We had yet to climb the steepest part of the mountain, the Piton, which forms the summit. The slope of this small cone, covered with volcanic ashes and fragments of pumice-stone, is so steep that it would have been impossible to reach the top had we not been able to follow an old lava current that seemed to have flowed down from the crater and whose remains have defied the ravages of time. The debris forms a wall of scoria, which reaches into the loose ash. We climbed to the Piton by clinging to this sharp-edged scoria, which, worn down by the weather, often broke off in our hands. It took us half an hour to reach the top, though it was only some 90 toises above us.

The decision we took on the night of the 14th of July had a happy influence on the direction of our travels. Instead of weeks, we spent year in this part of the world. Had not the fever broken out on board the Pizarro we would never have explored the Orinoco, the Casiquiare and the frontiers with the Portuguese possessions on the Rio Negro. We perhaps also owed to this circumstance the good health we enjoyed for such a long period in the equinoctial regions.

Connected by the most intimate bonds of friendship over the five years of our travels (and since then), Bonpland and I have jointly published the whole of our work. I have tried to explain what we both observed but, as this work has been written from my notes on the spot, all errors that might arise are solely mine. In this introduction I would also like to thank Gay-Lussac and Arago, my colleagues at the Institute, who have added their names to important work done, and who possess that high-mindedness which all who share a passion for science should have. Living in intimate friendship I have consulted them daily on matters of chemistry, natural history and mathematics.

Because there are no records kept in Cumana, and thanks to the persistent destructive activity of the termites, the white ants, no documents older than 150 years remain in the archives, thus making it hard to know the exact dates for the earlier earthquakes. We know only that 1766 was most fatal for the settlers and most remarkable for the natural history of the country. There had been a drought for over fifteen months when on the 21st of October 1766 the city of Cumana was completely destroyed. Every year that date is celebrated by a religious service and a solemn procession. All the houses collapsed in a few minutes, and every hour for fourteen months tremors were felt. In several areas in the province the earth opened up and vomited out sulphurous water. During 1766 and 1767 the Cumana inhabitants camped out in the streets and began rebuilding only when the tremors slowed down to a few a month. While the earth continually rocked it felt as if the air was about to dissolve into water. Formidable rainstorms swelled the river; the year was extraordinarily fertile, and the Indians, whose frail shacks survive the most violent earthquakes, celebrated with dances of joy following an ancient superstition about the destruction of the old world and the birth of a new one.

The Uruana inhabitants belong to those people of the savannah (Indios andantes), harder to civilize than those from the jungle (Indios del monte). They show a great aversion to agriculture and live exclusively from hunting and fishing. The men are tough, ugly, wild, vindictive and passionately fond of alcohol. They are 'omnivorous animals' in every sense. That is why other Indians consider them as barbarians and say, 'There is nothing, however disgusting it is, that an Otomac will not eat. While the Orinoco and its waters are low the Otomacs live on fish and turtles. They kill fish with astounding skill, hooting them with arrows when they surface. The river floods stop all fishing: it becomes as hard as fishing in deep sea. During the period of floods the Otomacs eat earth in prodigious amounts. We found pyramids of earth balls in their huts. The earth they eat is a fine oily clay, of a greyish-yellow; they cook it slightly so that its hard crust turns red due to the iron oxide in it.

Batabanò was then a poor village, and its church had only just been finished. The ciénega begins about half a league from the village, a marsh stretching about 60 leagues from west to east. At Batabanò it is thought that the sea is encroaching on the land. Nothing is sadder than these marshes. Not even a shrub breaks the monotony; a few stunted palm trees rise like broken masts among tufts of reeds. As we stayed only one night there I regretted not being able to investigate the two species of crocodile, or cocodrilo, infesting the ciénaga. One the locals call a cayman. The crocodile is said to be very daring, and even climbs into boats when it can. It often wanders a league inland just to devour pigs. It reaches some feet long, and even chases (so they say) men on horseback, while the caymans are so shy that people can bathe in the water when they are around.

One of the four canoes that the Indians had used for their expedition was filled with a kind of reed (carice) used to make blowpipes. The reeds measured 15 to 17 feet without a sign of a knot for leaves and branches. They are quite straight, smooth and cylindrical known as 'reeds of Esmeralda' they are very sought after beyond the Orinoco. A hunter keeps the same blowpipe all his life; he boasts of its lightness, precision and shine as we might our firearms. What monocotyledonous plant do these magnificent reeds come from? I was unable to answer this question, as I was unable to say what plant was used in making the marima shirts. On the slopes of the Duida mountain we saw trunks of this tree reaching to feet high. The Indians cut off cylindrical pieces 2 feet in diameter and peel off the red fibrous bark, careful not to make longitudinal incisions. This bark becomes a kind of garment, like a sack, of a coarse material without seams. You put your head through a hole at the top and your arms through two holes cut in the sides. Indians wear these marima shirts when it rains; they look like cotton ponchos. In these climates the abundance and beneficence of nature are blamed for the Indians' laziness. Missionaries do not miss the opportunity of saying: 'In the Orinoco jungles clothes are found readymade on trees. In the fiesta women were excluded from dancing and other festivities; their sad role was reduced to serving men roast monkey, fermented drinks and palm-tree hearts, which tasted rather like our cauliflowers. Another more nutritious substance comes from the animal kingdom: fish flour (mandioca de pescado). Throughout the Upper Orinoco Indians roast fish, dry them in the sun and crush them into powder, along with the bones. When eaten it is mixed with water into a paste.