CHAPTER XVII
DOWN THE COAST OF PERU--LAKE TITICACA AND LA PAZ--THROUGH THE ANCIENT INCAN EMPIRE TO COCHABAMBA
The coast of Peru looked decidedly uninviting as day after day the S. S. _Palena_ of the Chilean Line nosed her way southward through the placid water of the Pacific. The high, rocky shore stretched on interminably, it seemed; no graceful palm or speck of green of any kind gladdened the eye; there were only the barren cliffs, against which the swell dashed itself into snowy spray and, above them, slopes of hot brown sand.
This was in sharp contrast with the low Ecuadorian shore-line; that was bad enough, with its dense, dark jungles growing to the water’s very edge, its overhanging masses of black clouds, and its breathless heat and silence that seemed to exude all the fatal maladies of a tropical clime. Nevertheless, there was a suggestion of life of some sort--inhospitable though it might be. It was not as if an outraged divinity had seared the land with withering breaths of hate, annihilating everything that possessed or gave promise of life, and leaving only the scorched desert as a fearsome reminder of celestial vengeance. But if the land appeared forsaken, the ocean teemed with life. Flocks of gulls always remained in the vicinity of the ship, and occasionally we saw petrels, shearwaters, and albatrosses; whales were not particularly plentiful, but porpoises appeared practically every day. Toward the end of the voyage seals also grew abundant.
There are numbers of ports along the Peruvian coast and the _Palena_ stopped at many of them. The enormous swell coming from the south and scarcely felt at sea spends its violence along the shore, making landing very difficult, and often impossible. Steamships dare not approach close to the jutting rocks. All freight is unloaded into lighters; passengers are lowered in a chair operated by a steam-winch and dumped into the huge, flat-bottomed freight-carriers, together with their belongings. This always causes a good deal of excitement and not infrequently slight injuries are inflicted, as the boats are low one instant and come racing up the next on the top of a mountainous swell.
At noon on the eighth day out from Panama we reached Paita. The town lies on the beach and just below the edge of a high sandy plateau. This is the centre of Peru’s oil-fields. Tanks were visible in the country near the town, and a thin film covered the water for several miles off-shore.
Salavery is a small town with flat, square board houses. In back of it rise high escarpments of rock and sand. It never rains, so water is brought from a little valley far distant in the foot-hills. A narrow-gauge railroad connects the valley with the port, and sugar is brought out for export.
It seems as if most of the coastal towns are merely ports or outlets for products from the interior. There are many fertile little spots between the ridges branching off from the main range; they are well watered by melting snow on the lofty summits, and a great variety of fruit, vegetables, cotton, and cane are grown.
After ten days the ship anchored off Callao; it is but a thirty minutes’ train ride from this port to Lima. The route is flat and runs through corn, banana, and yucca fields and truck-gardens. We visited the creditable zoo and then accepted an invitation to inspect the medical college. The latter is surprisingly well equipped and had an attendance of over eight hundred students. The great cathedral next occupied our attention; the massive temple was in itself most interesting, but curiosity led me to spend the most of our limited time viewing the remains of Pizarro, which are exhibited in a glass-panelled marble casket. An inscription informs the viewers that the _conquistador_ founded Lima in 1535; he died June 26, 1541, and was buried under the cathedral; in 1891 the bones were exhumed and placed in their present resting-place. If one may believe the statements of historians, a monument built of the skeletons of his helpless victims would be a far more suitable memorial to the bloodthirsty outlaw than the place of worship which his remains of necessity must defile.
We had heard a great deal about the difficulty of landing at Mollendo. At times the rollers from the south are so immense that ships do not attempt an anchorage, but continue the voyage down to Arica. We were relieved to find the sea perfectly smooth upon our arrival. The town differed from Paita and Salavery only in that it was somewhat larger. We found it possible to purchase through tickets to La Paz, and noon saw us on our way. The railroad started up the barren slope almost immediately; occasionally the incline was very gentle--so gentle, in fact, that the country lay like a great brown desert on each side of the track. These stretches were covered with crescent-shaped sand-dunes, some of them fifty feet high and several hundred feet from tip to tip. They creep slowly forward as the wind blows the sand up their rear slope to the crest, when it topples over into the centre of the half-moon.
At times the grade was very steep. The deep blue Pacific was visible several hours, sometimes on our right and then on our left, as the train wound up the mountainside, but always receding until it resembled a vast mist-enshrouded amethyst losing itself in the distance.
