This is an account of a visit to the Orinoco Delta in 2009 as part of our 'Womble Project'. It was not our usual sort of trip, but some of it was surprisingly familiar...
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| Orinoco Delta Lodge |
We waited nervously on the jetty at Boca de Uracoa. Would the promised ‘motorised canoe’ arrive
to pick us up, and if it did, would my suitcase fit in it? We were on our way
to the Orinoco Delta Lodge and I was further out of my comfort zone than I had
ever been.
However, what eventually arrived was not a canoe at all, but
a motorboat, with Ales, our English-speaking guide. As soon as we arrived at the Orinoco Delta
Lodge I was back in my comfort zone as it seemed remarkably similar to a
Hoseasons holiday camp on the Norfolk Broads, except that the cabins have open
sides with mosquito nets and roofs made from moriche palm leaves. Our cabin turned out to be more on the
Orinoco than by it, as it was on wooden stilts above the water. It was also next door to the puma enclosure. Shortly
after arrival we were served lunch, which turned out to be spaghetti bolognese.
While we were eating, there was music playing from the PA system: The Birdie Song and a selection of Elton
John.
We suddenly heard the unmistakeable squawk of a macaw –
apparently the resident macaw, Rumba, had taken fright when an eagle arrived
for lunch. The eagle sat calmly in the
rafters and waited for his lunch of chicken to defrost. That doesn’t often happen
in Norfolk.
In the afternoon we had a boat ride with Ales and another
newly arrived tourist, Marc, who was from Switzerland. I was surprised to find how
fast the motorboats go. No speed limits
on the Orinoco, it seems (unlike the Norfolk Broads.) As they are open and
there is no windscreen, conversation is impossible, hair is hopelessly messed
up, and sunglasses are advisable, purely to act as goggles.
Ales pointed out the floating bora reeds, which have
purple flowers, and various birds. We stopped to watch the sunset and the daily
flight of parrots across the river. They roost on one side, which is jungle,
but spend the day on the other side, which is more open. Later, back at the camp we had a dinner of beef, followed by the
inevitable watermelon, whilst the camp’s three
dogs, two cats and two kittens wandered around, the cats in particular trying
to wangle scraps from the table.
The animals at the camp were:
A large brown dog, known as ‘Doctor’ because he checked
everyone was OK;
A black and white dog who kept an eye on all the other
animals;
A smaller woolly white dog, who seemed to annoy the black
and white one;
A large white and ginger cat, known as ‘Steve’ after Steve
Jobs;
A black and white cat;
A black, white and ginger kitten;
A ginger kitten;
A blue and gold macaw called ‘Rumba’
A puma (kept in a fenced enclosure)
A large frog which visited in the evenings;
A crocodile (allegedly) which we didn’t see.
After a night’s sleep disturbed by howler monkeys, puma
snores, barking dogs and cockerels who started greeting the day at 3.30 a.m. we
took a boat to a more distant (and basic) camp. On the way we stopped to see a
pink dolphin, and later to walk through a village. The houses here were built of concrete,
joined by wooden walkways. Many of the
houses had satellite dishes and washing machines. We sheltered from a rainstorm
before continuing to the camp, where Ales introduced me to a baby crocodile. Marc
and I joined our boatman and Ales for a paddle in a dugout canoe. My husband Neil
inexplicably opted to stay on terra firma (‘to look after the camera.’) We saw
a turtle, some capuchin monkeys and a bright blue butterfly the size of a tea
plate before our trip was curtailed by rain.
After a jungle walk, it was time for a piranha fishing trip.
Back in the motor boat, we passed through a much more open area with lots of
bora reeds and then into a side channel to look for a suitable fishing
spot. The fishing rods are very simple,
comprising a long stick, with a nylon line and a twisted wire hook at the
end. The method is to beat the water a
few times with the end of the stick and then wait to see if anything takes the
bait (a small scrap of meat).
After a short while, Ales caught a piranha. I felt a few
nibbles, and noticed that my bait was getting smaller. After using several pieces of bait and
concluding that we were feeding the piranhas rather than fishing for them, I
finally caught a red piranha. Marc also
caught one, but a baby, which Ales through back. Ales and the boatman caught a couple more between
them. Neil hooked what seemed like
something enormous, but the rod (or rather stick) broke before he could find
out what it was. Later, trying in the
same place with Neil’s shortened rod I had the same experience, but managed to
land a large forked stick. On the way
back we passed a boatload of Warao people fishing for something larger. During the return journey to the Orinoco
Delta Camp there were a couple of heavy rain storms. The experience of travelling at speed in an
open motorboat through heavy rain is not pleasant, though the remedy of holding
heavy duty plastic sheet over the head is not ideal either, as you end up with
a face full of slightly grubby plastic. Neil and I got to taste a piranha each
at dinner, along with the main course of strips of beef with red peppers. There isn’t a great deal of flesh on a
piranha, but what there is tastes quite good.
Marc can’t abide fish, so did not partake. The other visitors to the
camp left during the day so we three were the only guests for dinner.
There was heavy rain again in the night. Fortunately the
roof of the cabin was water-tight, but it was quite noisy. The cockerels also started earlier, at 2.00
a.m. Marc left in the morning, leaving Neil and I as the only guests in the
camp. Ales took us across to the Orinoco
Delta School, which is a school for the local Warao children, funded by the
company that runs the Orinoco Delta Lodge.
It comprised one large building, with a partition across the middle so that
the elementary class could be separated from the more advanced children. In one
corner there are toilets. There is one teacher, who speaks Spanish and
Warao. When we arrived she was teaching
the alphabet to the youngest children.
The older children were copying out sentences in Spanish such as “my
brother does the dishes” from a white board. During their break, they played
with wooden dice about 1 ½ inches in size, which had letters of the alphabet
and pictures on them. The game they
played with them was however a version of marbles, which involved one child
trying to hit another child’s die with their own. We then continued up the
river for another go at piranha fishing. This time neither Neil or I were
lucky, but Ales and the boatman caught one each, which we were promised for
lunch.
As it turned out, we didn’t get to eat the piranha for
lunch, as the cats got them first. We
had lau lau in a spicy coconut sauce,
which was very nice. The cats were interested, but we did our best to ignore
them. Just as we finished, Rumba the macaw swooped in, landed on Neil’s
shoulder, then hopped onto the table, and proceeded to get stuck into the
leftover scraps on my plate. I grabbed a
camera to photograph her. She then sat on the back of my chair, eating the
scraps, dropping quite a lot on the floor, to the delight of the cats. I later discovered that she had dropped some
of it into my backpack. I wondered why
one of the dogs was so interested in it that she stuck her head right in.
Our afternoon trip took us through more rain to a distant
Warao village. On the way we saw more
red howler monkeys. Disembarkation was tricky as it involved a wooden
ladder. We saw women preparing fish,
watched by the inevitable cat, and traditional-style Warao open-sided wooden
houses, with hammocks and cooking fires (also TVs and fridges). The wooden walkways here were high off the
ground, and a number of slats were missing. At the other end of the village
there was a new school building, paid for by the government, and a large poster
of Chávez (we saw many such posters in the villages we passed).
The following morning loud ‘noises off’ alerted us to the
presence of Rumba in the moriche palm tree outside our cabin. She was eating
(and mostly dropping) the moriche fruit, whilst keeping up a running
commentary. After breakfast, the small ginger kitten decided to escort us back
to our cabin. Not to be outdone, Rumba also tried to come in, but it was time for us to leave.
