Image unavailable: Sketch Map of SOUTHERN BOLIVIA to illustrate the route of HIRAM BINGHAM from LA QUIACA to CHALLAPATA[Larger version] [Largest version]
bitter end. For, in 1824, it witnessed the last campaign, the final act in the drama of Spain’s Colonial Empire, when La Serna, last viceroy of Peru, was defeated by the patriot forces under General Sucre in the battle of Ayacucho.
In journeying over the three hundred miles of this historic highway, I should have preferred to have hired mules for the whole trip, but nobody was willing to undertake the contract. We were told that “in the good old times” before the railway came to Cuzco, it was very easy to hire mules; andarrieroswere willing enough to go anywhere, but now there was so little demand for this sort of thing that the supply had stopped. The best we could do was to get anarrieroto take us to Abancay, the capital of the next Department.
Two American civil engineers whom I had met in Arequipa had told me that the journey from Cuzco to Huancayo would be full of trouble and countless difficulties, as a large part of the region was uninhabited! They said that if it were possible to buy a tent in Cuzco, to do so, by all means, as we should otherwise be obliged to spend many nights in the open, exposed to rain and snow. They had not been over the road but had lived for months in Cuzco and had “heard all about it.” I mention this merely as an instance of the difficulty of finding out the truth about South America by hearsay.
We now learned from those who had actually been over the road that while there were no inns to be encountered anywhere except in Ayacucho, it would be only owing to extremely bad luck if we failed toreach the shelter of a village every night. Accordingly we contented ourselves with a few canned goods and kitchen utensils and found them to be all that was necessary.
In the Peruvian highlands the rains commence in November and continue until the end of March. February is supposed to be the worst of all. During that month the discomfort of travelling over the bridle-paths of the Andes is so great that the natives never undertake a journey for pleasure and stay at home as much as possible. Yet it was February that we had chosen for our march. It was “Hobson’s choice,” but I was not sorry. Several travellers have given a picture of the region as it appears in the dry season when the roads are comparatively good. We were to have an opportunity of seeing what they could be like in the worst of the rainy season, and we were further favored by the fact that this particular February turned out to be “the rainiest month of the rainiest season that any one remembered to have experienced in Peru for at least twenty-five years.” In a word, we were to see the mountain trails at their worst.
We left Cuzco on the morning of the first of February, 1909. The day promised ill. Rain fell in torrents. The preceding day we had received calls from a number of local dignitaries, all of whom assured us that they would be on hand in the morning to escort us out of town. But the continuous downpour overcame their conscientious scruples. Even the Prefect’s polite orderly, who had been unremitting in his attention, was glad enough totake our hint that we were sufficiently honored by his accompanying us for three blocks from the hotel.
The Prefect had been very solicitous about our welfare and, although we assured him that we preferred to travel without a military escort, he insisted that a sergeant and at least one soldier should accompany us as long as we were in his Department. I never discovered why he was so insistent. There was no danger, and highway robbery is unheard of in Peru. Possibly he was afraid that thedelegadosmight otherwise go hungry at villages where inhospitable, half-starved Quichuas would say that there was no food to be had; or he may have thought it undignified for us to travel without an escort. Whatever his reasons, he meant well and it was not a case of graft, for the soldiers were ordered to accompany us at the expense of the government.
We started off in a northwesterly direction, leaving Sacsahuaman on the right. After climbing out of the Cuzco valley we descended gradually to the great plain of Anta, famous as the scene of numerous battles in the wars of the Incas. We crossed it by the ancient Inca road, a stony pathway five or six feet wide, with ditches and swamps on either side. The Peruvians have allowed it to fall into decay, and for a good part of the distance it has disappeared. At noon we reached Puquiura, a village with a plaza very like that of Tiahuanaco. At half past three, after making a long detour in order to avoid the swamps and ponds that in the wet season cover the direct road, we crossed a little stone bridge and rode into the dismal plaza of the old Indian town ofHuarocondo. This is only a few miles from Urubamba, and the remarkably interesting ruins of Ollantaytambo, which have been so graphically described by Squier.
Unfortunately we had no time to visit them and took instead the road to the southwest. Skirting the hills north of the plain of Anta, we passed several great terraces a third of a mile long and fourteen or fifteen feet high, and towards evening entered Zurita, a small Indian town. Here we were directed to the house of a hospitable Gobernador where we found that two Peruvian travellers had preceded us.
As in other houses of the better class in this vicinity, the entrance was through a large gate into a courtyard. Opposite the gate was a two-story building with a balcony running the length of the second floor. On another side of the court were smaller structures one of which had a wide stone verandah where thearrierosand the soldiers piled up the saddles and bags and spread their blankets for the night. Two unfortunate parrots, cold, sickly, and bedraggled, had their perches attached to the posts of the verandah.