Alkali-dust entered the coaches in clouds and threatened to suffocate the passengers, but the impressiveness of the scenery more than compensated them for this annoyance.
Not far from Arequipa a deep gorge appeared with a stream threading its way through the bottom. Its banks were covered with trees and green vegetation--a veritable oasis amid the desert that hemmed it in on both sides. The Indians who now came to the car-windows when the train stopped to get up steam brought grapes, figs, oranges, guavas, and _empanadas_, or meat pies smelling strongly of onions. They were an unkempt, wild-looking lot and had apparently come from the green vale below. At seven o’clock we were up seven thousand feet, having ascended to that height from sea-level in six hours, and drew in at the station of Arequipa.
There was no train for Puno the following day, so ample time was at our disposal in which to see the city and its immediate environs.
We found Arequipa to be a most delightful place. It was cool enough to permit the wearing of top-coats with comfort. The people were well dressed and healthy appearing. Electric trains provided adequate means of journeying from one part of the city to another, and if one preferred a carriage it also was obtainable. Beautiful plazas, ancient churches, and wooden buildings are distributed promiscuously among the rabble of low adobe or stone huts which predominate, and herds of llamas thread their way through the stone-paved streets. The atmosphere is so clear the year around that a spot near the city has been chosen for the site of the Harvard Observatory. One has a good view of the great snow-capped Mount Misti from every part of the city; the peak is conical in shape and nineteen thousand two hundred and fifty feet in height.
Continuing the trip from Arequipa, the first stage of the route passes over barren, gently rolling country. Small irrigated plots are not uncommon where some rivulet trickles down from the upper world of snow and ice; they support a limited population of Indians, which must lead a forlorn and miserable life among their desolate surroundings. Farther on, the slopes assumed a friendlier appearance; sparse vegetation in patches appeared and grew denser toward the snow-line, where there was naturally more moisture. Life followed closely in the wake of the grass and bush covered areas. Native hovels became more numerous, and flocks of llamas, sheep, and goats, with a sprinkling of horses and cattle, fed on the herbage.
The top of the divide is fourteen thousand five hundred feet above sea-level. As we approached it numbers of passengers became violently ill of _soroche_, or mountain-sickness. They acted very much like people aboard a steamship on a stormy voyage, although this illness seemed far worse than any seasickness I had ever seen. Several of the stricken ones rolled about on the floor and tried to tear off their clothing; a feeling of suffocation accompanies the nausea, and occasionally some one dies.
Beyond the ridge the country is level or gently rolling and there are numerous clear blue lakes--some of considerable size. Immense flocks of doves make this upland region their home, and ducks, gulls, and herons teemed about the water.
Just after dark we reached Puno, and a few minutes later embarked on the _Coya_ for the trip across Lake Titicaca. The night was so cold and stormy that it was impossible to spend much time on the upper deck, and the cabins were so crowded that sleeping in comfort was impossible. The ship was small and overcrowded with people of many colors and nationalities; most of them spent the night in the dining-saloon drinking and gaming.
Dawn came at last, and shortly afterward the _Coya_ slowly wended her way through the reed-grown marshes bordering the lake and tied up at the pier at Guaqui, on the Bolivian side. Indians in reed rafts with sails made of rushes dashed past and disappeared among the cattails, and water-fowl of several species--mostly ducks, coots, and grebes--paddled out into the ruffled water left in the wake of the boat.
It is unfortunate that this passage of the lake is made at night. Nearly every one visiting the vast body of water for the first time is eager to see as much of it as possible, both on account of its being the highest great lake in the world (twelve thousand five hundred feet above sea-level) and by reason of its associations with the nation of the Incas.
Guaqui is a garrison town. There were numerous soldiers in evidence on the streets, and a troop of lancers, under the command of a German officer, were giving a skilful display of their prowess on the lake front. Their mounts were not much to look at and the uniforms of the men were rather shabby, but both were well drilled.
The train for La Paz left at noon. It moved at a good rate of speed across the high, level upland. The scenery is impressive. We were always in sight of snow-covered peaks, although there was little snow on the plateau itself. Indian huts built of stone, some very ancient, are scattered about abundantly, but it requires some experience in locating them before they can be readily distinguished from their immediate surroundings. There were numerous fields of wheat and oats, and llamas without number nibbled the scant vegetation on the slope. In a few isolated spots small herds of cattle, horses, and pigs were visible. Indians came to the coach-windows to sell fruits when the train stopped; they were doubtless brought from the deep, sheltered fissures that have been cut into the range by snow-water from high peaks.
