Fortress noticeable in the distance.
The trail—about half a metre wide—wound its way up to a great height above the foaming river. There were beautiful ferns of immense height, some of which had finely ribbed, gigantic leaves. Graceful yellow flowers, or sometimes beautiful red ones, were to be seen on tall trees with white, clean stems. We passed a coffee plantation, owned by English people, near a charming settlement of whitewashed houses on the opposite side of the river. When we came to cross the Rio Las Palmas—heavily swollen—we were once more nearly swept away in riding across with water up to our chests. The baggage naturally suffered a good deal in those constant immersions. This was, unfortunately, the wrong season for crossing the Andes; but I could not help that, as I was anxious to get through, and could not wait for the fine weather to come.
Farther on we crossed the river Paucartambo near the Pueblo Pardo. We next followed the Rio Chanchamayo, which afterwards became the Rio Perene, along which extensive English farms had been established. We were now getting near to civilization. I felt that my work was entirely finished, as the country hereabouts was well known.
We came to the Colorado river, a tributary of the Chanchamayo, and passed S. Luiz de Shuaro, a charming little village of whitewashed houses. The scenery was beautiful on nearing La Merced. The river basin showed luxuriant grassy slopes and immense sugar plantations.
La Merced was situated on the left bank of the Rio Chanchamayo, formed by the meeting of the Rio Tulumayo and the Rio Tarma, which joined near the village of S. Ramon. It had two modest hotels and various commercial houses. In a way I was sorry to get to a town again, because in those places you had all the trumpery illusion of civilization without any of its real advantages. One met, however, with the greatest civility from everybody, and, indeed, with the greatest honesty. So that travelling in those regions was quite a pleasure.
To my amazement that evening a burly Italian came into the hotel. Who was he?—Garibaldi's grandson, the son of General Canzio and Garibaldi's daughter. He was interested in some mines in the district, and had lived there for some years trying to make a fortune.
What impressed one most in the settlements on the Andes were the great neatness and cleanliness of all the buildings, and the charming manners of all the people one met. Everybody, without exception, saluted you politely as you approached; everybody was anxious to be of assistance or offer you hospitality. There was, nevertheless, nothing of great interest in those high-placed villages.
On January 26th I went on in a drenching rain, having changed my animals at that place for another lot of excellent mules. The hire of animals was somewhat high, but after the prices one had to pay in Brazil, everything seemed, by comparison, dirt-cheap in Peru. I also said good-bye to the Peruvians who had accompanied me so far, and employed Indians to take charge of my animals.
From La Merced there was a trail from one to three metres wide, cut out in the solid rock and skirting all along the foaming river, which flowed in the opposite direction from that in which we were travelling. In several places narrow tunnels had been excavated in the rock, through which the trail proceeded. These tunnels were dangerous when you encountered caravans of pack animals coming through from the opposite direction. The animals often got jammed in the middle of the tunnel, tearing their loads to pieces in their attempts to disentangle themselves. Once I got jammed myself, and came out minus a patch of skin several inches long from my left shin and knee.
