CHAPTER X.
Roads leading to the Sierra—Chaclacayo and Santa Iñes—Barometrical observations—San Pedro Mama—The Rio Seco—Extraordinary Geological Phenomenon—Similar one described by Mr. Darwin—Surco—Diseases peculiar to the Villages of Peru—The Verugas—Indian mode of treating the disorder—The Bird-catching Spider—Horse-Shoeing—Indian Tambos—San Juan de Matucanas—The Thorn-apple and the Tonga—The Tambo de Viso—Bridges—San Mateo—Passports—Acchahuari—Malady called the Veta—Its effects on horses—Singular tact and caution of Mules—Antarangra and Mountain Passes—Curious partition of Water—Piedra Parada—Yauli—Indian Smelting Furnaces—Mineral Springs—Portuguese Mine owners—Saco—Oroya—Hanging Bridges—Huaros—Roads leading from Oroya.
From Lima two main roads lead to the Sierra or the mountains. One runs northward through the valley of Canta, in the direction of the rich silver mines of Cerro de Pasco; the other, taking a more southerly direction, passes through the Quebrada of Matucanas, to the villages of Tarma, Jauja, and Huancayo; and still further south, leads to Huancavelica, Ayacucho, and Cuzco. All the roads running from the coast to the Sierra, present a similarity of character. Taking an oblique direction from the margin of the coast, they run into one or other of the fan-shaped Cordillera valleys, all of which are intersected by rivers. Following the course of these rivers, the roads become steeper and steeper, and the valleys soon contract into mere ravines, terminating at the foot of the Cordillera. The traveller then threads his way up the acclivity, amidst stupendous masses of rock, until he reaches the lofty ridge. Then a gradual descent leads to the level heights, and thence into the deep mountain valleys.
Former travellers having already described the route by way of Canta, I will here trace the course through the Quebrada of Matucanas. In so doing, I am enabled to present to the reader the results of some barometrical observations which are the more interesting, inasmuch as the Cordillera here advances more nearly to the coast than at any other point.
The most easterly gate of the city of Lima (the Portada de Maravillas) opens upon a broad road, which runs directly eastward. At the distance of about a league and a half from the city, the road passes over a stone bridge called the Puente de Surco, a place famed for robbers. At this point the surrounding country presents a wild and dreary aspect. Ranges of grey and barren hills encompass the valley; the ground is for the most part covered with sand and gravel. Desolate remains of plantations and the ruins of habitations bear evidence of the life and activity that once animated this desert region, now abandoned by all save the fierce bandit and his victim, the solitary traveller.
Along the margins of the river, patches of moor-ground here and there serve as pasture. Clover and maize are produced only in those parts where the soil is manured and artificially watered. Low brushwood and reeds, growing on the banks of the Rimac, supply firewood to the city of Lima, and are a source of profit to some of the plantation-owners in the valley. At Periachi, four leagues from the capital, the road takes a turn to north-east, and continues in that direction, with but little deviation, as far as the base of the Cordillera. Two leagues beyond Pariachi we reach Chaclacayo, a village containing about thirty miserable reed huts. The plantation of Santa Iñes, a little further on, is situated at 2386 feet above the level of the sea.[52] Mr. Maclean, an English merchant in Lima, who has sent many interesting Peruvian plants to the hothouses of England, and who has made some very attentive barometrical observations during a journey in the interior of the country, calculates the altitude of Chaclacayo at 2265 feet above the sea.[53] Rivero makes it 2010 feet above that level.[54] The difference between these calculations is remarkable; and in more considerable altitudes the discrepancy is still more considerable, being sometimes as much as from eight to nine hundred feet. I am inclined to believe that it is attributable less to inaccuracy of observation than to the very imperfect instrument made use of by Rivero. Maclean's observations, with some trifling exceptions, correspond with mine. He used one of Fortin's barometers, and I one of Lefevre's, which, prior to my departure from Europe, had, during several weeks, been regulated at the observatory in Paris. Unluckily, this excellent instrument was injured by a fall from my horse, and I found it impossible to get it repaired. Some barometrical observations made by M. C. Gay, during a journey in Peru, in the years 1839-40, with one of Bunten's barometers, deviate very considerably from all those above mentioned. Between the calculations of Gay and Rivero there is an average difference of from six hundred to one thousand feet.
On the road to Pasco, the Hacienda of Cavallero corresponds, in its distance from the capital, with the village of Chaclacayo, on the road I am here describing. At Chaclacayo wheat and sugar are cultivated. The sugar cane thrives well, and might be grown in greater quantity. In some of the coast districts I have seen the sugar cane cultivated at the height of 4500 feet above the sea; and I have seen it grow spontaneously, and attain perfect maturity, as high as 6800 feet.
From Santa Iñes the road continues gradually ascending to the little village of San Pedro Mama, where the two rivers, San Mateo and Santa Olaya, unite and form the Rimac. The walls of mountain which enclose the valley here rise almost perpendicularly, and afford nestling-places for small, richly-plumed parrots (Conurus rupicola, Tsch.). I was much surprised to see these birds inhabiting the barren rocks, as the parrot always dwells in woody regions, and is found in other places only when on its passage. I know no other species of this family, save the one I have just mentioned, which permanently nestles on mountains.
Three leagues beyond San Pedro lies the village of Cocachacra. It is a small and poor place, but is picturesquely situated, and enjoys a fine climate. Its name, signifying coca-field, or plantation, denotes that coca must formerly have been cultivated here. At present that plant is not grown in any part near the coast, as it requires a damp and very warm climate. Cocachacra is 5386 feet above the level of the sea. Maclean fixes the altitude of San Pedro Mama, Santa Olaya, and Cocachacra, at 5331 feet. Supposing this calculation to be correct with respect to the latter village, it cannot also apply to San Pedro Mama and Santa Olaya, which lie much lower. At the two last-mentioned places I made no barometrical observations.