An hour after our arrival, four Indianalcaldesandtenientescarrying silver-tipped canes as symbols of office, presented themselves in the courtyard in answer to the summons of the Gobernador. When that official appeared on the balcony, they humbly removed their hats and stood in silence while he told them how many bundles of fresh barley straw to bring for our mules. An hour later they returned with other Indians who, acting under their orders,brought thecebada. The conversation was carried on in Quichua, which we were unable to follow, but the Gobernador said that for the fodder thealcaldeswanted onesol, a Peruvian silver dollar worth forty-eight cents. This we cheerfully gave him, whereupon, in a most unabashed manner, he put thesolin his pocket, took out a few small coins worth about half asoland threw them down into the courtyard where they were gratefully picked up by thealcaldes.
We left Zurita the next morning, accompanied by the Gobernador and our fellow lodgers. They were all well-mounted on excellent horses. The horsemen of this vicinity affect a bit of harness that seems to be a relic of the trappings of Spanish war horses. The crupper is covered with a V-shaped piece of solid leather elaborately stamped and marked. From it hang hip straps supporting very loose breeching that dangles almost to the points of the hocks and actually rests on the ham strings. Although it is of no use whatever, and in fact, actually impedes the horse’s action, the effect is rather picturesque.
Leaving thearrieroand his pack mules to follow in charge of our military escort, we pushed on at a good pace with our friends and found ourselves at noon at Challabamba on the divide that separates the waters of the river Urubamba from those of the Apurimac. In marked distinction to the grassy, treeless plain of Anta from which we had just ascended, we saw before us deep green, wooded valleys.
The trail, a rocky stairway not unlike the bed of a mountain torrent, led us rapidly into a warm tropical region whose dense foliage and tangled vines were grateful enough after the bleak mountain plateau. Beautiful yellow broom flowers were abundant. The air was filled with the fragrance of heliotrope. Parti-colored lantanas ran riot through a maze of agaves and hanging creepers. We had entered a new world.
A steep descent brought us to the town of Limatambo where there are interesting terraces and other evidences of an Inca fortress. The valley of the Limatambo River is here extremely narrow and the fortifications were well placed to defend an enemy coming against Cuzco from the west and north.
Rain had been falling most of the day and the river Limatambo had risen considerably. The ford was quite impassable, and we were obliged to use a frail improvised bridge over which our mules crept very cautiously sniffing doubtfully as it bent under their weight. Soon afterwards we crossed the river Blanco and left the old trail, which goes through the Indian village of Mollepata, described by Squier as “a collection of wretched huts on a high shelf of the mountain with a tumbled-down church, a drunken Governor who was also keeper of a hovel which was called the post-house, and a priest as dissolute as the Governor ... a place unsurpassed in evil repute by any in Peru.” Fortunately for us, since the days of Squier’s visit, an enterprising Peruvian has carved a sugar plantation out of the luxuriant growth on the mountain side, at LaEstrella. Here we were given an extremely cordial welcome although Sr. Montes, the owner,—the fame of whose hospitality had reached even to Cuzco,—was not at home. Our military escort did not arrive until nearly three hours later, with a sad story of wretched animals and narrow escapes.
We were considerably surprised to find here at La Estrella an excellent piano in fairly good tune. It had been brought from Cuzco on the shoulders of Quichua bearers. This seems extraordinary enough, but before the days of the railroad, pianos were formerly carried by Indians all the way from the Pacific Coast to Cuzco. The next time I saw five stalwart Irish truckmen groaning and shaking under the weight of an upright piano which they had to carry fifty feet from the truck into a house in New Haven, I wondered what they would think of half-starved Indians who could carry it from sea-level over mountains fourteen thousand feet high.
The presence of the piano at La Estrella meant that here as everywhere else we were to be favored with the strains of the “Tonquinoise” and “Quand L’Amour Meurt.” This is the kind of music that most appeals to the South Americans. Wherever there was a piano in the heart of Peru or Bolivia, it mattered not whether the place was Potosí or Arequipa, these tunes were everlastingly drummed into our ears.
The next morning we descended from the canefields of La Estrella by an extremely precipitous winding trail. In places it seemed as though our heavily-laden mules must surely loose their footingand roll down the fifteen hundred feet to the raging Apurimac River below. At length, however, we came to an excellent modern bridge which we were actually able to cross without dismounting, something that rarely happens with the bridges of Peru.
