It was only a short ride past the official Brazilian buildings and you arrive at a couple of fancy monuments with flags and you know you have crossed from Brazil into Venezuela. The Venezuelans border building is a fancy big entry statement which looked new and pretty cool but apparently it’s been built for a long time. I rode up and parked my bike in the parking area. I was the only one there and the place looked deserted. I was beginning to think the rumours were true and it was closed. The first building I went into was empty. I crossed the road and found a small window with someone inside. Apparently this was the right place. I was hunched over and trying to speak and listen to Spanish through a small hole in the window. Finally the lady opened the door and invited me inside.

She was lovely. And very interested in hearing my story. Her younger co-worker less so. Eventually after our nice chat in Spanish she stamped my passport, gave me a hug, and wished me well and sent me across the road to do the paperwork for my motorbike. It was the empty building that I was in before. Eventually someone turned up. I knew that I was supposed to have insurance but hoped I could get some at the border or in the next town. The young guy processing me was friendly and then used his own mobile to set up my insurance. He was gone for a while and then came back with an invoice for about $20US (I can’t remember exactly) which I paid in cash. He then went away for a while again and came back with some paperwork and sent me across the road to some more people. They were in uniforms and got me to fetch my bike and then they checked it over and disappeared for a while. Eventually after half an hour a guy returned and gave me my passport and paperwork and wished me a good journey and left. I was in.

My plan was to head north to the coast which was about 800kms and rest up on a beach for a few days. I planned a couple of stops on the way which were reliant on how long I would spend at the border. So I decided just to ride north until I was tired of it or it was getting late and then find a hotel. It was a nice ride on a reasonable road. The scenery was interesting. It is known as the Grand Savannah and not unlike parts of the Kimberley at home. Not a lot of small towns.

I saw a few people parked up at some place with some steps going up over a hill. It was time for a drink so I rode in for a sticky. It cost a $1US to go in. I had no idea what it was. Up the stairs, over a hill, down a path, through some trees and I ended up at a lovely waterfall. The falls were pretty but not spectacular but the amazing part which made it worth more than a dollar was the red and black rock. It almost looked fake. I’d never seen rock like it before. I didn’t stop for a swim but admired it for a while and then headed back the 5 or so minutes to my bike. And continued on as it was looking like rain.

I wasn’t dressed appropriately for rain and just as it started to spit I found a little thatched shelter by the side of the road that already had a motorbike in it. I squeezed in as well, while it began to pour down. The bike belonged to two young local guys who told me they were miners. It seems like lots of people have little mines all over the southern part of Venezuela. They showed me a few specks of gold. As we chatted, I geared up and then we all decided there was a break in the rain we left. Both of them, on the one small bike.

It started raining again but I was kitted out properly, so I was fine. It wasn’t cold and I was dry. I came into a small town and saw a little restaurant barbequing meat out the front, under a dodgy looking roof extension. I had a great feed and it was cheap. It seems like there are a lot of indigenous people in this savannah area and they had an indigenous weather chart on the wall of the restaurant. It reminded me of the ones in Broome.

I continued on and arrived in a smallish town called Las Claritas, that looked like it would have a few hotels and places to eat. iOverlander and booking dot com didn’t show any accommodation in town but google had two options. They didn’t look great and turned out they were both booked out anyway. The town itself made me feel like I was on the set of a weird western movie. If two guys stepped out onto the street and had a shootout I wouldn’t have been surprised. It just reeked of lawlessness. The street was terrible with deep puddles everywhere. The footpaths were pretty much non existent.

I spotted a hotel and checked it out. They had one room. A cancellation. It was awful but available. No windows. Uncomfortable bed. Noisy aircon but a least aircon. Dodgy door lock and a horrible bathroom.  No shower for me that night. No towel or toilet paper. But worst of all my bike would have to stay on the street. They said that they had a camera and it would be fine. So. All considered. I probably wasn’t going to find somewhere else so I took it. 

I put my alarm sensor disk lock on my front wheel and a padlock on the back one. And my cover so that it became invisible. My room was straight up the steps from the front door so I hoped I’d hear the alarm if it went off.

I went for a walk and tried several places to buy a takeaway mid strength beer but they only had light beer. I eventually found a little shop with a couple of locals working their way through a crate of beer. They insisted that I drink one with them. They were local indigenous miners and in town for Easter. Of course. Easter. No wonder town was so busy. It wasn’t a bar but they lady sold cold beer and these guys were her regulars. We had a good chat in Spanish. And we probably understood at least half of what we were talking about. People came into the shop to buy things like single cigarettes or some homemade treats. Or beer. And they all paid in gold. The lady had a little set of digital scales and some tweezers. People stored their gold in hankies or small tins or in their phone case. She would pick out a couple of specks of gold to get the right amount. It was pretty interesting. The drinkers insisted I had another beer to finish off their crate and then headed off. I stayed a while and chatted to the lady. She said it was a rough town.  She also said it was illegal to sell strong beer in town because of the problems it caused. I could imagine it. I stayed until she locked up and then wandered back to my lovely room.

My motorbike was still there which was nice. Next morning I was up early and went straight downstairs to check my bike. Still there. Nice. I packed up and paid in $US. I had no gold or local currency. The internet had been crap but slightly better at the main desk. It was then I got a call from home.  

One of my daughters had a personal issue that had her quite distraught. She was safe but very upset. And then the internet died. It cut in and out over an hour while I pieced together the story. I said that I would be staying in a big city that night and that I would call her when I got in about 6:00pm. It was about 450kms and I was now leaving late. My mind was all over the place but I had to focus. I badly needed fuel and I hadn’t seen any petrol stations. There were lots of shops that had bottles of fuel and I found one that accepted $US. 

I don’t actually remember much of the ride but late arvo I found some food places that also had fuel. So I filled me and the bike. The mother and daughter who ran the place I stopped at were pretty funny. The daughter was trying to set me up with her mum. When I was about to leave she tried to climb on the back of the bike. It was a nice distraction but I still had 200kms to go. 

I finally made it into Ciudad Guyana and had managed to find some internet and book a hotel which was not too far away. It was starting to get dark and drizzle rain and it was about 6:10pm. I was tired but was almost there.