[pe2-image src=”http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kiZa84k1x0E/Un2gPAbblHI/AAAAAAAAYTA/mMLZK1f1bEo/s144-c-o/PA210068.JPG” href=”https://picasaweb.google.com/112133179186774955122/SouthAmericaSection2Stage16VenezuelaTrinidadGuyanaCaracasToGeorgetown#5944083262872458354″ caption=”I was really considering to spend the night on this huge fallen tree, like Mogli…the top of the flat roots area made a nice bed!” type=”image” alt=”PA210068.JPG” ]

Gambled high and won – experience 🙂

Pos: here
Loc: Punta Baja
Acc: kayak
Dist: 60,1 km
Start: 4:40 End: 20:30

I felt like being in one of these horror games on “Survivor”, stuck inside a cage with a shed load of crawling critters on the outside. Maybe they were just on a “sightseeing humans” trip, but I am very sure the fat flies were of the biting kind. “Bremsen” we call them in Germany, I think horse flies in English. Nasty, intense, and eager to sit on you. About 50 or such outside, I am safe inside, until darkness came they disappeared. I still slept well, happy about my first dry campsite on this remote stretch of the trip.

I started about half an hour before dawn this morning, feeling my way out from behind the sand bank. Still I got stuck behind the next one again and had to turn around. I simply have to stay where the small breakers are running, this is the way into deeper water on mostly solid sand. Were the water is dead calm it is usually shallow, soft muddy underneath and may have no escape. The whole day it was a game between staying in or having to do a wide berth to avoid getting stuck. I was probing the water depth frequently, but realizing to be on quite shallow level doesn’t mean it will be deeper within the next few more 100 m out. It may be a few more KILO Meters here! I am just about getting to know the area.

This morning after I found the breaker area I decided to be on the safe side and to paddle as far out as the breaking waves would be stopping, what I found were solid high breakers for a bout an hour! When the tide turned, it got instantly calm, or was I just now on a high tide covered sandy huge reef? Hard to say.

I knew about a wide beach in about 25 km of distance, but I decided the day around noon was to early to finish, and also I was about 5 km out, still seeing clearly the nice beach before a big river mouth entrance. But as it was low tide around noon, I was not even sure if I’d be able to get there? I may have been stuck in a no water area on the sandy reef usually upfront those river mouth beach areas. But who knows? I decided to keep on going, not really knowing if I’d be finding another nice landing spot before overall maybe 65 km. I took the risk to just in case to stay out, or to get stranded on low tide somewhere. I was well rested by now, and maybe I just wanted to know…

[pe2-image src=”http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wu8mk_B_Iik/Un2fD0kbHfI/AAAAAAAAYTA/GD5co3CggyI/s144-c-o/PA210067.JPG” href=”https://picasaweb.google.com/112133179186774955122/SouthAmericaSection2Stage16VenezuelaTrinidadGuyanaCaracasToGeorgetown#5944081971198762482″ caption=”One of the many small floating alive plant islands in the fresh water of the Orinoco delta” type=”image” alt=”PA210067.JPG” ]

One more thing I realized that behind the river mouth the water was a dead calm pool again, with many floating “islands” of some plants obviously living on the solid sweet water reaching out to here on the delta of Rio Orinoco. I even filled my water bag with this quality, ready to filter if necessary. But I may use it first for showering. You can see by the color of the water how deep it may be, and how soft or solid muddy or sandy the ground may be. Once I had an area where I thought I was floating on doughy like liquid mud, yuck! Quickly out of here!

Few fishing boats out here today, there is a small village inside that river mouth. But I kept on going, enjoying the relatively easy paddling conditions now. But the weather changed constantly over the day from 15+ knots on rain squalls, one heavy one made me almost lose orientation for 10 min, rain without wind, little sun and mostly cloudy. Overall the headwind was bearable, and the current went either in or out with the tide being around 1,20 m-1 50 m.

I was reaching a bay which had some deep black clay cliff formations where the water broke, but as a bunch of floating logs and wooden pieces was gathering also upfront, the shore access was between difficult to dangerous. I was not even sure if the black soil would be solid or muddy, and the green grass behind would be swampy or just high. I didn’t try to get out here. The rest of the coast the water reached deep into the forest, no solid ground visible. I heard howler monkeys, parrots, fat frogs…quite a wildlife! Here I could paddle close in deep water, no shallow reef upfront.