In the old days a wonderfully lofty suspension bridge made by the Indians in the Peruvian fashion, was the only means of crossing this river. Vivid pictures of it, no two alike, are given in Squier’s “Peru,” Markham’s “Cuzco and Lima,” and Lt. Gibbon’s “Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon.” Although they all differ as to its height above the water and its length, all were greatly impressed by the remarkable cañon that it crossed. Gibbon says “the bridge was ... 150 feet above the dark green waters”; Sir Clements Markham, who crossed the bridge two years later says, “the bridge spanned the chasm in a graceful curve at a height of full 300 feet above the river.” As he crossed it in the middle of March just at the end of the rainy season when it may be supposed the waters were high, while Lt. Gibbon crossed it in August, the middle of the dry season, when the river is very low, the contrast between their estimates of the height of the bridge above the river is all the more striking. Unfortunately it has disappeared and travellers can no longer dispute over its dimensions.
The scenery to-day was superb; the great green mountains piling up on one another, their precipitous sides streaked with many lovely waterfalls. Green parrots overhead and yellow iris underfoot lent additional color to the scene. To add to our joy
Image unavailable: THE GOBERNADOR OF CURAHUASI AND HIS FAMILYTHE GOBERNADOR OF CURAHUASI AND HIS FAMILY
the sun shone all day long. A comparatively easy journey over steep but well-travelled mountain-trails brought us to the town of Curahuasi where we were met by Lt. Caceres, who had been directed to act as our escort, and who proved to be a most genial and exceptionally spirited young Peruvian, a member of an old and distinguished family.
Immediately on our arrival at Curahuasi we were taken to the local telegraph office where Caceres sent off an important message announcing the approach of the “distinguished visitors”! To recompense us for waiting while he wrote the messages, bottles of stout were opened and toasts solemnly proposed. We expected to spend the night in the town, but found that the Gobernador, who desired us to be his guests, lived a couple of miles up the valley at Trancapata on the road to Abancay.
Although his establishment was a primitive one, it was charmingly situated on the edge of a deep ravine. The dining-room was an old verandah overlooking the gorge, and we enjoyed the view and the generous hospitality quite as much as though the villa had had all modern conveniences. In fact, neither of us had ever before experienced such a cordial welcome from a total stranger. We were to learn, however, before we left the Department, that such friendliness was characteristic of nearly every village and town that enjoyed the over-lordship of the genial Prefect of Apurimac.
The next morning when we finally managed to bid our cordial host good-by, it was not until he had accompanied us for a long distance up the deepvalley. As we climbed the ascent under a bright sun, a wonderful panorama spread itself out behind us, the snowy peaks of Mt. Sargantay gleaming in the distance. We soon left the region of luxurious vegetation, lantanas, cacti, and tropical plants, and ran into a chilly drizzle at an elevation of thirteen thousand feet. Then we descended, came out of the rain, and had a delightful ride over a trail lined with masses of blue salvia and pink begonias.
At last we caught glimpses of the fields of sugarcane that have made Abancay famous throughout Peru. To one who has seen the broad canefields of Hawaii or the great plantations of Cuba and Porto Rico, the fame of this rather small district would be surprising. But after passing over the bleak highlands of Peru and experiencing the chill of the mountain climate, one feels more ready to appreciate that a warm, rich valley, eight thousand feet above the sea, where sugar can be easily raised, is a matter for profound congratulation.
A long descent down a very bad road brought us into a charming region. A mile from Abancay itself we were met by the sub-Prefect and a dozen sugar planters andcaballeroswho had taken the trouble to saddle their horses and come out to give us a fitting welcome. After an interchange of felicitations, we clattered gayly into town and were taken at once to the Prefecture. Here Hon. J. J. Nuñes, the genial Prefect, gave us a cordial reception and apologized for the fact that he had quite a large family and could not give us suitable sleeping quarters in the Prefecture. As it was, he placedthe local club entirely at our disposal. We were only too glad to accept, for the club’s two pleasant rooms overlooked the little plaza and commanded a very pretty view of the ancient church and steep hills beyond.
Hardly had we had time to turn around in our new quarters before the Prefect came to make a formal call. He at once broached the subject of the ruins of Choqquequirau and begged us to visit them.
It seems that in Quichua, the language of the Incas, still spoken by a majority of the mountaineers of Peru, Choqquequirau means a “Cradle of Gold.” Attracted by this romantic name and by the lack of all positive knowledge concerning its last defenders, several attempts had been made during the past century to explore its ruins and to discover the treasure which it is supposed the Incas hid here instead of allowing it to fall into the hands of Pizarro with the ransom of Atahualpa. Owing to the very great difficulty of reaching the site of the ruins a tradition had grown up that the Incas built a great city that once contained over fifteen thousand inhabitants, high up on the mountain-side, six thousand feet above the river Apurimac. That the tradition had a basis of fact had been demonstrated occasionally by bold mountain-climbers who succeeded in reaching a part of the ruins.
