Were I asked which of all the regions of Venezuela I thought the most attractive and interesting to the general traveller, I should have little hesitation in replying, “The Andes.” The three mountain States constitute a territory where, along with an appreciable extent of development, there is a complete absence of the commonplace both in the country and its people. The deep valleys and gorges and snow-clad peaks, with towns and cities perched on mountain-sides and gravel plateaux, might be paralleled elsewhere in South America but not in this republic, and though the inhabitants of the towns have often travelled in America and Europe on modern steamers and trains, to reach their homes they have, like their less aspiring countrymen, to jog on mule-back for many leagues over rough mountain paths which lead them frequently along precipices and through all but unfordable rivers, and are marked by crosses commemorating the violent deaths of previous travellers. It is a region where, a few miles from the towns, are great stretches of unknown uplands and forest-clad slopes, unexplored territory side by side with the habitation of some of the most industrious communities of the republic.

The Andes may be reached from the north via the Bolivar Railway and from Maracaibo either by way of La Ceiba, whence the railway brings the traveller into the foothills of Trujillo at the north end, or by Encontrados, when he enters Táchira, the most southerly of the trio of States. There is a fourth route along the disused railway from Santa Barbara, on the Escalante, up the valley of the Chama and so into Mérida, but this is best avoided by those who do not hanker after unnecessary discomforts and the less pleasant type of adventure. Within the Andes proper everything is carried on mules, and on the narrow paths one has continually to pass or be passed by trains of laden beasts, bearing the produce of the hills and valleys or the imported wares of Europe and America.

Over the swiftest and deepest rivers there are generally bridges, but a stream flooded by heavy rain may hold one up for a week or more, and where the track is along the sides of precipitous ravines wash-outs and landslides are often serious obstacles. Despite the industry of the inhabitants, the primitive character of the roads in the Andes is a great hindrance to adequate development of the country, and when one hears of machinery for use in Mérida taking a year to get there from the terminus of the La Ceiba Railway one wonders that the prominence of the Andinos in politics has not secured for their States some beginning of a system of adequate roads suitable for wheel traffic. Railways have been projected, but the cost of building these in virgin country generally renders the freights so high that they do little or nothing for development. Roads may appeal less to the imagination than the more modern means of communication, but there can be little doubt that the often despised road in a country like Venezuela would for a time be a better investment for public, if not for private, capital.

The mineral wealth of the Andes is as yet practically untouched, yet copper and silver are known to occur in Táchira and Mérida; gold is said to have been found in the latter, and coal and petroleum occur in all three States.

The Andine States include some of the best coffee-lands in the republic, and Maracaibo coffee, as it is called, enjoys great favour in the United States. In the warmer regions good cocoa can be grown, while wheat is common in the upper temperate zones. Tobacco also flourishes in Mérida and Trujillo.

The forests of the mountain-flanks add to the botanic wealth of the region mahogany, ebony, lignum-vitæ, quinine, dividive, and many other valuable products hardly exploited as yet.

For population and revenue Trujillo stands first of the Andine States, Táchira second, and Mérida, though the largest in area, third. For convenience of description we will consider them in geographical order, beginning from the south.

The capital of Táchira is San Cristobal, founded on the left bank of the River Torbes by Juan Maldonado in 1561. Although, in approaching the town, the traveller who does not trace his route on a map would consider himself still on the Maracaibo side of the watershed, the waters of the Torbes flow round the mountains behind the town to join the Uribante, a sub-tributary of the Orinoco. The main watershed of the Venezuelan Andes at this point is probably less than 4,000 feet above the sea, and San Cristobal is well situated in respect of through traffic from the western Llanos to Zulia or Colombia. Despite its political importance, therefore, its aspect is in the main that of a busy commercial town situated in a fruitful valley.

