After spending the whole day outdoors, we wrote down our observations in the convent at night, and dried our plants and sketched what we thought were new species. Unfortunately the misty sky of a valley where the forests give off an enormous amount of water into the air was not favorable for astronomic observations. The only annoyance experienced in the Caripe valley was the impossibility of observing stars due to the sky being continuously covered. I spent part of every night waiting for the moment when a star might be visible between clouds. I often shivered with cold, though the thermometer only sank to 16°C.

On leaving the Apure river we found ourselves in a vastly different countryside. An immense plain of water stretched out in front of us like a lake as far as the eye could see. White-topped waves rose several feet high from the clash between the breeze and the current. We no longer heard the cries of the herons, flamingos and spoonbills flying in long lines from one bank to the other. We vainly looked out for those diving birds whose busy tricks vary according to their species. Nature herself seemed less alive. Only now and then did we see between waves some large crocodiles breaking the water with their tails. The horizon was lined with a ribbon of jungle; but nowhere did the jungle reach the river. Vast beaches burned by the sun were as deserted and arid as sea beaches and, thanks to mirages, resembled stagnant marshes from afar. Rather than limiting the river these sandy banks blurred it. The banks drew near or receded according to the play of the sun's rays.