We were told that the first man to reach there went and came alone. All he saw was a stone wall which he reached late in the afternoon, exhausted and without food. He slept in its shelter, left hisgun as proof that he had been there, and came away early the next morning, anxious only to get home. A generation later a small party of adventurers succeeded in reaching the ruins with enough food to last them for two days. They excavated two or three holes in a vain effort to find buried treasure and returned with a tale of sufferings that kept any one from following their example for twenty years. They brought back reports of rocky “palaces, paved squares, temples, prisons, and baths,” all crumbling away beneath luxuriant tropical vegetation. Then a local magistrate, dreaming of untold riches, so ran the tale, endeavored to construct a path by which it might be possible to reach Choqquequirau and to maintain a transportation service of Indian carriers who could provide workmen with food while they were engaged in making a systematic effort to unearth the “Cradle of Gold.” This man had at his disposal the services of a company of soldiers and a large number of Indians, and it is said that he expended a large amount of time and money in his quest. He succeeded in reaching the top of the ridge 12,000 feet above the river and 6000 feet above Choqquequirau, but was unable to scale the precipices that surround the ruins, and all his labor came to nought. Others tried to utilize the path that he had made, but without success, until the present Prefect of the department of Apurimac, Honorable J. J. Nuñes, assumed office and became interested in the local traditions. Under his patronage, a company of treasure-seekers was formed and several thousand dollars subscribed.
The first difficulty that they encountered was the construction of a bridge over the frightful rapids of the Apurimac. All efforts failed. Not a Peruvian could be found willing to venture his life in the whirlpool rapids. Finally “Don Mariano,” an aged Chinese peddler, who had braved the terrors of the Peruvian mountains for thirty years, dared to swim the river with a string tied to his waist. Then after much patient effort he succeeded in securing six strands of telegraph wire from which he hung short lengths of fibre rope and wove a mat of reeds two feet wide to serve as a foot path for a frail suspension bridge. Once on the other side, the company was able to use a part of the trail made twenty years ago, but even with that aid it took three months of hard work to surmount the difficulties that lay between the river and Choqquequirau. Cheered on by the enthusiastic Prefect and his aide, Lieut. Caceres, an exceptionally bold officer, the task which had defied all comers for four hundred years was accomplished. A trail that could be used by Indian bearers was constructed through twelve miles of mountain forest, over torrents and precipices, and across ravines from the river to the ruins.
With these and similar stories we were regaled by one and another of the local antiquarians, including the president of the treasure company and our friend the Prefect.
We felt at first as though we could not possibly spare the week which would be necessary for a visit that would be worth while. Furthermore wewere not on the lookout for new Inca ruins and had never heard of Choqquequirau. But the enthusiasm of the Prefect and his friends was too much for us. The Prefect held it out as an extra inducement that no foreigners had ever visited Choqquequirau, a statement that I later found to be incorrect. Finally he said that President Leguia of Peru, knowing that we were to pass this way, had requested the company to suspend operations until we had had a chance to see the ruins in their original condition. In short so urgent were the Prefect’s arguments, and so ready was he to make it easy for us, that we finally consented to go and see what his energy had uncovered.
That night he gave us an elaborate banquet to which he had invited fifteen of the local notables. After dinner we were shown the objects of interest that had been found at Choqquequirau, including several ancient shawl-pins and a few nondescript metallic articles. The most interesting was a heavy club fifteen inches long and rather more than two inches in diameter, square, with round corners, much like the wooden clubs with which the Hawaiians beattapa. It has a yellowish tinge that gave rise to a story that it was pure gold. Unfortunately we had no means of analyzing it, but I presume it was made, like the ancient Inca axes, of copper hardened with tin.
The next afternoon, amidst a heterogeneous mess of canned provisions, saddles, rugs, and clothes, we packed, and received distinguished guests. Almost everyone who called told us that he was going toaccompany us on the morrow, and we had visions of a general hegira from Abancay.
In the evening we were most hospitably entertained at one of the sugar estates. To this dinner a genial gathering came from far and near. The planters of Abancay are a fine class ofcaballeros, hospitable, courteous, and intelligent, kind to their working people, interested both in one another’s affairs and in the news of the outside world. Many of them spend part of each year or two in Lima, and a few have travelled abroad.
