Log 44J - Golfo De Cariaco and Caves

 Written at: Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela, Sept. 29, 2007

We took an interesting day trip to the famed Guacharo Caves, a magnificent 8 mile long meandering series of openings along an ancient fold line high in the mountains south of Golfo de Cariaco. We only went in about a mile (after that it is real spelunking), starting at a towering opening over 200 feet high, but as we went from one chamber to another we had to duck down to squeeze through. Our tour guide, a university student who spoke English reasonably well, was humourous and adequately informed. His humour involved shadow dances with his Coleman lantern shining past some of the stalagmites and stalacites onto the cave walls, silhouetting formations that resembled religious images of Moses, Jesus and other saints. At another clear wall space he asked a couple to stand parallel and drape their arms over each other, and when he moved the lantern it looked as if they were dancing.

The guide was the only one with a lantern. No flash picture taking was allowed as the caves are the largest sanctuary in the world for the Guacharo birds, nocturnal birds that use highly developed night vision, as well as bat-like clicks, to navigate with an avian type sonar. Any camera flashes would destroy their vision. They fly out of the caves only at night to gather fruit from local trees, bringing it back to the cave to devour and dropping the seeds and nuts onto the cave floor. As we entered the first large chamber, again up to 200 feet high and over 100 feet wide in a tortured geological chasm, we could hear their loud raucous cawing and screeching, almost at a frightening level. But, we couldn't see them nested in the upper reaches of the cavern.

As we moved further in, we could see their occasional fleeting shadows passing from one side to the other in the remaining light from the cave entrance over 300 yards away. Our guide explained that their offspring, to live, must follow a very fine balance between having enough fat (oil) in their bodies to sustain them in the cooler reaches of the cave, but not so much that they can't become airborne and are unable to fly. If too thin, they die and fall out of the nest, and if they have too much they flutter to the ground and then die. Because of their dependence upon oil to sustain them, and because the flesh is so fatty, they are often categorized as an oil bird.

The guide brought from the edges of a wall one of the ones that had fluttered down, but was still alive. It was a large bird, about the size of a crow, with dark brown feathers, and a hawk-like hooked beak. It could flutter its wings, and scuttle around, and shrieked menacingly when picked up. However it was not aggressive with its beak. The evolutionary theory is that this was a originally a carnivorous species like a hawk but retreated into a nocturnal bird, using its beak to gather fruit for itself and its young. We felt saddened having to abandon it off the path, knowing that in a few days it would die, to be eaten by the large rats and weasels that live in the caves.

The paths were littered with seeds and nuts, and apparently the park personnel go in once a week to wash them off. We could go off the path at many points onto the hard but seed-covered cave floors - not too bad, but we didn't want to get too far from the guide with the lantern. We were advised to wear shoes for the mud, but we did not notice much. Some thought open sandals easier to clean while other were wearing shoes. However, as we went deeper in and bent down beneath the overhanging rock to crab-like sidle down the first narrow restriction into the next chamber we noticed a slight warming and mustiness of the air. We could hear fluttering and the clicking of thousands of bats fluttering between the narrowing walls. We also found out the material just off the path and sometimes on it was no longer the discarded seeds of the birds, but the thick guano from the bats. Ugh!

On we went through two more large cavernous chambers, got the information on the formation of stalagmites (from the cave floor upwards) and stalacites (from the cave roof downwards) caused by moisture dripping, leaving minuscule amounts of limestone that can grow only a few millimetres a century. When a stalagmite and stalactite grow to the extent they touch, they then develop into a column. There were some clear fresh water streams meandering through sections of the cave, and to our surprise many narrow shoots, some as high as two feet, sprouted up, their pale white stems and leaf-tops doomed to a short life without photosynthesis. These were products of the seeds dropped by the guacharo birds, which can sprout, but not survive, without light.

The mountainous area outside of the caves was dramatic. I wish we could have stayed longer to walk some of the canyons and enjoy the clear cooler mountain air, but we were late and had to get back. We did stop for a late lunch/supper. It was difficult enough to find a restaurant able to serve a group of 20 at 3:00 pm, further complicated by the fact the area had a power blackout, and so we were not able to use our mobile phones to call Medregal Village to let them know we were well behind schedule. The restaurant actually appreciated our business as they were able to barbecue much of their meat for us rather than letting it spoil in their inoperable freezers. We got back about 8:00 pm, tired but having enjoyed the drive through the mountains and the glorious cave of the guacharos.

