By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.MATARA POST HOUSE.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.MATARA POST HOUSE.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
MATARA POST HOUSE.
One of our arrieros—a Quichua Indian—has his wife; being just married, they are very fond. This appears to be her bridal trip. Mounted like a man, on a white horse, her blue dress and scarlet manto show to advantage. She wears a straw hat, with broad ribband. Her hair, after their custom, is plaited and hangs in two braids over her shoulders. The Indians all salute her as she rides by, and has something pleasant to say to both; she bows and receives it smilingly, while he looks modestly, and becomes very much engaged attending to his duties; while nearly out of sight, among the mountains, he is constantly talking by her side.
Over these rough roads the arrieros generally travel on foot. They walk for days with more ease than the mules, and quite as fast. On the plains they trot along after the baggage for hours at a time. Messages from the governors and sub-prefects are often sent to the prefect by Indians, on foot, rather than by horse or mule. The man cuts across the mountains and delivers his despatches long before they could arrive by the road. I believe the Indians prefer walking to riding. Sandals protect their feet from the rocky and gravelly road, being at the same time cool. Whatever they have to carry is fastened to the back, leaving the arms free. Sometimes they have a short cane in one hand for protection against dogs, or for support over steep, irregular paths. I have seen them crawling on all fours, up hill.
We expected an extended view over lands to the east of our range, but when we arrived at the ridge in the gorge, we saw mountains beyond mountains, snow peaks and rocky rounded tops, deep valleys and narrow ravines, all thrown about in confused shapes. After travelling for hours, we made leagues by the road; yet the distance from the Pacific to the Atlantic is short on our map.
In the small town of Ocron, the people were threshing barley and twisting bark into rope. A good-looking young man arose from the rope-making party of men and women, and offered us a glass of chicha. It seemed impolite to refuse a kind offer when the people do you a favor and wish you to consider it as such, but I cannot drink it; so declining with thanks, we pass on leaving José, who naturally leans the chicha-way. After a long descent, we encamped by a lonely house, enveloped in foliage. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 73°. We have sand flies, musquitos, bugs, bees, and humming-birds. The whole scene is changed to mid-summer; cotton grows upon small trees, so do peaches and chirimoyas.
The Peruvian mail passed by from Lima on its way to the southerndepartments. The letters are carried in two small hide boxes on the back of a fine mule, with a swallow-tailed red and white flag flying from a short pole fastened between the trunks. The conductor is well mounted and armed; wears a scarlet cloak, and rides after; while the mounted arriero trots ahead, blowing a horn. They travel at a quickened pace up hill and down. I should like to overhaul that letter-box, but remittances are often made by the mail, and a desire to look for United States letters on the road might be considered unlawful.
We crossed the Rio Pampas, flowing northwest, upon a suspension bridge made of bark rope. Eight cables are stretched across, over which small cross-pieces of light wood are fastened to form a floor; two large cables above the sides bear part of the weight, by small ropes laced from the floor over them. Great care had to be taken by leading the mules one by one. My mule, Rose, gave more trouble than any; she was very much frightened, and would not budge until another mule walked just before her, and we all urged her not to turn back. I feared she would rush through the lacing into the river, one hundred and twenty feet below. The creaking and swinging of the bridge was fearful for about forty yards. We saw fishermen in the light-green water below; on the rocks sat numbers of cormorants, ready to dive for fish. The stream is rapid and very winding, turning snake-like round the base of mountains on its way through the Apurimac, Ucayali, and Amazon, to the Atlantic. It takes its rise to the south of us, near the tops of the great Cordilleras; our road leads along its banks, ascending through stunted trees, from which sweet air plants hang in full flower. Here the vegetable productions seem to suffer in the struggle between the moisture from the river and the burning rays of the sun, which seem to obstruct and keep down the plant that shows a desire to improve.
After a long and tiresome ascent we reached Bombam post house; the postmaster offered his house, and seemed astonished that we did not seek it in preference to our tent. He sent us chicken soup and boiled corn for supper. A flock of kids came playing about our tent; their faces resemble those of monkeys. The Indians killed a large hog, and the women made blood pudding. José assured me it was goodwith chicha; he seems to fancy the custom of living among the Indians.