One of our hosts had recently made an excursion to Choqquequirau, which “nearly killed him.” He lost one mule: it slid down a precipice. He lamed another badly. On the whole, although urged to do so by his friends, he decidednotto offer to go with us on the morrow. At least one man proposed to stay in Abancay!
Thenext morning, accompanied by a large cavalcade, we started for Choqquequirau. Most of our escort contented themselves with a mile or so, and then wishing us good luck, returned to Abancay. We did not blame them. Owing to unusually heavy rains, the trail was in a frightful state. Well-nigh impassable bogs, swollen torrents, avalanches of boulders and trees, besides the usual concomitants of a Peruvian bridle-path, cheered us on our way.
Soon after leaving our friends we had to ford a particularly dangerous torrent where the mules had all they could possibly do to keep their footing in the foamy waters. After the crossing we rested to watch Castillo, one of the soldiers who had been assigned to accompany us, cross the stream on foot. His mule, tired out by the dreadful trail, was being rested. It had forded the stream with the others and was standing by us watching the soldier take perilous leaps from boulder to boulder, where a misstep would have meant certain death. Hardly had Castillo gained our side of the stream when the mule decided to return to Abancay and plunged back across the dangerous ford. With a shout of rage, the soldier repeated his performance, gainedthe other side of the torrent, and started after the mule, now quite rested, and trotting off briskly for home. A chase of a mile and a half put Castillo into no very pleasant frame of mind, and the mule had little respite for the remainder of the day. At noon we stopped a few moments in the village of Cachora where the Prefect had instructed the Gobernador to prepare us a “suitable luncheon.” This intoxicated worthy offered us instead many apologies, and we had to get along as best we could with three or four boiled eggs, all the village could provide.
All day long through rain and heavy mist that broke away occasionally to give us glimpses of wonderfully deep green valleys and hillsides covered with rare flowers, we rode along a slippery path that grew every hour more treacherous and difficult. In order to reach the little camp on the bank of the Apurimac that night, we hurried forward as fast as possible although frequently tempted to linger by the sight of acres of magnificent pink begonias and square miles of blue lupins. By five o’clock, we began to hear the roar of the great river seven thousand feet below us in the cañon. The Apurimac, which flows through the Ucayali to the Amazon, rises in a little lake near Arequipa, so far from the mouth of the Amazon that it may be said to be the parent stream of that mighty river. By the time it reaches this region, it is a raging torrent two hundred and fifty feet wide, and at this time of the year, over eighty feet deep. Its roaring voice can be heard so many miles away that it is called by the Quichuas, the Apurimac, or the “Great Speaker.”
Our guide, the enthusiastic Caceres, declared that we had now gone far enough. As it was beginning to rain and the road from there on was “worse than anything we had as yet experienced,” he said it would be better to camp for the night in an abandoned hut near by. His opinion was eagerly welcomed by two of the party, young men from Abancay, who were having their first real adventure, but the twoYankisdecided that it was best to reach the river if possible. Caceres finally consented, and aided by the dare-devil Castillo, we commenced a descent that for tortuous turns and narrow escapes beat anything we had yet seen. Just as darkness came on, we encountered a large tree that had so fallen across our path as completely to block all progress. It seemed as though we must return to the hut. Half an hour’s work enabled us to pass this obstacle only to reach a part of the hillside where an avalanche had recently occurred. Here even the mules and horses trembled with fright as we led them across a mass of loose earth and stones which threatened to give way at any moment. Only two weeks previously, two mules had been lost here. Their crossing had started a renewal of the avalanche which had taken the poor animals along with it.
An hour after dark we came out on a terrace. The roar of the river was so great that we could scarcely hear Caceres shouting out that our troubles were now over and “all the rest was level ground.” This turned out to be only his little joke. We were still a thousand feet above the river and a path cut in
Image unavailable: A CHASM DOWN WHICH PLUNGED A SMALL CATARACTA CHASM DOWN WHICH PLUNGED A SMALL CATARACT
Image unavailable: THE WONDERFUL CAÑON OF THE APURIMACTHE WONDERFUL CAÑON OF THE APURIMAC
the face of a precipice had yet to be negotiated. In broad daylight we should never had dared to ride down the tortuous trail that led from the terrace to the bank of the river. But as it was quite dark and we were quite innocent of any danger we readily followed the cheery voice of our guide. The path is what is known as a corkscrew and descended the wall of the cañon by means of short turns each twenty feet long. At one end of each turn was the precipice, while at the other was a chasm down which plunged a small cataract which had a clear fall of seven hundred feet. Half way down the path my mule stopped, trembling, and I dismounted to find that in the darkness he had walked off the trail and had slid down the cliff to a ledge. How to get him back was a problem. It is not easy to back an animal up a steep hill, and there was no room in which to turn him around. It was such a narrow escape that when I got safely back onto the trail, I decided to walk the rest of the way and let the mule go first, preferring to have him fall over the precipice alone if that were necessary.
