I went backpacking there years ago. I rented a jeep in Ciudad Bolivar and drove in. Along the way I stayed in a gold mining town called El Dorado. It was Saturday night and the miners were in town, selling little vials of gold dust, hunting down the women in red in front of the brothels, and looking lean, hungry, and ready to shoot-em-up. On Sunday they got up out of the gutters, went to church, and headed back to the bush. I got a boat ride up to the mining area and saw a vision of purgatory. Men and boys were digging, mostly naked, in wet mud, divided into small claims 20 by 20. They dug up rocks and fet them into a sophisticated economy that included freelance rockbreakers (with machines) and gold panners (with mercury), each working for a piece of the resulting gold dust.

After that, Gran Sabana was a dream. I didn’t see anybody on the rutted roads through the savanna. When I came to a river I couldn’t cross, I swam and started walking. The rivers are tea red, interrupted by waterfalls, lined by trees, and traversed at sunset by pairs of Macaws. At one point I came upon a couple of native huts, and I traded some mosquito repellent for a night under the roof. I must have looked a bit frightening because the women stayed well hidden, but I had a halting conversation with the men by the campfire. They burned bits of termite mounds to repel bugs and were very hospitable. So it was wild and friendly at the same time.

I won’t even talk about the Tepuiys. You must see them to believe them.