As in all the Andine towns, the question of water supply is settled with comparative ease by leading water down from a spring or stream above and allowing this to follow stone channels in the centre of the cobbled streets, while side channels behind and under the houses provide continuously flushed drains emptying into the river. The system is not always as well or elaborately worked as in San Cristobal, but in essentials it is the same throughout the region. In addition to its through trade the town has several flourishing industries, not least of which is the manufacture of vermicelli, or fideos, used extensively, if not perpetually, in the soups of this part of the country; the beasts and stock products from the Llanos provide in addition raw materials for making candles and soap, as well as for the tanneries in the neighbourhood.

From San Cristobal roads lead to San Antonio on the Colombian frontier; to the Llanos down the Torbes and Quinimari valleys; to Uracá, the terminus of the Táchira Railway; and to Mérida.

San Cristobal being built on the slope of a steep range of hills, with a river flowing in a semicircle in front, it is impossible to leave the town on any of the main routes without crossing water, somewhat of a difficulty when unbridged streams are flooded. On the road which leads to Colombia, however, there is a bridge over the Torbes, which enables communications to be maintained at all seasons.

Fifteen miles down the valley to the south is the flourishing little town of Rubio, surrounded by some of the biggest and best coffee estates in the country, fitted with modern plant for handling the beans. Coal and, it is said, silver are to be found near by, and the Táchira Petroleum Company, a local affair, has produced and sold small quantities of illuminating oil in the neighbourhood for many years.

A good deal of the produce of these parts is shipped through Colombia in bond to avoid the additional, and often difficult, length of road to Uracá. San Antonio is the frontier town on the River Táchira, both river and State taking their name from a frontier Indian tribe; here is the terminus of the English railway which runs through Cúcuta to Puerto Villamizar. Once cocoa, coffee, and indigo were the chief products of the neighbourhood, but now, with the growth of Cúcuta and San Cristobal, it has been found more profitable to use the lands for grazing or for sugar.

The other main export route from the capital of Táchira passes through the small towns of Lobatera and Colón to Uracá, the terminus of the Táchira Railway leading to Encontrados in Zulia. Lobatera itself is something over 3,000 feet above the sea, on the Maracaibo side of the watershed, up to which the white road zigzags behind the town. Its productions are said to have decreased of late years, but I have pleasant recollections of the agreeable impression produced by these clean and apparently prosperous towns of Táchira, on first arriving there from the lowlands of Zulia, with their miserable huts and muddy, insanitary villages. People, housing, and food alike seemed vastly improved. Colón is the half-way house for arrivals from Uracá, and as a result has several hoteles. It is a neat, well-built little town, the surrounding hills and plateaux being chiefly devoted to stock-farming. Some ten miles to the north is the railway terminus in the small town of Uracá, on the edge of the hot lands and very damp in consequence, the mists banking up in the narrow valley nightly; coffee and cocoa seem to be the chief products of the neighbourhood.

Both the Encontrados road and that to Mérida pass through the little town of Táriba, about three miles east of San Cristobal, on the north bank of the Torbes. There are no bridges here over the stream, and as a result in time of floods would-be travellers are penned up in San Cristobal, for on both roads one must ford the stream below the town, and on the way to Mérida, a second ford is necessary immediately above; at the latter there is a foot bridge, and when the Torbes is in flood the mules are fairly hauled across the stream on a rope; the strong currents would otherwise carry them down over the rocks. It is interesting to watch and follow a man who knows these fords as he pricks his way along through the shallows, but they are a great hindrance to traffic.

Up the Torbes Valley and across the páramo of El Zumbador (8,000 feet), a day’s ride brings one to La Grita (I shall have to refer to páramos again later on). Near the watershed a road branches off to the east to Pregonero, capital of the Uribante district, in a valley whose products range from potatoes and wheat at the top to coffee and sugar at the bottom; out on the plains, too, there are big cattle-ranches whence comes much of the meat consumed in the Andine towns. The district needs roads for its development, and at present is rather an isolated, unvisited region.

Vargas or El Cobre is a pleasant little village on the northern or western side of the pass, and its alternative name is said to refer to mines of copper in the hills near by worked by the Spaniards, who made the bells of the little church from the metal.

