About nine leagues from the town there are mines of silver, and the inhabitants expect that the district will some day be equal to the famous Caracoles mines of the coast; but their sanguine hopes are not, in my opinion, ever likely to be realized, as their situation is far away from any possible railway route, even supposing the projected line between Tacna and La Paz should be carried out. The difficulties of transport, fuel, and forage will therefore be always so great as to preclude the idea of successful mining. Provisions of every kind were very dear, and fresh meat seldom to be had, nor even fowls nor eggs. Barley for the mules cost six pesos the quintal in the straw, but was to cost yet more further on the road to Tacna.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Pichagas—The peak of Sahama—Chocos—Capture of a sheep for fresh meat—Ostriches—Sepulturas—Mortality amongst animals—Mule attacked with belly pains—El Cerro del Volcan—Las Siete Vueltas—Bright-coloured hills—Peru entered—Tacora—Mules attacked with soroche—El Rio de Azufre—Aqueduct to Tacna from river Maury—The Pass of Chulancani—Apacheta of bones—Aspect of the Pacific slope of the Andes—Projected railway between Tacna and La Paz—The Portada—El Ingenio—Palca—New road in construction—Arrival at Tacna—The hotel Bola de Oro—Tacna and its trade—Attempt to sell the mules in Tacna—Railway from Tacna to Arica—Effects of the great hurricane wave of 1869—Arica—By steamer from Arica to Callao—Callao—Its magnificent harbour—Lima—The cathedral—Plaza de Armas—Old bridge, built in 1608—Firemen—By steamer from Lima to Panamá—Payta—Panamá—Severe fires—The prison—Rail to Aspinwall—Aspinwall—Home by mail steamer.
The following day, January 14th, we called up the mozos about two o’clock in the morning, and by about five we had had our coffee, mules were saddled, packs all up, and a start made. The morning was fine and clear as usual, for the storms come on generally in the afternoon. The road out of the village is northward, and soon gets into a rather wide quebrada with a river, which we crossed and recrossed several times. A small plain, with good grass, plenty of water, a few ranchos, and the largest herd of alpacas that we had yet seen, is called Pichagas. A little distance from this, a short but sharp cuesta—in the ascent of which one of our pack mules fell just on the edge of the precipice—takes up from the ravine to a rocky plateau, which I guessed to be about 800 feet higher than the plain of Curahuara. Arriving at the top of the cuesta, zigzagged out of the side of the ravine, a rocky plateau extends as far as the eye can reach. From thence the ravine looks like a great rent in the earth, the sides being so straight and evenly matched that it is evident some stupendous force of nature must have burst the solid rocks asunder, for the enormous rift cannot have been caused by the action of the small stream that runs in the bottom of the ravine, or “cañon,” as it would be called in the northern continent.
On the plateau, the rock is over hard, flat, rocky ground, until it approaches the foot of the noble peak of Sahama. This mountain is always snow-covered at its summit, which Hugo Reck gives as 6546 metres, or 21,470 feet above sea-level. Sahama is but sluggishly active, as nothing but a small amount of smoke has ever been observed to ascend from it. Its outline is exceedingly regular and graceful in form, and as it rises nearly 8000 feet above the plateau from which it springs, it affords a sight that for impressive grandeur is scarcely to be equalled elsewhere in nature. The almost equally beautiful peaks called Las Tetillas are also visible more to the northward, from this plain, and, together with Sahama, form a prospect which alone would repay a lover of mountain scenery for his journey across the Andes.