Next day, September 14, 2007, we weighed anchor and proceeded another 9 miles to the end of Golfo de Cariaco, to what was the original port at the end of the gulf, Muelle de Cariaco, a sleepy town which progress on the road up to Cumana killed by eliminating the port business. We anchored off, as our interest was in going up the river that feed into the Golfo.

We left early next morning to dinghy up one branch of the river delta, winding our way for miles upstream. We hadn't been in such a tropical jungle since the Manamo River last year in the Orinoco Delta. However that area is only fifty miles to the southwest of this estuary, and so it is reasonable that there would be similarities, although here there were no Warao Indians coming out to greet us in their dugout canoes. The denseness of the jungle was as great, but the amount of bird life was considerably greater, and fantastic.

We went up several side streams and then shut off the engine to quietly drift back down in this tropical paradise. We saw far more scarlet ibis than we have seen before, although they are skittish birds that take off once you come in sight. I hope to send a few pictures from this area. Judy was busy with her bird books identifying the many species we saw. Her list of sightings (identified as well as possible when using as reference books of the birds of the West Indies and of Trinidad and Tobago, not of Venezuela) follows:

Birds seen up river from Muelle de Cariaco include:

• Great Kiskadee,
• Smooth-Billed Ani,
• Fork Tailed Flycatche,
• Lineated Woodpecker,
• Scarlet Ibis,
• Pygmy Kingfisher,
• Magnificent Frigate Bird,
• Brown Pelican,
• Large-billed Tern,
• Black Vulture Corbeau,
• Great Egret,
• Ringed Kingfisher,
• Osprey,
• Great Blue Heron,
• White-winged Swallow,
• Sandwich Terns,
• Common Martin,
• Brown Noddy,
• Sea Skimmer,
• and Bats!

We were surprised at the number of bats flying in the daytime and in large swarms, causing us to duck a few times as they flew past. We picked up a floating deep red feather from one of the ibis. The river was tidal and the marshy shores revealed the tangle of roots from small shoots of mangroves hanging down into the brackish waters to giant trees with their thick solid root systems arching up into the massive trunks like some prehistoric arbutus trees.

We followed one tributary up to get beyond the marshy forest into more open grasslands with lower grasses and magnificently tall royal palm trees. Drifting down these tributaries and exploring the estuary was one of those "high" moments that cruising is all about.

As we motored back down on of the main branches, as we had been out for over three hours, we saw a fisherman's net angling down stream. We stopped the engine and lifted it out of the water as we crossed this partially submerged net. As we came to the lower fork of the river, a few young men (boys?) ran along the shore to their pirogue shouting about damaging their nets. We tried to reassure them that we had seen them and lifted our motor over them.

We slowly made our way to the entrance lagoon to see another bevy of bird life fishing in the shallow estuary. Graceful snowy white egrets and herons stalked the shallows while pelicans, terns, and kingfishers dove into the waters in chase of the multiple schools of fish near the surface. Kingfishers and terns have a graceful entry as they dive for their prey, but the pelicans hit the water as a large lump, creating a big splash, and not getting down very deep. These birds were trailed above by the circling frigate birds swooping down to steal their not yet swallowed catches. This is why they are called frigate birds (also called man of war birds), as they cannot dive into or even land on water, and so get their food by attacking the fresh catch of the diving birds.

Occasionally a frigate bird might catch a fish by gliding across the surface, and just putting its powerful beak into the water to scoop up an unwary fish on the surface, similar to what the much smaller, graceful, sea skimmer does with its black and orange beak. That, of course, is why it is called a sea skimmer.

Four hours later we dinghied back to Veleda with plans for the afternoon to go up the north, landward, tributary to the now closed shrimp factory. However as we approached the river we saw fishermen's nets across the entrance and did not want to alienate them by going over them.

So, our excitement for the late afternoon was a walk around the two main streets with Beverley and Ross from Raft, seeing some lovely old houses from the former glory days of this erstwhile port, some in good repair, but most in bad repair or deserted.

We stopped in a couple of stores, having an interesting time with our minimal Spanish, and no English understood by the locals. They were friendly enough, and we had a humourous time trying to differentiate rum from whiskey, but no problems with cervesa.

So Ross and I strolled up the dusty streets with cold beers in our hands, saying "Hola", or "Buenas Tardes" to people we passed. Most responded.

There are three daily greetings depending upon the time of day. In the morning it is "Buenos Dias". In the early to mid afternoon it is Buenas Tardes", and in the evening it is Buenas Noches". "Hola" just means "Hi". The other advantage of Muelle de Cariaco is that it is on the bus line and the por puesta pickup truck runs into Cariaco. We will use this feature when we come to Medregal Village next year.

Next log