Forty miles is the estimated distance from Táriba to La Grita, but the road is sufficiently good to make it seem shorter, and the view up the valley, with mountains rising tier upon tier into the clouds, is superb. The town was founded in 1576, on a gravel mesa or tableland, necessitated a steep climb before actually entering the town. Its position makes it peculiarly subject to earthquake shocks, but in spite of this the old churches and Government buildings are still standing. The many stores are an indication of the importance of La Grita as a market town, and on Sunday one finds the streets full of countrymen in charge of mules laden with the wheat, wool, tobacco, and cotton of the surrounding country. At 6,000 feet above the sea, the town has the reputation of being one of the healthiest in Venezuela, and certainly the apples, apricots, and peaches in the patios, with roses and violets beneath them, are a pleasant sight to the man from the north, who has found the “luscious fruits” and gorgeous flowers of the tropics a snare and delusion. A few miles down the river towards Uracá is Seboruco, with its copper-mines, soon, it is said, to be worked again. Not far above the town is the Pass of Portachuelo, which marks the boundary with Mérida, the central of the three Andine States.

Mérida is the mountain State par excellence of Venezuela, including within its boundaries the highest peaks and some of the hottest valleys in the country. With this variety of climate it is natural that the range of products should be wide, but bad roads and resulting high cost of transport have kept the country largely undeveloped.

The capital was founded in 1542 under the lengthy appellation of Santiago de los Caballeros de Mérida, and it has long been the seat of the Bishop of the Andes. A colporteur having recently been found in the diocese selling Bibles, the energetic occupant of the see promptly excommunicated him and all who had purchased the forbidden books; his zeal, however, seems merely to have rendered more marked the indifference of the male portion of the population to public religion of any kind.

The city is built on a high plateau like that of La Grita between the Rivers Mucujun and Chama, and towering above it to the east is the white-topped Sierra Nevada, while a lower but equally steep range bounds the valley to the west. The snow on the Sierras is said to have been retreating of recent years, but there are still perpetual snow-fields and glaciers round the summits, the permanent line being now at about 15,000 feet. The city has often suffered severe damage from earthquakes, but new buildings have always quickly taken the place of those destroyed. Partly, probably, on account of the humidity of the atmosphere of the valley, Mérida has a somewhat deserted look with its grass-grown streets, yet there are looms turning out cotton and woollen cloth, and it is an important market centre for the coffee, wheat, and sugar from the various zones in its neighbourhood.

The torrent of the Chama immediately above Mérida has been requisitioned to supply power for an electric lighting system in the city. The turbines were brought at great trouble and expense over the mountain track from La Ceiba, the journey occupying about a year, but in view of the determination which carried through such an enterprise, it is to be regretted that the results are not more impressive. Strings of three or four bulbs each across the street at regular intervals might provide an efficient light, but as a matter of fact they do not, the total number of lamps being far in excess of the capabilities of the present turbine installation, though much below the available water-power. As a result, while one may have the electric light in the house, it is better to resort to the homely candle for reading or writing after sunset.

What is chiefly needed for Mérida to-day is a good road to connect it with the lake, across which all the produce of the region has to travel to the sea. Long ago the project was formed of building a railway along the Chama Valley to connect with Santa Barbara on the Escalante, but the engineering difficulties in the gorges would probably prevent the carrying out of any such scheme just yet; a second idea, which has never received much attention, was to carry a line up the Mucujun, and so over the pass of the outer range of the Cordillera to Bobures, on the lake, a feasible scheme enough, though at the present stage a road would better supply the need of the place.

There have, from time to time, been reports of mines in the Sierra, but the best authenticated occurrence is that of gold and silver, near Estanques, on the main road to the lowlands; these deposits have never been worked, as far as I could ascertain. The chief assets of the district are at present the fertile lands of the Chama and tributary valleys. Down the former, on the way to Ejido, about seven miles from the capital, the road passes all the way through coffee and cacao plantations, with some open pasture-lands; beyond Ejido the valley becomes more and more barren towards Lagunillas, famed for its mineral lake, containing large quantities of urao or trona. The view over this little town to the snow-clad peaks above Mérida is very fine in the early morning, but the place seems to have little commerce. I must not omit mention of a pleasant incident which occurred near Lagunillas, showing the hospitable temper of the Andinos. We asked at a wayside store (empty of goods) if we might buy some of the oranges growing profusely in their garden. “With great pleasure,” said the proprietor, and brought us chairs that we might dismount and rest. Presently came plates of oranges cut up into a salad, a very welcome dish in these hot valleys. “And the charge?” we asked. “Nada, señores.” Nor would our kind hosts accept a centimo. We knew they would not have eaten the fruit themselves, but the spirit of hospitality was the same.