On the Pasco road the hamlet of Llanga is situated, at twelve leagues from Lima. On the other road Cocachacra is the same distance from the capital; but Cocachacra is about 2400 feet higher than Llanga. Between Cavallero and Llanga there is an interesting geological phenomenon, which I will here describe.
At the distance of two leagues from Lima the road takes a turn. At first it runs direct north, or north-north-west; suddenly it turns to north-north-east, and advances along the bank of the river Chillon as far as Cavallero. From thence, with slight deviations, it continues in the same course to Llanga, but at a considerable distance from the river, as the latter takes a wide sweep northward. From Cavallero the road runs for the space of three leagues, still ascending, through a barren district, along the dry bed of a river, called the Rio Seco. The last half-league of the way is very steep, and leads to the ridge of a chain of hillocks running diagonally across the valley. The ground is strewed with fragments of porphyry and other kinds of rock, like the bed of the Rimac. On reaching the ridge of the line of hillocks, the traveller beholds on the other side a hollow basin, like the dry bed of a lake: a furrow, extending lengthwise through this hollow, is the continuation of the bed of the river which is intersected by the chain of hills. Descending into the valley, and again following the course of the Rio Seco to the distance of about three leagues, we reach the village of Alcocoto, and once more arrive on the bank of the Rio de Chillon.
Here, therefore, we have evidence of the following remarkable facts, viz.:—that at some former period the river of Chillon flowed north-westward from Alcocoto to Cavallero, in the bed that is now dry; and that a chain of hills has been upheaved diagonally across the valley and the river. By this chain of hills the water, being dammed up, formed a lake; then it was again driven back; until the stream broke into a new course at Alcocoto, by which means the lake emptied itself, and, having no new supply of water, it dried up. Now the Rio de Chillon flows from Alcocoto to Cavallero, taking a wide turn, first westward, next south-westward, and lastly, direct south, until, at a sharp angle, it unites with the old bed of the river. The point of junction is a quarter of a mile from the Hacienda Cavallero. This is, however, not a solitary example of the course of a river being interrupted by the uplifting of a ridge of hills. A similar instance is mentioned by Mr. Darwin, who, however, did not see it himself, but who describes it as follows, from the observation of his countryman, Mr. Gill, the engineer:—
"Travelling from Casma to Huaraz, not far distant from Lima, he (Mr. Gill) found a plain covered with ruins and marks of ancient cultivation, but now quite barren. Near it was the dry course of a considerable river, whence the water for irrigation had formerly been conducted. There was nothing in the appearance of the water-course to indicate that the river had not flowed there a few years previously; in some parts, beds of sand and gravel were spread out; in others, the solid rock had been worn into a broad channel, which in one spot was about forty yards in breadth, and eight feet deep. It is self-evident that a person following up the course of a stream will always ascend at a greater or less inclination. Mr. Gill, therefore, was much astonished, when walking up the bed of this ancient river, to find himself suddenly going down hill. He imagined that the downward slope had a fall of about forty or fifty feet perpendicular. We here have unequivocal evidence that a ridge had been uplifted right across the old bed of the stream. From the moment the river-course was thus arched the water must necessarily have been thrown back, and a new channel formed. From that period, also, the neighboring plain must have lost its fertilizing stream, and become a desert."[55]
The inference here deduced is, that the rising took place at a period when the district was inhabited and cultivated by men. Of the period of the uplifting between Cavallero and Alcocoto I could discern no proofs. But the impression produced by the dry river bed involuntarily suggests the idea that, at no very distant period, it must have been the lodgment of a stream; for it is in all respects similar to the temporary dry river beds so frequently met with on the coast of Peru.
I made repeated visits to the Rio Seco, and I always contemplated with wonder the curious deviation of the river's course. But I must candidly confess that during my abode in Peru, I did not venture to attribute that deviation to so partial an uplifting; for I was ignorant of the existence of any similar phenomenon which would have supported such an opinion. Now, however, the example referred to by the eminent English geologist, and which has its existence on the same coast of Peru, sets all my doubts at rest, and I am quite convinced of the correctness of Mr. Darwin's view of the subject.
Having made this digression, I must now carry the reader back to Cocachacra. Pursuing the road to the distance of three leagues further, we arrive at San Geronimo de Surco. The valley in this part becomes more contracted; but on the whole its character is unchanged, with the exception that the mountains gradually become higher and steeper, and the soil less fertile. The road frequently runs along lofty walls of rock, or winds round sharp projections, which overhang deep chasms, in passing which the greatest precaution is requisite.
In several of the valleys on the road from the coast to the Sierra, and above all in the valley of Surco, there are certain springs, the water of which the Indians never drink. When a stranger unguardedly approaches one of these springs for the purpose of quenching his thirst, he is saluted by warning cries of Es agua de Veruga! (It is veruga water!) Even horses and mules are not suffered to refresh themselves at these springs, where the water is supposed to have the effect of producing a disorder called the Verugas. As the existence of this disease is not known in any other country, there appears ground for believing that it has its origin in certain local circumstances. The verugas first manifests itself by sore throat, pains in the bones, and other feverish symptoms. In the course of a few days an eruption of red-colored pimples, or boils, appears. These pimples sometimes increase in magnitude, till, in some parts of the body, they become nearly as large as an egg, and blood flows from them to such an excess, that the strength of the patient is exhausted, and consumption frequently follows. From the small verugas the flow of blood is greatest. I knew an instance of a half-caste Indian who from a small veruga below the ankle lost two pounds of blood.
