At Zacapa we left the volcanic region; and afterwards we saw no more lava or tufa, but a formation resembling old red sandstone, mica schist, slates, milk-quartz, and some serpentine. We were then in the metamorphic mountain-belt. The shapes of the hills of course changed with their geological nature, and we missed the beautiful cones that had formed a characteristic of our daily landscape since we had our first glimpse of Tajumulco from the Chixoy valley many weeks before.
On this road we saw the Palo Cortez,—one of the most splendid flowering-trees I ever saw. It was large, leafless, and covered with dark-pink flowers. Never in large numbers, it brightened the dark forests with its mass of rich color, and as many as five or six would be in sight at once. Surely we could have made a calendar marked by some remarkable plant each day; and this Sunday was a red-letter day, marked by this tree named in honor of the great Conquistador. A fine arborescent composite, with dark-orange blossoms of the size and shape of thistles, closely recalled the Hesperomannia that my dear friend Horace Mann (the younger) discovered during our explorations in the Hawaiian Islands, twenty years before.
In the afternoon we passed the rancho of Don Cayetano, where we saw good cattle, but did not stop until some distance beyond, when we boiled our coffee by the roadside and I photographed our travelling arrangements. Although we arrived at Gualan at half-past five, we had more than the usual trouble in finding a lodging; but at last a deaf old man, who was also burdened with a large goitre, took us into his comfortable house of two rooms, while Santiago, who professed to be familiar with the place, took our animals in charge. The town was insignificant and decayed, although on the main road from Guatemala City to the coast. After a supper of the toughest meat we had found in this republic, our host gave us his daughter’s room; and while Frank attempted to make the little bed comfortable, I slung my hammock from the dusty rafters. The daughter, about sixteen, was rather pretty, and we were sorry to incommode her; but she turned in with the old man, and we could hear that they were both asleep long before we got used to the squeaking noise of a lizard in the thatch and to the showers of dust every motion of my hammock shook down from above.
We were at the head of navigation on the Motagua, and decided to send our mozos on to Los Amates by land, while we took a canoa. Santiago had promised us one in the morning, but could not find it; whereupon Frank found a boatman, and reduced his price from $4.00 to $2.50. Just as we were returning to the house to get our luggage, we met our useless Santiago with a man who had kindly consented, as an especial favor to him, to take us for $6.00. In going to the river we passed the Calvario, which was elaborately walled; but the roots of many shrubs were prying the masonry open. A descent of about two hundred feet brought us to the river bank, and we found the water cool and good.
Our canoa was a good “dugout,” with a mat of split bambu for our seat, and our boatman managed it very skilfully, avoiding the frequent shoals and taking full advantage of the current. Bathers and washerwomen were common along the banks,—the latter with precious little clothing, but usually working under a palm-leaf shelter. Often they did not hear the paddle, so noisy were their tongues, until we were close upon them; and they generally ducked when they saw us. White herons, alligators, and iguanas were common enough, and we saw two very round turtles about a foot in diameter. Twice we touched bottom in the rapids; but the skill of the paddler kept us bows on and saved us a wetting.
At Barbasco the river was wide, and we saw three mules crossing, as our bestias would have to do later in the day. They waded two thirds of the distance and swam the rest, one being carried by the current into the bushes down stream.[29] The exhilarating motion was in marked contrast to our struggle up the Rio Polochic; but there was no such interest in the valley of the Rio Motagua as in that of the Polochic, and not until we approached Los Amates did we come to the forest. In many places banana or plantain suckers had got entangled in the bushes overhanging the banks or on shoals, and were rooting and growing. The river is about a hundred yards wide at Los Amates, where we landed after a canoa voyage of five hours and a half. The steep bank was muddy, and the whole town likewise, as far as we could see. Four open-walled reed huts shelter all the inhabitants, both man and beast. The view riverwards was attractive, as the river seemed the only way out of this forest-environed spot. We walked into the woods on the trail northward to El Mico, about three quarters of a league; here the ground was utterly water-soaked, and we saw nothing interesting except two humming-birds having a bitter duel. They were so absorbed in their deadly hatred that we stood some minutes within arm’s length without interrupting them. Near the houses the manàca-palms overspread the path in most perfect Gothic arches, forming groined vaults of living green. Our comida was tolerable; but flies and mosquitoes were abundant, so were dogs and pigs, and there were many chickens with their wings turned inside out and their feathers put on the wrong way. We could throw stones at the dogs without attracting notice; but I found the people evidently did not like to have the pigs insulted.
Our señora was a curious specimen, all skin and bones, clad in a scant dress, a large straw hat, and apparently nothing else, and smoking an ever-burning cigar. At night she put us on a shelf of slim bambus that would not bear our weight standing, though they made a fairly comfortable bed. We shared this loft with corn and poultry; and looking down into the common room beneath us, we saw by the light of a bowl of oil strange domestic scenes. Women were swinging in hammocks and smoking cigars, and children lying naked on the bare earth floor; and it was pleasant to see such at-one-ness and the utter absence of anything like bashfulness.
Our calendar alone informed us that the next day was Christmas, and we spent it in waiting for our mozos and bestias, who arrived about three o’clock. We sat on the sheet-iron pipes, fifteen inches in diameter, which were resting here on their way to the Friedmann mines, farther south. They kept us out of the mud, and were the only comfortable seats in the town. On the mango and orange trees we found a pretty little yellow orchid (Oncidium?). In the houses we saw tanning done, without a vat, by making a bag of the hide and filling it with the bark decoction, which slowly percolated through and was replaced. The remains of an English steam-launch were scattered about, sheets of copper from her bottom serving as clapboards to part of the house where we lodged. At night the men of the place were all drunk and very noisy. The fires were kept burning late, and cast weird gleams through the open slat walls into the darkness.
Having engaged a guide for the so-called Ruinas at Quirigua, at eight o’clock the next morning we said our adios (after paying our hostess nineteen reals for ourselves and mozos) and started down the river bank. Across the river were the largest bambus we had seen in the country, some joints at least six inches in diameter. Our path led through a canebrake, and often so close on the loose banks of the Motagua that I feared we should drop in. For two hours we went on in this way, stopping only to rifle a turtle’s nest of fourteen small eggs (less in size than a pullet’s). We then turned to the left and came to the Quirigua river,—which more resembled a creek; and here my heart sank, for I have a great dread of black waters and muddy bottoms. Santiago waded in first, and I followed close on the little mule; and we all crossed safely, our mozo leading his wife by the hand with great care. Once in the thick forest, our guide did his best to empty a generous bottle of aguardiente he had brought with him; so that within an hour he knew very little about the road, or anything else useful. Cohune and similar palms were on all sides, and we first saw here the pacaya (Euterpe edulis?),—a slender palm with edible pods or buds. Enormous trees with buttresses even the goyava took this form here—were prominent among the lower palms, and ginger and wild bananas bordered the rather indefinite path, which we had constantly to clear of vejucos and fallen palm-leaves. Many round holes, as large as a flour-barrel, showed where palm-stumps had been eaten out by insects.
