Acomayo is a very pleasantly-situated village, of about three hundred inhabitants. When the authorities are asked concerning the population of any place, they always give the number of families. This place has seventy "casados," or couples of married people; and I judge, from experience, that five to each family is a fair allowance. The water here is very good, which was an agreeable change from the Huanuco water; and the fruits, oranges, figs, guavas, and chirimoyas, are of good quality. I noticed, also, a tree bearing a large bell-shaped flower, called floripondio. This is an old acquaintance of mine; it gives out a delicious fragrance at night, which, accompanied, as I have known it, by soft air, rich moon-light, and gentle company, makes bare existence a happiness.
About three miles up the "Quebrada" we turned to the northeast, and commenced the ascent of the Cerro de Carpis. This is one of a range of mountains running to the southward and eastward, forming the left-hand side of the valley of Acomayo, (looking down the stream,) and dividing the Sierra from the Montaña. The ascent is six miles long, and very tedious. I had no water to ascertain its height by the boiling-point apparatus, but judge, from the great descent to Cashi, (a distance of four miles, and so steep that we preferred to walk and lead our beasts,) that the pass is full eight thousand feet above the level of the sea; Cashi being six thousand five hundred and forty feet.
There is said to be a superb view of the Montaña from the summit of this hill, but the clouds (almost within reach of the hand) boiling up from the great deep below effectually cut it off, and we could see nothing. When we had got some distance down, and obtained a view through an opening in the thick growth of the mountain-side, we looked down upon the most rugged country I have ever seen. There seemed to be no order or regularity in the hills, which were thickly covered with forest; but the whole had the appearance of the surface of a vast boiling caldron suddenly stricken motionless. Just at the summit, and where the road turns to descend, hundreds of little wooden crosses were placed in the niches of the rock—votive offerings of the pious arrieros, either of gratitude for dangers passed, or for protection against dangers to come, in the ascent or descent of the mountain.
We walked down the descent, leading the beasts. The road was very rocky and muddy, and the mountain-side was clad with small trees and thick undergrowth. There were many creepers and parasitical plants, some of them very graceful and pretty. We stopped, at six, at a tambo called Cashi, built on a plat, about half-way down the mountain. We found our place of rest very agreeable; night clear, calm, and cold.
July 24.—An hour's travel brought us to the bottom of the hill, where we encountered the Chinchao valley coming down from the right. We crossed the stream that flowed through it, and travelled down the valley on its right bank, the road rising and falling on the sides of the hills. The character of the rock is a dark slate-stone, with occasional beds of gypsum. At seven miles from the tambo we passed the village of Chinchao, containing twelve houses and a church, with cotton, coffee, orange, and plantain trees scattered about the village. A pretty shrub, bearing a gay, red flower, in appearance like our crape myrtle, bordered the road-side. It is called San Juan, because it blooms about St. John's day, the 24th of June, like the Amancaes at Lima. The cultivation of the coca commences here.
I brought a letter from the sub-prefect at Huanuco, for the governor of Chinchao, but he was absent at his chacra, and not to be found. We then asked for the lieutenant governor; but though there seemed, from the general account, to be such a person, we could not find out exactly who he was, or where he lived. The arriero said he lived "a little lower down;" but at every house at which we called in our descent the reply still was mas abajo, (yet lower.) At last we seemed to have treed him, and even the man's wife was produced; but after a little conversation it appeared that our friend was still mas abajo. I was tired and hungry enough to wish he was—where he could not get any lower, for we had depended upon our letter for a breakfast. We continued our weary route, and at the next house (the best-looking we had seen) encountered a white woman, rather shrewish-looking, indeed, but still a woman, synonym everywhere for kindness. Ijurra civilly inquired if we could get a few eggs. I think our appearance, particularly the guns slung behind the saddles, bred mistrust, for we met with the invariable lie, no hay, (haven't got any.) I couldn't be baffled in this way: so, taking off my hat, and making my best bow, in my most insinuating tones I said "that we had something to eat in our saddle-bags, and would be very much obliged if La Señora would permit us to alight and take our breakfast there." She softened down at once, and said that if we had any tea she could give us some nice fresh milk to mix with it. We had no tea, but declared, with many thanks, that the milk would be very acceptable. Whereupon, it was put on to boil; and, moreover, a dozen fresh eggs, and boiled to perfection, were also produced. I enjoyed the breakfast very much, and was pluming myself on the effect of my fine address, when (alas for my vanity!) the lady, after looking at my companion for some time, said to him, "Aren't you un tal (a certain) Ijurra?" He said yes. "Then we are old playmates," said she. "Don't you recollect our play-ground, your old uncle's garden in Huanuco, and the apples you used to steal out of it to give me? I'm Mercedes Prado." Here was the solution to the enigma of our reception. Strange to say, the name awoke pleasant recollections in me also, and set before me the features of the gay and beautiful young girl whose quick repartee and merry laugh added so much to the charm of Valparaiso society.
The house of our hostess was very like a capsized ship, with the cut-water and upper part of the bows sawn off to make an entrance. It had a regular breast-hook made of saplings twisted together over the door, a kelson reaching from this to a very perfect stern frame, and, had the ribs been curved instead of straight, the likeness would have been exact. It was about fifty feet long, and made an airy and commodious residence. I was surprised to find that we were in the upper story of it, for we had entered from the ground without steps; but I afterwards discovered that we had entered from an esplanade cut in the side of the hill, levelled for the purpose of drying coca leaves, and that the lower story was at the bottom of the hill, the entrance facing the other way.
We went on our way rejoicing. The arriero had gone on ahead; and when we arrived at a chacra, called Atajo, at half-past four, we found that he had unloaded the mules. I was quite angry at his stopping so soon, and ordered him to load up again; but finding that he went to work to do it, I let him off, cautioning him against unloading without orders. The means of living are getting very scarce. We could get nothing to eat, and had to draw upon our charqui. The people of the hut seem contented with a chupe made of lard, with ullucas and young onions. Nights still cool; Ther. at 7 p. m., 61°; elevation of "Atajo," three thousand nine hundred and ten feet.
July 25.—The road from this place leaves the banks of the stream and ascends the hills on the right by a very steep and tedious ascent. The rocks of the road are a mica slate, and at the top of the hills a dark schist, white on the outside from exposure to the atmosphere. After arriving at the summit, we turned N. E. by N., and passed the haciendas called Mesa pata (the top of the table) and Casapi, which seemed abandoned. The road hence is a very rough descent, and a mere path through the bushes; the earth white, like lime, with gypsum cropping out occasionally. Near night we stopped at Chihuangala, the last hacienda of the valley, and beyond which there is no mule-road. The arrieros left us to seek pasturage. This is our last dealing with this gentry. I was glad to dismount, for I was tired of riding; but in spite of the abuse that is generally heaped upon the arrieros, I think I have had little difficulty to complain of. They seem to be tolerably honest and faithful, (when once on the road,) and, with judicious treatment, one can get along with them very comfortably. It rained heavily all the latter part of the night.
July 26.—At this place we were to await the Indians from Tingo Maria, (a village at the head of canoe navigation on the Huallaga,) to carry our luggage on. Ijurra had written from Huanuco to the governor of Tingo Maria, requesting him to send them to us at Chihuangala, sending the letter by one of Castillo's company who was returning.