Two thirds of the way down the descent came the crux of the whole matter, for here the path crossed the narrow chasm close to and directly in front of the cataract, and in the midst of its spray. There was no bridge. To be sure, the waterfall was only three feet wide, but it was pitch dark. As I could not see the other side of the chasm, I did not dare to jump alone, but remounted my mule, held my breath, and gave him both spurs at once. His jump was successful.
Ten minutes later we saw the welcome light of the master of the camp who came out to guide us through a thicket of mimosa trees that grew on the lower terrace just above the river.
The camp consisted of two huts, six by seven, built of reeds. Here we passed a most uncomfortable night. Mr. Hay has described the next few hours so vividly in his diary that, with his permission, I am going to quote his account of it.
“Our luggage, including the folding cots, did not arrive that night till very late, so we slept on benches made of bamboo poles, in our boots, under an open thatch-roofed shelter. During the night the Prefect’s secretary,el periodista, either in exuberance over reaching the bottom of the mountain in safety, or being unstrung on account of his recent experience, or simply because he was a bounder, fired his revolver off at three different times, the ball fortunately passing through the roof each time. I must admit that I was so sound asleep as to hear only one of the shots, though I was so near the “young idea” that I could have touched him with my hand. Even he, though, wearied of that form of amusement after a time, and quiet was restored until 3A.M.At that hour a rooster, who had quietly been resting with his women-folk on a pole over our heads, decided that dawn was coming on, or if it wasn’t, ought to be, and showed us conclusively what a healthy pair of feathered lungs, in a rarified atmosphere, was capable of. He was within reach, but I bided my time. Not half enough notice had been taken of the alarm to suit him, and I saw the chest of Sr. Chanticlerioexpand for a supreme effort. He raised himself to his full height and let loose. With ever increasing volume the notes poured out, until just as it seemed he would burst, in the concluding notes of the anthem, I arose, and with the side of my hand, caught him in the place that needed it most. He summoned up the courage to give one defiant little crow three hours later. But his spirit was broken, and his style was cramped by theperiodista, who, awake by this time, was firing at him with his revolver. There were no casualties.”
While breakfast was being prepared we went out to take pictures and measurements of the bridge. This was 273 feet long by 32 inches wide, and the river 250 feet wide. “Don Mariano,” the builder of the bridge, told us that when construction commenced, the water was nearly eighty feet below the bridge although at present the river had risen so that it was only twenty-five feet below it, an increase in depth of overfifty feet. An almost incredible bulk of water was roaring between its steep banks. It was estimated at 100 feet deep, and yet the water piled up on itself in such a way as to give the appearance of running against huge boulders in midstream.
We sent the Indian bearers ahead with our luggage. Pack animals could not possibly use the trail on the other side of the river and the bridge was not constructed to carry their weight. The surprising thing was that the Indians were very much afraid of the frail little bridge which Chinese courage and ingenuity had built, and crept gingerly across it ontheir hands and knees while they carried our luggage and supplies to the other side of the river. They had been accustomed for centuries to using frail suspension bridges much less strong in reality than this little structure. But they are not acquainted with the tenacity of wire, and it seemed the height of frivolity to them that we should be willing to trust our lives to such a small “rope.” Yet the much larger fibre ropes of which their suspension bridges were constructed would not begin to stand the strain as well as these six telegraph wires.
After a breakfast of thin soup and boiled sweet potatoes, we girded ourselves for the ascent. The river at this point is about 5000 feet above sea-level. We had had little practice in mountain climbing, except on mule-back, for many months, and it seemed like a pretty serious undertaking to attempt to climb six thousand feet more to an elevation of 11,000 feet. This will sound tame enough to the experienced mountain climber although it was anything but easy for us. Our patient, long-suffering Quichua bearers, coming of a race that, at high altitudes, is in the habit of marching distances which appear incredibly long to those students of military history that have confined their attention to the movements of European troops, bore their burdens most cheerfully. At the same time they gave frequent evidence of great fatigue which was not at all to be wondered at under the circumstances.