There is no regular wind in this region; currents of air draw in through the mountains from all directions; although the clouds far above us show wind, we are unable to tell that it comes from any particular direction, and below it is quite calm. While encamped on the high places, frequent efforts were made to distinguish the satellites ofJupiter by the naked eye, but we are not high enough for that yet, though our sight is very good. The rivers around flow to every point of the compass, and make it difficult to decide if the waters make the winds, or the relative positions of the mountainsalonecause these drafts. The winds are very gentle, and curl the cirrus or hairy clouds in most graceful shapes about the hoary-headed Andes in rich and delicate clusters; when the peak is concealed, all but the blue tinge below the snow, we see a natural bridal veil. An easterly wind lifts and turns them to dark, cumulus clouds, settled on the frosty crown, like an old man's winter cap; the physiognomical expression is that of anger. The change is accompanied by thunder, and seems to command all around to clothe themselves for storms. The cold rain comes down in fine drops upon us; the day grows darker, and the clouds press close upon the earth. Our oil-cloth hat-covers and India-rubber ponchos were admired at a small settlement. The children were at school under a shed, pulling their bare feet under them to keep them warm; they looked as if they wished school was out. The people are better looking as we travel south, and are more cheerful. A girl stowed José's saddle-bags with fresh bread and cheese from a door-way, and said she would rather travel than keep shop. José said his work was wet; she answered, hers was too dry. The road becomes very slippery when wet; it is best to have the mules shod for safety as for the comfort of the animal. They worry very much sliding about under heavy rain; some of the baggage mules fall upon the ground. The flat lands are thickly populated, and well cultivated. On the rolling mountains we come to grazing again; the flocks roam in the desert, where we pass the night. At supper the arriero tells José, in Quichua, this is a dangerous country; robbers live in numbers among the mountain-tops. They meet the travellers at night upon this uninhabitable part of the road, and make what terms they please. Their modes of attack differ. If they see the party in day time, and know the number, they come boldly up and make their demands; if they are in doubt, their guide comes alone; inquires after the traveller's health; requests a light for his cigar, keeping his eyes about him. After expressing a wish to purchase, he returns to his party, with a full report of his reconnoissance. Whether they attack or not, the chances are that they will steal the mules at pasture during the night. José don't feel at ease; is anxious, after telling me the story, to know what we shall do. The plan for the night was arranged. If theguiacomes, he was to be made fast to the baggage as soon as he lit his cigar. José was to keep hot water at the fire; one arriero to sleep with a lasso at hand, the other to watch the mules. Should anyone approach our tent, the arriero was instructed to lasso and haul him in under José's hot water. Richards was armed with a carbine and two large ship pistols; my double-barrelled gun and five-shooter, with rifle bore, made us in all ten shots. At midnight José peeped into the tent, and after several anxious calls, said, "Sir, the guia is coming." José did not admire the general plan of action, but it was not changed. Upon close examination, we found the supposed guia to be a donkey gazing at the fire. The weapons used by the robbers is a short thick club, slung stone balls, and knives. They seldom use fire-arms, but dread them. The savage, dissipated negro, or Peruvian robber, may come up bravely with his dagger, intent to commit murder; but let him hear the click of a revolver and he vanishes; thenoiseis offensive to him. Robbers waylay travelling merchants, lonely strangers, and trains of merchandise with loads of silver. The mules are turned from the road into a wild mountain gorge, where none but robbers live, and forever lost to the owner. The Montaneros, as they are called, control the country around.
About daylight in the morning, José was heard grumbling to himself. While he wasasleepa shepherdess's dog robbed his saddle-bags of our bread and cheese. Sketched the encampment; called itLadron; and pushed on. A thick fog, and snow under foot. At 6 a. m., thermometer, 39°; wet bulb, 37°. The pasture is improved by burning down the grass at this season. While the rain storm beats from the eastward, flocks of vicuñas are grazing to the west of us. The rain turns to hail as the wind veers to northeast.
In the valley of Andahuailas, we see the wild cherry tree for the first time in South America. After sundown, the bright pink light, which often attracts attention at Lima, and sometimes alarms the natives, appears not unlike the aurora borealis, rising far above the Cordilleras in the west, while the bright moon lights our path over the Andes to the east. In Andahuailas we joined the sub-prefect and family at breakfast. Our baggage was placed in a large room, and mules in the corral. If hospitality was not quite so highly seasoned with hot pepper it would go down easier. The rough life on the mountains agrees with body and mind much better than the luxuries of the valley seem to do.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.CAMP LADRON, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.CAMP LADRON, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
CAMP LADRON, Peru.
This town has a population of fifteen hundred; mostly Indians. The valley contains six thousand. There is a great deal of poverty. The cultivated portions of land seem to be over populated. Deaf and dumb lounge about. A good-looking woman, with a baby in her arms, came to my door begging for bread. Her intelligent face was sad.When I gave her money, the poor creature nearly bent on her knees before us. My gun-cover wanted repairs; and while applying to a mestizo shoemaker, with three or four apprentices, the sub-prefect joined me. I unguardedly told him what I wished, and remarked that the man had so much business he could not repair it in time, when I was astonished to hear the sub-prefect order him in a loud and passionate way to do the work. The shoemaker pointed to the large amount of work on hand, and said he could not possibly attend to it; when he was at once ordered to do what he was told by the next morning, and to bring it to the government house. The cover was repaired, and shoemaker paid. Afterwards I was more careful.
There are abandoned silver mines five leagues south, one of which has been re-opened by a North American—Charles Stone. I did not see him, but understood he hopes to work profitably.
The productions of the valley are maize, barley, wheat, lucerne, beans potatoes, small apples and peaches, with a few chirimoyas of inferior quality. The tanas fruit is very abundant; the cactus flower beautiful. The wine drank at the sub-prefect's table was manufactured from the Yca grape. The wife of the sub-prefect was a very kind person. At breakfast and dinner hours, ten to twelve poor Indians were sometimes fed by her. She teaches her little son to treat them politely, telling him to help them to water, &c.
