Part 8: The Journey to the Origin - The Tepui
The home of the ancestral spirits, the Pemon - the indigenous people of Venezuela.
The Pemon have a deep understanding of nature and live in harmonious connection and balance with nature.
They consider themselves guardians of the tepuis and wish to preserve these sacred places for future generations. This awareness of protecting and preserving their environment is consistent with their spiritual beliefs and demonstrates how closely their physical existence is connected to their spiritual world.
The journey from Macuro takes time. The ferry, the bus to Caracas, which only breaks down twice this time, the journey to Marleen and Lucas in Caracas, who lovingly host us, and two days later, the neighbor who takes us to the airport at 4 a.m.
The plane ended up being delayed by about five hours and was only replaced once before we finally took off. The flight was short, but the view during landing was spectacular.
Table mountains, huge rivers and so much space.
We land in the middle of the national park. A large strip of asphalt, which returns to normal pedestrian traffic every day from 4 p.m., once the day's plane has landed and taken off again.
You can only enter Tepui National Park accompanied by a tour guide.
Mumba and Jacqueline warmly welcome us and our fellow travelers.
We drive to the Osprey Tours base in large, open trucks with benches on the loading area.
This is where we'll spend our last night, have our first lunch, and drop off some luggage. Then we'll be off.
A boat, which can accommodate the whole group (about 10 people from all over the world, plus 4 helpers and Mumba), will be our companion for the next few days.
About a minute after takeoff, we all realize why we should pack raincoats. Well...if you're wet, you can't get wetter. :)
We rush upstream. 
At the beginning, Mumba explained to us that the rivers were very dry at the moment. Actually, too dry to reach Salto Angle, the highest waterfall in the world. This naturally caused considerable displeasure among some participants, even though it's almost normal during the dry season. And also somewhat logical.
We quickly learn that the river doesn't have enough water to reach the very top.
After half an hour, everyone gets out! The women to the side, the men into the water. For 40 minutes, 10 men push the boat up the rapids with all their might. Impressive. The power of people and the power of nature.
Our small boat struggled in some places. And our flight delay didn't exactly help us arrive at base camp on time.
It gets darker and darker. The full moon illuminates the beautiful Table Mountains.
It's a mystery to me how the captain can see anything in the dark, but it will remain one of dozens of times this man impresses me with his ability to control the water.
"Get out one more time, please. We have to walk a little and then the boat will take us to the other side, to the camp. If you have a lamp, please use it."
Over hill and dale, without a path, but right through the dark jungle, the adventure really begins.
After about 20 minutes, the boat, which had passed the last rapid of the day, takes us to the other side of the river.
Our backpacks are already lying in the sand when a young man from the team casually says, "Oh, a tarantula." What?! When I ask him where the tarantula might have gone, he shrugs with a smile and heads back to camp.
Steve is carrying two backpacks because I decided to be on the safe side and not touch anything anymore.
The camp is super cute, the team starts cooking, we set up the hammock oasis and look forward to eating and sleeping.
Only the next morning do we realize where we actually are. In the middle of the table mountains. Wow! This nature, the birds, the sounds of the animals. A turtle strolls through the camp. 
We go on a hike with Mumba through the jungle, up the river.
Again and again we connect with the great gods of this place, give thanks and pray for rain to make the seemingly impossible possible.
We would love to see and feel the Salto Angel.
Arriving at the river, we enjoy the almost indescribably clear water and invite Mumba to a water ceremony. He shares an indigenous song with us. What a blessing. 
Plants are used for traditional medicine and rituals, legends and myths are passed down, and deeply spiritual practices are performed.
We'll end the day with the same legends and stories around the fire, a fire ceremony, and a plan for the following days. Because we probably won't be doing the Angel Falls.
After breakfast and growing excited about how wonderful it is to sleep in hammocks (hint: slanted), we pack our things and head to the boat. We plan to head to another camp, again downstream, where we'll take a short hike, see a small waterfall, and explore the jungle. Mumba says he needs to make a quick phone call, gets into the boat, and heads "in the direction of his signal."
Twenty minutes later, he returns with a huge surprise.
The gods are on our side and unexpectedly, it has rained so much upstream in the last two nights that we will probably make it to the waterfall.
Everyone bursts into joy. Mumba winks at us. He's grateful that people come to this sacred place, not just for a photo or a moment, but to connect with the energy of the place and respect the gods and ancient traditions.
And then we're off. Everyone sits in the boat, full of anticipation, anticipating what awaits us. The captain never ceases to impress. The smallest narrow passages, the largest rapids—nothing seems to be a problem for him. You don't really hear him talk. When I ask him after the trip how long he's been boating, he simply says, "My whole life."
After more than four hours of exciting river travel, past small alligators and large spiders, in rain and sun, between impressive mesas, we finally see it: Angel Falls. We made it.
Of course, during the dry season, it doesn't have enough water to make it seem enormous. But the closer we get, the more impressive it becomes.
Once on land, another beautiful 1.5-hour hike through the jungle begins. Over roots, among plants, and surrounded by animals.
We reach a plateau, as if nature had built a viewing platform for the somersault.
The water dances, revealing its forms and facets. We connect as a small group, share cacao with the sacred mountains, and savor the moment.
Five minutes further on, the next highlight awaits us. A pool of water into which the water from the somersault lands. This water. This freshness. This holiness.
The rest of the group is already on its way back, but the five of us, still with Mumba, are still feeling the place and the energy. We refuel.
Inspired, we make our way back to camp to arrive before dark.
The next morning, everyone returns to the village. Everyone is happy.
From the village, more impressive excursions await us. We'll visit waterfalls, walk under them, attend an event where the village children share indigenous songs and dances with us, and much more.
The energy of this place is so enriching and fulfilling for us that we rebook our return flight and stay three nights longer.
This gives us the chance to hike with Mumba up one of the table mountains, spend the night there and experience an even more intense connection with nature within our small group.
It's almost a shame we're moving on. This place, this feeling, the tepui, has emptied, shared, and given us so much. Thank you <3
