Up the Amazon and Madeira rivers, through Bolivia and Peru

by Edward D. Mathews

I visited several of the mines, but a description of any one will give an idea of the work carried on at them. One of the English miners, a Mr. Penny, who had been resident in Bolivia for more than twenty-five years, invited me to his property of San José Chica, a flourishing mine about a mile from Oruro. The two working shafts, connected by galleries and with numerous headings were worked by the old Spaniards, but some difficulty is now met with from the influx of water, which cannot be kept under with the limited pumping-power available, until steam machinery can be imported into the district. Apart from this drawback, the mine appeared to be in fair working order, the lode yielding silver and tin ore of various values, percentages of from six to sixty per cent. being named. The mineral, as it came up to the top of the shafts, seemed to me to require only a little picking over, in order to free it from the rocky stuff adhering to the ore; but the practice is to select the best-looking lumps only, the remainder, which would doubtless pay well if passed through proper crushing-machinery and then reduced by smelting, being run away to spoil as valueless. The Indians soon get very expert in the work of picking out the best ore, and the selected mass is broken up by hand into small chips, washed in order to get rid of as much of the earthy impurities as possible, and packed into small bags of 50 lbs. each.

Many of the ores, when thus dressed, yield sixty to seventy per cent. of tin, and the mineral is known in the English markets as “barilla,” being shipped per steamer from Arica in the same condition as it is sent from the mine, the small bags stowing capitally between larger cargo. The freight paid for carriage of this ore from Oruro to Tacna by llamas, the cheapest mode of transport that exists at present on that route, is from two to three pesos per quintal, say from £7 5s. to £10 15s. per ton of 2240 lbs., the distance being said to be from eighty to a hundred leagues. This would give an average rate of about 8d. per ton per mile, and as each ton carried requires twenty-two llamas, it follows that each llama earns about one-third of a penny per mile for his owner. It is a very curious sight to see the llamas loaded up for their journey, and upon one occasion I saw over 500 being prepared for the road. Having been driven together as closely as possible, a rope is passed around the crowded animals, being so placed as to hang on the necks of the outer ones, thus forming a perfect ring fence. They are then let out one at a time, a piece of hairy llama hide, or sheepskin with wool on, is placed on their necks, and a couple of bags tied on, pack fashion. The llama is then left to its own devices until the whole “recua,” or drove, have been laden with their burdens, when they are driven on the road, being led sometimes by one of the finest of the drove, or by a tall black alpaca, or sometimes by an old hill pony; but, whatever the leader may be, he always has a bell tied round his neck, the ceaseless clangour from which seems to keep the drove together, warning them not to delay too long by the road-side nibbling any stray grass that they can find, and which appears to be all the forage they get. At the close of the day, as soon as night falls, the llamas are again driven closely together, their burdens taken off and stacked up in the form of a rough shed, under which the arriero shelters himself for the night. The burdens being removed, the animals are free to roam around and forage for themselves, having to trust to chance whether there be any water and grass near. At break of day they are all gathered together again, and the journey is resumed, it being perfectly wonderful to see what little trouble the men have to get their droves together each morning.

The cost of freighting the ore by llamas to the seaport is not excessive, but the time occupied on the journey is very great, the principal house in Oruro assuring me that it often took twelve months before they could obtain a return from their investments in “barilla.” When the Amazonian route is opened up by the completion of the Railway of the Madeira Rapids, a road from Totora to the port on the Chimoré River will be made, the existing road between Oruro and Cochabamba will be improved, and the whole of the mineral products of the central Andean valley of Bolivia will find its way to European markets over the shortest, easiest, and most natural route, even before the finances of the country shall have sufficiently improved to enable an interior system of railways to be commenced. There is no great difference in distance between Oruro and Tacna, and Oruro and the port on the Chimoré, but a journey with animals by the latter route offers far less risk, as pasturage is everywhere plentiful, and there is no danger of the animals dying from the effects of the soroche, so fatal on the pass of Tacora, the highest point of the Andes, passed on the roads from Oruro to the Pacific coast. If ever the happy day that shall see the opening of the Madeira and Mamoré Railway dawns for Bolivia, then few speculations appear to me to be more promising than that of mining near Oruro. The want of fuel for smelting purposes will not, when good roads are made, be felt so much at Oruro as at Potosí, for Oruro is within a reasonable distance of the eastern slopes of the Andes, which are well wooded.