I was not able to trace this disease to any other cause than that which the Indians assign to it. At all events, it is certain that travellers who abstain from drinking the water of the condemned springs, escape the verugas; whilst those who only once taste such water, are attacked by the disorder. It is the same with mules and horses. One of my mules which drank veruga water was attacked by a large tumor on the leg. The disease is notoriously prevalent in the village of Santa Olaya.
The medical treatment of the Verugas by the Indians is quite empirical. They administer to the patient the infusion of a plant which they call Huajra-Huajra; that is, Horn-Horn.[56] I never witnessed any convincing proof of its efficacy. Its operation appears to be merely sudorific. A preparation of white maize is also frequently given, and it has the effect of assisting the action of the skin. When the eruption of the verugas is tardy, a few spoonfuls of wine are found to be of great service. Sudorific and purifying medicines, together with cutting out the large verugas, and keeping the wounds for a time in a state of suppuration, have heretofore been found the best mode of treatment. An accurate chemical analysis of the water which the Indians declare to be agua de veruga, would be very desirable.[57]
In the Quebrada of Canta, where the verugas are less common than in that of Matucanas, another disease, called the Uta, is of very frequent occurrence. The uta is a sort of cancer, and it is more fearful in its consequences than the verugas. Probably in no country in the world do so many local diseases prevail as in Peru. Every valley has its own peculiar disease, which frequently does not extend beyond the boundary of a few square miles, and is quite unknown in neighboring districts. The origin of these disorders is, doubtless, to be traced to certain mineral or vegetable influences as yet unknown. It is remarkable how unequally these baneful visitations affect the different races of the inhabitants. The Indians and the lighter classes of half-castes are most frequently attacked by the verugas; the whites are less liable to the disease, whilst the negroes and people of the darker shades of mixed blood seldom suffer from it. The Indians and the Chinos are particularly liable to the uta. The caracha, of which I have already spoken,[58] visits the Negroes, the Zamboes, and the Mulattoes; the lighter-complexioned races being much less liable to it.
At Quibe I saw a bird-catching spider (mygale), of extraordinary large size. The back part of the body alone measured two inches. Being at some distance I supposed it to be one of the rodent animals, and I fired at it. To my mortification I discovered my mistake when too late, for the specimen was completely destroyed by the shot, and was useless for my collection. The Indians assured me that on the margin of the stream which flowed near the plantation many larger individuals were to be found; but I never saw another of such remarkable size as the one I inadvertently destroyed.
San Geronimo de Surco is 6945 feet above the level of the sea. It is a long village, and is situated in one of the most fertile parts of the valley. The houses are detached one from another, and each is surrounded by a little chacra. This place may be regarded as the boundary-line between the coast and the Sierra. The climate is agreeable—rather hot than cold. Most of the coast plants thrive here with little culture. Bananas, chirimoyas, superb granadillas, pomegranates, camotes, &c., grow here in luxuriant abundance. Yuccas I did not see: their elevation boundary is lower. San Geronimo de Surco is infested with swarms of annoying insects, especially sancudos (Culex molestus, Kell.), and stinging flies (species of Simoleum), which banish sleep from the resting-place of the weary traveller.
In this village there is an old Spaniard who keeps a tambo, and at the same time exercises the calling of a farrier. One of my horse's shoes being loose, I got him to fasten it on. For hammering in eight nails he made me pay half a gold ounce, and at first he demanded twelve dollars. He doubtless bore in mind the old Spanish proverb: "Por un clavo se pierde una herradura, por una herradura un cavallo, por un cavallo un cavallero,"[59] and he felt assured that I must have the damage repaired at any price. Shortly after my arrival in the Sierra I got myself initiated in the art of horse-shoeing, and constantly carried about with me a supply of horse-shoes and nails, a plan which I found was generally adopted by travellers in those parts. It is only in the larger Indian villages that farriers are to be met with, that is to say in places fifty or sixty leagues distant from each other.
From Surco the road runs to the distance of two leagues tolerably level, and very close to the river, which, from Cocachacra, bears the name of Rio de San Mateo. The next village is San Juan de Matucanas, at a little distance from which there is a tambo, situated at the height of 8105 feet above the sea.[60] These tambos of the Sierra are wretched places, but the traveller may find in them shelter, and possibly some miserable kind of food. Even in Lima the tambos are not much better. In the capital a tambo affords the traveller the accommodation of a room, containing a table, a chair, and a bedstead; for it is always understood that he brings his mattress and bedding along with him. In the interior of the country the accommodation is limited to an empty space on the floor, just large enough to spread a mattress upon. Whenever the state of the weather permitted I always preferred sleeping in the open air. Even on a rainy night a lodging on the outside of the door is preferable to the interior of the hut, where Indians, negroes, dogs and pigs are all huddled together. In these tambos there is seldom any scarcity of brandy or chicha; but the hungry traveller sometimes cannot get even a potatoe or a bit of maize. Frequently, when the Indians really have provisions they will not produce them, because they are fearful of not being paid. This suspicion is pardonable enough; for when troops march through the villages the inhabitants are often cheated by the officers, and ill-treated into the bargain. Generally, in this part of the country, the people are civil, and will readily sell provisions if they are paid. Not so the Indians of the higher mountains eastward of the Cordillera. To the traveller's demand for something to eat, their uniform reply is "Manam canchu" (we have nothing); and it is often found necessary to resort to force in order to convert this monotonous answer into the more agreeable "Ari conchu" (here is something).