Hereabouts were many vicuñas, so tame that they allowed one to approach well within pistol-shot. These animals remind one of the deer in many of the parks and forests of our own country, their fawn-coloured backs and white bellies, long necks and slender legs completely carrying out the illusion. In the afternoon we had the usual storm of hail, thunder, and lightning, during which we arrived at Chocos, a solitary house and pulperiâ, well-provided with every necessary except fresh meat. Fortunately we had provided ourselves with this on the road, for, seeing a good flock of sheep, Marco caught one with his lasso, gaucho fashion. This seems to be the proper thing for travellers to do en voyage over the Andes, to help themselves when in want of fresh meat, for the owners of sheep or poultry, for instance, will never sell them willingly except in the market towns; but no sooner had we caught our mutton, than a woman, before invisible, appeared mysteriously from goodness knows where, probably from behind some large boulder, of which there were a vast number scattered over the plain. She did not appear much put out at our summary proceedings, and what little anger she did show was doubtless put on just for appearance’ sake, being easily pacified by the present of a couple of melgarejos, with short beards, which are the fashion in this part of the country. The sheep raised at such high altitudes are very small, smaller even than Welsh mutton; but the meat is sweet and makes a capital chupe, and a whole sheep for about 3s. cannot be dear whatever its size. Our prize was easily carried by Marco across the pommel of his saddle, and, arriving at Chocos, was soon killed, skinned, cut up, and cooked into a good supper for all hands, including our friends the joyeros, who joined us again, and shared our meal, which consisted of the inevitable chupe, a fry of chops, some bottled beer, and an excellent cup of chocolate; the total expense, with the charge for the room and the use of the corral for the animals, being just 10s. between us all. Barley was, however, very dear, being seven pesos, or about 22s., the quintal, and seems to be getting dearer and dearer every stage, until at last we almost expect to have to feed our mules with the money itself. During the night a hail-storm raged with great fury, but being under a good strong roof we did not mind it. Our mules must, however, have suffered greatly in their open corral, and it is astonishing how fresh they always turn out in the morning whatever may have been the weather during the night; indeed, it seems that, so long as they get plenty of fodder, rain, hail, snow, or frost have very little effect upon them.
Our next stage should have been from Chocos to Cosepilla, a run of twelve leagues; but on arriving at Sepulturas we heard that there was no barley to be had at Cosepilla, so we decided to remain the night at Sepulturas. The road travelled during the day had nothing particularly worthy of mention, nearly the whole of the distance being over pampa land, with only one cuesta of consequence which might easily have been avoided. During the day we passed several recuas of mules and donkeys, these having for some days past been very few in number. We also saw an ostrich (“avestruz”), the only one that we saw during the journey to Tacna. It was of dark grey colour and of fair size, and was within easy rifle-shot, but lolloped rapidly away. Further south the ostriches are more plentiful, but there appear to be very few on the Bolivian Andes, whilst the “guanaco,” so numerous in Chili, Argentine, and Patagonia, does not seem to come so far north. Vicuña were in great numbers: in one herd, scarcely 200 yards away from the track, I counted twenty-six; others of ten and twelve were very frequent.
We arrived at Sepulturas about one o’clock in the afternoon, and gave the mules a good long rest, intending to make a long journey of about sixteen leagues (nearly fifty miles) on the morrow. The posada here is pretty fair, though not so good as the one at Chocos. A regular tariff of prices for chupes, etc., is posted up, but bears the comforting announcement that the good things offered to the traveller will be “proporcionado con el mayor gusto cuando posible,” or “supplied with the greatest pleasure when possible;” the two last saving words being doubtless intended to cover a multitude of deficiencies, and to lead up to the old posada answer of “No hay, señor.”
Next morning we rose soon after midnight, but my mozo was suffering from a slight attack of ague, so we were delayed until nearly five o’clock before we could get on the road. The air was fine and frosty, and freshened us up famously. Before leaving this place we note why it bears the unpleasant and very suggestive name of Sepulturas, or “the Tombs.” For some reason, at present unexplained, it seems to be peculiarly fatal to animals, and has become a perfect charnel-field. The number of dead mules and donkeys, together with the whitened bones of former corpses, scattered over the plain was something extraordinary, giving such a melancholy look to the place that it seems strange indeed that travellers should make it a halting-place; and how any one could be found to live there, and keep up the posada, was one of those things that pass an ordinary person’s comprehension. Probably this excessive mortality is caused by the “soroche,” or “mountain sickness,” which is doubtless strongest in its effects at this point of the journey over the Andes. Some people blame the water of the locality more than the altitude, but I did not hear that the human travellers passing through or the inhabitants of the posada suffered equally with animals, as would have been the case if the drinking water had been poisonous. However, be the cause what it may, I should advise any wanderer over the route from Oruro to Tacna, or vice versâ, to arrange if possible not to break his journey at Sepulturas, the mere sight of the place being enough to give him very melancholy recollections, and had it not been for the report we heard of the lack of fodder for the animals at Cosepillas, we should have ridden on there instead of passing the night in the “Tombs.”