We resolved to spend the winter in Spain, hoping to embark fromCartagena or Cádiz in the spring, if the political situation in theeast permitted this. We crossed the kingdoms of Catalonia and Valencia toreach Madrid. On the way we visited the ruins of Tarragona and ancient Saguntum. From Barcelona we made anexcursion to Montserrat, whose elevated peak's are inhabited by hermits. contrast between luxuriant vegetation and desolate, bare rocks forms apeculiar scenery.

We landed on the right bank of the Neveri and climbed to the little fort of El Morro de Barcelona, built some 60 to 70 toises above sea-level. We remained five hours in this fort guarded by the provincial militia. We waited in vain for news about English pirates stationed along the coast. Two of our fellow travelers, brothers of the Marquis of Toro in Caracas, came from Spain. They were highly cultivated men returning home after years abroad. They had more reason to fear being captured and taken as prisoners to Jamaica. I had no passport from the Admiralty, but I felt safe in the protection given by the English Government to those who travel for the progress of science.

The three camps formed by the Indians are set up during the end of March and first days of April. The harvesting of the eggs is carried out in the regular way that characterizes all monastic institutions. Before the arrival of the monks up the river Indians profited far less from an abundant harvest supplied by nature. Each tribe dug in the beach wherever they felt like it and broke innumerable eggs because they did not dig carefully, and they unearthed more eggs than they needed. It was like amateurs exploiting a mine. Jesuit fathers have the merit of having regularized the exploitation, and although the Franciscans, who succeeded the Jesuits, boast that they follow their predecessors' examples they do not do all that prudence dictates. Jesuits did not allow the whole beach to be dug up; they kept a small part intact, for fear of seeing the race of arrau turtles destroyed or diminished. Today the whole beach is dug up. It has been noticed that the harvests are getting smaller and smaller each year.

Our journey from Cuba to the South American coast near the Sinu river took sixteen days. On the 30th of March we doubled Punta Gigantes, and made for the Boca Chica, the present entrance to Cartagena harbor. From there to our anchorage the distance is 7 or 8 miles. We took a pràctico to pilot us but repeatedly touched sandbanks. On landing I learned with great satisfaction that M. Fidalgo's coastal surveying expedition (140) had not yet Set out to sea. This enabled me to fix astronomical positions of several towns on the shore. The passage from Cartagena to Porto Bello, and the isthmus along the Chagres and Cruces rivers, is short and easy. But we were warned that we might stay in Panama a while before finding a boat for Guayaquil, and then it would take ages to sail against the winds and currents. I reluctantly gave up my plan to level the isthmus mountains with my barometer, though I never guessed that as I write today (1827) people would still be ignorant of the height of the ridge dividing the waters of the isthmus. (141) Everybody agreed that a land journey via Bogotà, Popayàn, Quito and Cajamaraca would be better than a sea journey, and would enable us to explore far more. The European preference for the tierras frías, the cold, temperate climate of the Andes, helped us make our decision. The distances were known, but not the time we finally took. We had no idea it would take us eighteen months to cross from Cartagena to Lima. This change in our plan and direction did allow me to trace the map of the Magdalena river, and astronomically determine eighty points inland, collect several thousand new plants and observe volcanoes.

We left San Fernando on the 30th of March at four in the afternoon. The heat was suffocating; the thermometer marked 34'C in the shade despite a strong south-east wind. This wind prevented us from setting our sails. During our journey along the Apure, the Orinoco and the Rio Negro we were accompanied by the brother-in-law of the governor of the Barinas province, Don Nicolas Soto, recently arrived from Cadiz. To get to know land worthy of a European's curiosity he decided to spend seventy-four days with us in a narrow lancha, invaded by mosquitoes. The right bank of the Apure is somewhat better cultivated than the left bank where the Yaruro Indians have built huts with reeds and palm-leaf stalks. They live from hunting and fishing, and are skilled in hunting the jaguar whose skins, called 'tiger skins', reach Spain thanks to them. Some of these Indians have been baptized, but they never go to church. They are considered to be wild because they want to remain independent. Other Yaruro tribes accept missionary discipline. The people of this tribe look like a branch of the Mongol family. Their look is serious; their eyes elongated, their cheek-bones high and with a prominent nose.

We spent seven agreeable days at the Hacienda de Cura in a small hut surrounded by thickets; the house itself, located in a sugar plantation, was infected with bubos, a skin disease common among slaves in the valleys. We lived like the rich; we bathed twice a day, slept three times and ate three meals in twenty-four hours. The lake water was warm, some 24°C to 25°C. The coolest bathing place was under the shade of ceibas and zamangs at Toma in a stream that rushes Out of the granite Rincòn del Diablo mountains. Entering this bath was fearsome, not because of the insects but because of the little brown hairs covering the pods of the Dolichos pruriens. When these small hairs, called pica pica, stick to your body they cause violent irritations. You feel the sting but cannot see what stung you.

The climate of these mountains is so mild that at the Cocollar farm cotton trees, coffee trees and even sugar cane grow with ease. The Turimiquiri meadows lose their richness the higher they are. Wherever scattered rocks cast shade, lichen and various European mosses grow. Melastoma guacito (Melastoma xanthostachyum) and a shrub (Palicourea rigida, chaparro bova) whose large, leathery leaves rustle like parchment in the breeze rise here and there on the savannah. But the main attraction in the grass is a liliaceous plant with a golden-yellow flower, the Marica martinicensis.