I went to the center of the old town and to the only bakery open just opposite the main square and had an orange juice and a ham and cheese toast. Just a short drive and I had passed the port and the military naval area to reach the first beach of Puerto Cabello. I continued for another ten kilometers, drove up into the mountains and at the peak I could see the bay of Patanemo. Another ten minutes and I was at the entrance gate of the National Park San Esteban.

I was the first tourist to arrive this morning and asked the park assistant about the possibility to walk the path to the bay of Yapuasca. The park assistant did not know about the path, 99 % of the tourists come for the beach in the bay of Patanemo and not for hiking or animal watching. He referred me to the few fishermen at the end of the beach. I parked the car, put sun lotion and walked towards the end of the beach. The fishermen were having breakfast and were not that surprised as the park assistant when I asked for the path to the bay of Yapuasca.

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I had to cross the small river and the path started right on the other side. The fishermen were joking about the German Brazilian tourist, white as the wall and with Havaianas ready for hiking in the mountains. I asked them to look for me in case I would not be back by 15:00. The path went along the sea and then up to the first mountain top and down again into a small valley. The walk in the mountains was quite shady, just the part in the valley was sunny and hot. After I had passed the valley I had to walk up a second mountain top and then finally down into a big and open bay.

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I had my small problems with the mountains and realized that I needed more practice to not fail completely at Mount Roraima. My legs were not trained for the steep way up the mountains and started shaking slightly. I had no problems with my stamina and my will power but my legs needed practice. I reached the mangroves and from here I could hear the sound of the waves of the sea. The path was narrow but clearly visible and I reached the beach at the bay of Yapuasca.

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I was not the only person at the bay; three fishermen were working in the water on the cages and the nets. They could perfectly stand and cross the bay from one end to the other. The bay was very small and had a narrow entrance; the water was transparent and nice warm. I sat down for one hour and watched the fishermen.

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For a second I was hoping for a boat to come to pick them up and ask me to join. A boat came, not to pick them up but with four more fishermen to throw out another net further in the bay. The second had passed and the thought was gone and I was now sure that I would want to walk back. I needed the practice badly.

The sun was getting hot and I wanted to be back before midday. I started walking and just in one curve I lost the track and had to search for a few minutes to be back on the path again. On the first steep bit up the first mountain I suddenly had a fisherman with a plastic bucket full of seashells in front of me. At his next rest I caught up with him and asked him if I could lift the bucket; my guess was between five and seven kilos. I asked him for how much he would sell the seashells. I could not believe his answer, 400 Bolivares, 3 Brazilian Reales or 1 Euro. 1 Euro was his daily salary for walking an hour and a half to the bay, an hour of work at the bay and again an hour and a half of walking back to the village. He was very determined and confident when he added “better than nothing”.

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