We had reached a point where the two great rivers Marañon and Ucayalli—both descending from the Andes—joined and formed the river Solimões, which we had so far navigated. We followed the Ucayalli.
On December 31st we entered a small arm on the left side of the river and we reached no less a place than New York—very dissimilar, I can assure you, from its namesake of the United States of North America. Far from seeing skyscrapers, brilliantly illuminated streets, and ferry-boats and steamers galore, there were only half a dozen thatched huts with bona-palm walls and floors. In the water floated two or three small canoes; that was all. The place was chiefly remarkable for the number and the fierceness of its mosquitoes—regular clouds of them. Only one thing New York of Ucayalli seemed to have in common with New York of the United States—the people seemed to be able to stand a lot of drink. They purchased from the Rimac a number of boxes of beer.
We proceeded. In a way it was amusing to travel on a trading boat. Every time we approached a hut the steamer blew her whistle; the people got up, at any time of the night, to come on board and see what there was for sale. I slept on deck, and from my bed could see what was going on all the time.
St. Helena came next, with its depot and farmhouse. A few cows could be seen grazing on the poorest kind of grass. We could often get good fruit at those farmhouses, principally bananas, pineapples, and mamão. Then we stopped at Requeña, on the left bank of the river, where a wireless telegraphic station of the Telefunken system was established. It was quite a nice little place, with a few houses, built of unbaked clay and roofed with zinc.
In the Andes at 16,000 Feet above the Sea Level.
The Highest Point of the Oroya Railway: the Galera Tunnel.