Wednesday, 30 November 2011

21/11/2011 - Roraima Day 5 – Back to reality


The legs were a little stiff in the morning as we felt the results of yesterday's mammoth day. However once we got going and began retracing our steps down the mountain all was well and we were in high spirits again. Although Omar said we should aim to make it to one of the camps en route to the village of Paratepui (our starting point) by nightfall, I had a sneaky suspicion we could make it all the way back. Starting the day in wet, chilly surroundings and progressing to the baking heat of the Sabana was a welcome change and my clothes and sodden trainers, unbelievably still in one piece, began to dry out. As the day's hike progressed, I turned round every once in a while, and as Roraima sank into the distance it was hard to believe that we'd started the morning in such a different world.

As expected, we reached our intended camp with a good 4 hours before nightfall so it made sense to just blast the last 3 hour trek back to the village. Tired muscles complained and sun-singed skin crackled in the heat but the promise of beer at the village kept us going and finally we arrived at Paratepui. I promptly thrust my remaining Bolivars into Omar's hand and asked him to find us beer which he duly obliged. As Vova traded a laser-pen for indigenous necklaces and cups at the local shop, I chatted to Omar about his family and life. Omar is 30 and has 5 kids which is pretty good going (and an interesting comparison with Manuel). I also asked him when he'd next go up Roraima. “Tomorrow, if they need a guide”. Not bad.

We were waiting for Frank to come pick us up and take us back to Santa Elena, but as the hours rolled on and heavy rain set it, it looked like we'd have to spend the night camping under a shelter in the village. Omar very kindly promised us free arepas for breakfast in the morning and the really nice guy in the shop next to which we were sat started making us free pancakes for dinner (neither of us had any cash left). However, just then Frank arrived and we were off, back to Santa Elena, a place of showers, beds and food that wasn't sardines.

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