About buying mules for a journey in Bolivia many opinions prevail; for some people think it best to buy low-priced animals, so that the loss in selling upon arrival at one’s destination may not be great; but I think that loss is better avoided by purchasing good animals, which, although costly, are more likely to find a buyer at a good price. There is, however, great difficulty in selling animals in Tacna, for after such a long journey it is almost impossible to avoid their arriving in poor condition; and then the arrieros of Tacna, knowing that the traveller is obliged to leave for Arica and the ocean steamer, conspire together and refuse to give anything at all like a proper price for the animals, alleging their condition as rendering them valueless. Good mules are, however, certain to pass through the trials of the road better than low-priced and weedy animals; they therefore are likely to find a buyer, as there are generally travellers for Bolivia looking out for a good mount for their journey. For ours we had to provide eight animals, namely, four good saddle mules, three for baggage, and one spare one that could take its turn either under saddle or pack, as required. This last we found a very useful assistant, as, when a sore back or lameness occurred, we thus had means of freeing the injured animal from its burden until recovery. The saddle mules cost from 150 Bolivianos, or pesos fuertes (4s. 2d. each), up to 400, the highest price being for a very fine “macho,” or he-mule, belonging to the father of my young compagnon de voyage, Don Alfredo. This macho, a beautifully marked grey, standing perhaps fourteen hands in height and proportionately well built, would always command a high price, as, on account of his great strength, he was capable of becoming a “pianera,” or carrier of pianos over the Andes. This task appears to be the highest test of strength for a mule; but I have been told that an animal seldom makes more than three journeys under the burden, as the third essay of the herculean feat appears to break down the poor beast’s constitution entirely. The profits to an arriero on the transport of a piano from Tacna to Bolivia are so great that he could almost afford to slaughter his mule at the termination of a successful journey, and thus spare the poor brute a repetition of the dreadful ordeal; for the weight of a piano is fully equal to two ordinary mule burdens. Our baggage mules were bought in Oruro, costing from 80 to 120 Bolivianos each, and whilst all the saddle mules arrived in Tacna in fair condition, we found notwithstanding our having a spare animal, and all the care that we could exercise, the trials of the road were so great, that the four cheaper-priced animals finished their journey in such a bad state that we found ourselves only able to realize but a small portion of their cost. The saddle mules could, however, have been easily and well sold had we not been under engagement to send them back to Bolivia with the servants; and, after the double journey, those that had to be sold realized very nearly their cost price. Certainly my experience is, that it is cheaper in the long run to buy first-class animals only.
For a journey over the Andes, a traveller must provide himself with a good poncho as well as a good overcoat, for the early mornings and the nights are sometimes very sharp and cold. A waterproof sheet, that will come well over the shoulders and fall over the pommel of the saddle, is also not at all to be despised, as nothing is more objectionable than to get one’s knees thoroughly soaked in some of the heavy rain storms that are frequently encountered at all seasons of the year. It is a good plan to carry a cot that will fold up into a small compass and lay between the two packs of a baggage mule; a mattress and blankets are also necessary; whilst it is as well to have a mosquito bar with one, as, in case of being obliged to pass a night in the open, it will be found very useful in keeping off the heavy dew.
For eatables, a sheep can be purchased on many parts of the route for about a dollar; so that, with mutton or a fowl, a good chupe can be made at the postas, if one’s servant has any idea of cooking it. A few tins of green peas or carrots help one to do without the dreadful “chuño,” which is the only vegetable obtainable; and, above all, some Liebig’s extract of meat should be carried, as it is a most welcome addition to the cuisine. A little coffee, tea, and sugar should also be taken, and then one is independent of the keepers of the “pulperias” attached to the postas. At these shops bad bottled ale can be bought at prices varying from four to eight reales (1s. 8d. to 2s. 2d.) the small bottle; but it is well to avoid this as much as possible, and carry with one some of the best Cinti cingani, which is a safe and wholesome beverage when used moderately. I have found it excellent when taken with a dash of Angostura bitters, a bottle of which forms a very acceptable addition to one’s baggage. The following are some of the retail prices in Bolivia of things useful for the journey. Tea, three pesos, say 9s. 4d. per pound; coffee six reales, 2s. 3d. per pound; brandy (Martel’s) two pesos and a half (7s. 10d.) per bottle; tinned meats, such as paté de foie gras, etc., three pesos (9s. 4d.) each; tins of sardines, four pesos (12s. 6d.) per dozen.
