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Venezuela Travel  //  Travel Journal  //  Lost World
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Lost World

Ubicacion:

Lugar:
Longitude
-63.00
Latitude
3.79
Great Sanbana, there are only three of us in the air the plane Piper pilot, my husband and me. From the co-pilot seat, I can not help noticing that the cockpit dials are held together with parcel tape and needles on the fuel gauges are empty. A tattered image of the Virgin Mary is glued to the altimeter.
Without preamble or safety of drilling,rattle along the dirt road and air in the lurch, as if shaking crash a flight of stairs and then deposit as the wheel in the scattered remains of a crashed plane, and head across the bleached grass Gran Sabana.
A cool breeze blows through Gaping holes in the fuselage. Outside the window, the plane's wheels remind me of my lawnmower,and the tires have no tread. Both compasses are jammed in the north, although they are flying south-east. "Do not worry," shouts the pilot, "very new engine inside."
For a few minutes, I can hear my heart beating with alarm over the roar of the engines again-but I soon transfixed by the views and forget my fear. Savannah extends to infinity in all directions - A gently undulating,mottled carpet faded green, ocher, beige and khaki, with some darker areas of tropical forests. They are sunlit clear match-studded thin tree trunks, cut by local Indians.
We soar through a wide, red brick riverand small tributaries that meander in close ties through forest and turbulence across the plain.
Morice Lines palms mark the course of underground streams. Pale webs of narrow footpaths links groups palm-thatched mud huts. Lichen higher color are dotted with plumes of smoke curling in the misty sky. Indians burn the trap savannah Pemón meat - two weeks later, new shoots juicy attract tapirs,armadillos and deer.
After an hour, we reach the tepuis, striking rocky debris of the time - two million years ago - when South America, Africa and Australia joined. Isolated million years ago from the surrounding plain, the fog hides the peaks of these table mountains are home to unique forms of life.
This is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Lost World. The author never saw the Gran Sabana of Venezuela,but heard the "stories of this wild and desolate place, describing it with surprising accuracy rating.
We have flown over his "irregular palm-studded plain, where, in his" shock hollow palms Mauritia pulled their graceful fronds fall "and seen their" bottom streams with stones and benches covered with ferns, shallow gurgle gorges in the hill. "And here is your" line of high red cliffs,old Jurassic outcrops in which peaks of flora and fauna have survived.
We are on the bumpy dirt airstrip in Santa Elena, a small mining town near the border with Brazil, where we expect our guide. July is reassuring to have us - in the roadblocks, speaking deferentially armed teenage soldiers actors moodily check our passports, rip open our luggage,and our names are entered in the dog-eared books.
Julio is also delighted to have with us, because with tourists in your car can avoid a period of four hours in line for gasoline. President Chavez has set the price of gasoline in a generous 2p per liter, much cheaper than in Brazil,hundreds of people to make a good living by buying gasoline in Santa Elena and selling through the border on the black market.
The soldiers were armed with rifles monitor miles long queues of vehicles in poor condition - in a line of local and Brazilians in the other - and collect unofficial "taxes". Many of the trucks are equipped with huge (illegal) tanks to maximize profits.
Santa Elena is a pushing,ramshackle frontier town, with open shops that sell equipment and food front, extended families lounging on doors, tousle-headed prospectors swigging beer, and a mission of the church with an unusual wooden ceiling, carved by an architect who apparently Saint Helena seduced maidens all drums before being out of town.
Julio is full of stories. On one side marked with gold and illegal diamond mines open,we found a local called Barabbas, he found the world's largest diamond and sold it for millions of dollars, only to die as poor as it began. July cheerfully explains that gold miners are often killed teammates to increase their participation in the set. Then spend their earnings on drink.
The Gran Sabana is as beautiful as the earth is from the air - totally silent and still, a huge, empty,painted in sepia with WISP to scattered pale smoke.
In the distance, the sheer tepuyes loom, including Roraima, the tallest and most famous, home to Conan Doyle terrifying dinosaurs. We are attacked by smaller but equally undesirable beasts - pure-pure mosquitoes.
The legs are covered in red welts before, that itch for days. July impels us to Jasper Creek, a river of red-orange color of pure jasper - a radiant,Bright dominated palace ground entangled with primary forest. We are bending under a waterfall spa and suspenders, then tiptoe on the slippery tiles. Semi-precious stone still has the marks of British prospectors provided luxury bathrooms until 1972 when the area became a national park.
Then, Julio practices outside their road riding skills to reach Arapena Meru,a frothy cascade inky, tannin-stained water, known locally as the Coca-Cola drops. Crested caracara and general vultures wheel in a hot blue sky.
At noon, we Woy Meru, a cascade of water that connects two pools surrounded by palm trees, swim and roll and has more head and shoulder massage under the waterfall. We lunch in the beef,plantain and cassava in a palm hut.
Only Indians are allowed to live in greater Canaima National Park, whose 7.5 million acres make it one of the largest parks in the world.
Came a new highway linking Brazil, Venezuela has brought relative prosperity to villagers living nearby.
On the way back to Santa Elena, we stop at some stalls built environment, buy a basket of woven palm andthen stroll through July with straggling village. Beside each new government-issue concrete bungalow, we see families sitting in the shade of the traditional open face mud huts thatched with palm leaves hairy. July explains that the new corrugated iron roof are very hot and stuffy.
Scamper children in the wave,but not everyone in the village welcomes foreigners - suddenly we find ourselves in the smoke. An elderly woman has on the grass outside your home to purify the air, and banish bad our magic.
Back on the paved road, we old people, bent double under dusty baskets of cassava. In a river,the brightly colored clothing on rocks extend to dry. Give four park rangers - local conservationists and working as firefighters, trying to educate their peers against the burning of grass near their homes.
After two days, we took it back to the atmosphere, an increase of more than bobbly green forest mantle enriched with tall palm trees, sacred Ceiba trees, patches of pink flower and unexpected. There are over a hundred tepuis,some rare cases, other separated by deep canyons. Waterfalls on the stretch of steep cliffs sparkling ribbons. We skim steepest summits, deeply fissured pinnacles and battlements tale, or dotted with patches of thick grass - Conan Doyle "beautiful stretch of greenery."
Finally, in a dramatic circle maze of canyons, and our pilot says Angel Falls, the highest waterfall in the world - a thin thread of water,sinking half a mile before dissolving in a cloud of steam. Moments later, we arrived in Canaima, a small settlement into a lagoon, with a row of fat, foaming waterfalls, surrounded by tangled forest.
The next morning, we woke up in time to see the sunrise beyond the falls. You swam in the lake saponin silky darkness, surrounded by freshwater mangroves,Morice palms and dense jungle.
No roads to Canaima and the sense of peace is intense. We are palm fiber loll in hammocks, relieved by the roar of the falls and caressed by cool mist that wafts around the lake. Macaws and toucans in the unlikely, flashy colors, the last structure our deck. Monkeys laughing a large cage.
At dusk, we walk along a beach of smooth,pink sand village and watch the kids splash in the shallows terracotta color. Mothers, sitting on the edge of the water, pause your clothes through the eyes of inky waves of the lagoon. As darkness, fireflies flash jungle, the croaking frogs, macaws screech, cicadas chirping, fallsinky bat once and the sky is full of stars. And over the falls thundering water. La Gran Sabana and Expedition

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