Up the Amazon and Madeira rivers, through Bolivia and Peru

by Edward D. Mathews

Among other curiosities worth looking for are the “mechas,” and “yescas,” or tinder-cases and steel-strikers, for which the town is noted. Some of these yescas are true works of art, the engraving being executed in good style; whilst many of them are inlaid in gold on hard steel in a wonderful manner. The “mechas,” or tinder-cases, are also very nicely designed and executed, in silver or gold, and together with the steel-strikers form a good memorial of the cleverness of the art-workers of Potosí.

YESCA AND MECHA HOLDER (POTOSÍ).

There does not seem much immediate future for the mining interests of Potosí, although it is an undoubted fact that the Cerro still contains inexhaustible supplies of silver ore, but none of the old levels and shafts can be worked, nor can new ones be sunk advantageously, without heavy pumping machinery, which it is practically impossible to carry up from the coast. But, at some future day, when railways shall have opened up the interior of Bolivia, these mines will again become valuable; but even then, the mines of Oruro and Huanchaca, and others located in the central plains of the republic, are much more advantageously situated for purposes of export than the deposits of Potosí. A great drawback to successful mining in these regions is found in the total absence of fuel for smelting purposes, as the forests that once existed in the lower ravines of the metalliferous districts have been entirely exhausted, and no discovery of coal has yet been made, or is, perhaps, likely to be made, within a reasonable distance for transport.

We remained a couple of days only in Potosí, perfecting our arrangements for the next stage of our journey, namely to Oruro, a distance of about 200 miles. Three of the baggage mules that we brought from Sucre had been hired only, at the rate of fifteen pesos each, and we had to decide whether our onward march should be continued with hired animals, or whether we would chance finding the posta in good working order. For hired pack mules to Tacna, the end of our journey, we were asked sixty pesos each, with the condition that we should find forage on the road; thus, probably the three animals we required would have cost us altogether about 250 pesos for the trip, whilst, travelling posta, the same number of animals ought not to cost more than about half that sum: we therefore decided to risk it, especially as we were assured in Potosí that the posta to Oruro was in excellent working order. I was very glad to get away from the town, for the climate did not seem to suit me, as I had a return of my Nutshucc experiences of ague; and on the 27th of December, a Sunday morning, having arranged that the posta mules should be at the tambo by 6 a.m., we should have started early had we not been delayed by the absence of one of our mozos, who had been indulging too freely over-night. It seemed that we were fated to suffer delays and difficulties, for soon after starting I was again attacked with a fit of ague and vomiting, which came on so severely that on reaching a small village called Calamarca, scarcely a league out of Potosí, I found myself quite unable to proceed, and had to dismount at a small and horridly dirty chicheria, where I was allowed to lie down in a corner on some mats and rugs. After taking warm water to aid the vomiting, and going through the regular stages of cold shivers and burning heat, I managed to get half an hour’s sleep, and rose up sufficiently recovered to be able to mount my mule again. In consequence of this delay we made but a very poor day’s work, and only got as far as Tarapaya, distant about five leagues from Potosí. On our road we met the posta Indians returning with their mules, and they informed us that they had left our baggage in charge of the “maestro,” or keeper of the posta at Tarapaya, and they told us that we should be sure of getting animals there for the next stage to Yocalla. We were much pleased with the celerity with which the muleteers of the first stage out had done their part, and thought that it augured well for our onward progress; but, alas, on arriving at the post-house we found our baggage placed in an empty room with open doors, and not a living soul about the place. The village was about half a mile away from the post-house, so Alfredo went on with the mozos, to buy barley for our saddle mules, some supper for ourselves, and engage baggage mules for the next day’s work. The speed shown by the Indian muleteers from Potosí was now explained, for they feared that had we arrived at Tarapaya before they had left, and found no animals ready to take us on, we should have forced them to wait till the following day, and carry our baggage the next stage to Yocalla and they would thus have had double duty to do, so they hasted to return that they might pass us on the road and shirk their work by telling us the flattering tale that other animals were in readiness for us. As travellers have to pay for the first stage out of a town before starting, and at double the rate of the other stages, they are exposed to such tricks as the one played upon us; and as we had paid the maestro at Potosí, we let the fellows pass us, thinking all was right. However, I congratulated myself that our baggage was safe, and had a nap until Alfredo returned with the eatables and fodder, but with the doleful intelligence that no mules could be got without sending on to Yocalla, four leagues ahead. I am afraid that we made some rather hard remarks upon our friends at Potosí, who had so strongly advised us to travel posta, for had we agreed to pay the price asked by the arriero who offered us animals for Tacna, we should have been independent of the tricks of the Indian post-boys; however, we had our supper, and turned in, hoping that our troubles would be confined to the first day only.

