In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

We had travelled to the Yungas on mules owned by the expedition, and upon our arrival turned them loose to feed as usual. Next morning the animals were in a sorry plight; they had been visited by vampire-bats during the night, and bled so badly that we had to send them back to Locotál without delay. Severe as this attack seemed to be, it was mild compared to what we were to see later on. We discovered clumps of the small bats guilty of the execution spending the days under the roof of our hut, and despatched many of them, but this made no impression whatever upon their vast number. People, also, are bitten on any part of the body which is left exposed at night, and I have frequently seen Indians which had been attacked on nose, forehead, and arms.

After completing our work in the Yungas we returned to Cochabamba in order to await more favorable weather for the trip into the lowlands of eastern Bolivia, and to restock our outfit with articles which had been used, and others which it seemed necessary to acquire for the difficult undertaking ahead.

After spending several weeks in the vicinity of Cochabamba, we made arrangements with the mail-carrier which enabled us to travel jointly to the Chaparé. He usually made the trip at six weeks’ intervals during the dry season, and, consequently, he knew the trail better than any one else. His peons were also accustomed to the country and knew how to adjust packs so they would meet the varying conditions of the road, which is an “art” that can be learned through long experience only.

On July 12 we left Cochabamba. Besides my companion and our personal attendant there were the mail-carrier and his three peons; twelve good, strong mules carried the luggage, and there were half a dozen riding and spare animals—quite a cavalcade for the kind of undertaking in hand.

Three days after starting we reached our old camping-spot in the Yungas, and, after stopping for a short chat with the old caretaker of Señor Quiroga’s hut we proceeded into what was for us terra incognita.

Numerous huts of flimsy construction are scattered along the entire twenty miles or more of cultivated slopes; each has a fenced-in area paved with flat stones upon which coca leaves are dried. We stopped at a number of these dwellings in an attempt to buy fruit or vegetables, but unfortunately the men were all away working in the fields, and any one who has attempted to purchase anything from the average Quechua squaw knows how hopeless a task it is. Although they may have a superabundance of the article desired, they seem to take great delight in refusing to sell anything to a stranger; then the only method to follow is to take what is needed, offer a fair price for it and pass on, leaving them in the midst of their wild rantings; the men are easier to deal with.

The peons, and the patrón as well, stopped at each hut where the white flag announced that chicha was for sale, and attempted to drink enough to last them until their return; after their money gave out they left articles of clothing in payment for the drinks. It was therefore a great relief when the last abode of the intoxicating beverage had been left behind, and we plunged into the wilderness. Immediately after leaving the Yungas we ascended a precipitous slope, the top of which was seven hundred feet above the surrounding country, and then descended on the other side until the elevation was only two thousand feet; here the forest was more tropical in character, and some of the trees, especially the cottonwoods, reached a height of one hundred and fifty feet, and measured twenty-five feet through the buttressed roots at the base.

The day after leaving the Yungas we reached the most dangerous part of the whole trail. After crossing a number of steep, high ridges, we came to an abrupt slope, the side of which is seared by a huge gash where the treacherous white clay keeps sliding constantly into the river, many hundreds of feet below. Each caravan desiring to pass must first cut a ledge in the moving mass of soft, muddy earth, and then hurriedly lead the mules across, one at a time, before the newly made trail is obliterated. The spot is very appropriately named Sal-si-Puedes (pass if you can), for any one succeeding in crossing this slide is very apt to possess the ingenuity required to negotiate the remainder of the trail.

That night we made camp early on the banks of the Rio San Antonio, called Chuspipascana by the Indians, which means Mosquito River. The altitude of the site is only one thousand eight hundred feet above sea-level. The river was a clear, rapid stream one hundred feet wide, flowing through a rock-strewn bed a quarter of a mile across. Swarms of black flies, sand-flies, and other stinging or biting insects immediately came out to greet us. Birds were very abundant. In addition to the jays, ant-wrens and manakins, which remained in the forest, flocks of parrots and toucans flew across the open spaces. One of the most unusual occurrences was the great flocks of a new species of giant oriole; there were not less than one thousand of these birds in a single flock, and they roamed almost everywhere, coming close to camp to inspect the tents, and to discuss them in hoarse cries of curiosity or resentment. They were beautiful creatures, of a deep chestnut color with light olive-green head and neck; the face is devoid of plumage and of a flesh-color, while the tip of the bill is deep orange. The flesh is highly esteemed by the natives and we found it quite palatable.

As soon as the cargoes had been neatly placed in a pile and covered with a tarpaulin to keep them dry the peons cooked their supper; this consisted of a thick soup made of corn-meal and charque (dried beef). They had a meal in the morning and another at night; during the long walk throughout the day they chewed coca leaves. The mules were turned loose to shift for themselves, but as plenty of wild cane grows near the rivers, they had an abundance of food. One of the animals carried a bell tied to its neck, and the others would seldom stray out of hearing of the constant clanging. In the morning the men easily located the bell-mule and led it back to camp, the others following in single file. Should one be missing, which was a rare occurrence, it was only necessary to take the bell and shake it vigorously; this soon brought the stray member to the spot.