Matucanas, which is rather a large village, lies on the left bank of the Rimac. The houses are of brick, and roofed with straw. The soil round this village is fertile, though not favorable to the growth of those plants which demand a very warm temperature. The agricultural produce is therefore limited to maize, wheat, lucerne (which is very abundant), and potatoes; the latter are sent in great quantities to the capital. The cactus grows on the hills, and its excellent fruit (tunas) forms also an article of trade.
Beyond Matucanas the valley contracts into a narrow ravine no broader than the bed of the river, and it gradually assumes a wilder character. The way is difficult along the ridge of hills which borders the left bank of the river. The vegetation is less monotonous and scanty than in the valleys of the coast, and all the fissures of the hills are filled with verdure. The stunted willow (Salix Humboldtii, Wild.) grows along the banks of the river, and on the less steep declivities is seen the red thorn-apple (Datura sanguinea, R. Pav.). To the latter the natives give the names Huacacachu, Yerba de Huaca, or Bovachevo; and they prepare from its fruit a very powerful narcotic drink, called tonga. The Indians believe that by drinking the tonga they are brought into communication with the spirits of their forefathers. I once had an opportunity of observing an Indian under the influence of this drink. Shortly after having swallowed the beverage he fell into a heavy stupor: he sat with his eyes vacantly fixed on the ground, his mouth convulsively closed, and his nostrils dilated. In the course of about a quarter of an hour his eyes began to roll, foam issued from his half-opened lips, and his whole body was agitated by frightful convulsions. These violent symptoms having subsided, a profound sleep of several hours succeeded. In the evening I again saw this Indian. He was relating to a circle of attentive listeners the particulars of his vision, during which he alleged he had held communication with the spirits of his forefathers. He appeared very weak and exhausted.
In former times the Indian sorcerers, when they pretended to transport themselves into the presence of their deities, drank the juice of the thorn-apple, in order to work themselves into a state of ecstasy. Though the establishment of Christianity has weaned the Indians from their idolatry, yet it has not banished their old superstitions. They still believe that they can hold communications with the spirits of their ancestors, and that they can obtain from them a clue to the treasures concealed in the huacas, or graves; hence the Indian name of the thorn-apple—huacacachu, or grave plant.
A few miles beyond Matucanas there is a lateral valley, larger and more pleasant than the principal valley. It is called the Quebrada de Viso, and is watered by a little stream. At the point where this Quebrada forms a junction with the principal valley is situated the Tambo de Viso. It is 9100 feet above the level of the sea.[61] At this tambo the traveller may find a tolerable night's lodging for himself, and fodder for his horse. Here the river is crossed by a bridge, and the road then proceeds along the left bank of the river, after having been on the right bank all the way from Lima. The bridges across these mountain streams are always constructed at points where the river is most contracted by the narrow confines of the ravine. They consist merely of a few poles made of the trunk of the Maguay-tree (Agave Americana), and connected together by transverse ropes; the ropes being overlaid with twisted branches and pieces of hoops. These bridges are not more than three feet broad, and have no balustrades. When the space between the banks of the river is too long for the Maguay stems, strong ropes made of twisted ox-hides are substituted. In crossing these bridges accidents frequently happen, owing to the hoofs of the horses and mules getting entangled in the plaited branches along the pathway. A little way beyond San Mateo I narrowly escaped being precipitated, with my mule, into the rocky chasm forming the bed of the river.
The road between Viso and San Mateo, a distance of about three leagues, is exceedingly difficult and dangerous. The ravine becomes narrowed to a mere cleft, between walls of mountain rising on either side to the height of more than a thousand feet; sometimes perpendicularly, and at other times inclining inwards, so as to form gigantic arches. The path runs along the base of these mountains, washed by the foaming waves of the stream; or it winds up the side of the precipice, over huge fragments of rock, which, being loosened by the rain, afford no secure footing for the heavily laden mules. Frequently these loosened blocks give way, and roll down into the valley. The journey from Viso to San Mateo is associated in my mind with the recollection of a most mortifying accident. A mass of rock, such as I have just described, gave way, and rolling down the precipice, hurled one of my mules into the foaming abyss. My most valuable instruments, a portion of my collections, my papers, and—to me an irreparable loss—a diary carefully and conscientiously kept for the space of fourteen months, were in a moment buried in the river. Two days afterward the current washed the dead mule ashore at Matucanas, but its load was irrecoverably lost.
Every year many beasts of burthen, and even travellers, perish on this road. In the Tambo de Viso I met an officer who, with two of his sons, was coming from the Sierra. He had placed the youngest before him, and the other, a boy of ten years of age, was seated on the mule's crupper. When they were within about half a league from Viso, a huge mass of rock, rolling down from the mountain, struck the elder boy, and hurled him into the river. The afflicted father was anxiously seeking to recover the body of his lost child.
San Mateo is on the right bank of the river, and is the largest village in this valley. It corresponds in situation with Culluay in the Quebrada of Canta; as Matucanas corresponds with the village of Obrajillo. San Mateo is 10,947 feet above the level of the sea.[62] The soil produces abundance of potatoes, Ocas (Oxalis tuberosa) and Ullucas (Tropæolum tuberosum). Maize ripens here perfectly, but the heads are small. The lucerne is also small, but very abundant; it is very much exposed to injury from the frost, and is only good for use during the five rainy months of the year. Five hundred feet higher, that is to say, about 11,500 feet above the sea, is the boundary elevation for the growth of lucerne.