Some boat with three young locals were stopping, two native ones and one European looking. One native guy spoke perfect English as well as Spanish, strange, maybe he came over from Guyana? He was very friendly asking about my whereabouts. But he couldn’t help me either with a landable beach in my direction, the only one was the one behind me I left after 25 km.

This wild forest I found now was actually quite amazing! After I realized I’d have to stay out this night I took a bit time to explore rather than to make headway only. I found a huge fallen tree with those flat wide roots lying nicely horizontal conveniently close to the “shore”, would that be an adventurous place to stay for the night? The roots showed a perfect place to rest in between in this position, I would be feeling like Mogli…climbing up from the kayak may have been possible, but the whole logistic around it to unload a few things and to leave my boat afloat between the floating logs proved impossible. Not to talk about possible ants and spiders…I looked a bit more around in this magic area, and found three quite active looking fishing nets. And was there not a smell of a wooden fire?

My nose was not wrong, around the next corner I saw them: A friendly looking native family, camped with hammocks and tarps on an area where the floating logs may have formed some kind of platform. They were standing lined up silently, watching me probably way longer than I noticed them. I was a bit startled about such a remote and basic campsite, paddled just a bit closer, waved friendly but decided rather to head off. They had a large wooden boat with an engine, but living out here in this paradise jungle almost on/ in the water with no solid ground, just on top of a floating log “carpet” was too much for me to explore an hour before darkness. I am not an anthropologist… they waved also friendly, and I may have been the sensation of their remote life if I’d be stopping to visit and maybe even to stay, but trying just here first time my new hammock, maybe getting offered some grilled bugs was too much for me this evening. I preferred my cozy familiar kayak and to keep on paddling into the calm looking night or to find that beach I marked after overall 65 km maybe in darkness… chance missed for some adventure?

Night came, but the wind breezed up again…shite. I prayed for about an hour “wind down, moon up”, as the moon was supposed to rise at 7.30 pm. It was dark at 5.50 pm. The wind eventually listened, the moon stayed behind clouds for longer, sent also a bit of rain. I paddled mechanically, but realized also I was paddling after the evening high tide on a sandy reef. I estimated to be out already 2-3 km, my GPS chart says “unsurveyed” here and is very imprecise. Where would the deeper water begin? I decided to just paddle on in the darkness, and if I’d be running out of water, let it be. I’d be just sleeping then…

Sure it happened at 20.30, I was eventually only in 20 cm of water and sat on the ground. Fortunately solid sandy ground, so I could get out of the boat and access my hatches. I decided to simply take a nap, as low tide was around 23.00, and I will have at least 5 hours sitting dry here. I wanted to try the “sleeping on top of the kayak” variation. I inflated my Thermarest mattress, accepted it to get a bit wet on top of my cockpit cover. I had a water bag as a pillow, and was well padded and nicely stretched out with the feet pointing to the stern. A perfect sleeping place! I should have changed into dry clothing and used my blanket, but in fear of getting both wet, instead I opted for the “wet” sleeping style. The trick is to stay warm… despite the water and air being warm here. The wind was the problem, and it even breezed up again. I unfolded one of my two emergency blankets, and just about wrapped myself up in it. It worked well enough and was actually nice and warm, until the rain came…

I decided now to use the rain fly of my new hammock, perfect size for this job. If I wouldn’t have had this one, I’d be using my tent fly. I wrapped up nicely, even able to cover my face from the rain. The only disadvantage was I couldn’t really turn around from the back onto the side without losing the fly coverage on one end, although the padding under me was perfect! But I managed to really get some sleep, stayed warm with some willpower, and woke only when I was almost afloat again. A bit stiff, but I have been sleeping worse than those five hours! I had to pee once as usual at night, but don’t even think I was unwrapping myself out of my reasonable warm cocoon…I was wet anyway in my paddling clothes as usual…so I just peed in my “bed”…washing all well off once up again. No problem..