Entering the small town of Heronimo, we find all the inhabitants bare-headed, on their knees in the streets and doorways; church bells ringing; host on the way through the town. A padre walks, with book in hand, attended by a man with a large umbrella to keep off the sun. A number of women and men follow, uttering prayers. One of them rings a small bell. We halted under the shade of a house while the host entered the church. As the people rose, we travelled on. Six leagues brought us to Pincor post, where we enjoyed a supper of wild pigeons, six of which were killed at one shot. They are large, and very like tame pigeons. The arrieros and José cooked them on sticks before our camp fire. Here, for the first time, we saw a snake. The songs of frogs are heard among lofty mountains. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 65°; August 15th. Next morning at 6 a. m., thermometer, 38°; wet bulb, 36°; temperature of a spring, 46°.
On a narrow ridge, with deep valleys on both sides, we have a view of snow-clad mountains to the east; by the road-side an ancient fort, called by the arrieros "Quramba." The arrieros (Quichua Indians) expressed pleasure and surprise when they saw the sketch, wrapping themselves up in their ponchos, and kneeling on the ground, looking on.A party of Indians came silently up the ridge; on a journey they are quiet; when at home they play upon wind instruments and drums. The girls often sing, but I never heard any whistling; they are not great talkers, except when excited, and then the women's tongues are remarkably fast. Nor do I believe they are active thinkers. Their eyes are constantly moving, for they are sharp-sighted, and notice every thing near them by a quick, sly glance. Their hearing is very good; so is their knowledge of the manners, habits, and peculiarities of animals, being constantly on the watch for game, which they trap, as they are not practised in the use of fire-arms; nor do these Indians use the bow and arrow. A boy in the party had a pair of condor's wings; one of them four feet five inches from the body joint to the tip end. The bone and joints remind one of heavy iron door hinges. The boy had caught the condor in a trap, and the bird being too much for a load, he cut off the wings and seemed to be troubled with the weight of them on his back. The condor is often seen along the sea-shore, feeding upon cast-up dead fish; but it is among the lofty peaks of the mountain this wild bird builds its nest. The most daring and experienced climbers among the boys are unable to reach their young, or rob their eggs. We looked for the nest and longed to see the extraordinary bird rise from the valley, bearing in beak and claws a young lamb to its little ones; or flying from one mountain to another with a young vicuña. The Indians are fond of baiting condors; they sometimes hide close enough to the bait to lasso them, and have been known to conceal themselves under the bait and catch them by the legs.
Huancarama, a small Indian town situated in a valley, with a little old church, and Indian population. We met the priest on the road returning to town; he was followed by a number of persons, to whom he read aloud as he rode along up hill. Our baggage mules met him in a very narrow pass; all came to a stand-still, and the not over-cleanly padre was addressing the arriero in a loud and excited voice. José assured him it was up-hill work for his party to back out; if he would be kind enough to stand on one side, we would pass on, which was done. As we cleared each other, after some chafing of baggage, the extreme politeness of the padre was more becoming. Sometimes arrieros engage in dreadful fights with stones, followed up with knives; on such occasions the weaker party are forced to give way to the strong. It is generally considered proper for those coming up, to halt on one side to give their mules a rest. Those standing with heavy loads, head down hill, suffer, and are anxious to push on. Noises made in the valley resound through the mountains; an uproar on the summit causes littlenoise; the echo among these hills is very great. These people are very careful to unsaddle animals onlyafterthey are cool; otherwise, they say bumps rise on the back, which become sore. They even leave the bridle a while for fear that taking it off suddenly will give the mule cold in the head.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.RUINS OF THE INCA'S FORT QURAMBA, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.RUINS OF THE INCA'S FORT QURAMBA, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
RUINS OF THE INCA'S FORT QURAMBA, Peru.
We see at the bottom of the valley of Carquacahua the first sugar plantation. An old Indian, with hoe in hand, is leading the snowy waters of the Andes between rows of sugar plants, which are now two feet high, with rich, yellow leaves. Man seems to suffer like the plant from the heat of the sun; both would perish under it in this valley, without sufficient water for irrigating the soil; with it, he plants and produces a crop every year. A little above his head, on the mountain side, there appears another climate, with stunted clusters of cactus, small dry bunches of grass, rocks, and dusty soil, deserted by animal life, except a green lizard basking in the parching rays of the sun. A little higher the surface is covered with a lead-colored coat of grass, turning a little greenish as the eye ascends; when suddenly a streak of dark earth is capped by the pure white snow, and as you look up it seems to get deeper and deeper, until the soil is completely enclosed in a pyramid of eternal snow.
The old Indian exchanges his sugar crop in the plaza for Massachusetts cotton goods.