The spirit of hospitality, so generally prevalent among the Sierra Indians, does not seem to animate the Cholos of San Mateo. Their manners are rude and reserved, and they are very distrustful of strangers. As soon as a traveller enters the village, the Alcade and the Rejidores make their appearance, and demand his passport. If he cannot produce it, he may possibly be put upon a donkey, and conducted to the nearest Prefect, or may moreover run the risk of being ill-treated. But, fortunately, it is easy to escape such annoyances. Any scrap of printed or written paper will answer for a passport, as it rarely happens that either the Alcade or the Rejidores can read. On one occasion when my passport was demanded, I discovered I had lost it. Fortunately, I had in my pocket a bit of waste paper, which I had used instead of wadding in loading my gun. I ventured at all hazards to hand it to the Indian Rejidor, who having unfolded it stared very gravely at the words Lucia di Lammermoor, which he saw printed in large characters. It was the bill of the opera I had attended a few evenings before my departure from Lima. After examining the bill very attentively, and then scanning me very narrowly, the Rejidor returned the paper, with the observation that the passport was quite correct.
From San Mateo the road runs for half a league through a gloomy ravine; and then suddenly takes a steep ascent up the side of the mountain, over fragments of stones, lying one above another like flights of steps. The stream dashes from rock to rock, covering the narrow path with foam, and washing away the blocks of stone which, in some of the most dangerous parts, serve as barriers along the edge of the precipice. On this road long trains of mules are frequently met coming from the Sierra. The traveller, at their approach, seeks some little recess into which he may creep, and there stand closely jammed against the mountain until the train passes by. This is attended by great loss of time, owing to the slow and cautious pace at which the mules proceed. On such a rencounter in a narrow mountain path, I was once obliged to wait for several hours, whilst two hundred mules passed by; and at the spot where I and my horse stood, the laden animals had scarcely space sufficient to set down their feet at the very edge of the pathway. In some places it is perfectly impossible either to go on one side or to turn back; and when horses or mules meet at these difficult points, one of the animals is obliged to plunge into the stream, before the other can have room to pass. The numerous curvatures of the road, and the projecting masses of mountain, render it impossible to see advancing objects in sufficient time to avoid collision.
After having passed this difficult tract, which is called by the natives Cacray, we reach the summit of the acclivity down which the mountain stream descends. Here the valley presents quite the Sierra character. It is no longer confined within steep and rugged mountain walls, but runs in undulating contours along the bases of the hills, and gently ascends eastward towards the principal chain of the Cordillera. The road is sometimes on the right and sometimes on the left bank of the river. Two leagues beyond San Mateo lies Chicla, a miserable Indian village, which, according to Maclean's calculation, is 12,712 feet above sea level. In some of the more sheltered parts barley is planted; but it does not ripen, and is merely used as fodder (Alcazer). Chicla is the last place in this valley where the soil is in any degree capable of cultivation. Half a league further on, there are a few scattered Indian huts, called the village of Acchahuari. One of these huts is a tambo, which can never be forgotten by any unfortunate traveller who may have taken up his abode in it. Necessity several times compelled me to seek a night's lodging in this horrible tambo; but I never could remain in it till morning; and even amidst snow or rain I have been glad to get out, and take up my resting-place on the outside of the door. The hostess is a dirty old Indian woman, assisted by her daughter; and the hut is filthy beyond description. For supper, the old woman cooks a vile mess called Chupe, consisting of potatoes and water, mixed with Spanish pepper; but it is so dirtily prepared, that nothing but the most deadly hunger would induce any one to taste it. The beds consist of sheep-skins spread on the damp floor; and one bedchamber serves for the hostess, her daughter, her grandchildren, and the travellers; an immense woollen counterpane or blanket being spread over the whole party. But woe to the unwary traveller who trusts himself in this dormitory! He soon finds himself surrounded by enemies from whose attacks it is impossible to escape; for the hut is infested with vermin. Even should he withdraw into a corner, and make a pillow of his saddle, the annoyance pursues him. Add to all this a stifling smoke, and all sorts of mephitic exhalations, and troops of guinea-pigs who run about during the whole night, and gambol over the faces and bodies of the sleepers,—and it may readily be conceived how anxiously the traveller looks for the dawn of morning, when he may escape from the horrors of this miserable tambo. Acchahuari is 13,056 feet above the sea level. The climate is very ungenial. During the winter months, rain and snow fall without intermission; and even during the summer, heavy drifts of snow are not unfrequent. From April to July, the medium temperature during the night is 4° R.
After passing Cacray the diminished atmospheric pressure begins to produce an effect on coast horses which have not been accustomed to travel in the Sierra. They are attacked with a malady called the veta, which shows itself by difficulty of breathing and trembling. The animals are frequently so overpowered that they are unable either to move or stand, and if they are not immediately unsaddled and allowed to rest they perish. The arrieros consider bleeding a cure for this malady. They sometimes slit the horse's nostrils, a remedy which is probably efficacious, as it enables the animal to inhale the air freely. Chopped garlic put into the nostrils is supposed to be a preventive of the veta. Mules are less liable to the malady probably because they ascend the acclivities more slowly than horses. The disease does not attack the native horses of the Sierra, for which reason they are better than the coast horses for mountain travelling. Mules, however, are preferable to either. It is wonderful with what tact and penetration the mule chooses his footing. When he doubts the firmness of the ground he passes his muzzle over it, or turns up the loose parts with his hoof before he ventures to step forward. When he finds himself getting into soft and marshy ground he stands stock still, and refuses to obey either stirrup or whip. If by accident he sinks into a morass, he makes a halt, and waits very contentedly until he receives assistance. But in spite of all this sagacity the traveller will not do well to resign himself wholly to the guidance of his mule. In ordinary cases these animals allow themselves to be guided, and sometimes they appear to think it more safe to trust to the bridle than to themselves. One of my mules frequently gave me curious proofs of this sort of calculation. When, in very difficult parts of the road, I dismounted, in order to walk and lead him by the bridle, I found it impossible to get the animal to move either by force or persuasion. He spread out his legs, fixed his hoofs firmly into the ground, and obstinately resisted all my endeavors to make him move. But as soon as I remounted he willingly obeyed every movement of the bridle. With this mule I could ride through marshes, which I could never do with any other. He appeared to reflect that, as I only dismounted when the road was unsafe, his life was in no less danger than mine.
