11/12/2009 5:00:00 AM
Chip Albright: El Callao to the swamplands in Venezuela
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| Chip Albright |
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By Chip Albright
www.chipalbright.org
chipalbright2@aol.com
I stored up on provisions of one kilo of rice, sugar, two kilos of pasta, flavor cubes, tea bags, and 15 eggs which I didn't break a single one, to my surprise. I was taken aback by all the warnings of danger in Venezuela and how so many people told me that this country is not safe. "Chip, you don't know what you're getting yourself into," they said. I got so wrapped up in these thoughts that I forgot to take notice of the locals' way of life and their point of view. My first day back on the bike after one day of rest in the small mining town of El Callao, I made a point of really looking into the lives of the local people.
I was making my way out of the province of Bolivar, which is the biggest in Venezuela. The people lived in small, tin shacks. Each family had a handful chickens running around the yard and one or two cows if they were lucky. They lived off of vegetables they grew, and the landscape was covered with banana and coconut trees. The rolling green hills brought peace to my mind with the simple day to day lifestyle the Venezuelans live. They looked rough with torn t-shirts, dirty shorts or jeans, usually bare foot, and the kids ran along the roadside shouting at me " Hey green-grow!" I later learned that this was a slang word for a white person in Spanish. I became known as "Crazy white man" instead of Chip to the Venezuelan people.
The people of this country are beautiful and full of smiles and questions. On my 21-day stint across six provinces of the country, I had no problems at all and never once felt any danger knocking at my door. I was so honored by the hospitality and warm heart of these people. It was nothing like the many warnings I had received from others or the harsh words that had been written on the internet or in the news in our country.
My first day back on the bike, I camped up on a hillside. I biked until dark and set my tent up in the pitch black in fear of being seen. In doing this, I did a horrible job of staking my tent down and the wet season was still in full force. A massive storm rolled in that night and the lightning once again brought daylight to my tent and the thunder roared right on top of me. I spent most of the night wet and cold and thought to myself next time take the time and set camp up the way you know how...I was starting to see why they call me Crazy White Man!
In the morning, the sun was shining, and I dried all of my gear and biked in the rolling green hills. In the middle of the day, four cars went flying by me beeping their horns and came to a halt right in front of me. They all jumped out with smiles and gifts. They just came from a holiday in the grand Sabahan mountains. They gave me an ice cold beer, cookies, and banana chips. They asked me questions about my trip and what country I came from. This nice gesture warmed my heart and was the first of many that came my way over the next 1600kms.
I climbed into my tent that night in-between the highways on a hill top. I thought about how one true smile from one person to another can light up your heart and is a very simple, yet amazing thing. Why did these people stop and give me refreshments? When I shook their hands and said, "Thank you," it was from my heart. It was a really beautiful moment in my life. The lesson here is simple "Don't save your smiles for special occasions because it's your smile that makes them special."
I made my way out of Bolivar and into the province of Guárico. I was biking on a busy highway and had no choice as it was the only way across this part of the country and the route west towards Colombia. I stopped to fill up my gas bottle and couldn't believe how cheap gasoline is. 1 liter of gas cost 5 cents or 1 gallon is 20 cents. In this province, the farm fields were much different; they were all bigger like in Ohio. They had to use combines to harvest the corn and beans in this area compared to the smaller fields that I saw where people were picking by hand in the south.
As I was finishing up biking that day, I stopped at a small road side stand to store up on water for my nights cooking . A man that used to live in Miami, Florida bought me a coffee, and he talked about how much he enjoyed his five years there. Once again, another nice gesture from the local people. This night, I was camped out of sight from the road 20 yards away in the bushes, and I almost blew myself up. I had my rice on my MSR stove cooking and setting up my tent. The O ring broke on my gas bottle and gasoline was shooting out all over the place. I didn't notice it right away as I was busy setting up my tent. I about crapped my pants when I turned around and saw my gas bottle in flames. I grabbed my water bottle and doused it. Luckily nothing blew up, but it was a scare. I carry a repair kit for my stove, and in 10 minutes, I had it fixed as good as new. I went back to enjoying another rice, tuna and soy sauce dinner, washed down with a manazilla tea.
In the morning, I was sore as could be, as I have been spending an average of seven to nine hours a day biking. Waking up at 5:30 a.m. and biking until dark, putting in 160kms easily a day. There was just something about biking west into the pinkish, blue sunsets that kept me on my bike. The sky was beautiful most nights around dusk, and I just wanted that moment to last forever. My passion for biking was back, and I was loving the freedom of my constant friend, the open road.
Crossing the province of Guárico, the landscape changed into flat lands with few rolling hills. This day I labeled in my journal "The day of gifts." In the morning, a trucker was pulled over by the side of the road and asked me if I had a screwdriver. He used it to fix his steering wheel and then gave me $5 VZ, he told me to buy a cold drink with the cash. For lunch, I filled up on water at a liquor store and the owner bought me 2 cold beers for lunch. He wanted to hear about my trip across Venezuela and what I thought of his country. As nightfall was coming, I made it to the outskirts of the city of Valle de a Pascua. I stopped and asked a group of cowboys if I could fill up on water and they invited me into their small shack for coffee and bread. They told me that I was done biking for the day and had to eat dinner with them and spend the night with a roof over my head. I had a great night's sleep that night and a great candlelight dinner. A bucket shower felt great to get the grit and dirt from the road off my body. It had been five days since I had a shower, and my skin was turning black from time on the road. I learned some interesting points that night about the country of Venezuela. For example, on average a person makes about $120 a month. When I asked them if they liked Chavez, they told me no. They said he takes what he wants from the country and gives little back to the people.
They also introduced me to the local chewing tobacco that night, and it was something that I enjoyed very much. In the morning, I said my thanks and off I went to the buzzing of traffic on the road. I saw an average of about 10 dead dogs on the road each day and thought to myself that I was going to be road kill too if I didn't get off this busy road. I made my way to the junction point, and on instinct, I made the turn south to the swamplands and city of San Fernando. I wasn't planning on taking this route, but my mind and old Goaso just took the left-hand turn, and I was southbound instead of west. It turned out to be a great choice as the road had little traffic on it, and I spent a good five days with no sounds of trucks and cars flying by me.
Once again, I was free camping which is something I usually do. I found a construction shack for a night's sleep and cooked up a great pasta dinner with onions, red pepper, and garlic that night. I was sipping on a coffee watching the lighting storm in the far distance as the wet season was still sticking around. It was a magical feeling that night watching the storm roll across the landscape and enjoying the fine Venezuelan coffee. Not a sound to be heard but the frogs and the thunder. I was in my very own little piece of heaven and happy to be off the main highway and headed south to Apure province where the hot and muggy bug-infested swamplands awaited. It's just old Goaso and I on this desolate road to Alaska. Well, my friends, I am going to finish my coffee and get some sleep. I will send you more updates soon.
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