856 
The journey resembled climbing a ladder 
of stone. 
Once, on our way, we crossed a stream 
that tumbled down over a bed of smooth 
rock. Along its course monoliths of 
very regular formations added to the 
picturesque view. I stopped to admire 
the sight, glad of a chance to rest. Never 
have I been so hot as I was on that 
climb. One does not realize the debili- 
tating heat of the tropics while sitting 
still in the breeze. But the violent exer- 
cise, laden down as I was with my share 
of the burdens, brought every particle of 
heat in my body to the surface. I found 
that the perspiration was running off the 
ends of my fingers and shaking from my 
face with the jar of every step. The 
stones under foot were moist and slip- 
pery, and considerable extra muscular 
effort was needed to keep a firm footing 
and avoid a fall. All the time we re- 
mained in the jungle. Only once, by 
going out of our way, did we catch a 
glimpse through the foliage of the other 
side of the ravine. 
It was a great relief when I finally sat 
down on a fallen tree at the top of the 
gorge and called for water. We had 
halted at the edge of the small savanna 
that borders the bank of the river at this 
point. Out on to this sandstone plateau 
Grant went with a saucepan to get me a 
drink. In a minute he returned, bring- 
ing me a cup of liquid the color and 
temperature of tea. Protest was useless. 
It was a 20-minute walk to the river 
above the fall, and meanwhile the only 
water obtainable was from the shallow 
pools in the rock, where the sun had 
beaten down upon it for hours. 
I was eager to reach the fall. Leaving 
the others behind to make camp, Grant 
and I, armed with my camera, and the 
umbrella for shade, started at once. The 
edge of the jungle is abrupt. A few 
steps brought us out on to the Kaieteur 
savanna. This interesting plateau, cover- 
ing not more than a square mile, is a 
barren stretch of level sandstone. A 
fibrous plant, very much like sisal, and 
an abundance of rare orchids are about 
all that thrive on the wet rocks. Scraggy 
bushes struggle along in the hollows, 
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 
where a little soil has collected, and im- 
pede the otherwise easy walking. From 
this savanna we had an opportunity for 
the first time to look out over a wide 
stretch of country. In the purple dis- 
tance to the southwest we saw mountains 
on the Brazilian line, many miles away. 
Plodding on over the plateau, we 
dived into a clump of bushes that bor- 
dered it and a moment later came out 
upon the brink of a precipice which fell 
perpendicularly below us 800 feet. Op- 
posite rose majestically the other side of 
the gorge. To the right, perhaps 500 
yards away, I saw the fall! 
It is impossible to describe the emo- 
tion of awe which came over me as [| 
stood there with my single Indian guide 
gazing upon that obscure and isolated 
wonder of the world. It was some time 
before the definite impression of details 
began to strike me. 
Grant was talking in his peculiar 
“baby” English, “The Hallo: @her@ld 
Man,” he said, “in our talk, Kaveiuk 2 
Long ago an old man of the village above 
here had so many ‘jiggers’ in his feet he 
was no more use. So they tied him in 
a canoe and let him go. He turned to 
stone, and his boat, too. You see him?” 
It was true that in the turbulent mass at 
the foot of the fall two of the boulders 
stood out clearly in the shape of an old 
man and his canoe. 
There was no way to judge of the 
comparative size of the fall from where 
I stood. I remembered that in Saint 
Peter’s, in Rome, I had judged from one 
end of the long nave that an angel at the 
other was on a level with my eyes; yet 
when I reached the angel I found it far 
above me. The same illusion distorted 
Kaieteur. I tried to recall some struc- 
ture 750 feet high. It occurred to me 
that the Metropolitan Life tower in New 
York was not so tall! The comparison 
was striking. 
I was greatly impressed by the soft- 
ness of the monstrous fall. A smooth 
but rapid river nearly 400 feet wide 
flows quietly to the brink and turns 
quietly downward. In its fall it breaks 
into soft white mist and reaches the 
bottom in a chaos of seething clouds. 
