Towards sunset we reached the port of Orotava where we received the unexpected news that the Pizarro was not to sail until the 24th or 25th. Had we been warned of this delay we would have prolonged our stay on the peak, or made another journey to the volcano of Chahorra. The following day we visited the outskirts of Orotava and enjoyed the pleasant company that Cologan's house offered. We noticed that Tenerife had attractions not only for those who busy themselves with natural history; we found in Orotava several people who had a taste for literature and music, bringing their European sophistication with them to these distant islands. In this respect, with the exception of Havana, the Canary Islands bore no resemblance to any other Spanish colonies.

In this part of the cavern the rivulet deposits blackish earth, a mixture of silex, clay and vegetable detritus. We walked in thick mud to a place where, to our shock, we discovered underground vegetation. The seeds that the birds bring into the grotto to feed to their chicks germinate wherever they fall on to earth covering the calcareous Incrustations. Blanched stalks with rudimentary leaves rose to some 2 feet. It was impossible to identify the plants as the absence of light had completely transformed their form, color and aspect. These traces of plant life in the dark struck the Indians, usually so stupid and difficult to impress. They examined the plants in a silence inspired by a place they fear. You could have said these pale, deformed, underground plants seemed like ghosts banished from the earth's surface. For me, however, they recalled one of the happiest days of my youth when during a long stay at the Freiberg mines I began my research into the effects of blanching plants.

The city, dominated by the fort, lies at the foot of a hill without greenery. Not one bell-tower nor one dome attract the traveler from afar; just a few tamarind trees and coconut and date palms stand out above the flat-roofed houses. The surrounding plains, especially near the sea, appear sad, dusty and arid, while fresh, luxuriant vegetation marks out the winding river that divides the city from its outskirts and the European settlers from the copper-colored Indians. The isolated, bare and white San Antonio mountain, with its fort, reflects a great mass of light and heat: it is made of breccia, whose strata contain fossil marine life. Far away towards the south you can make out a dark curtain of mountains. They are the high calcareous New Andalusian alps, topped with sandstone and other recent geological formations. Majestic forests cover this inland mountain chain linked along a forested valley with the salty, clayey and bare ground around Cumana. In the gulf and on its shores you can see flocks of fishing herons and gannets, awkward, heavy birds, which, like swans, sail along the water with their wings raised. Nearer the inhabited areas, you can count thousands of gallinazo vultures, veritable flying jackals, ceaselessly picking at carcasses. A gulf whose depths contain hot thermal springs divides the secondary from the primary and schistose rocks of the Araya peninsula. The two coasts are bathed by a calm blue sea lightly rippled by a constant breeze. A dry, pure sky, only lightly clouded at sunset, lies above the sea, over a peninsula devoid of trees and above the Cumana plains, while one sees storms building up and bursting into fertile downpours around the inland mountain peaks.

The destruction of the forests, the clearing of the plains, and the cultivation of indigo over half a century has affected the amount of water flowing in as well as the evaporation of the soil and the dryness of the air, which forcefully explains why the present Lake Valencia is decreasing. By felling trees that cover the tops and sides of mountains men everywhere have ensured two calamities at the same time for the future: lack of fuel, and scarcity of water. Trees, by the nature of their perspiration, and the radiation from their leaves in a cloudless sky, surround themselves with an atmosphere that is constantly cool and misty. They affect the amount of springs by sheltering the soil from the sun's direct actions and reducing the rainwater's evaporation. When forests are destroyed, as they are everywhere in America by European planters, with imprudent haste, the springs dry up completely, or merely trickle. River beds remain dry part of the year and are then turned into torrents whenever it rains heavily on the heights. As grass and moss disappear with the brushwood from the mountainsides, so rainwater is unchecked in its course. Instead of slowly raising the river level by filtrations, the heavy rains dig channels into the hillsides, dragging down loose soil, and forming sudden, destructive floods. Thus, the clearing of forests, the absence of permanent springs, and torrents are three closely connected phenomena. Countries in different hemispheres like Lombardy bordered by the Alps, and Lower Peru between the Pacific and the Andes, confirm this assertion.