The next day we started Marco, the gaucho, on to Yocalla, to return as quickly as possible with baggage mules, and waited as patiently as we could. I felt much better than yesterday, and this being an off-day for the shakes, I took a good dose of quinine, and hoped that, as we were getting to a somewhat lower level, the attacks of ague, or soroche, would cease. The post-house of Tarapaya is about 11,200 feet above sea-level, and the small village, about half a mile distant, seems to be entirely deserted, only one or two Indians being visible, and they were very much disinclined to sell us any provisions; indeed, we had to threaten to shoot a fowl for ourselves, before we could induce the owner to sell it to us for a very fair price of two reales and a half, or about 1s. It was not till nearly two o’clock in the afternoon that Marco returned with baggage mules, and we then made haste to saddle up and get on the road. Alfredo and I started on ahead of the boys; but, as I was not over strong, we could not ride at any but a walking pace; it was therefore quite dark before we arrived at Yocalla, near which we crossed the best masonry bridge in Bolivia—a single arch of about thirty feet span, and of masonry excellently well put together. The Indians of Yocalla say the devil built it in a single night; if so, his satanic majesty must be a very good mason. I wondered whether the explanation of this tale might not be that the bridge was one of the last works carried out under the Spanish government’s régime, and that possibly the builder might have been a freemason, in which case the priests would most probably have told the Indians that it was built by a devil.

The mozos and the baggage mules did not arrive at Yocalla until nearly ten at night, as they had encountered a very difficult task in driving the posta mules, which were very wild; at least, this was the explanation that the boys gave us of their delay; but, as we left Tarapaya before they did, I am rather inclined to think that they had a good long visit to a chicheria on the road. Until they arrived with the beds, we passed a bad time, for the mud berths in the post-house were not the softest couches, even when we had spread out all our rugs and saddle-cloths; and we were very glad to see them arrive safely with their cargoes, for we had got quite downhearted with surmising all manner of accidents that might have happened. This tedious waiting and uneasiness brought back my old enemy, the ague, so that I passed a bad night, and on the following morning could scarcely summon up courage enough to mount my mule and take to the road again. About eight o’clock, however, we managed to get off, after a cup of tea, and started for the next posta, called Leñas, about seven leagues distant.

Our road here lay principally over two long and steep cuestas, the one nearest to Yocalla rising to nearly 14,000 feet above sea-level, at which height there is a small lake or pool with a few ducks. On either side of the road the mountain tops, which were covered with snow, rose probably 1000 or 1500 feet higher than the summit of the pass. The next ascent, which is nearer to Leñas, rises about 5000 feet higher than the elevation assigned to the Yocalla cuesta, and on passing over it we met with a slight hail-storm. We arrived at the Leñas posta about three o’clock in the afternoon, having travelled slowly on account of my weakness, and we thought it prudent to be content with our day’s work of seven leagues. So we decided to rest for the remainder of the day, that our saddle mules might also refresh themselves thoroughly and be ready for a good day’s work to-morrow. Leñas is a single house, situated in a small plain surrounded entirely by rugged rocky eminences, amongst which Alfredo and the two mozos had great sport hunting “biscachas,” a lively little animal that makes its home in the holes of the rocks, and is so much like them in colour, a dark bluish grey, that a very sharp look-out is wanted to distinguish them. In shape they appear to be a cross between a squirrel and a rabbit, having the tail and ears of the former, and head and body of the latter, to which, when cooked, they assimilate greatly in flavour.

Barley was very scarce here, the Indians asking as much as six pesos two reales, or £1 sterling, per quintal of 100 lbs.; but, by a few threats of complaint to the corregidor of the district, although we had not the slightest idea who he might be or where to find him, we got the price reduced to five pesos, about 16s. To a quintal of barley in the straw, we added an arroba (25 lbs. weight) of the grain, costing twelve reales, about 5s., so that the mules, five in number, both feasted and rested well. The keep of the animals is the most costly part of the expenses of a journey in Bolivia, so that there is no doubt but that posting is the best way to travel, provided that one can be sure before starting that the posta arrangements are complete and in good working order throughout the route, and that the traveller has provided himself with a good saddle mule.

Shortly after arriving at Leñas, I set to work to write up my diary; and, looking for my aneroid barometer, I found, to my sorrow, that I had lost it on the road. I recollected that when the hail-storm commenced, as we were ascending the last cuesta, I put my heavy poncho on, and when the storm was over the sun came out so strongly that, being unable to bear the heat and weight of the said poncho, I had to take it off again, and so must have lifted the aneroid, which hung in its leather case by a small strap round my neck, over my head at the same time, without noticing its fall. This might easily have happened at any time, as it was a very small one, scarcely as large as a good-sized watch, and I would certainly recommend the use of the larger sizes, although they are much heavier and more cumbersome. No doubt it was careless in the extreme to drop an aneroid without noticing its fall; but when one is suffering from fever, perhaps shaking with cold and scarcely knowing how to sit on the mule, a small watch-sized article may easily drop unnoticed. The loss was most annoying to me, as one of the chief pleasures of the road was at an end, namely, the noting down of the differences of elevation of the different ravines and cuestas. In order to make every effort to recover my loss, I sent an Indian on foot and my mozo Juan on a mule, with orders to return as far as Yocalla, if necessary, as possibly the postilions who took back the mules belonging to that place, might have found it, and have taken it along with them. Juan returned about ten at night, saying he had found the postilions in a hut about half way to Yocalla, resting for the night, but that he could not get any tidings from them of the missing aneroid, although he searched their packs and pockets; so probably some of the llama men that passed us on the road had found it, and it was lost to me altogether.