About a league beyond Acchahuari the valley is bounded by the principal chain of the Cordillera. The ascent may be gained by two different roads. One, the steeper of the two, runs southward, across the Piedra Parada; the other, on which the ascent is somewhat easier, takes an easterly direction, over Antarangra. We will first trace the latter course, which is the most frequented. At the extremity of the valley, and twenty-eight leagues from the capital, is situated the last village, Cashapalca, 13,236 feet above the sea. Its inhabitants are chiefly employed in mining. Formerly, vast quantities of silver were obtained here. But most of the mines are now either under water or exhausted, and the village, with its mine works, has dwindled into insignificance. Beyond Cashapalca there is a tract of marshy ground, which being passed, a narrow winding road of about two leagues leads up the acclivity. The soil is clayey, and thinly bestrewed with alpine grass, intermingled with syngenesious and cruciferous plants. Two plants which are called by the natives mala yerba and garban zillos, and are a deadly poison to mules and horses, grow in great abundance here. The numerous skeletons of beasts of burthen seen along the road bear evidence of the fatal effects of those plants. Higher up the ascent the vegetation becomes more and more scanty, until at length it entirely disappears, and nothing is visible but the barren rock of the Sierra highlands.
The last division of acclivity is called by the natives the Antarangra (copper rock). On it there is a small heap of stones, which I shall describe by and by, and a cross made of the stems of the Baccharis. From this point the traveller catches a distant glimpse of the heaven-towering summit of the Cordillera.
I speedily mounted the ascent, and reached the goal of my journey. Here I found myself disappointed in the expectation I had formed of commanding an uninterrupted view over boundless space and distance. The prospect is greatly circumscribed by numerous rocky elevations, which spring up in every direction. The mountain passes running across the ridge of the Cordillera are bounded on all sides by rocks, sometimes not very high, but at other times rising to the elevation of 1000 feet. The pass of Antarangra (also called Portachuelo del Tingo, or Pachachaca) is 15,600 above the sea.[63] Nevertheless it is, during a great part of the year, free from snow. Scarcely a quarter of a league further northward are the eternal glaciers, and they are several hundred feet lower than the Pass. That the Pass itself is not permanently covered with snow is a circumstance which may probably be accounted for by the direction of the atmospheric currents. The east winds penetrate into the deep recesses of the valleys, which are sheltered against the cold south wind by the adjacent mountain ridge. The passes have a gloomy character, and the rugged grandeur of the surrounding country presents an aspect of chaotic wildness and disorder. The ground is covered with huge masses of rock; and the ungenial fruitless soil is shunned alike by plants and animals. The thin tendrils of a lichen, here and there twining on a damp mass of stone, are the only traces of life. Yet the remains of human industry and activity are everywhere observable. On all sides are seen the deep cavities which formed the entrances to the now exhausted mines. These cavities are sometimes situated at elevated points of the almost inaccessible walls of rock, and are occasionally found in the level part of the valley, and close on the roadway. Instances have occurred of travellers being killed by falling into these holes, when they have been covered by thick falls of snow.
It is curious to observe, on the Pass of Antarangra, the partition of the waters flowing into the two great oceans, the Atlantic and the Pacific. Scarcely thirty paces distant from each other there are two small lagunas. That situated most to the west is one of the sources of the Rio de San Mateo, which, under the name of the Rimac, falls into the Pacific. The other laguna, that to the eastward, sends its waters through a succession of small mountain lakes into the Rio de Pachachaca, a small tributary to the mighty Amazon river. It is amusing to take a cup of water from the one laguna and pour it into the other. I could not resist indulging this whim; and in so doing I thought I might possibly have sent into the Pacific some drops of the water destined for the Atlantic. But the whim, puerile as it may be, nevertheless suggests serious reflections on the mighty power of nature, which has thrown up these stupendous mountains from the bosom of the earth; and also on the testaceous animals found on these heights, memorials of the time when the ocean flowed over their lofty summits.
From the ridge the road runs eastward along a branch of the principal mountain chain. This branch forms the southern boundary of a gently-sloping valley. The declivity is terrace-formed, and on each terrace there is a small clear lake. This series of lakes is called Huascacocha (the chain of lakes). In their waters, as in most of the mountain rivers, there is found in great numbers a small species of shad-fish (Pygidium dispar, Tsch.). They are caught during the night in nets, or by lines, to which the bait is fastened by small cactus-thorns.
The third in the series of the lagunas is called Morococha (the colored lake). On its banks some buildings have been constructed, for the smelting of copper ore. The mines which yield this metal are on the southern declivity, close to the road leading down from the Cordillera. Formerly these mines were worked for silver, but were not found very productive of that metal. Now they are again actively worked, and copper is obtained from them. The working of the Peruvian copper mines has hitherto been much neglected, though copper ore is exceedingly abundant.
