CHAPTER VII.
GUATEMALA TO ESQUIPULAS.
Pacaya, Fuego, Agua.
Early one morning Frank and I rode out of the city and up hill to an elevation of twelve hundred feet, passing the aqueduct and getting several fine views of the capital,—better in some respects than the view from the Cerro del Carmen; for now the two volcanoes were clear. As the road was excellent, and our animals were in thorough trim, we both got more enjoyment in the saddle than from almost any other mode of sight-seeing. We were leaving the volcanoes of Antigua; but Pacaya was before us, and we had entered a distinctly volcanic region. We passed several small villages, in one of which we breakfasted on honey and tortillas. Cerro Redondo is a small hamlet of perhaps a thousand inhabitants, whose chief occupation is coffee-culture. The “round hill” which gives the name is a small, very regular volcanic cone,—one of a number less regular extending towards the Pacific coast. Here in the road-cut were black volcanic sands and plenty of vesicular lava. As the daylight waned, we met men, women, and children coming from their day’s work in the cafétal, and a contented, happy company they were. We did not arrive at the chief town of the Department of Santa Rosa, Cuajinicuilapa,—or Cuilapa, as it is often abbreviated,—until nine o’clock. Here we found a wretched posada, where we shared our room with an enormous cockroach an inch wide and two and three quarter inches long. Although we had a letter to the Jefe from the Department of State, we did not care to wait in the morning for him to get up; so after climbing into the church-tower and over the roof, we rode on to the fine old bridge over the Rio de los Esclavos. This, consisting of ten masonry arches spanning a rocky ravine, bears the dates 1592-1852. Our path followed the valley for some time, and at a convenient place we had a bath in the rapid river, whose waters were agreeably cool. As we left the river our path led up a very steep ascent nearly eighteen hundred feet. On the way we had several fine views of the “Hunapu” volcanoes,—Pacaya, Fuego, Agua, and Acatenango,—clustered together, and in the clear atmosphere seeming to be close at hand. Pacaya seemed to have the largest crater, while Agua had none visible from this side. On the top of this “ladder” we rested our animals on a grassy plain where they could pasture. We had noticed cotton-trees (Bombax) on the way up, and we found some wild pines that the men repairing the road had left, and we tracked the fruit, which is pleasantly acid, to the pines used here for hedging (Bromelia Pinguin). The curious umbrella-ants (Œcodoma) were common on the path, each carrying its bit of leaf wherewith to stock the formicarium. A puff of the breath would overset these heavy sail-bearers, which go in Indian file. We had no time to follow them home on this occasion;[27] for when we came to Azacualpa, still some eight leagues from Jutiapa, we found this large village (twelve hundred inhabitants) had no posada. Indeed, it had nothing but corn and beans, and even water was scarce; so we pushed on into the night through an unknown country. After dark we could buy no maiz for our bestias, though a señora sold us a bottle of excellent honey. We had seen from the hill above, in the fading light, a magnificent valley of great extent, broken by ridges and ravines, and we had hoped to find some decent shelter. But when the moon rose over a volcano, we decided to camp; and picketing our steeds on a fine pasture, we slept on our blankets, undisturbed except by the wind, which was strong at times. Our barometer told us we were 3,152 feet above the sea. I noticed that in the highlands it was apt to be windy at night.
Hunapu from the East.
In the morning our honey, a little bread, and some unripe oranges gave us a very unsubstantial meal; nevertheless at daybreak we saddled and rode on. We saw many pigeons, little gray quails that ran along the path, and crows. At La Paz we found a very neat house, where we stopped for almuerzo; but alas for external signs! my bowl of black-bean soup contained a patriarchal cockroach. It was pleasant to see through the open door our animals eating a good breakfast of sacaton. A little farther on was a clear stream; but most of the way was over a dusty plain among espina blancas[28] (Acacia) and calabash-trees, lava streams and blocks. The surface of the ground was cracking open with dry shrinkage, and there was little to interest us. Our Yankee nature asserted itself, and we whittled at some of the little purple-spotted calabashes as we rode along. The rind is very hard, even in young fruit; and the inside is solid and consistent as an unripe squash. The odd-looking, speckled blossoms spring from the trunk of the crabbed-looking tree (Crescentia cujete).
About noon we came to Jutiapa, situated on a plain through which the Rio Salado has cut a deep valley. We entered by a gateway and found the Plaza. This was paved, and in the midst a dribbling fountain indicated a very insufficient water-supply for the town. Before us was the church, behind us the Casa Nacional, and the other sides were occupied by stores and the house of the Jefe. Our anxious inquiries for a posada were met with the too frequent answer that there was no such thing here in this town of some twelve hundred inhabitants. Good fortune directed us to inquire of a person in a shop at a corner just beyond the church; and this resulted in a most hospitable invitation to the house of Señor Alonzo Rozales, a Spanish gentleman whose name will be always a charm to conjure by. He gave us a large room opening to the street as well as into the patio, and we at once felt at home. We had walked many miles, I leading, Frank driving, the poor tired animals. It was fifteen leagues from Cuilapa to Jutiapa, and the road was very hard and maiz very scarce. We were obliged to wait here for our mozos, whom we had sent from Guatemala but had not overtaken on the road; and we were happy enough that the necessary delay came in so comfortable a place. Our host brought us new mats for our bedsteads, and pillows trimmed with lace in Spanish style; then, after killing a very large and crusty scorpion which had established himself over the door, presented us with a bottle of Val de Peña,—a fine red wine from Spain,—and left us to our rest.
Sunday morning came, but no signs of our mozos. The church was closed, as there was no resident padre; we got in, however, while an attendant opened it to do some work on the bells. The roof was apparently arranged for a fortification. Within we saw the skull of an Indio (?) built into the stucco over the agua bendita, and a painting representing a padre offering the consecrated wafer to a kneeling ass,—apparently in the office of the communion, as the padre holds the chalice in his other hand. A figure in the background—perhaps the owner of the ass—has long mustachios, wears a turban, and holds up his hands in astonishment. No explanation of this curious subject could be obtained there; and after rejecting Balaam and his ass, we concluded that this was the ass on which Christ rode to Jerusalem. As volcanoes are baptized into the Church, why not asses?
There was a worn-out, poverty-stricken appearance to the town; not a cultivated plant to be seen, as all the vegetables and fruits are grown at some distance, in the more fertile mountain valleys. Some of the larger houses, indeed, have a few flowers in their patio; but these are quite invisible from the street. No fruit was in the shops or for sale in the streets, and our animals were fed on squashes. Perhaps at the annual fair (November 15) this ancient town, which under the name of Xutiapan existed long before the Conquest, may assume a livelier appearance. Still anxious about our mozos, we walked back several miles on our road, though the high wind made travelling very disagreeable. At last, in the afternoon, Santiago arrived with the mozo we had hired in Guatemala; and to our astonishment the latter brought with him his wife and little daughter. This was more of a caravan than we had bargained for, and I was puzzled; but the woman seemed quiet and inoffensive, and the child, who could hardly walk, and was carried always on her mother’s back, was a good little thing, indeed, the most reasonable child I ever saw. I acquiesced in the arrangement the more readily because I saw that the woman was unwilling to have her husband go away so far from home that he might not return to her. He was a handsome, strong fellow, and proved well worth all the woman’s care.