Crossing a stone bridge, dated 1564, over a stream of water flowing northwest, we met a party—ladies and gentlemen—travelling on horseback. The gentlemen wear green goggles, and the ladies green veils, to protect the eyes from the glare of the sun, as the reflection of his rays on the snow often causes inflammation of the eyes, said to be very painful in the rainy season, when the snow-line reaches below the road. Though we experienced no inconvenience from thesurumpe, as this affection is called, the Creole portion of the population seem to be much afraid of it, particularly the gentlemen. When a middy, on a visit to Lima, eleven years ago, I formed a high opinion of the Peruvian horseman as he pranced through the alameda in the evening, on a well-trained animal. The Peruvians, anxious to make a show before strangers, put spurs to their spirited horses, ride at full speed, halt suddenly, and worry the animal by turning short round and jumping him. A man rode by me at full speed, and drew up just before my mule; in doing so he pulled rather hard on the Spanish bit, and the horse throwing up his head, struck the rider in the mouth, cutting his lips and displacing six of his teeth, which saved him from pitching over the horse's head.
The ladies and their maids are fresh-looking, and manage their horses with ease. A negress rode a man's saddle, and wore a flat straw-hat, trimmed with fancy colored ribband. The riding skirt is dispensed with under the bloomer style; she wore very long orange-coloredsilkstockings, and on the heel of a small and neat black shoe were buckled her woman's spurs. Her horse had a rocking pace, her hat gracefully placed on one side of her plaited wool, with a large cigar between white teeth; she smoked her way through the mountains, carefully guarding her smiles, only condescending to deal them out to her mistress's most deserving friends. African slavery exists in Peru.
On arriving at the town of Abancay, the sub-prefect was in the country. The governor kindly offered me a house, but as I wished to make some observations upon the stars during the night, we passed on, and encamped in the neighborhood. At 2 p. m., thermometer, 77°. The mules were well fed with lucerne. They suffer and begin to show effects of the travel. The parrots are talking in the bushes near our tent, and a cricket lives with us.
The climate is delightful in this sugar valley. Near town is the ruin of another fort. Flowers, vines, and bushes cover it so thickly that the traveller would not suspect he was passing a masked fortification. The road from it leads over the mountains to the northeast. At 11 a. m., temperature of a spring, 54°; air, 55°; sun, 60°; cumulus clouds and northerly wind. The road seems to be getting worse, and the overhanging rocks are so low, we occasionally bump our heads. By way of resting our animals, we march on foot. A few hours travel, over a wild country, brings us into another valley, where the cattle are larger than any we have yet seen. Passing an idle great mill, on a stream flowing east, we came to the hacienda Lucmoj, a grove of willow trees shaded the avenue; the house was of two stories, large and neatly white-washed, the garden richly supplied with fruits and flowers; the peach tree in full blossom. The out-buildings for the Indian servants were in good order; the shelter for sheep, horned cattle, horses, mules, jackasses, and numbers of goats, showed unusual kind treatment. The owner of this valuable estate was a young bachelor, of intelligence and hospitality. The death of his father gave him possession of the property. He talked with me about his country, and remarked that "thegovernmentdid nothing for the people." Upon being asked, why the people depended upon the government, he looked surprised, and wanted to know whether all the improvements in North America were not made by the government? The few silver mines in the neighborhood have been abandoned.
After declining a polite invitation to remain some days, we took a short cut across the corn-field to the town of Curahuasi, a miserable little Indian place. The water from the mountains passes down the ravine to small patches of sugar-cane. The mountains are wild; winding around one of them, we suddenly came in sight of the long-looked for river Apurimac. Its waters foam as they dash over its rocky bed. Our view was cut off by another turn, and leaving the surface of the earth, we enter a tunnel, cut into the mountain, which stands like its strata, perpendicular, by the side of the river. Sky-light holes are cut through the rock, and as we travel along, in alternate light and darkness, the arrieros shout at the top of their voices at the train. The mules are fearful of proceeding. Coming to a house, which was open on both sides, we looked over the Apurimac bridge, and then down into the river, a fearful distance below. The toll-house is inhabited by two women, a man, a child, a dog, and two jugs of chicha. The ropes of this suspension bridge—of bark, about the size of a sloop-of-war's hemp cable—are made fast to the posts which support the roof of the house. It is best for travellers not to be too particular in their examinations, how these ropes are fastened. A windlass in the middle of the house kept the ropes hauled up when they slack off. One woman, a good-looking black, was seated by a large jar of chicha, which she sold to travellers, with her child on the other side; she spun cotton, with a smoking fire close to keep off the sand flies. These little insects are here in swarms. A white woman was seated by the windlass, holding her head in her hands. I thought she had the small-pox, but the red bumps on her face were caused by these annoying flies. The baggage was taken off the mules as they were brought through the house, and one by one taken across the river, when the arrieros carried over the baggage on their own backs. When Rose, a most sensible animal, saw the bridge, she held down her head, laid her ears back, switched her tail, and plainlykickedout the words, "I won't go over." She is generally indulged and coaxed; an old mule was put forward, and she behind to follow him. As the arriero walked on with the bridle, the toll man pursued the old mule with a rope's end, when it backed, kicked with both heels, pulling the arriero along. We took shelter behind the windlass, with a barometer, the woman screamed, picked up the child with one hand by the neck, and the chicha jug by the same extremity, and beat a retreat. She mounted the windlass, and, in a towering passion, commanded with her tongue, telling the men to secure the animal at once. José stood out of the way with Rose, for the old mule had charge of the house, and was getting warm; he succeeded in putting his hind-legs in the fire,when the chunks flew in all directions; the mule became angry, as if it had been abused here before. As soon as he cooled down a little, the bridle was taken off; a hide rope put over his head and hitched round his nose; each fore-leg was also fastened by the end of a rope, and three men held the three ropes. The nose-rope was fast pulled until the mule's neck was stretched out; one foot-rope advanced one leg; the other foot-rope being then pulled, brought the first foot down, getting one pace ahead; so they gradually walked him over. Rose had been looking on at the effects of his obstinacy, and gently followed. Two dollars were paid for our two mules and the baggage; the arriero paid six and a quarter cents apiece for his mules; this is thecustomof the country. The bridge is eighty yards long and six feet wide, distant one hundred and fifty feet above the dark green waters. There are six floor-ropes, crossed by small sticks, lashed with strips of hide to the cables. This platform is hung to two side-cables by small bark ropes. The river flows northwest, with a width of twenty yards.