Two or three miles below Lagunillas is one of the worst bits of road in the Andes, and yet it is on the main route to the south. First, a descent down a steep zigzag brings one to a picturesque wooden bridge over the torrent of the Chama, giving the name to the group of houses near by of Puente Real. Not many years ago travellers and their baggage were taken over the stream in a sort of breeches-buoy, while their mules were dragged through the swift current below, and often only landed with difficulty far down on the opposite bank; the bridge is at least an advance on this primitive mode of transit.

The bottom of the bare steep-sided ravine is hot and dusty, and on the far side, after a mile or two, the road begins to follow the nearly vertical side, finally narrowing down to a mere path, with a precipice into the torrent below. This lasts for some four or five miles, and the whole stretch takes its name from the most unpleasant part of all, Las Laderas, or “the steeps,” just before the San Pablo tributary enters from the south. Here the height of the road above the stream gradually increases, until at length the descent to the side valley is accomplished in a short distance by what is practically a staircase of loose rock, buttressed with logs, while there is a sheer drop on the offside into the foaming torrent beneath; not a pleasant place on a dry day, and almost impassable on a wet one. Once at the bottom, the rest of the way, until more open valleys are reached, is a precipice road, generally, but not always, wide enough for two mules to pass.

Beyond Estanques the main valley narrows down to a gorge, but the road climbs over the hills to the side, and at length descends past a tile and brick making yard to the hot valley of the Mucuties with its cacao plantations. A picturesque bridge across the river leads to the parting of the roads, one going up the Mucuties to Tovar, the other down the Chama Valley to El Vigia, and so to the Zulia plains.

Tovar forms a local market-centre for the produce of the cocoa and coffee plantations of the valley, but beyond it Bailadores marks the downward limit of the wheatfields which make the top of the Mucuties ravine almost like a European landscape in time of harvest.

Northward of Mérida, the Chama Valley has some coffee plantations, but the road soon leaves these, and at Mucuchíes, the highest town in Venezuela (10,000 feet), we are in the region of pasture-land and potatoes, even wheat being absent in these high altitudes. There are a few scattered houses above Mucuchíes, one of which is a small inn known as Los Apartaderos, the best stopping-place to ensure a calm crossing of the pass next day, the winds rising normally towards midday.

These high exposed passes are known in Venezuela as páramos, a word as to whose precise meaning some doubt appears to exist, though Humboldt’s definition as “all passes above 1,800-2,200 Toises above the sea, where inclement rough weather prevails,” seems to cover the present use of the word. The páramo of Mucuchíes or Timotes over which passes the main road between Mérida and Trujillo is the highest in the Venezuelan Andes, the big wooden cross at the summit being about 14,500 feet above the sea. In the rainy season, owing to the dense mass of clouds on the pass, it is often deep in snow, and woe betide the unlucky traveller whose mule becomes paramada then! The verb derived from the generic name of these high passes is often applied jokingly to an individual who has merely got wet through and is cold and uncomfortable.

At Timotes, the first town on the north side of the pass, the tropical plants begin again to make their appearance, but the valley is chiefly occupied by grazing land, as far, at least, as the boundary of Trujillo.

The most northerly State of the trio is far more temperate in its general aspect than Mérida, though in Trujillo also there are páramos as well as tropical lowlands. The chief products are coffee and sugar, and while Mérida has its metallic ores, the most notable minerals here are coal and petroleum.

