The night passed quietly under the roof placed at our disposition by our irate friend the mayordomo, and the following day, the 12th August, we started about 8 a.m., after the usual trouble and delay in catching the mules. This fourth day’s ride continued to be over very rough ground, the whole of the distance done being over a succession of cuestas, which, in places, were actual staircases. At one moment the rider would ascend to 3000 feet elevation, and then quickly down to 2500 and even 2000, the road being dug out of the side of the rock, just wide enough to allow of the passage of one mule with its burden.
At a place called Minas Maio there is a tradition that gold has been found in the sands of the ravine, and at a river called the “Tuy,” in Espiritu Santo, the river-bed was full of quartz stones, from which I selected a few that have since been declared by a geological authority to have come from gold-bearing reefs. There is also much shaly ironstone in some of the ravines, while copper pyrites abound in some of the quartz stones in the rivers; and there is no doubt that the region is highly metalliferous, and will well repay explorers when improved navigation on the Mamoré and the projected railway round the rapids of the Madeira shall have caused the amelioration of the present bad roads of the district.
There are a good many houses on the slopes of the hills surrounding the broader part of the valley of the Tuy, which appears to be still on the watershed of the Mamoré. Several of these houses are roofed with sheets of tin, and the clearings, though small, are many in number, thus making up a good acreage of cleared land. Towards dusk we stopped at a place called “El Chaco,” and occupied a corner of a hut; but whose it was, or by whose permission we took up our quarters therein, I failed to discover. There were one or two miserable-looking Indians about, but they said nothing to us as we appropriated the space we required; and it seems to be the custom in these parts for travellers to enter any house they please, and take possession of whatever part of it suits their fancy best. I observed, however, that this custom only holds good when the traveller, from his appearance and belongings in baggage, animals, servants, etc., seems likely to be able to pay for the shelter he seeks. In consequence of the many clearings, it is now necessary to tie up the mules at night, and they are given a grass called “saracachi,” which appears to be grown especially for them. This grass, which is rough and coarse, but much liked by the animals, is peculiar to the district, and grows in low stunted bunches, which are cut off at the ground, leaving the roots, which soon afford another growth. Coffee of a very superior class grows here, but does not appear to be cultivated largely, owing, doubtless, to the greater profits yielded by the coca. Cotton also is somewhat general, and the trees appeared to be of very fine growth, but as they were only in flower, I could not judge of the quality. Cultivating the coca for trade, and plantains for food, appear to be the sole occupation of the wretched-looking Collas and Quichuan Indians, who all seem, in this district at least, to be a most morose set of fellows. They work in regular gangs in the coca plantations, about a dozen Quichuan Indians, or peons, at work, cleaning between the rows, being overlooked by a colla “sobre-estante,” or foreman. The settlers are inhospitable in the extreme, but perhaps this may be because they only produce sufficient provisions for their own use. I found it impossible to purchase even a fowl, or a few eggs, at any price; so that, had I not had with me a small supply of good “charqui” from Trinidad, and a few tinned meats, I should have passed a bad time on this part of the road. The people about here appear to understand but little Spanish, their ordinary language being Quichuan; and they appear to be in the utmost poverty, although I was told that the peons earn four reales per day (about 1s. 7d.), and are found in rations of yucas and plantains. They are, as a rule, dirty and uncombed, being clothed in rags of all colours—that is, if one can apply the word “colour” to the different dingy hues that prevail in their extraordinary apparel.
The mountains at El Chaco rise, on either side of the river, to a height of probably 6000 or 7000 feet, their tops, generally in the clouds, being clothed with forest. Rain fell heavily during the night, and the following morning (the 13th) was also wet, so we waited till 8 a.m., when, there being no sign of a break in the downpour, we made up our minds to brave the worst and continue our journey. The road soon became terribly bad, being much softened by the heavy rain; and on one cuesta, where there had been a great landslip during the past wet season, the riding became very dangerous—so much so that we were forced to dismount and drive the mules on ahead. This landslip was of such extent that it seemed as though the whole side of the hill had fallen away, the path being covered up for more than a mile in length, a distance that had to be traversed in drenching rain over the débris of the mountain-side; and as at every step one sank in the soft earth nearly up to one’s knees, both men and animals were glad to get on to the track again. The summit of this range, called the “Cuesta del Lina Tambo,” took us up to about 6150 feet above sea-level. Towards afternoon the rain ceased, but the forest was very wet and the mists very thick.
At about 5000 feet elevation, I noticed that the lowland vegetation of palms of all classes ceased, and tree-ferns became very numerous, whilst mosses and ferns in endless varieties were most luxuriant. The trees, which were now less lofty, were all thickly covered with moss.
