In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

Since leaving Cochabamba we had made very good time; although there had been several halts en route, the distance covered each day was comparatively great, ranging sometimes up to forty miles, considering that we always travelled with our pack-train. Such long rides were made possible by the fact that all arrieros were mounted; if they travelled on foot, as in Colombia, the distance traversed each day would be about half. Fast travelling, however, was hard on the mules. When we reached Samaipata our animals were in poor condition, so we left them in charge of an attendant and engaged a complete new outfit for a short side-trip toward Santa Cruz.

One of our main objects in undertaking this entire long, arduous journey was to attempt to determine the southern limit of the subtropical forest zone. This type of forest grows on the eastern slopes only of the Bolivian Andes; a section directly eastward would, therefore, take us through this zone and possibly enable us to find the solution to the problem. It was not intended to cover the entire one hundred and ten miles from Samaipata to Santa Cruz, but only to go far enough to secure the desired information.

The mountain range breaks down rapidly east of Samaipata, but the road to Santa Cruz is, nevertheless, neither an easy nor a level one. There are still four steep ridges to cross, called Cuevas, Negra, Herradura, and Guitara; between them lie small, well-watered valleys, planted in cane and fruits, and settled by Bolivians of Spanish extraction. There are no more Quechuas, nor is their language spoken; after many months we were once again in a Spanish-speaking world.

The trail, at least during the second day’s travel, lies near the course of the Rio Piray, and the scenery flanking this watercourse is among the most picturesque found in the Bolivian Andes. There is a bewildering succession of dome-shaped peaks, unscalable cliffs and overhanging precipices, all of red sandstone. Many of the formations are spotlessly clean and smooth, as if scoured, or cut with a knife. The river laves the base of the rugged chain, and dark caverns worn into the frowning battlement open alluringly to tempt the adventurous spirit to explore their unknown depths.

Vermejo is the name given to a fertile region that may be called yungas, between the Negra and Herradura ridges. Several houses are scattered along the trail; the inhabitants grow maize, potatoes, and large quantities of cane that is used in making chancaca (brown sugar) and molasses. The people also make bread and a peculiar “food-drink” called somo to sell to passers-by. Somo is made of boiled maize that has been left standing until fermentation sets in, and is taken with molasses. To us, the taste was very disagreeable, but the natives were fond of it and purchased a bowlful at frequent intervals. Chicha, made from peanuts, was also to be had at some of the dwellings.

With the exception of the tracts cleared for cultivation, and the bare sandstone summits, the country is covered with light forest. There is practically no moss, but a dense undergrowth of climbing bamboo and a few palms and ferns. As a whole, the vegetation does not greatly resemble that of the true subtropic or cloud-forest zone, and as this was its upper limit and three thousand and five hundred feet above sea-level, it should have been of the subtropic type, if any exists in the region. We may, therefore, safely conclude that this marks the ending of the zone of cloud forest existing on the eastern slope of the Andes during practically their entire course north of this point.

Birds were not very common, and of comparatively few species; but the fauna is entirely different from that of the uplands. The brilliant little tanagers (Calliste), so typical of the mountain forest, are conspicuously absent. There were, however, several kinds of warblers, and wrens, parrots, and other birds properly belonging to such a region. A black-and-white guan (Pipile) was really plentiful, and while the distribution of the species is very great, I had always considered it a rare bird. It is about twenty-eight inches long, and of a bronzy-black color. The top of the head and a large blotch on the wings are white; the naked cheeks and a long throat-caruncle are of a delicate shade of grayish blue. The bird’s rasping cry may be heard morning and evening, as it takes wing and alternately soars and flaps from one tree to another, or skims over the top of the forest. Adult birds weigh up to four pounds and are killed for food on every possible occasion, as the flesh is very good. The individuals I examined had been feeding on green leaves swallowed whole.

Jays in flocks followed us about in the forest and kept up a constant screaming and scolding. It was impossible to escape them without using drastic measures. They were a great nuisance, as their cries frightened other forms of wild life away; both the black-fronted blue and the green-and-yellow species mingled in the same flocks.

Vermejo on the Santa Cruz trail.