The Apurimac empties into the river Santa Ana, and is an important tributary to the Ucayali, after it receives the waters of the Juaja. We are told the Apurimac was the western boundary of the Inca territory during the reign of the first Inca—Manco Capac. The road from this bridge to Banca post-house winds up the mountain. In some places the rock has been cut like stairs. The arrieros help up the mules by pushing against the lower part of the baggage; we were continually stopping to have the loads fastened on. There are few houses near the post—uninviting in appearance—the people being mostly mestizos. A party of women and men, all intoxicated, seated by the road-side drinking chicha, politely invited us to join them; some looked very thin and sickly; an old woman was groaning on her bed at the door; a boy close by her had some horrible disease breaking out on his face; he was deformed and looked like a person on the edge of the grave, but amused himself by playing in the dust; his ghastly stare made us fear he had some infectious disorder. On the other side was a woman shaving a boy's head—the shape of a mule's more than that of a human being. An enclosure, containing a patch of cabbages, was found near a stream of cold water, which flowed rapidly from the snow peaks in sight, through an expensive aqueduct, supported on pillars of stone, neatly white-washed, leading to a sugar plantation some distance below us, on the east side of the Apurimac. We encamped here without permission of the owner, who was absent. While our mules were feeding and we enjoying our supper, a woman came in, and in a hurried and excited tone of voice, addressed me in Quichua. Our difficulty waswith a Peruvian widow, very good-looking, but who talked at a terrible rate. José concealed himself behind a peach-tree full of blossoms, preparing tea. She said she was poor, but had sons full grown, and that we had taken her garden fence down, and turned eight mules among her cabbages. José told her, when we arrived, tired, after a long march, she was not at home to give consent; her grounds had particularly pleased us, and we had taken the liberty to enter them for the night; in the morning the fence should be repaired to her satisfaction, and money paid for the use of her grounds; the arrieros' mules should go out, and ours be fastened and fed close to the tent, which was not among the plants, but at a proper distance on our side. She, smiling, accepted a cup of tea, and they spent the evening sociably together, in the clear moonlight, with no sand-flies, and a westerly wind.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.APURIMAC BRIDGE, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.APURIMAC BRIDGE, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
APURIMAC BRIDGE, Peru.
Cabbage, salad, onions, and garlic transplanted here, do not thrive as well as on the coast, and are less cared for than the potato; except the garlic, which is a favorite with the Creoles. Leguminous plants are used in the chupe when nicely made.
August 19.—At 6 30, a. m., thermometer, 53°; the widow's fence being repaired, she received pay, saying "God bless you, good-bye." As we rode off we caught José receiving an answer to his farewell smile. At 11 30, thermometer, 70°. The country has a dry, uninteresting appearance near the town of Mallepata, yet the animals and vegetables seem to be in larger proportion. Flocks of parrots and pigeons increase in numbers; the sheep appear to be smaller in size; horned cattle and horses are plenty; the mountains are lower; sugar plantings more numerous. Tall willow trees grow by the side of a stream we cross, flowing south, and another running west, with milky colored water, which the arrieros prevent their mules from drinking, saying it is not good for our use. The people we meet look like Chinese in the face, and dress like gentlemen of the olden time—short breeches, long coats, with big buttons and large pocket-flaps, in cloth of scarlet and of blue.