The road from Morococha to Pachachaca is very uniform. The latter village, which is situated 12,240 feet above the level of the sea, was formerly a place of much greater importance than it now is. In its neighborhood there are a number of spacious buildings constructed at the time of the unfortunate English mining speculation. Most of them are only half finished. At the entrance of the village there is a large hacienda. In some of the apartments the flooring is of wood; a thing seldom seen in these parts, where the wood for such purposes must be brought from the eastern declivity of the Andes: the difficulty and expense attending this transport are so considerable, that a wooden floor is a great rarity in the habitations of the Cordillera. A mine belonging to the hacienda is situated five leagues north-west of Pachachaca, and yields rich silver ore; but a great part of it is at present under water, and its drainage would be a very difficult undertaking.
Returning to the point where the two roads across the Cordillera separate at Cashapalca, we will now trace the route by way of Piedra Parada. This way is shorter than that by Antarangra, but the ascents are much steeper. The first objects met with by the traveller on this road are some Indian huts, called yauliyacu, and the ruined hacienda of San Rafael. These being passed, the ascent continues over broken masses of rock. About 15,200 feet above the sea there is a huge block of mountain, called the Piedra Parada, close against which a chapel was formerly erected; the mountain forming the back wall of the structure. Now there is merely an iron cross, fixed on the upper part of the block of mountain. On this spot the Archbishop used formerly to celebrate mass, when he was on his rounds through the diocese. The chapel was destroyed by lightning, and has not been rebuilt. The pass of the Piedra Parada is 16,008 feet above the sea, and is always covered with snow. Travellers frequently lose their way in this pass, an accident which befel me in March, 1842, when I was proceeding alone by that route. Being overtaken by a violent fall of snow, I could scarcely see a few paces before me. After wandering about for several hours, my horse became weary, and I began to despair of extricating myself from the dreary plains of snow. Late in the evening I reached a little valley, where, sheltered by some rocks, I passed the night. On the following morning I renewed my journey, and after considerable exertion I arrived at an Indian hut, where I obtained such directions as enabled me to recover the right course.
The eastern declivity of the Pass of Piedra Parada is steeper than that of Huascacocha. After a difficult ride of about two leagues, we reach first the valley, and then the village of Yauli. The village lies at the height of 13,100 feet above the sea, and consists of about one hundred and fifty miserable huts, affording habitations for between twelve and fourteen thousand Indians, most of whom are employed in mining.
The Cordillera, in the neighborhood of Yauli, is exceedingly rich in lead ore, containing silver. Within the circuit of a few miles, above eight hundred shafts have been made, but they have not been found sufficiently productive to encourage extensive mining works. The difficulties which impede mine-working in these parts are caused chiefly by the dearness of labor and the scarcity of fuel. There being a total want of wood, the only fuel that can be obtained consists of the dried dung of sheep, llamas, and huanacus. This fuel is called taquia. It produces a very brisk and intense flame, and most of the mine-owners prefer it to coal. The process of smelting, as practised by the Indians, though extremely rude and imperfect, is nevertheless adapted to local circumstances. All European attempts to improve the system of smelting in these districts have either totally failed, or in their results have proved less effective than the simple Indian method. Complicated furnaces made after European models are exceedingly expensive, whilst the natives can construct theirs at the cost of fifty or sixty dollars each. These Indian furnaces can, moreover, be easily erected in the vicinity of the mines, and when the metal is not very abundant the furnaces may be abandoned without any great sacrifice. For the price of one European furnace the Indians may build more than a dozen, in each of which, notwithstanding the paucity of fuel, a considerably greater quantity of metal may be smelted than in one of European construction.
About half a league beyond Yauli there are upwards of twenty mineral springs, all situated within a circuit of a quarter of a mile. Several of them contain saline properties. One is called the Hervidero (the whirlpool). It is in the form of a funnel, and at its upper part is between ten and twelve feet diameter. Its surface is covered with foam. The temperature of the water is only 7° C. higher than the atmosphere. Some of these springs are tepid and sulphuric; and the temperature of one of them is as high as 89° C. Near some of the springs quadrangular basins have been constructed for baths, which are said to be very efficacious in cutaneous and rheumatic complaints. The climate of Yauli is exceedingly rigorous. In summer the medium temperature of the night is 8° C., but the days are mild. In winter, on the other hand, the night is +1° C., and the day scarcely +3° C., as the sky is continually overhung with thick clouds, which disperse themselves in continual falls of snow. I passed several weeks in Yauli and in the wild country around it, and during that time I made many valuable additions to my natural history collection.
The distance between Yauli and Pachachaca is two leagues. The road descends gently along the right bank of the Rio de Yauli, which forms the principal source of the Rio de Oroya. In this direction, as well as in other parts adjacent to Yauli, there are numerous remains of mining works, formerly the property of Portuguese. These works were destroyed at the time of the persecution of the Portuguese in Peru, when the consul, Juan Bautista, was hanged by the Inquisition, in Lima. Over those events there hangs a veil of mystery, which will probably never be removed. The Portuguese were the most powerful and intelligent mine-owners in Peru, and their prosperity excited the envy of the Spanish viceroy. A number of Portuguese emigrants, who came from Brazil, to settle in the Peruvian province of Maynas, furnished the viceroy with a ground of complaint, real or pretended. He set forth that the Portuguese of the eastern parts of South America intended to make themselves masters of Peru, and conjointly with the Inquisition he commenced coercive measures against them. Their consul was accused of heresy, condemned and hanged, and the emigrants were pursued and put to death. Some of them escaped into the forests, where they were massacred by the Indians, and only a very few succeeded in getting back to Brazil. Many of the wealthy Portuguese mine-owners, seeing the danger that threatened them, sank their vast treasures in lakes, or buried them in retired places in the plains. These treasures consisted chiefly of smelted ore and silver coin, and only a very small portion was afterwards discovered. Thus were these active and intelligent mine-owners sacrificed, either to a chimerical and unfounded suspicion, or to a feeling of avarice, which, after all, failed in attaining its object. The consequences were disastrous to the country. Peruvian mining has never recovered the prosperity which it enjoyed under the management of the Portuguese.
