November 1, 1994

           There are no official journals for this month, but I tend to keep travel logs. This trip to Venezuela was centered on Cuidad Bolivar, a city on the Orinoco river in the southeast part of the country. It’s grueling, but the best way to get there is by bus out of Caracas. Either a sweat box or one with the A/C turned below freezing, take your pick.

           So, for the next few days, I’ll feature pictures of a collapsed microwave tower. I’ve written plenty about this but don’t recall if any of it ever made the blog. While rooting through the shed today (April 5, 2023) I found a set of photos. Expect overlaps and repeats, this was too long ago to check for duplications.
           On the way into town, the bus passed this flattened tower, which I will unfold the tale for you for the next few days. That’s Gilbert, the tour guide who spoke every language likely to ever show in Venezuela. Gilbert Anselmo Montez, he was old and dying and unaware that he probably qualified for all kind so American help, as he was native Apache.

           The problem is, he went AWOL from the army in Alaska, then skipped out to Venezuela, where I met him in around 1991. I tried to help, but in those days I was busy enough trying to help myself. The terrain is flat and this tower would be the only cellular link for most of the eastern half of the country. The largest nearby city is an oil boom-town, El Tigre.