Orinoco, their Indian crew often paddled for more than twelve hours in the sweltering heat. The current was strong and the river was almost two and a half miles wide. Then, three weeks after they had first launched their boat into the Rio Apure and after ten days on the Orinoco, the river narrowed. They were coming closer to the Atures and Maipures rapids. Here, more than 500 miles south of Caracas, the Orinoco forged through a mountain chain in a series of small river passages of around 150 yards wide, surrounded by huge granite boulders covered in dense forest. Over several miles the rapids descended in hundreds of rocky steps, the water roaring and whirling and throwing up a perpetual mist that hovered over the river. The rocks and islands were clothed in lush tropical plants. These were ‘majestic scenes of nature’, Humboldt wrote. Magical it was, but also dangerous.
One day a sudden gale almost capsized their boat. As one end of the canoe began to sink, Humboldt managed to grab his diary but books and dried plants were catapulted into the water. He was certain they were going to die. Knowing that the river was alive with crocodiles and snakes, everybody panicked – except for Bonpland who remained calm and began to bail out the water with some hollow gourds. ‘Do not worry, my friend,’ he said to Humboldt, ‘we’re going to be safe.’ Bonpland displayed ‘that coolness’, Humboldt later noted, that he always had in difficult situations. As it was, they lost only one book and were able to dry their plants and journals. Their pilot, though, was bemused about the white men – the ‘blancos’ as he called them – who seemed to worry more about their books and collections than their lives.
The greatest nuisance was the mosquitoes. No matter how fascinated Humboldt was by this strange world, it was impossible not to be distracted by the insects’ relentless attacks. The explorers tried everything but neither protective clothing and smoking helped, nor their constant waving of arms and palm leaves. Humboldt and Bonpland were bitten all the time. Their skin was swollen and itchy, and whenever they talked, they started to cough and sneeze because the mosquitoes were flying straight into their mouth and nostrils. It was torture to dissect a plant or observe the skies with their instruments. Humboldt wished that he had a ‘third hand’ to fend off the mosquitoes; he always felt that he had to drop either his sextant or a leaf.
Under permanent assault from the mosquitoes, Bonpland found it impossible to dry the plants out in the open, and took to using the native tribes’ so-called ‘hornitos’ – small window-less chambers that they used as ovens. He crept on all fours through a low opening into the hornito in which a small fire of wet branches and leaves created a great deal of smoke – fabulous against the mosquitoes but awful for Bonpland. Once inside, he closed the narrow entrance and spread out his plants. The heat was suffocating and the smoke almost unbearable but anything was better than being eaten alive by the mosquitoes. Their expedition was not exactly a ‘pleasure cruise’, Humboldt said.
During this part of the journey – deep in the rainforest and at the section of the Orinoco that runs along today’s Venezuelan–Colombian border – they saw few people. When they passed one mission, a missionary there, Father Bernardo Zea, was so excited to meet them that he offered to join them as a guide, which they happily accepted. Humboldt acquired a few more ‘team members’ including a stray mastiff, eight monkeys, seven parrots, a toucan, a macaw with purple feathers and several other birds. Humboldt called them his ‘travelling menagerie’. Their unsteady boat was small, and to make space for their animals as well as for their instruments and trunks, they built a platform of woven branches that extended out over the edge. Covered with a low thatched roof, it created extra space but was
One day a sudden gale almost capsized their boat. As one end of the canoe began to sink, Humboldt managed to grab his diary but books and dried plants were catapulted into the water. He was certain they were going to die. Knowing that the river was alive with crocodiles and snakes, everybody panicked – except for Bonpland who remained calm and began to bail out the water with some hollow gourds. ‘Do not worry, my friend,’ he said to Humboldt, ‘we’re going to be safe.’ Bonpland displayed ‘that coolness’, Humboldt later noted, that he always had in difficult situations. As it was, they lost only one book and were able to dry their plants and journals. Their pilot, though, was bemused about the white men – the ‘blancos’ as he called them – who seemed to worry more about their books and collections than their lives.
The greatest nuisance was the mosquitoes. No matter how fascinated Humboldt was by this strange world, it was impossible not to be distracted by the insects’ relentless attacks. The explorers tried everything but neither protective clothing and smoking helped, nor their constant waving of arms and palm leaves. Humboldt and Bonpland were bitten all the time. Their skin was swollen and itchy, and whenever they talked, they started to cough and sneeze because the mosquitoes were flying straight into their mouth and nostrils. It was torture to dissect a plant or observe the skies with their instruments. Humboldt wished that he had a ‘third hand’ to fend off the mosquitoes; he always felt that he had to drop either his sextant or a leaf.
Under permanent assault from the mosquitoes, Bonpland found it impossible to dry the plants out in the open, and took to using the native tribes’ so-called ‘hornitos’ – small window-less chambers that they used as ovens. He crept on all fours through a low opening into the hornito in which a small fire of wet branches and leaves created a great deal of smoke – fabulous against the mosquitoes but awful for Bonpland. Once inside, he closed the narrow entrance and spread out his plants. The heat was suffocating and the smoke almost unbearable but anything was better than being eaten alive by the mosquitoes. Their expedition was not exactly a ‘pleasure cruise’, Humboldt said.
During this part of the journey – deep in the rainforest and at the section of the Orinoco that runs along today’s Venezuelan–Colombian border – they saw few people. When they passed one mission, a missionary there, Father Bernardo Zea, was so excited to meet them that he offered to join them as a guide, which they happily accepted. Humboldt acquired a few more ‘team members’ including a stray mastiff, eight monkeys, seven parrots, a toucan, a macaw with purple feathers and several other birds. Humboldt called them his ‘travelling menagerie’. Their unsteady boat was small, and to make space for their animals as well as for their instruments and trunks, they built a platform of woven branches that extended out over the edge. Covered with a low thatched roof, it created extra space but was
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