Before starting, a traveller should be very careful to see that all the pack saddles of his mules are complete and in good working order, otherwise he will suffer endless annoyances on the road. An “aparejo,” or pack-saddle, with “reatas” (hide ropes), “cinchas” (belly-bands), “sogas,” (head-ropes), “caronas,” skins for placing under the saddle to preserve the mules’ backs from injury, and every necessary, costs from fifteen pesos to twenty, say £2 6s. 8d. to £3 1s. 8d. A good “tapa-carga,” or cover for the baggage, costs about nine pesos, or, say £1 10s. The best made in Oruro are an entire hide, roughly dressed, with the hair on, cut square and bound with white leather curiously pinked out into quaint patterns. A small handy set of shoeing tools, a few shoes, and a supply of nails should be carried; and attention to these minor details of a journey will save much trouble, as, when all appliances are in good order, the stages of the road pass by pleasantly enough, and the travellers arrive at the posta which marks the end of the day’s work in good temper, inclined to do good justice to whatever is forthcoming for the nightly repast, after which the thoroughly earned rest is heartily enjoyed both by masters, men, and animals.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Leave Sucre under escort of English residents—Village of Nutshucc—Yotala—“Quintas,” or farmhouses—Don Tomas Frias’ country-house—Señor Pacheco’s quinta—The river Cachimayo and its basket bridge—Fever at Nutshucc—The river Pilcomayo—Terrado and Pampa-tambo—Quebrada Honda—Bartolo—Potosí—The Soroche—The Fonda Coca—The Cerro de Potosí—Silver mines—Reservoirs—Church of La Matriz—The mint—New coinage—Burying money—Future of mining in Potosí—Departure from Potosí—Tarapaya—Yocalla—Yocalla bridge built by the devil in a night—Leñas—Loss of my aneroid barometer—Vicuñas—Condors—Lagunillas—Tolapalca—Bolivian Norfolk-Howards, or Vinchutas—Vilcapujio—Curious custom of Indian women—Llamas and alpacas—Ancacata—The pampa of Aullagas—The “Chulpas”—Catariri, Pazna and Poopo—Miserable appearance of mining towns in Bolivia—Machacamarca—Rumours of revolution—Beautiful mirage—Arrival at Oruro.
My homeward journey from Bolivia was commenced on the 22nd of December, 1874, when Don Alfredo and I left Sucre, accompanied by Alfredo’s father and three other English friends, who formed the entire British community, and who very kindly escorted us for a few miles on our way, so that we might be fairly started with a hearty English farewell and good wishes for a successful journey. About four o’clock in the afternoon we rode out, in number eight horsemen, making quite a commotion as we clattered through the roughly paved streets of the town.
That evening we only intended to ride as far as the village of Nutshucc, where we had been invited to pass the night at the house of Doctor Calvo, formerly minister of justice and public education. Nutshucc, distant about three leagues from Sucre, is a place of resort of the principal residents of the capital, who have built themselves country residences, termed “quintas,” or farmhouses, but which are generally much more pretentious than farmhouses in our own country. A smaller village, called Yotala, which lays between Sucre and Nutshucc, is a small and slovenly-looking place, in which chicha making and drinking appear to be the principal occupations carried on. Between Yotala and Nutshucc there are some well-built quintas on either side of the road, several of which have substantially-built retaining walls round the grounds, to protect them from the scour of the floods, which even at the time we rode up the ravine, in many places reached up to the girths of our animals. One of the finest of these quintas belonged to Señor Arturo Arana, a successful miner, who had made a large fortune out of the silver mines of Huanchaca. In contrast to this really fine house was a little den in course of erection by Don Tomas Frias, the then president of the republic, who was having a most curious little box, about sixteen feet square and three stories high, built as his place of refuge when seeking relaxation from the cares of state. The fact that the president was building himself a country residence was so much talked of in every town of the republic, that I had expected to see quite a palatial edifice, or at least a building as imposing as many of the quintas of the rich mine-owners of Bolivia, or some of the mansions built by the Melgarejo family during the presidency of the general of that name; but if all Doctor Frias’s requirements were on as limited a scale as his country house in the Cachimayo valley, the country could not have suffered much from him personally. Yet, although he was a man of most modest and unambitious desires, his minister of war, Daza, made up in show and extravagance for his leader’s economy.
At Nutshucc the ford of the river Cachimayo, which must be crossed by travellers to or from Potosí, is very frequently impassable. On the Sucre side stands the handsomest villa residence in Bolivia, the property of Don Gregorio Pacheco, who, I believe, has also made his fortune in silver mining, which seems to be the only occupation in Bolivia that leads to affluence. The house is well built, of stone, with a stucco front, having a spacious corridor supported on well-proportioned pillars; the whole arrangement being very comfortable, and the owner is proud of it accordingly. On our arrival we found that the Cachimayo was coming down in flood, we had therefore to leave our animals at Señor Pacheco’s, and cross the river, about eighty yards in width, in a basket bridge, the property and invention of Señor Pacheco, and therefore universally considered to be a most marvellous and clever enterprise. The river is spanned by a stout rope hawser, about three inches in diameter, supported on either bank by a tripod of poles, well guyed down on every side. Under the tripods are placed drums, turned alternately by manual labour, as it is required to cause the basket to cross over from side to side. The basket is slung from roughly-cut wooden pulley wheels, which work on the hawser, but as the whole affair is of the roughest workmanship and materials, the motion is so jolty and erratic that the occupant of the basket is generally sea-sick before getting half-way over the stream, while the chances are that the hauling ropes break down during the passage, when the voyageur is left in mid-air and mid-stream until he can be rescued from the unpleasant position by an acrobatic performance of an Indian, who has to go out on the hawser with a new hauling rope.