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Dazzling stars start the show, Venus is a beacon of brilliant white, waves splash against our remote shack on the lake, the lightening arrives timidly offering sporadic flashes of orange against the black.
We embark on a night safari; the engine is the only sound, the guides eagle like vision is staggering, red eyes reflect back the flash light, our guide pulls out a meter long Cayman, I tentatively hold the tail and brace myself for the struggle, I master the firm but gentle pressure required to keep its mouth closed tight without hurting it and set it free, it gyrates its limbs in a kind of liberation dance before re-entering the water, we joke about the story it tells its friends about the human abduction. The captain mentions rain although this seems unlikely as there is not a cloud in the sky.
The electric light orchestra has begun by the time we return; waves of light and colour illuminate the clouds and the blackness, the forks streak sideways as they prance across the darkness, tiredness gets the better of us, we retire to our hammocks.
Deafening thunder, wind and the rain interrupt our slumber, the sound of the water hitting the metal roof could wake the dead, we relocate to a more secluded and dryer place, it turns out that of course the local was right about the rain.
The return trip begins with with a mangrove adventure; local crab fishing techniques observed, endemic night screamer spotted, it turns out the rain has disturbed the wildlife and our chances of seeing fresh water dolphins and turtles is gone.
We stop of for a shower in a waterfall, grab a cocoa pod souvenir, and get slightly freaked out by the perpetual darkness of a cave. We arrive back in Merida with enough time to replace flip flops, grab some local music, and buy food before our night bus back to Maracaibo.
Joseph Davies 30/10/10
The electric light orchestra has begun by the time we return; waves of light and colour illuminate the clouds and the blackness, the forks streak sideways as they prance across the darkness, tiredness gets the better of us, we retire to our hammocks.
Deafening thunder, wind and the rain interrupt our slumber, the sound of the water hitting the metal roof could wake the dead, we relocate to a more secluded and dryer place, it turns out that of course the local was right about the rain.
The return trip begins with with a mangrove adventure; local crab fishing techniques observed, endemic night screamer spotted, it turns out the rain has disturbed the wildlife and our chances of seeing fresh water dolphins and turtles is gone.
We stop of for a shower in a waterfall, grab a cocoa pod souvenir, and get slightly freaked out by the perpetual darkness of a cave. We arrive back in Merida with enough time to replace flip flops, grab some local music, and buy food before our night bus back to Maracaibo.
Joseph Davies 30/10/10
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