After passing the summit of Lina Tambo, we crossed a river, called the San Jacinto, over a bridge of rough timbers, spanning perhaps sixty feet, and built with abutments of dry stone (i.e. without mortar). From these abutments large balks of timber projected on either side about twelve feet, and were joined together by a centre span of about thirty-five, the whole forming a substantial, though strange-looking structure. When crossing this river, one would be led to think that the main watershed of the district had been passed, as the San Jacinto apparently flows in a contrary direction to that of the San Mateo and San Antonio; but this must be caused by a great bend of the ravine which forms its course, for it is also an affluent of the Chapari and Chimoré system, the highest Cordillera being still two days’ ride further on. Owing to the time occupied in trudging across the landslip, the night overtook us before we could reach the next houses, called Los Jocotales, and we therefore made the fifth night’s halt at a “pascana,” or resting-place, by the road-side, setting up the tent, and hobbling the mules to prevent their straying; but notwithstanding our care in this respect, we found next morning that one of them was missing, and from her tracks we found that she, having probably slipped her hobbles, had wandered onwards on her own account, thinking, doubtless, that as the roads were so bad she would get on better without a burden. We had to divide her cargo amongst the others, and after following her up for about a couple of hours, we found her, grazing by the way-side, and were again able to make her perform her share of the work; and soon after we came to Los Jocotales, where we had hoped to have passed the previous night. At this place tolls are taken, two reales, or 9½d., being charged for each cargo of merchandise carried by mules or donkeys; but luggage, or any articles not intended for sale, are allowed to go free. The traders complain bitterly of having to pay tolls upon a road that is so little cared for as this is; and certainly their complaints are just ones, for no repairs are ever done to the road unless a landslip takes place, which, as it totally destroys the road, renders a reconstruction imperatively necessary. This toll is farmed out by the municipality of Cochabamba, and the farmer being supposed to maintain the road out of the tolls he collects, of course he does not spend more in repairs than he is positively obliged to.
Towards mid-day we ascended a very high ridge of hills, on the summit of which the aneroid marked nearly 8000 feet above sea-level. Here my arriero knocked up with a bad foot, from having, at Pachimoco, trodden upon an arrow, which entered the sole of his foot. The wound being but a slight one, he did not pay proper attention to it, but now, from the walking, it has become so painful as to necessitate his taking some rest; so, although it was only about two o’clock in the afternoon, as soon as we had passed the hill we made for the first houses that were to be seen. These were a few small huts where live the Indians in charge of the cattle grazing on the coarse and rough grass on the hillsides. These huts are called Inca Corral, and are pitched in a wide valley, running nearly north and south at an elevation of 7715 feet above sea-level. The wind blew down this valley with searching force, the thermometer at night sinking to 39½° Fahr. The Quichuan Indians build their huts so small and so low in height, that I was at first much averse to sleeping in any of them, especially as they are generally black with smoke and dirt from the fire burning in an earthen pan on the floor, the smoke from which has to find its way through sundry holes and crevices in the walls and roof. At this place I set up my tent, but the wind blew so keenly that the canvas was quite unable to keep it out; and although I had plenty of blankets, I passed a miserable night, from the intense cold caused by the searching gusts, which seemed to pass right through all the wraps I could heap on the camp-bed. After this night’s experience I was never too particular as to the size or the condition of the hut offered me as a sleeping-place, for in these high altitudes, four walls with a roof of mud, or of any other solid material, are much preferable to canvas.
The country has now become much more open, the tropical forests having been left behind and below us. The ferns of all kinds are now lost, and the few trees are quite stunted and covered with mosses and lichens, which, being mostly of a whitish colour, give an appearance of age and decay to the prospect. Maize of a very large size and very sweet is grown here, also barley and potatoes. A so-called fruit, but which is really a root, in appearance and taste much like a small yellow carrot, is eaten raw in large quantities, and esteemed a great delicacy by the cotters; its name, as nearly as I could make out, is “Yacunes.”
On the next day, August 15th, when daylight broke, the grass was covered with hoar-frost, and as the thermometer only registered 39°, the cold seemed intense—at least, to our party, who had just come from the tropical plains of the Mamoré. The morning was, however, clear, and therefore, as soon as the sun shone over the hills, the temperature rose rapidly. Proceeding up the valley or raised plateau of Inca Corral, we soon began the ascent of the Cuesta de Malaga, the highest on the road between Coni and Cochabamba. This hill is really the dividing ridge of the watersheds of the Mamoré and Rio Grande systems. On this ascent I noticed that all trees stopped at about 10,800 feet elevation. Some high peaks near the pass had snow in their crevices, and I was told that in 1873 a snow-storm in August filled up the pass, and an arriero and his “recua,” or drove of mules, perished in the drift. A cross set up by the way-side attests the catastrophe. Here we met a party of the Yuracaré Indians on their way back from Cochabamba, where they had been sent by the Corregidor of Coni as escort to a lady relation of his returning thither. The poor fellows seemed to feel the cold terribly, as the only wraps they had were their bark shirts and a few strips of linen cloth. Their blue faces and swollen fingers told a tale of so great suffering, that the few reales they gained by their journey were indeed well earned. Seeing how the cold affected these Indians, I asked the party with me if they would not rather return; but the younger ones, who had never been to Cochabamba, were anxious to see the city, and therefore elected to go. Fortunately, I had a few spare blankets, and at nights, when they were huddled together, they were able to keep fairly warm.
The summit of the pass I made to be 12,550 feet, and soon after crossing it we came to cultivated lands and a few isolated huts.