Of one incident of the ascent Mr. Hay wrote: “Most of the party started long before the two ‘Yanquis,’ but in half an hour we caught up with
Image unavailable: SUNRISE AT CHOQQUEQUIRAUSUNRISE AT CHOQQUEQUIRAU
Image unavailable: THE FRAIL LITTLE BRIDGE OVER THE APURIMACTHE FRAIL LITTLE BRIDGE OVER THE APURIMAC
them. They had waylaid an Indian bearer and were having beer and other refreshments under a tree. Here we noticed an example of the height of generosity towards an Indian in Peru. This is to let him carry all day, among other things, the refreshments. Then take the beer, drink it, and return him the bottle. The bottle, be it noted, should be received with many expressions of thanks on the part of the Indian. We passed the revellers and plodded on up together. Unfortunately for history but fortunately for our nerves, at least, theperiodistagave out soon after this and was forced to turn back. So the chronicle of the events at Choqquequirau must come only from the pen of an alien? Not for a minute!El periodistawas ever with us in spirit, and the report for the Lima Journal fared far better at the hands of Imagination than it ever could have through plain Experience.”
The enthusiastic Caceres kept shouting “valor” at the top of his lungs as evidence of his good spirits and in an effort to encourage the others. The twoYankishad a hard time of it and were obliged to stop and rest nearly every fifty feet.
At times the trail was so steep that it was easier to go on all fours than to attempt to maintain an erect attitude. Occasionally we crossed streams in front of waterfalls on slippery logs or treacherous little foot-bridges. At other times we clung to the face of rocky precipices or ascended by roughly constructed ladders from one elevation to another. Although the hillside was too precipitous to allow much forest growth, no small part of the labor ofmaking the path had been the work of cutting through dense underbrush.
As we mounted, the view of the valley became more and more magnificent. Nowhere have I ever witnessed such beauty and grandeur as was here displayed. A white torrent raged through the cañon six thousand feet below us. Where its sides were not too precipitous to admit of vegetation, the steep slopes were covered with green foliage and luxuriant flowers. From the hilltops near us other slopes rose six thousand feet beyond and above to the glaciers and snow-capped summits of Mts. Sargantay and Soray. In the distance, as far as we could see, a maze of hills, valleys, tropical jungle, and snow-capped peaks held the imagination as though by a spell. Such were our rewards as we lay panting by the side of the little path when we had reached its highest point.
After getting our wind, we followed the trail westward, skirting more precipices and crossing other torrents, until, about two o’clock, we rounded a promontory and caught our first glimpse of the ruins of Choqquequirau on the slopes of a bold mountain headland 6000 feet above the river. Between the outer hilltop and the ridge connecting it with the snow-capped mountains, a depression or saddle had been terraced and levelled so as to leave a space for the more important buildings of the Inca stronghold.
At three o’clock we reached a glorious waterfall whose icy waters, coming probably from the glaciers on Soray, cooled our heads and quenched our thirst.We had now left our companions far behind, and were pushing slowly along through the jungle, when shortly before four o’clock we saw terraces in the near distance. Just as we began to enjoy the prospect of reaching Choqquequirau alone, Caceres and Castillo caught up with us. They had stayed behind in a futile attempt to encourage the Indian bearers, and the other adventurers to have more “valor.” The others did not arrive until the next morning; not even the Quichua carriers on whom we depended for food and blankets.
Soon after our arrival, we clambered up to a little bit of flat ground, where evidently the Incas once cultivated their crops, to enjoy the view. Here we were discovered by a huge condor who proceeded to investigate the invaders of his domain. Apparently without moving a muscle, he sailed gracefully down in ever narrowing circles until we could see clearly not only his cruel beak and great talons, but even the whites of his eyes. We had no guns and not even a club with which to resist his attack. It was an awe-inspiring moment, for he measured at least twelve feet from tip to tip of wing. When within forty feet of us he decided not to disturb us, and seemingly without changing the position of a feather, soared off into space. We were told afterwards by Caceres and Castillo that they had been greatly alarmed by condors when they first commenced operations here.
Owing to the non-appearance of the carriers we passed an uncomfortable night in the smallest of the little thatched huts which the workmen haderected for their own use. It was scarcely three feet high and about six feet long by four feet wide. The day had been warm, and in our efforts to make climbing as easy as possible, we had divested ourselves of all our warm clothes. Notwithstanding the fact that a shelter tent was pulled down and wrapped around us for warmth, and stacks of dry grass piled about us, we were scarcely able to close our eyes for the cold and chilling dampness all night long.
The humidity was one hundred or nearly so during the four days which we spent on the mountain. Consequently we passed the majority of the time in thick mist or rain.
Image unavailable: Choqquequirau & Vicinity, Peru. Drawn by C. W. Drysdale From Measurements and Photographs taken Feb. 7, 8, 9, 10, 1909 by Dr. Hiram Bingham and Clarence Hay Esq.[Larger version] [Largest version]
Thenext morning we began at once to take measurements and get what pictures we could. We found that the ruins were clustered in several groups both on terraces and natural shelves, reached by winding paths or stairways. Some buildings were long and narrow and of one story; others of a story and a half with tall gables. The buildings were placed close together, probably in order to economize all the available space. It is likely that every square yard that could be given to agriculture was cultivated.
