There were two ways to cross into Guyana; the illegal way, or “the back track”, by speed boat, or the standard way through passport control with the ferry. The van I was in stopped by the back track route to drop off some people who didn't need to have there passports stamped or people smuggling goods into Guyana. From there we drove about an hour and half down the river to get to the ferry crossing in South Drain. There we went through the immigration routine to leave Suriname, took the ferry across, then went through more immigration formalities to get into Guyana.
In the French Guyana and Suriname there were very few people living between the cities. In contrast Guyana had people living all along the coastal road to the capital, Georgetown. I travel to Georgetown with some very friendly people that I met on the ferry. Along the way we crossed more rivers and passed plenty of cattle grazing along the road.
In Georgetown I stayed with Kastan, an American woman doing volunteer work in Guyana. There were a number of volunteer organizations in Guyana and the first night we went out to with a number of volunteers. The next day we made a nice dinner.
Georgetown was a edgy city. It had some beauty but it was mostly a chaotic mix of one and two story buildings with wild markets and bustling streets. It's not supposed to be the safest place in the world but the people seemed extremely friendly to me. As a white guy you stand out in Guyana. In some ways you are a target in other ways a star. I've found it's mostly how you carry yourself that determines how you are received. Georgetown was an aggressive but friendly place as long as you could play along and stick up for yourself. I was amused by all of the people telling me I had to be careful. It was ironic to find so much help in a place was painted in such a terrible light. One guy, a random stranger that I asked for directions, actually told me that I had to be careful who I talked to, not to just walk up and talk to strangers. I pointed out that he seemed to be alright. “Of course” he said, then he went on to show me how he dealt with street crime as he pulled out a gun. The next guy I talked to looking for directions was one of the nicest guys I've ever met and he gladly walked with me several blocks to point me in the right direction just being friendly. It would be foolish to think that crime doesn't exist in such an environment but still you have to wonder how much of the “crime” is actually fear. My philosophy,people aren't as bad as they are made out to be.
Georgetown and coastal Guyana was one distinct part of the country, another part was the peaceful, sparsely populated interior. Unlike French Guiana and Suriname, one part of Guyana's interior was accessible. Traveling southwest into the interior the rain forests opened up to the beautiful Grand Savanna on the way to Brazil. In order for me to get to Venezuela, Guyana's neighbor to the north, I actually had to travel the the extent of Guyana's interior to cross into Brazil to the be able to travel north to Venezuela by land. Guyana and Venezuela have no legal border crossings.
To get to the interior was interesting. On the evening I was leaving the bus was full so I rode in the only other transportation option available, a cramped minivan. We left in the evening with a full load and banged along a pot-holed, dirt road all through the night. The road was notoriously bad and it was the end of the rainy season so getting stuck was not out of the question. The driver was well prepared to dig his way out of the mud. I asked him how he got “unstuck” and he just grinned and said with a smirk that he has his ways. That was convincing enough so I knocked myself out with Dramamine and didn't worry about a thing. It was a crazy ride from what I remember of the beginning. We apparently made such great time that we arrived to the river crossing at 3 in the morning! River crossing? That was a surprise for me as well. I was in a deep Dramamine coma and surprised to wake up to people shuffling out of the mini van. They were going to sleep in rented hammocks at a camp a few miles from the river crossing. We had made such great time driving like maniacs that we had to wait another 3 hours to cross the river on a ferry which began to operate at six in the morning. I was a bit confused why we raced like hell to crash in hammocks for a few hours in the middle of the night. I didn't get the logic but I must not have cared too much since I crashed across the bench seat for the next few hours.
The next day our friendly driver pulled open the van door and woke me up. He was a Guyanese driver but most of the passengers were Brazilian. As I was stretching out and waking up to the dawn the energetic driver was getting ready for the day and made the comment that the Brazilians were pigs as he collected their loose trash and threw it out the door onto the ground. It was an interesting insight in to the concept of littering. Apparently it was only liter until it was out of the car. Notice the plastic bottles in front of the van.
At this point there were now two mini-vans and the bus waiting at the camp, cued up to cross on the same ferry. Our van backed on to the ferry first and everything was going smoothly until the bus attempted to drive onto the ferry. One of the boards that served as a ramp broke as the bus was backing onto the ferry, which resulted in lowering the bus just enough to catch the transmission and pull it apart. The bus was immobilized on the ferry for almost an hour until a piece of heavy equipment rolled up to drag it off the ferry. Once the bus was out of the way the second van drove on and we were off. I guess it was good that I couldn't ride on the bus after all! After the ferry made a turn and a quick chug across the river we were on the road again!
On the other side of the river the was a police check and lots of jungle. Soon the landscape began to open up and the jungle gave way to the Grand Savanna and Amerindian villages. My van was continuing on to the border with Brazil another two hours away, but I decided to get off in the small town of Annai to see a bit of the life in the Grand Savannah.
It was a beautiful and quiet part of the country with not much going on. it was two hours from the border with Brazil and only one bus a day and few vehicles that passed by each morning. I stayed at the only pit stop between Georgetown and the border. From there hiked around and had a look at the village. People were friendly but there wasn't much to do. I slept in a hammac that night and caught the only bus the next morning.
It was a scenic bus ride to the border before getting to the chaotic town of Lethem. In Letham I went through passport control and then it was over the bridge to Brazil.
Crab legs
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