As we rode through the Indian town of Limatambo, our attention was drawn to a crowd of people on the plaza, which was barricaded at the corners, and seats put all around. Flags of different colors were waving in the air; drums beating to a singular noise of wind instruments. We had arrived in time to see a bull fight. The matadores were dressed like the clowns of a circus. People were busy receiving and arranging large chicha jars by the walls. All were dressed, and behaved well. The boys gathered round an enclosure with a door opening into the plaza. The girls sat up straight on their seats, and looked cheerful and pleasant. Among them all, I only observed twowhite persons, who were of Spanish descent, and neatly dressed in blue. The town was filled with people from the surrounding country. Musicians marched round the plaza in the rear of six Indian matadores, who taking their positions, a strict silence followed. A door opened, and out popped an immensecondor, fastened by the bill with a line, and to the other end of which a large man was attached. Thissurprisebrought forth shouts and laughter. The bird flapped his large wings, and ran about trying to escape. The music commenced again, and he was taken out, when, during another silent pause, in bounced a young wild bull. As the Indians shouted, he came to a stand in the centre, as though waiting to be heard. He soon began to play; shaking his head, he made a dash, and knocked a man down. The Indian lay flat upon the ground; the bull bellowed with rage, while he endeavored to get his horns under the body to toss him, throwing back dirt with his fore-foot. Not succeeding, he got down on his knees, yet the Indian was too flat for him to lift. Others came up and teased the bull away, when he charged at several, until the animal was completely exhausted. Then he made for the door, and the people so laughed at him, that he came back in a rage; but there were many on the ground, and he was bewildered, and could not make up his mind who among us all he could attack. He retired with the music; others entered, till the afternoon passed away. When we were far on our road, José said the people were merrily dancing away the night. The chicha is brought from a distance on jackasses, in large raw-hide bags, well corked; two bags are slung over the sides of the animal.
In the flat bottom near the town of Suriti, some small fish were bottled from a snow-water stream. During a heavy hail storm from the southeast, sheep flocked together in small gangs, and stood in a ring, with heads out, like a drove of partridges going to rest. The hail-stones were as large as peas. Thunder clapped about our ears. At mid-day thermometer, 65°; two hours after, amidst the hail storm, it fell to 41°.
Ducks, geese, snipe, and a large black curlew, are found in the valley in great numbers. In the rainy season, a portion of the lands are flooded. Now the cattle have good pasture. This land shows the remains of a large lake, to judge from appearances. The annual deposits washed from the mountains decrease the depth of water at the end of each rainy season. The land gradually rises, channels are formed, and the water is drained off, which in time will leave the valley free of floods. When fish become extinct, horned cattle and the shepherd's herd occupy their places. The Indians are breaking up their barley stubble with ploughs. Population increases. The road is paved as werise to the top of a small gap, and pass under a large arch, which supports a well-built stone aqueduct. We halted, and gazed with delight at the ancient curiosity of the New World—the city of Cuzco, centuries ago the seat of the Incas. The view is beautiful. Close against the hills, at the west of the valley, we see the ruins of the Temple of the Sun; Catholic church steeples rise amidst smaller buildings of a large city. The floor of the valley is carpeted with green, while afar off, opposite the churches, are the white snow-capped Andes in a clear blue sky. Suddenly a heavy cloud came over the city from the south, and we arrived in the plaza under a heavy rain. Entering the government house, I found the prefect of the department of Cuzco very sick in bed with "peste," (influenza,) attended by a doctor and a priest. His aide-de-camp appeared in full uniform, and laughingly told me he was a lieutenant in the Peruvian navy, with a major's commission in the army. We arrived in time for a good dinner: soup, fish from the Apurimac, beef, poultry, potatoes, yuca, rice, and salad, with pine-apples, chirimoyas, plantains, oranges, and granadillas. The wine made in the valley is sweet and mild, superior to that of Yca; excellent coffee is grown on the eastern slope of the Andes. José hung his saddle-wallets behind the door, for fear the dogs might again eat his bread and cheese. The old man and the mules need rest. We have been forty-five days on the road from Tarma. Upon paying off the arrieros from Andahuialas, I advised them to be more particular with their money; never to spend it in chicha for themselves before they buy food for their mules, which they promised me should not occuragain. When leaving, they wished tokissmy hand—a practice encouraged by the priests and authorities, but particularly offensive to the North American, especially after the poor Indian has faithfully performed his duties.
August 23, 1851.—At 8 a. m., thermometer, 57°; wet bulb, 55°. In the plaza we find, for sale, maize, barley, wheat, beans, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, chirimoyas, plantains, bananas, oranges, limes, papayas, watermelons, granadillas, and dried figs, in their season; also peaches, apples, grapes, and cherries. There is a great display of pottery, well made, and fancifully colored. White and printed cotton goods bring high prices; so do coarse woollen cloths, particularly those of blue and scarlet. The whole population require thick clothing here. The Indians consume the coarse goods, and fancy large dark bone buttons. The Creoles generally wear broad-cloth. Everybody has a cloak, worn out against the door-post, or at the corners of the streets, where the wearer lounges in the sun. White sombreros or Texan hats are worn during the week, but on Sundays black beavers. Scull-caps are verymuch the fashion, made of wool and cotton, with ear-flaps, and strings to tie under the chin. The ladies, at church, wear black silk dresses, fancy silk shawls and stockings; bonnets are notyetworn. On Saturday, the shoemakers enter the plaza, where their wives and daughters sell the week's work. It is an amusing sight to see the inhabitants trying on shoes; gentlemen take this opportunity to compliment the ladies upon their small feet, which never offends.
The city of Cuzco has a scanty population. The department contains 346,031 souls. There are very few African slaves in the southern departments.