Between Yauli and Pachachaca the way is difficult, and without an accurate knowledge of the route, the traveller is likely to lose his way, and may even incur the danger of sinking in the marshes which spread along the bank of the river. From Pachachaca a broad and gentle sloping valley conducts to La Oroya, a distance of about three leagues. In the range of mountains forming the southern boundary of this valley, the river winds its way through deep ravines. About half a league from Pachachaca there is a ford where the road divides; one division passing over the steep mountains of Yanaclara to Jauja, and the other running into the wild valleys of Huayhuay. Midway between Pachachaca and La Oroya there is a small, miserable Indian village called Saco, which is seldom visited by travellers, as it is difficult to procure in it the commonest necessaries of food. In this place there is a natural bridge across the river, which has worked out a bed for itself beneath the rocks. At several points along the course of this river I observed similar bridges of rock, but this one only is passable for horses.
La Oroya lies on the left bank of the river of that name, and communicates with the right bank by means of a large hanging bridge (Puente de Soga). These bridges are composed of four ropes (sogas) made of twisted cow-hide, and about the thickness of a man's arm. The four ropes are connected together by thinner ones of the same material, fastened over them transversely. The whole is covered with branches, straw, and roots of the Agave tree. On either side, a rope rather more than two feet above the bridge serves as a balustrade. The sogas are fastened on each bank of the river by piles, or riveted into the rock. During the long continuous rains these bridges become loose and require to be tightened; but they are always lower in the middle than at the ends, and when passengers are crossing them they swing like hammocks. It requires some practice, and a very steady head, to go over the soga bridges unaccompanied by a Puentero.[64] However strongly made, they are not durable; for the changeableness of the weather quickly rots the ropes, which are made of untanned leather. They frequently require repairing, and travellers have sometimes no alternative but to wait for several days until a bridge is passable, or to make a circuit of 20 or 30 leagues. The Puente de Soga of Oroya is fifty yards long, and one and a half broad. It is one of the largest in Peru; but the bridge across the Apurimac, in the province of Ayacucho, is nearly twice as long, and it is carried over a much deeper gulf.
Another curious kind of bridge is that called the Huaro. It consists of a thick rope extending over a river or across a rocky chasm. To this rope are affixed a roller, and a strong piece of wood formed like a yoke, and by means of two smaller ropes, this yoke is drawn along the thick rope which forms the bridge. The passenger who has to cross the Huaro is tied to the yoke, and grasps it firmly with both hands. His feet, which are crossed one over the other, rest on the thick rope, and the head is held as erectly as possible. All these preliminaries being completed, an Indian, stationed on the opposite side of the river or chasm, draws the passenger across the Huaro. This is altogether the most disagreeable and dangerous mode of conveyance that can possibly be conceived. If the rope breaks, an accident of no unfrequent occurrence, the hapless traveller has no chance of escaping with life, for being fastened, he can make no effort to save himself. Horses and mules are driven by the Indians into the river, and are made to swim across it, in doing which they frequently perish, especially when being exhausted by a long journey, they have not strength to contend against the force of the current.
The village of Oroya, about a quarter of a mile from the bridge, is built on a declivity, and according to Maclean's calculation is 12,010 feet above the level of the sea. It contains fifty-one miserable huts, which are the habitations of about two hundred Indians. From Oroya several roads branch off into the different mountain districts. The most frequented is that over the level height of Cachi-Cachi to Jauja. Along this road there are extensive tracts of ground covered with calcareous petrifactions. Another road leading to Tarma passes by the ancient Inca fortress Huichay. A third, and much frequented road is that by way of Huaypacha, and from thence to Junin and Cerro de Pasco.
FOOTNOTES:
[52] All these calculations are by English feet.
[53] Jardine and Selby's Annals of Natural History.
[54] Nivelacion barometrica desde el Callao hasta Pasco, por el camino de Obrajillo, y desde el mismo lugar hasta la capital por via de Tarma, hecha y calculada por Mariano Eduardo Rivero y Usturitz in Memorial de Ciencias naturales, &c.
[55] Darwin's Journal, p. 350
[56] The Spaniards term this plant Uña de gato (Cat's-claw), the stalk being furnished with hooked thorns resembling claws.
[57] For further information relative to this disease, see my communication to Wunderlich and Roser's "Archiv für Physiologische Heilkunde."
[58] See [page 153].
[59] By a nail is lost a shoe, by a shoe a horse, and by a horse a rider.
[60] According to Maclean, the elevation of Matucanas is 8026 feet above the level of the sea. I presume that this calculation refers to the village itself, which is situated about the eighth of a league from the tambo, and lies much lower.
[61] According to Maclean's calculation, the Tambo de Viso is 9072 feet above the sea.
[62] Maclean states the elevation to be 10,984 feet above the sea. Rivero makes it 9570, and Gay 10,408 feet. Gay's is the only measurement which in any manner corresponds with mine and Maclean's. In general Gay's calculations are between 600 and 800 feet higher than ours.
[63] Maclean makes it 15,543 feet; Gay, 15,924 feet; and Rivero, only 14,608 feet above the level of the sea.
[64] The Puenteros (Bridge Guides) are Indians who assist travellers in crossing these dangerous bridges.