While we unloaded the pirogue we investigated the impressive spectacle of a great river squeezed and reduced to foam. Instead of just describing my own sensations I shall try to paint an overall view of one of the most famous spots in the New World. The more imposing and majestic a scene, the more important it is to capture it in its smallest details, to fix the outline of the picture that you want to present to the reader's imagination, and to simply describe the particular characteristics of the great monuments of nature.

We dared to cross the last half of the Atures raudal in our boat. We landed every now and then on rocks, which act as dykes, forming islands. Sometimes water crashes over them, sometimes it falls into them with a deafening noise. It was here that we saw one of the most extraordinary scenes. The river rolled its waters over our heads, like the sea crashing against reefs, but in the entrance to a cavern we could stay dry as the large sheet of water formed an arch over the rocks. We had the chance to view this bizarre sight for longer than we wished. Our canoe should have passed around a narrow island on the eastern bank and picked us up after a long detour. We waited for several hours as night and a furious Storm approached. Rain poured down. We began to fear that our fragile boat had smashed against some rocks and that the Indians, as indifferent as ever to the distress of others, had gone off to the mission. There were only three of us, soaked to the skin and worrying about our pirogue, as well as thinking about spending the night in the Tropics, sleeping in the din of the cataracts. M. Bonpland proposed to leave me alone on the island with Don Nicolas Soto and swim the bit of the river between the granite dykes. He hoped to reach the jungle and seek help from Father Zea at Atures. We finally managed to dissuade him. He had no idea about the labyrinth of canals that split up the Orinoco or of the dangerous eddies. Then what happened under our noses as we were discussing this proved that the Indians had been wrong to say there were no crocodiles in the cataracts. We had placed our little monkeys on the tip of our island. Soaked by the rain, and sensitive to any fall in temperature, they began to howl, attracting two very old lead-grey crocodiles. Seeing them made me realize how dangerous our swim in this same raudal on our way up had been. After a long wait our Indians turned up just as the sun was setting.

The Pimichín landing-stage is surrounded by a small cacao plantation. The trees are very robust and loaded with fruit all year round. When you think that the cacao tree is native to the Parima jungle, south of latitude 6, and that the humid climate of the Upper Orinoco suits this precious tree far more than the Caracas and New Barcelona air, which each year gets drier, then one regrets that this beautiful part of the world is in monks' hands as they discourage agriculture. We spent the night in a recently abandoned hut. An Indian family had left behind fishing tackle, earthen jars, mats woven with palm-tree petioles: all the household goods of these carefree people who are indifferent to property Large amounts of mani (a mixture of the resins moronobea and Amyris caraìa) lay in piles around the hut. This is used by Indians to pitch their canoes and to fix the bony ray spines on to their arrows. We found several jars filled with a vegetable milk, which is used as a varnish, called in the missions leche para pintar (milk for painting). They coat their furniture with this viscous juice. It leaves it a fine white; it thickens in contact with air to appear glossy. The more we study vegetable chemistry in the torrid zone the more we shall discover in remote spots still accessible to European trade, and already half prepared by the plants themselves, products that we believed belonged to the animal kingdom. These discoveries will be multiplied when, as the political state of the world now seems to show, European civilization flows towards the equinoctial regions of the New World.

Despite the small size of our boat, and the boasted skill of our pilot, we often ran aground. The bottom was soft so there was no danger of sinking. At sunset we preferred to lie at anchor. The first night was beautifully serene, with countless shooting stars all falling in the same direction. This area is completely deserted, while in Columbus's time it was inhabited by great numbers of fishermen. These Cuban inhabitants used a small fish to catch the great sea-turtles. They tied this fish to a long cord of the revés (the Spanish name for the echeneis). This 'fisher-fish' fixed itself on the shell of the turtle by means of its suckers. The Indians pulled both sucker fish and turtle ashore. It took three days to pass through this labyrinth of Jardines and Jardinillos. As we moved east the sea got rougher.