I found a very friendly disposition towards the expedition, with a desire to aid me. The prefect offered twenty soldiers as an escort in the low country, to the east of the Andes. A number of young men volunteered to accompany me. A meeting of the citizens was held for the purpose of forming a company to join me. At their suggestion, the President of Peru was applied to for the payment of twenty thousand dollars, appropriated by Congress, for the exploration of the Rio Madre-de-Dios, supposed to be the same with the river Purus, rising among the mountains to the eastward of Cuzco. I was very much pleased also to hear a spirited young officer had applied to command the soldiers. From investigation made, I learned that the head of the Rio Madre-de-Dios, was some distancebeyondthe line between civilization and the savages, the Chuncho Indians.
September 16.—The day for my departure had arrived, but neither volunteers nor regulars were ready. Richards was sick, and left behind with the baggage. The party was reduced to José and an Indian boy, who drove an old horse, with a box of instruments, a little camp furniture, and biscuit as his load. The mules were in good order. We mounted the hills to the left of the valley, taking the short or twelve leagues road to Porcatambo. The wind and course were easterly, with a cold rain falling in small drops; temperature of a spring, 60°; the air, 54°. A bridge over the river Urabamba is constructed of brush-wood cables. Our mules gave much trouble to get them across. José was sent some distance below to wade the mule—"Bill"—as a phthisically fat woman declared his heels were too dangerous to her charge—the bridge. The river flows north, between mountains, ranging north and south, with perpendicular strata of rock and red clay, and is a tributary of the Santa Ana. We met droves of mules, loaded with bales of the coca leaf, on their way to Cuzco. At daylight, in the morning, as we entered a deep gorge, the warm east breezes, mixed with the cold mountain air, remind me of spring time at home. A well-dressed old Indian,with scarlet vest, kindly offered us part of his breakfast; he was taking it in the doorway of his lonely little hut, among these rugged mountains. At 6 a. m., thermometer, 60°, and at 6 p. m., 66°. We crossed a well-built stone bridge over the Mapacho river, which is said to flow north into the Santa Ana, but this is doubtful. The houses of the town of Porcatambo are small, and the population seven thousand; miserable looking, excepting the Indians, who are full of health and life. Many of them have noble faces, and are willing to do anything required of them, except to enter the low country to the east. Like the creoles of the town, they have great fear of the Chuncho tribe of Indians, who are at war with the Peruvian government. The sub-prefect and his wife were very kind; twenty-five able-bodied Creoles volunteered to accompany me; I accepted their services, but the next day the arriero being alarmed, deserted; the volunteers backed out to a man, when José suggested an opinion that volunteers did not act so in North America; at the same time he frankly acknowledged he was afraid of the Chunchos.
Our road lay along the river in the narrow valley, where Indians were ploughing with oxen; peach, apple, and cherry trees in blossom. The Indians build their houses partly of wood; they carve spoons, bowls, plates, and baskets, beautifully, with iron chisels. At 5 p. m., thermometer, 68°. At Totora farm, we halted for the night, and met a young Philadelphian, named Charles Leechler, engaged in collecting Peruvian bark for a number of years. At first, he spoke with difficulty in his native language, but with a true American spirit assured me I might depend upon him as a companion. He knew parts of the country I was directed to explore; his services were the more acceptable. He joined me.
Turning from the river we ascend a steep ridge of mountains—the eastern range at last. A heavy mist wafts upwards as the winds drive it against the side of the Andes, so that our view is shortened to a few hundred yards. We hope the curtain will rise that we may view the productions of the tropical valley below; but the mist thickens, and the day gets dark with heavy, heaped-up black clouds; a rain-storm follows. The grasses are thrifty, and the top of the ridge covered with a thick sod. By barometer we stand eleven thousand one hundred feet above the level of the sea. I was obliged to leave my box of instruments in Porcatambo on account of bad roads, and take barley for the mules. By law, the cargo of a mule descending the eastern slope of the Andes is one hundred and fifty pounds—one-half the usual load. Wild ducks are seen feeding in the small lakes.
September 21, 1851.—At mid-day, thermometer, 54°. Riding along the ridge to the northward, the road suddenly turned east, and immediately descending, we met with foliage, flowers, and fruit; among them a few intimates—the common blackberry and whortleberry; the fruit large, but very acid. At every step we take the growth increases in size, until, after descending the mountain-side, we are enclosed in forest trees. Our course in winding down being towards the centre of the earth the compass is of no use to us. The way is lined with the bones of mules and horses killed by falling down these precipices, which don't deserve to be called roads. Among the limbs of the trees parrots were chattering with monkeys; trains of large ants cross our path. This insect is never seen on the top of the Andes. Under a rude shed by the side of the mountain torrent, Cherimayo, we found shelter from heavy rain in large drops. Thermometer, 61° at 5 p. m. There is no pasture for our mules; they are confined to the path by the dense growth of bushes and vines, and are kept near all night by fencing the track on both sides. Upon inquiring of Leechler the number of inhabitants, he informed me a few men were gathering Peruvian bark in the woods, but it was difficult to tell where they were, as the cinchona trees are thinly scattered over the country. The bark is represented as inferior near the base of the Andes here. The best quality sells at twenty-five dollars the hundred pounds in the market of Cuzco.