The capital dates back to 1556, and has been the scene of many notable events in the history of Venezuela, while its commercial prosperity tempted Gramont to march from La Ceiba and sack the town in 1678. It stands in a valley alone, surrounded by coffee plantations and canefields, which provide the principal articles of commerce in its markets. As is the case with San Cristobal, a ford on the main road to its port makes communications uncertain, although there is a second but difficult track over the hills which can be used in emergencies; either route means about twenty-five miles to Motatán and the same distance on a branch road to Valera, an important town on the road to Mérida.

Although Trujillo is the capital of the State and Motatán the present terminus of the La Ceiba Railway, it is in Valera that most of the important commerce of the State is carried on, a fact due, on the one hand, to the more advantageous position of the town in regard to the fertile valley of the foothills, on the other, to its age in comparison with Motatán, regarded as only the temporary terminus. Sugar and coffee estates, bearing evidence of prosperity in their appearance, occupy the valley in which the town of Valera lies, and the produce of these, as well as that from the regions around, passes through the hands of the merchants of the place on its way to Maracaibo. There are some hot springs near by, but so far Valera has acquired no fame as a health resort. There is a good water supply from mountain streams far up the valley, brought to the town through cisterns and mains, arranged by its energetic citizen Señor Antonio Braschi, who, like many of the prospering merchants and professional men of Trujillo, Zulia, and Mérida, claims Italy as his mother country.

The La Ceiba Railway was built with the aid of Venezuelan capital, and is controlled by a local board of directors, though the actual construction of the line was carried out by French engineers. It is proposed to replace the wooden bridges by those of iron and to effect other improvements in the permanent way which will tend to avoid the occasional stoppages of the past.

Not far to the west of Valera are the towns of Betijoque and Escuque, both of considerable antiquity, situated in richly fertile valleys; near the former there are well-known oil-springs, so far not exploited, while the coffee of Escuque is of specially fine quality.

From the streets of Trujillo the hills can be followed with the eye to a pass, of threatening appearance when covered with heavy clouds, far to the south-east the Páramo de la Cristalina. Over this lies the way to Boconó, one of the most picturesquely situated towns in Venezuela in its fertile valley, which produces at different altitudes sugar, coffee, and wheat.

Following the road northward from Trujillo, down the valley and then up the cuestas (sharply zigzag roads up steep ascents), we come to Santa Ana, or Santana, a place famous in the history of the revolution as the meeting-place of Bolivar and Morillo after the declaration of the armistice. A column outside the town commemorates the event. It has little attraction to-day, save as a half-way house to Carache, being a small village situated on a cold and misty limestone ridge between two deep valleys.

Carache, beyond it, is near the north-east boundary of the State, and near also to the northern end of the Andine region proper. The dry valley in which the well-built little town stands seems fit to support only goats, a few cattle, and some cotton, but the hills and valleys round grow wheat, sugar, and coffee, giving business to more than one merchant in the town. From the bare hills behind the town a glimpse may often be obtained through the clouds of the Lake of Maracaibo far below the west, while over the clouds to the south are the peaks of the Cordillera, a splendid prospect on a suitable day.

North-west of Carache is an almost unexplored area, extending down the flanks of the Sierra del Empalado to the lake shore, one day, perhaps, to be visited and developed, but as yet hardly known save to those who cut dividive in the forests.

There must be great possibilities for such a region as that of the Andes, where much territory remains unexplored, while it includes, as it were, all the climates of the globe. Many plants have already been acclimatised, and of those whose cultivation is already carried on on a larger scale much more might be made; the coffee and cocoa of the moister tropical valleys, the wheat of the open higher zones, the possible cotton of the Chama, Carache, and other valleys are among their number. The possible culture of fruits of all kinds for which a demand might be expected in Venezuela generally as the country develops, and the less permanent resources of mines and forests, make an increasing prosperity for the Andine States almost assured, but adequate and permanent means of transport are required before they can be developed to their full extent. The long mule-trains on the mountain roads are picturesque, but roads fit for wheel traffic would leave these where desirable and yet provide the means of quicker and cheaper transit for the produce of the fertile valleys of the Cordillera.