As I expected, the revolution had entirely broken up the posta service between Oruro and Tacna, as well as that upon the La Paz road, so I had to suffer a week’s detention at Oruro, whilst looking out to purchase baggage mules. Animals of every kind were very scarce, but I was fortunate enough to secure a couple, though at very high prices; and our host, finding that we could not purchase any others, lent my companion Alfredo a baggage mule, and so we were at length provided for our journey on to Tacna.

During our stay in Oruro, the townspeople were much excited as to which side to take in the revolution. The prefect raised a small band of recruits and took them out to join General Daza, who was supposed to be encamped about a day’s march on the La Paz road. In his absence some conspirators of Quevedistic tendencies formed secret bands, and endeavoured to get up a “pronunciamento” for their favourite, General Quintine Quevedo. The night of January the 8th was chosen by the Quevedists for an attack upon the “quartel,” or barracks, which were held for the government by a “comandante” and about a hundred men. We had all turned in early, but about two o’clock in the morning our host called us up, saying that the revolution had commenced in the town. Alfredo and I dressed as quickly as possible, so that we might be prepared for any eventualities. At first the firing was rather rapid, but after about half an hour’s smart fusilade, it dropped off to single shots, as though one party were gradually retiring to the outskirts of the town. The shouting ceased by three o’clock, and all being quiet, we turned in again till daylight, when we found that a party of Quevedistas, supposed to be about five and twenty in number, having attacked the quartel, had been repulsed. Two of the defenders of the quartel were killed, and the comandante-general, who appeared to have conducted himself with great bravery, was hit twice in the arm and also in the side, the latter wound being a very dangerous one. The whole proceeding seemed to have been a very senseless one on the part of the Quevedistas, unless, as is very probable, they had a secret understanding with the soldiers in the quartel; if they had, the bravery of the comandante must have cowed his men, so that they feared to assist the attacking party, who were able to retreat without loss. The following morning the authorities were very active, and three or four men were taken into custody on suspicion, but it did not appear to be known for certain who were the leaders of the attack. Rumour said that the plan was, if the quartel had been taken, that requisitions or robberies would have been committed upon the principal mercantile houses, especially upon those that were thought to be favourable to the present government. As our host was agent for Messrs. Campbell & Co. of Tacna, who were thought to be “Gobiernistas,” all the mules in his corral, our own amongst the number, had been marked out for requisition, and, I fancy, not even my own well-known Quevedistic proclivities would have saved them. A forced contribution of 10,000 pesos was also to have been raised from the firm, whilst the other mercantile houses were put on the list for sums varying from a couple to five thousand pesos. However, fortunately for us, the combination did not succeed, and as we had everything in readiness for our onward journey we hoped to get away safely on the following morning. Late the same evening an arriero came in from Tacna with a recua of about fifty mules, and as the animals and their trappings were in good condition they formed quite an imposing sight. From this arriero I was able to hire a couple of “aparejos” in good order, to replace two of mine, which were not complete. He charged me eight pesos for the hire of each one, and this turned out to be a cheaper method of equipping one’s self than purchasing new aparejos and selling them at the end of the journey.

The following night passed quietly without any more attempts at revolution. Patrols were kept up in the streets, and although the Quevedistas threatened another row, none took place. The next day, January 9th, at 5 a.m., I called our mozos, and we began to arrange our baggage for a start. As our new mules were saddle animals, and consequently unaccustomed to cargo work, we had a good deal of trouble to get ready; but by about eight o’clock we managed to make a start, intending to travel that day as far as La Barca, a distance of twelve leagues. However, before we were out of Oruro we had more trouble with the animals, as they apparently wished to go every road but the right one. One mule, a fine grey animal that would have made a perfect match for my young companion’s “macho,” with which it would have made a fine pair for a coach, was particularly lively, and nearly succeeded in jumping to the top of an almost perpendicular bank, over four feet in height, and this with over a couple of hundred-weight on his pack-saddle. So we went on with many troubles, until getting on the road outside the town the animals behaved themselves better.