The regular rainy season will soon set in, when all thecascarilleros(as the bark gatherers are called) carry the bark home. They enter about the commencement of the dry season, or about the middle of May; roam through the wilderness. When they meet with trees, a little house is built for protection at night, under which the bark is kept dry. The tree is felled by an axe, the bark stripped off, dried, made into small bundles, and carried on the backs of men—who are generally mestizos—to the nearest point at which a mule may be brought.
This life is one of great hardship; the workmen are often caught in the forest without a supply of provisions. In case of fever, however, they are well supplied with quinine; but many of them die. The climate is very changeable; a cold, heavy rain falls, alternating with the rays of a tropical sun. Leechler pointed out the cinchona trees; thecascarillerosdistinguish them at a distance by their bright-colored leaves; very smooth and light green, with here and there a yellowish leaf. Standing on one side of a ravine, the men count the value of the opposite side, or they climb to the tops of the loftiest trees and survey the country around. The forest trees here are very valuable for their varieties of ornamental woods. Leechler undertook also to give me anidea of the number of beautiful and valuable tiger-skins to be found in the bushes. I had been thinking of the water-power dashing by us for a saw-mill; when, before going to sleep, he said, "Cover your head, sir, at night; for the serpents here are very large." These are productions not always enumerated in a commercial list.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.DESCENDING THE ANDES TO THE EAST OF CUZCO.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.DESCENDING THE ANDES TO THE EAST OF CUZCO.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
DESCENDING THE ANDES TO THE EAST OF CUZCO.
At 5 30, a. m., thermometer, 49°; temperature of stream, 49°. Clear morning. The road was much obstructed by bamboo, and in a very bad condition. We have to halt and repair the road, or cut away the brushwood; the wet branches keep us damp; now and then a mule ahead runs into a bee's nest, which sets all into activity. Our mules plunge into great mud-holes, and are fretted among the roots of the trees. At mid-day, thermometer, 74°, showing an increase of 20° since yesterday at this time. The country is rough; the hills completely enveloped in forest trees. The descent is still great. Arriving at the house of a squatter, we put up for the night. Cascarilleros bring their bark here to deposit it. The place is called Cueba. Three families live in bamboo houses; the men and women are engaged in clearing little patches of ground, where they plant sugar-cane, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, peppers, plantains, oranges, potatoes, watermelons, cotton, and yuca. Probably there may be 40 acres in all cleared. Yuca serves for bread where they have no flour; it is a species of potato like the yam of Panama. It is a root shaped like a beet, from a small tree, which grows to the height of a man, with a trunk as large as his thumb, having crow-foot-shaped leaves in a bunch at the top of the stalk. It is planted from cuttings in rows apart, that the plant may be kept free of weeds. The yuca is valuable and delicious, either boiled or roasted. The people are very fond of it, and boast about the enormous size of some of them. I never saw one more than 18 inches long, and of ten or twelve pounds weight; generally smaller; though seriously told by persons at a distance from their habitation that in the Montañaoneis enough for a mule load. Yuca is at once liked as a vegetable by most strangers.
Clearing the land is a tiresome business; trees cut down at the end of the wet season, when they are full of sap, burn with great difficulty. The brushwood and thick undergrowth is troublesome, though the soil is very productive, after being well cleared. Our mules found a blue grass, which springs up upon exposing the soil to the sun, and keeps cattle in good order. The people are mostly Spanish Creoles, and seem to lead a miserable life. Including cascarilleros, there are about twenty-five people who may be said to belong to the houses. There are no others in the neighborhood. They are glad to see travellers to hear the news, for they are shut out from the world. This place might bereached by a less precipitous way, crossing the ridge nearer Porcatambo, and entering the montaña farther south. Such is the report of the cascarilleros, who are the best authorities with whom we are willing to consult.
At night, I was politely given the centre of the floor of one of the houses for my bed. Three men slept on one side of me, and the very pretty woman of the house on the other, with a sucking baby between us, which seemed to have a most extraordinary appetite for milk, and kept a constant snuffling and pulling like a young pup. The houses are built with bamboo, placed about four inches apart, that air may pass. After we all got to sleep, something made a noise near our heads, and in the morning tracks of a large tiger indicated his desire for a baby. The men thought he must be a monster by the foot prints; and pointed to where he had his paw through the opening, but his arm was not long enough. They are seldom so daring, and he must have been very hungry.
Gradually descending, we crossed the Tono river. Water, 63°; air, 74°, at 9 30, a. m. The hills are getting smaller; the road in some places more level, until we suddenly come to a cleared pampa, covered with a rich pasture, on which are grazing a drove of mules. Four houses are built close to one another, and near them a large patch of pine-apples. One Indian woman was at home; she was Quichua. We afterwards arrived at San Miguel farm, where a number of houses are built in a hollow square, with a little wooden church, and fine orange trees in the centre, under the shade of which I was embraced by Padre Julian Bovo de Revello, a Franciscan missionary, honorary member of the Agricultural Society in Santiago de Chili.