Magnificent precipices guard the ruins on every side and render Choqquequirau virtually inaccessible to an enemy. Every avenue of ascent, except such as the engineers determined to leave open, was closed, and every strategic spot was elaborately fortified. Wherever it might have been possible for a bold mountaineer to gain a foothold, the Incas had built well-faced walls of stone so as to leave an adventurous assailant no support. The terraces thus made served the double purpose of military defence and of keeping the soil from sliding away from the gardens down the steep hillside.
As may be seen from the map, the ruins consist of three distinct groups of buildings.
All had been more or less completely hidden by trees and vines during the centuries of solitude. Fortunately for us the treasure-seeking company had done excellent work in clearing away from the more important buildings the tangled mass of vegetation that had formerly covered them. Dynamite had also been used in various likely spots where treasure might have been buried. But the workmen had found no gold and only a few objects of interest including, besides those we saw at Abancay, a few clay pots and two or three grinding stones of a pattern still in use in this part of the Andes and as far north as Panama.
At the top of the southern and outer precipice, five thousand eight hundred feet immediately above the river, stands a parapet and the walls of two buildings without windows. The view from here, both up and down the valley of the Apurimac, surpasses the possibilities of language for adequate description. The photograph gives but the faintest idea of its beauty and grandeur. Far down the gigantic cañon one catches little glimpses of the Apurimac, a white stream shut in between guardian mountains, so narrowed by the distance that it seems like a mere brooklet. Here and there through the valley are marvellous cataracts, one of which, two thousand feet high, has a clear fall of over one thousand feet. The panorama in every direction is wonderful in variety, contrast, beauty, and grandeur.
North of this outer group of buildings is an artificially truncated hill. It is probable that on this flattened hilltop, which commands a magnificent
Image unavailable: BUILT OF STONES LAID IN CLAYBUILT OF STONES LAID IN CLAY
Image unavailable: THE PARTY WALL RISES TO THE PEAKTHE PARTY WALL RISES TO THE PEAK
view up and down the valley, signal fires could be built to telegraph to the heights overlooking Cuzco, intelligence of the approach of an enemy from the Amazonian wilds.
We noticed on this hilltop that small stones had been set into the ground, in straight lines crossing and recrossing at right angles as though to make a pattern. So much of it was covered by grass, however, that we did not have a chance to sketch it in the time at our disposal.
North of the lookout and on the saddle between it and the main ridge is located the main group of ruins: a rude fortification fifteen feet high, running across the little ridge from one precipitous slope to the other; a long one-story building of uncertain use in which curious carved stone rings are set into the walls in such a manner as to serve possibly for the detention of prisoners; a long one-story building that might have been a grand hall or place of meeting, whose walls are surrounded with numerous niches; and a block of story-and-a-half houses whose gabled ends are still standing. The use of gables was almost universal in the central and southern part of the land of the Incas.
These double buildings stand transversely to the general line of the edifices and have a middle or party-wall exactly dividing the gable. It rises to the peak of the structure and once doubtless supported the upper ends of the rafters. These houses bear a striking resemblance to one of the Inca buildings at Ollantaytambo described by Squier[4]in thefollowing words: “It is a story and a half high, built of rough stones laid in clay, and originally stuccoed, with a central wall reaching to the apex of the gables, dividing it into two apartments of equal size.... There seems to have been no access to the upper story from the interior, but there are two entrances to it through one of the gables, where four flat projecting stones seem to have supported a kind of balcony or platform, reached probably by ladders.” This description fits these structures almost exactly. There are other resemblances between Choqquequirau and the Inca fortresses visited and described by Mr. Squier. In fact, one might use many a sentence from his accounts of Pisac and Ollantaytambo that would adequately describe Choqquequirau and its surroundings. Like the buildings of Ollantaytambo, these are nearly perfect, lacking only the roof.
The two-story houses had an exterior measurement of 42 by 38 feet. Similar ones measured by Squier near the temple of Viracocha north of Lake Titicaca, were also divided into two equal apartments and measured 46 by 38 feet. The fronts of each building have two entrances and the interior of every apartment is ornamented with irregular niches within which some of the stucco still remains. The walls are irregular but usually about three feet thick, and are composed of unhewn fragments of lava cemented together with a stiff clay.
In general, all the walls appear to have been built entirely of stone and clay. The construction, compared with that of the Inca palaces in Cuzco, is