The road out of Oruro first crosses the junction of two ranges of hills, in both of which are several mines, the right-hand range behind the town being worked by an apparently very well managed mining enterprise, said to belong to the house of Blondell & Co. The road then is over pampa land, and nothing but pampa of the dullest and flattest kind conceivable. Here a macho, that we were allowing to run loose, took it into its head to bolt back for Oruro, and Alfredo and I had to scamper after him for about a league, until we headed him, and turned him back on the right road. We arrived at the river Desaguadero about four in the afternoon, and to the ferry called La Barca about six o’clock. Here we found a troop of donkeys crossing, but made them wait whilst we were ferried over, much to the disgust of their owners, but the Indians hereabout are quite insolent enough, and it is necessary to put them in their proper place now and then.

The Desaguadero is a riverine canal, which unites the lake of Titicaca with that of Poopo, or Choro. The canal has to be crossed on a pontoon or raft, kept in its course by a hide rope stretched from bank to bank, a distance of about 300 yards. The tolls collected are one reale, say 4¾d., per mule, half a reale for a donkey, and five llamas are passed for one reale. The pontoon is made of three large barrels lashed together in a row, and having three pointed caissoons on the front. A twisted hide rope, fully three inches and a half in diameter, and most wonderfully made, is stretched across the river, being anchored to heavy stones on either side. The pointed caissoons are placed up stream, and the proper direction being given to the rudder, the current lent some slight assistance to the two men who worked the launch across the river by handwork. The launch might have a better flooring, and the landing-stages might with little expense be greatly improved; but still, on the whole, the ferry is very serviceable to travellers, and, as the traffic is considerable, it must be a fortune to the old lady who is the proprietor, and who resides at the house on the western side of the river. The Desaguadero is the outlet for the surplus waters of lake Titicaca, the largest fresh-water lake of the South American continent, and has a course of about 200 miles in length before emptying itself into the lake of Poopo. At La Barca it is about fifty or sixty yards wide, and has but a slight current, is very muddy, and is said to be about twenty-four feet in depth at the crossing, but did not seem to me to be so deep. Without considerable dredging it would not be available for steamers, as it is very narrow and changes its course continually, leaving shallow places and “playas” (sandbanks) at every turn. The level of lake Titicaca is given in Keith Johnston’s maps as 12,846 feet above sea-level, whilst the lake of Poopo is probably about 12,400 feet. This gives an incline of about two feet per mile between the two lakes, a fall which is probably pretty evenly distributed over the entire course of the river.

Having crossed the river, we entered the house belonging to the proprietress of the ferry, and engaged a large room where my companion and I could have our cots at one end, whilst our mozos slept on hides laid on the floor at the other. We here made ourselves pretty comfortable, and having bought some mutton, had a good chupe made for supper, after which we turned in for a good night’s rest in hope of making good progress on the morrow. At La Barca prices were moderate, barley for the mules being two pesos the quintal, whilst the total charge for the mutton for our supper and the use of the room for the night was only a peso, so that, if there be no great accommodation for travellers at the Desaguadero Hotel and ferry, at least one cannot complain of the charges. Sunday, January the 10th, was to see us to the nearest village, called Llollia, pronounced “Yocclia,” an Indian settlement, about twelve leagues from La Barca. We rose at five, but it was nearly eight o’clock before we got the mules all saddled and cargoes up. The road all day lay entirely over pampas which, in most places, were very muddy and covered with the rain which had fallen during the preceding night, and which lay in many places three and four inches in depth. This made the travelling very heavy work; but, notwithstanding, we did the twelve leagues by four o’clock in the afternoon. The tops of the ranges of hills in sight were covered with snow, and during the greater part of the day a very cold wind blew, with heavy driving rain, but fortunately at our backs. Llollia is a small Indian aldea, or collection of ranchos, built of mud, plastered with a little lime on the inside, and with very small, coffin-shaped doors, which gave one a good idea of what living in a “chulpa” must have been like. The Indians here are Aymarás, and are very cunning,—one fellow came out to meet us long before we neared the village, and tried his best to make us believe that a room he offered us was the only one to be had. On arrival we went to see his hut, and found it was more than three parts full of barley, so we looked round amongst the other ranchos, and soon got offers right and left, securing a tolerably-sized room for ourselves and a corral for the mules.