The next poste, Pisculco, four leagues beyond Punilla over a good road that wound through semi-arid hills, was an extremely primitive affair. The master of the poste and all the postillons were “absent,” but we secured the services of a small boy who bravely girded his belt, slung a horn over his shoulder, received his pay and started out as our guide and escort. He soon fell behind, however, and before we knew it, disappeared among the brown bushes. Both his scanty raiment and his skin were so nearly the color of the ground that it was a hopeless task to look for him, and we went on, trusting we should be able to follow such a well-travelled highway without the necessity of a guide. Unfortunately, the road forked, and in choosing the more travelled branch, we followed a short cut in the steps of llama pack trains. As they camp in the open at night, we missed the road for Moromoro, took the wrong turn, and after a perilous descent down a mile of treacherous, slippery rocks, found ourselves at the abandoned tambo of Challoma, whose only inhabitants were an old woman and her pigs. She was greatly alarmed at our arrival and told us in shrill tones that we were three leagues off the road. Nevertheless, as it was rapidly getting dark and we had had a hard ride of forty miles, we decided to take shelter under the leaky roof of the ancient poste.
Beyond Challoma the trail crossed a cañon and a shallow stream and finally came out on a series of flat lands where we saw a few burros and llamas
grazing on the dry grass which had been left over from the last rainy season.
In the middle of one such plain stood the next poste, Caracara, built like a fortress in the desert. There are only three openings in the great square inclosure: a barred window high up in a gable end near one corner; a little door leading to a cantina where one could purchase a few drinks, matches, candles, and cigarettes; and a small arched entrance through which loaded animals and travellers pass to the courtyard. Although on one of the most important highways in Bolivia it did not afford any food for the animals or ourselves.
After leaving Caracara, we passed a few pink roses blooming under the shelter of some rocks. They looked strangely out of place in this Thibetan wilderness but they gave signs of the coming spring and the rainy season. In the afternoon we had several thunder-showers. The result of the showers of the past few days had been to stimulate also the growth of an occasional geranium, or modest little fern. In general there was little to relieve the monotonous brown wilderness.
For league after league we continued our march westward through a confused mountainous region. In southern Bolivia we had followed a long valley running in a north and south direction, but here our route lay across the valleys. Sometimes we followed the coach road for several leagues and then took a short cut down a steep hillside. At times we did not see a single hut in the twelve or fourteen miles separating the postes. While not quite so sandy and desolate as the region farther south, still it impresses one as being extremely inhospitable and unlikely ever to support a larger population.