One of the many attractions of Mérida is the world's highest
(4,765 meters, or 15,629 feet) and longest (12.5 km) cable car, called
the Teleférico.
Today we were
supposed to get an early start and ride it to the top. At 6 this morning
a firecracker went off in the plaza next to the posada. The firecrackers
here are huge, and set off car alarms. Almost immediately, several roosters
started crowing (probably in annoyance) and the church bells just outside
my room started clanging. I woke up.
Above the chorus of noise, I could hear rain on the roof. Somehow I
rolled over and went back to sleep. I woke several times to firecrackers
or church bells, but every time it was raining, and I fell back to sleep.
I finally got up at 9am. After showering and dressing, I went searching
for the others. Shay and Jeanne weren't to be seen. Tyler was in his
room, fully clothed under his covers and shivering. He had come down
with some sort of flu during the night. He went back to bed, and I went
to eat breakfast.
The restaurant here serves something called a 'desayuno tipico' (a
'typical breakfast.') It consists of a soup made from milk, eggs, potatoes,
onions, and cilantro. It's served with an arepa, white cheese, and nata.
The soup is hot and tastes of rich cream. An egg is dropped into the
soup long enough for the yolk to harden, and the chunks of potatoes
are soft and warm. You slice the arepa like a pita, and put part of
the white cheese inside. The local white cheese has the texture of firm
feta, but with less saltiness. The 'nata' is soft, with a texture slightly
softer than butter, and tastes like a cross between the best butter
and cream you can
imagine... sweet and salty and addictive. Spread on an arepa, it's like
eating the most amazing buttered english muffin in the world.
While I'm finishing breakfast, Jeanne and Shay show up. They've been
out shopping. Because none of us expected to be here for weeks, we have
a limited supply of clothing. We can do laundry, but we're getting tired
of our minuscule repertoire of outfits. They also picked up some ointment
for Shay's knees. (He burned them badly on the way back from Salto Angel,
and made the situation worse by peeling off about 6 layers of skin.)
Jeanne decides to wait for Tyler is better to ascend the Teleférico,
and Shay and I decide to go up today. We're planning on riding up to
the top, and then dropping down one stop to Loma Redonda. From Loma
Redonda you can walk 14 kilometers to the Andean village of Los Nevados,
where we will spend the night before returning on Monday
morning in time for Spanish class.
We each bring a backpack with a toothbrush, change of clothes, our
digital cameras, and a warm jacket. We get to the Teleférico
around 11:30 in the morning and start our ascent.
Unfortunately, while buying our tickets we learn that the cable car
is closed on Monday and Tuesday. We decide to go anyhow, but we'll have
to return the same day so that we can attend our Spanish class on Monday
afternoon.
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El Teleférico
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The cable car glides out of the station and almost immediately passes
over a river canyon which separates Mérida from the peaks to
the east. If you're suffering from vertigo, this is the first place
you'll notice it... the river is 2,000 feet below. I remember that the
Teleférico was built by the French in 1948, making it much older
than I am. I hope it's holding up better.
After crossing the canyon, we start climbing the mountain on the other
side. The mountain here is covered with lush rain forest. Looking below
we can see trees draped with vines. In the top branches of the trees
bromeliads flower, sending up red and yellow spikes.
At around 3,000 feet above Mérida, we pull into La Montaña
station. We get out and get into a different car for the next ascent.
The car climbs up the mountain, and the vegetation changes slightly.
Palm trees have been replaced with prehistoric tree ferns, and the
vegetation is starting to thin.
As we approach La Aguada station at 11,325 feet, the vegetation thins
to scrub, and I point out the tree line to Shay. Here we get out to
acclimate for a few moments. We've ascended 7,000 feet in a little under
a half hour.
We walk around outside. The air is nippy and clouds occasionally envelop
us. A small border collie eyes us as we walk by. Frailejón plants
cover the hillside, looking like velvety century plants. Soon they'll
be sending up their flower spikes, covered with bright yellow blooms.
After a short walk, we get onto the next car heading up the mountain.
We're the only people on this trip, and we sit in the front of the car,
watching for glimpses of the mountains through the clouds. Below us
the land is barren except for mosses, hanging lakes, and waterfalls.
In 10 minutes we arrive at the next stop, Loma Redonda, at 13,268 feet.
We're immediately shown to the gate for the last segment and after a
few minute's wait, the car drops out of the clouds and we're inside.
We climb the last segment through freezing rain. It's barely
possible to see out of the gondola. The windows are covered with ice
and the condensation from our breath. Wiping away the fog, we can see
snow covering the hillside below us. We continue to ascend. On the way
up, I remember that two people were killed on this segment in
1991 when a cable snapped. The last segment was closed until 1998, when
it was rebuilt by the Venezuelan government.
The car pulls almost vertically into the last stop, Pico Espejo. Shay
and I get out past a crowd of wet, shivering people waiting to descend.
We're at 15,629 feet, higher than either of us has ever ascended. I
feel a little dizzy.
Outside the station it's cold. All of the Venezuelans are wearing
mittens and gloves and much heavier jackets than Shay and I brought.
Nevertheless, we take a few photos and then start a very short-lived
snowball fight. (We call a truce after a few minutes because we can't
feel our fingers.) Shay makes his first snow angel. Growing
up in the south, this is the first chance he's ever had to play in the
snow.
Then an alarm sounds across the mountain. It's 2pm, and the last car
is heading down the mountain. We get inside and pack into the car for
the descent. The car is filled with rosy-cheeked Latinos, many of whom
have probably experienced cold weather for the first time. I'm seated
on a bench with two elderly ladies. One of them pulls out
a bottle of 103-proof brandy and takes a swig right from the bottle.
Her friend does likewise. They giggle like naughty schoolgirls.
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Gondola Fiesta!
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The car starts downwards, and someone pops a cassette into the gondola's
stereo system. Some Latin pop song starts playing, and nearly everyone
in the car starts singing along. The folks standing in the aisle begin
to dance. It's a party!
The entire way down the mountain, the group sings, dances, and jokes.
In New England, this same group would be standing stoically watching
the scenery go past. If anyone spoke, it would be in whispers to their
companion. Music would be out of the question. But here it's
a spontaneous party. When we reach a station and move from one gondola
to another, the cassette is brought along, and the attendant happily
pops it in, continuing the party. Approaching Mérida, I'm sorry
it has to end.
We get back to the posada around 3pm. Tyler is still ill, and Jeanne
has brought him some chicken soup. Unless he improves dramatically overnight,
I can't see him attending classes tomorrow. We'll all get sick on this
trip, and Tyler is only the first. It will be much more difficult when
someone becomes ill while we're on the road... we have no drivers to
spare. We'll have to figure that out when it happens.
Ron
