On leaving Condamano we came to the north-westerly end of the range we had seen the day before. It ended abruptly in almost vertical walls of yellow sandstone of various shades. The range was thickly wooded on its summit. The opposite bank of the river was absolutely flat.
That evening we came in for a heavy storm, which compelled us to halt from 6 o'clock until 2.10 a.m. Black clouds had accumulated overhead to the west. A boisterous gust of wind suddenly caught us, which swept off our chicken-coop, buckets, and other loose things which were on the roof of the launch. We were tossed about in a most alarming way, and were just able to tie up under shelter and make fast to some trees. The wind increased in fury, and the launch tore up her moorings, bringing down a big tree on the top of us with a tremendous crash.
The American Observatory, Arequipa, and Mount Misti, Peru.
On the Peruvian Corporation Railway on the way to Cuzco.
There was a stampede on board, as everybody thought we had been struck by lightning. Some of the people were just able to jump on shore, while other Peruvians, men and women, scared to death by the diabolic clashing of thunder and the vivid lightning, knelt on the decks and prayed fervently that we might escape unhurt.
I had a narrow escape, a lighted petroleum lamp which swung above getting off its hook and falling on my head, upsetting all the petroleum over me. Fortunately it went out as it fell on me. In the middle of the night we had a great deal of trouble to make the boat fast once more, the waves in the river being of great height. The rattle of all the merchandise and broken crockery on board, the moans of the scared Peruvians, with the howling of the wind, made a regular pandemonium.