From the roar of the
water I was sure that the fall would be in sight if we turned the corner
at the bend of the river; accordingly I ordered the boatmen to row as
far as they could. To this they at first objected, as they wished to
stop at the deserted fishing village, which they explained was to be the
limit of the journey, further progress being impossible.
However, I explained that I merely wished to see the falls, and they
rowed immediately up the stream, which was now strong against us. Upon
rounding the corner a magnificent sight burst suddenly upon us. On
either side the river were beautifully wooded cliffs rising abruptly to
a height of about 300 feet; rocks were jutting out from the intensely
green foliage; and rushing through a gap that cleft the rock exactly
before us, the river, contracted from a grand stream, was pent up in a
narrow gorge of scarcely fifty yards in width. Roaring furiously through
the rock-bound pass, it plunged in one leap of about 120 feet
perpendicular into a dark abyss below.
The fall of water was snow-white, which had a superb effect as it
contrasted with the dark cliffs that walled the river, while the
graceful palms of the tropics and wild plantains perfected the beauty of
the view.
