we neared the falls the vegetation grew a bit denser and the river had forked making it more difficult in some parts for our guides to steer through rapids and escape a lost branch in the middle of the river.
About 10 am (not that any of us would have noticed, since you tend to loose track of time) we got off our canoe. Miguel would stay to cook some chicken while Marcelo would come on an hour hike to the base of Salto Angel. We could still not see it but you knew it was there, you could feel it, you could here it thundering somewhere in the distance.
The hike started off through some very thick forest. Everything was humid and that noise in the background made you expect to see the falls around the next tree.
About 10 minutes into our hike Marcelo, our guide, shouted "THERE!", among some trees we could see it, that was our first taste! You may think it is just another waterfall, but when I came to realise that I was not only witnessing "just another waterfall" but the highest in the world I was plain dumb struck. We were all extremely excited. Marcelo sighed and said "You know Chamo (broe), I have been here hundreds of times and every time I see it, I still can’t believe how beautiful they are".
We carried on through
that thick forest for about 1 hour. We crossed a city of red ants, they
were all over, on the tress, the path, the ground, the leaves, and of course
on our hiking shoes.
From time to time we were prized with a peak of the falls, until we finally got to the base. We were standing about 100 mts from where the mass of water that took off from a full 970 mts above us was landing. There was a light drizzle around us and you could hear that water from high above among the oooohhhs and aaaaahhs of all of us and the clicks clicks of all the cameras.
Many people had jumped from the top, many documentaries had been shot, many pictures had been taken, I was finally there, I could once and for all appreciate it with my own eyes.
There is a fair amount of water that leaves from the top of the falls, but since it has to travel almost 1000 mts it is all dispersed and a heavy rain reaches the bottom once again concentrating and forming the Churun river. I was very tempted to get closer to the landing point but the rain was too strong and I was quickly stopped by our guide.
We stared at them for about one hour and then we started our way back, making a stop wherever possible to get that last glimpse. The large population of red ants had disappeared. Heaven knows how or where they had moved, there was just no trace of them at all.
Miguel was waiting for us with some saucy chicken. Where else could you expect a braai in the middle of a forest? The guides mentioned that in a way we had been lucky. Some people have had the unfortunate situation where the falls were fully covered with clouds and they have to content themselves with the sound in the background and some pictures bought at the curio shop on what the falls look like.
Weather in those parts of the world can change very rapidly. On a quicker and not so adventurous note you can take a flight from Canaima that takes you straight to the falls and you view them from the top for about ten minutes. But ten minutes is more than what it takes for the weather to change its mind. It is a just like gambling, I hear though, that on a very clear day, you hit the jackpot.
We made our way back on the Curiara back to our camping spot. We stopped
on every occasion to look at every little waterfall and once we went for
a swim. The tropical rains invaded us continuously and the big black plastic
bag came aloft once or twice. 
On the second night everyone was used to the hammocks and the following morning there were no complaint about mosquitoes, snoring or sore backs. Once again we had some fruits of the forest and we made our last trip on our Curiara to Canaima camp.
I did not want to leave Canaima National Park. It was not the magic site of the highest falls in the world, it was not the nights on the hammocks, it was not the curiara that I had come to enjoy so much, it was the entire experience.
I was sad to leave that place, but there was something inside of me that left me satisfied, I have always loved waterfalls and I have seen plenty of them. This one was a very important cross on my list. Niagara was someday, to be my next stop.
"Would you like some fresh juice sir?" the air hostess of the Boeing 727 on route to Caracas asked. "Paw-paw, would be nice, thanks", like the one I had that same morning on my hammock listening to the light rain above the thatched roof. Same juice, different scenery.