Norman's Blog: Choroni in Henri Pittier National Park

Choroni in Henri Pittier National Park

I had survived Caracas. I had walked around part of the city centre and the area where my house was plus a walking tour of the city without incident. I had been warned of the terrors of the city, the murder capital of the world, 98% of incidents do not result in a conviction and the police are corrupt and the streets aren't safe.

It was perfectly safe for families in the park watching school concerts, playing games, having a picnic, people exercising in open air gyms and just enjoying the open space. It was spotlessly clean with no needles, drug pushers, or people sleeping rough. I didn't witness a single criminal incident on any street corner. There were no dead bodies in the streets. I hadn't been mugged, had my camera or phone snatched from my hands or been muedered or run over in the street by wayward drivers. I had seen no beggars, the metro was clean and safe.

No police had stopped any of us or any body in front of us. Social media is our friend and as everyone has a phone, incidents were widely posted on the internet by everyone within range of an event and images were sent direct to the police force chiefs. People do get stopped for not wearing seatbelts and are handed a fine but police do not accept a bribe from the driver to get away without a ticket. The social media now shows police doing their job and it is more shame for the erant driver for not wearing a seat belt. Suddenly things were a lot safer and all the reports tat I had read were simply not true.

Even our guides had said that things had improved immensely. I had travelled by bus, taxi and private car and the congestion was neglible, the traffic flowed freely and whilst it was busy, there weren't traffic jams. I passed several petrol stations and all had petrol to sell with no long queues. Also being the capital, there were rolling blackouts or times of the day without water. There was 24 hour water and electricity (although that didn't hold for the rural areas). It is time for a rethink and a rewriting of conditions in Venezuela.

We were soon out of the city and driving south through the mountains.

A view of the main road on the other side of a valley after we had diven up one side to cross the river and down the other side.

We reached the foothills and turned west through rolling countryside...

...where there was more agriculture than in the mountains.

We passed a sign post to Colonia Tovar. It has a link with the first German settlers in Venezuela. It is a town in a mountainous area of the state. It was founded on 8th April 1843 by 390 immigrants from the Grand Duchy of Baden. The economy depends on agriculture and tourism. It is known for its temperate crops such as peaches, strawberries, carrots, cabbage, chard, broccoli, lettuce onions and potatoes. It has since grown into a major town and agricultural supplier to caracas.

As we approached Maracay, we found another white elephant, part of a grand plan to link the capital with other cities by rail. Much of it has been built as evidenced by a long line of pylons running alongside the main road and holding trackbed ready to receive the railtrack but it was never completed. The oil price crashed and projects cancelled as funds dried up or were diverted elsewhere.

Another abandoned section of railway trackbed that was never completed.

We turned off the main road and through Maracay, heading north into the mountains and towards the coast.

We got to the edge of the Henri Pittier National Park. The roads are narrow and steep with sharp hairpin bends and our truck could not get through the mountains. Here there is a Bomberos Forestales station, a forest fire fighting station and a bus station, seemingly in the middle of no where. This is where the city buses discharge their passengers who get onto smaller buses that can negotiate the bends and gradients. Our truck was to be parked here under the care of the Bomberos Forestales station crew and we would be taking two taxis to get to the coast.

Also parked here were two yellow school buses, but one had had a blue and white paint job.

The climb up into the mountains is spectacular but pictures don't do it justice. It was steep winding, blind hairpin bends, narroeing to just one lane in places and often covered in greenery with only glimpses of the valley below as the road climbs into the hills.

More bends, waterfalls...

...an occasional open stretch...

...one of many hairpins.

The road crests a ridge at 1,600 metres but the ridge extends further up to 2,000 metres and creates its own climate. Being so high in moist tropical areas, clouds form and sometimes visibility was down to just tens of metres on a mountainous road, with blind bends and sometimes no bollards or safety wall between the roadbed and a long vertical drop into the jungle below.

At the summit of the road we stopped. I wanted a photo but it was bathed in cloud with nothing to see. Dag got out and assembled his fold-a-way bike. He was going to enjoy the long descent and cycle the rest of the way.