It took us three days to reach the Cari Carib missions. The ground was not as cracked by the drought as in the Calabozo plains. A few showers had revived the vegetation. We saw a few fan palms (Corypha tectorum), rhopalas (Chaparro) and malpighias with leathery, shiny leaves growing far apart from each other. From far off you recognize where there might be water from groups of mauritia palms. It was the season in which they are loaded with enormous clusters of red fruit looking like fir-cones. Our monkeys loved this fruit, which tasted like overripe apples. The monkeys were carried with our baggage on the backs of mules and did all they could to reach the clusters hanging over their heads. The plains seemed to ripple from the mirages. When, after travelling for an hour, we reached those palms standing like masts on the horizon, we were amazed to realize how many things are linked to the existence of one single plant. The wind, losing its force as it strikes leaves and branches, piles sand round the trunks. The smell of fruit and the bright green of the leaves attract passing birds that like to sway on the arrow-like branches of the palms. All around you hear a murmur of sound. Oppressed by the heat, and used to the bleak silence of the llanos, you think you feel cooler just by hearing the sound of branches swaying. Insects and worms, so rare in the llanos, thrive here so that even one stunted tree, which no traveler would have noticed in the Orinoco jungles, spreads life around it in the desert.

Lake Valencia, called Tacarigua by the Indians, is larger than Lake Neuchâtel in Switzerland; its general form resembles Lake Geneva, situated at about the same altitude. Its opposite banks are notably different: the southern one is deserted, stripped of vegetation and virtually uninhabited; a curtain of high mountains gives it a sad, monotonous quality; in contrast, the northern side is pleasant and rural, and has rich plantations of sugar cane, coffee and cotton. Paths bordered with cestrum, azedaracs, and other perpetually flowering shrubs cross the plain and link the isolated farms. All the houses are surrounded by trees. The ceiba (Bombax hibiscifolius), with large yellow flowers, and the erythrina, with purple ones, whose overlapping branches give the countryside its special quality. During the season of drought, when a thick mist floats above the burning ground, artificial irrigation keeps the land green and wild. Every now and then granite blocks pierce through the cultivated ground; large masses of rocks rise up in the middle of the valley. Some succulent plants grow in its bare and cracked walls, preparing mould for the coming centuries. Often a fig tree, or a clusia with fleshy leaves, growing in clefts, crowns these isolated little summits With their dry withered branches they look like signals along a cliff. The shape of these heights betrays the secret of their ancient origins; for when the whole valley was still submerged and waves lapped the foot of the Mariara peaks (El Rincòn del Diablo) and the coastal chain, these rocky hills were shoals and islands.

During our six-day stay at Cartagena, our most interesting excursions were to the Boca Grande and the Popa hill with its fine view. The port, or bahía, is 9. miles long. The unhealthiness of Cartagena comes from the great marshes surrounding the town on the east and north. The Ciénaga de Tesca is more than 15 miles long. A sad vegetation of cactus, Jatropha gossypifolia, croton and mimosa covers the arid slopes of Cerro de la Popa. While botanizing on these wild spots our guides pointed out a thick Acacia cornigera bush infamous for a deplorable event. This acacia is armed with very sharp thorns, and extraordinarily large ants live on it. A woman, annoyed by her husband's well-founded jealousy, planned a barbarous revenge. With the help of her lover she tied her husband up with rope, and at night chucked him into this Acacia cornigera bush. The more violently he struggled the more the sharp thorns tore his skin. His screams were heard by some passers-by who found him after several hours covered with blood and dreadfully stung by ants. This crime is without example in the history of human perversion; the violence of its passion derives from the coarseness of manners, not from the Tropics. My most important work at Cartagena was comparing my observations with the astronomical positions fixed by Fidalgo's officers.