Within a short time we had reached the ruins of an enormous city called Tiahuanaco, which is said to date back many centuries before the Incan era. When discovered it was buried in the sand level with the surface of the plateau, but archæologists have excavated many of the larger buildings and brought to light ancient treasures of rare beauty. Later, in La Paz, we met a man named Poznaski who had done a great deal of work in this region. He had a remarkable collection of hundreds of skulls, pieces of pottery, gold ornaments, and well-preserved cloth. Among the ceramics was a “death’s head” of exquisite workmanship, life size, and painted in gorgeous colors. He considered it the finest bit of pottery ever discovered in Bolivia and stated that a North American museum was negotiating for its purchase at a price that ran into five figures. This, however, did not seem probable. As we neared La Paz, the great mountains of Illimani, Murarata, and Huana Potosi loomed constantly more lofty and forbidding before us. They are the patriarchs of the Bolivian Andes, and are twenty-two thousand five hundred and eighty-one, twenty-one thousand, and twenty thousand two hundred and eighty-nine feet high respectively. The summits of all three have been reached by venturesome exploration-parties, but the task of climbing the steep, slippery slopes perpetually covered with deep snow and swept by frigid gales is a trying one that is not often attempted. Huana Potosi, the more distant of the group has a flat top, contrasting conspicuously with the sharp, pointed summits of the other two. The Indians tell a legend that explains this peculiar formation. In the days of long ago, when the world was young, vapors enveloped all the earth; suddenly the sun-god appeared and, beaming down from heaven, caused the mists to become dissipated and vanish. Illimani awoke to life and from his dizzy height beheld the queenly Huana Potosi smiling up at him. At the same time, however, Murarata emerged from the clouds and beholding the beautiful Huana Potosi fell violently in love with her. Illimani became insanely jealous and in a blind fury hurled forth fire, smoke, and stones of great size at his rival’s head; the latter promptly replied in kind and fought valiantly. For days the earth quaked and trembled with the thunderous roar of the death-struggle, while heavy clouds covered the terrifying spectacle with a mantle of darkness. After a seemingly endless time the combat stopped; daylight returned, revealing an appalling state of affairs. Finding it impossible to vanquish the rival suitor, Illimani had beheaded his fair lady-love to prevent her from falling into the other’s hands. The many streams of water rushing down the steep sides of Illimani are but the tears of grief and remorse over his hasty action; thus he is doomed to mourn and weep until the end of time. The legend has doubtless been handed down through many generations and obviously refers to one of the many volcanic disturbances that must have occurred when the Andes were young.
Shortly before sundown we came suddenly to the brink of a crater-like rent in the plateau and, on the bottom of the huge gash, thirteen hundred feet below, we could see the compactly built mass of edifices and green gardens of La Paz. The situation of the city is unique. One has no intimation of its nearness while speeding over the high, cold _plano alto_ (which has an elevation of thirteen thousand three hundred feet) until the very edge of the fissure is reached. The sides are precipitous, but numerous footpaths make their way up or down the steep declivity. The far slopes of the Andes are checkered with cultivated fields; a roaring stream, the Choqueyapu, tears its way through the floor of the amphitheatre, and the series of snow-covered summits form a magnificent background for the unusual spectacle.
The steam-locomotive was taken off and an electric one substituted, and then the train slowly backed down along the face of the incline to the station below.
The impression of La Paz, gained from the first brief view above, is soon dispersed upon nearer and more intimate acquaintance. The streets are narrow, crooked, paved with small stones from the river-bed, and very steep. Walking any length of time entails a great amount of exertion on account of the high altitude; fortunately, carriages are not lacking, and a tramway also provides a ready means of locomotion, or I am afraid few travellers would ever see very much of the inner life of the city. With the exception of a few churches and government buildings that are worthy of note on account of their size and architecture, the buildings are low and of a primitive type, whitewashed and covered with tiles or thatched.
Ordinarily the streets are all but deserted, but on Sundays and fête-days a motley crowd throngs the winding thoroughfares. There are full-blooded Indians of the Aymará race, clothed in picturesque though not beautiful garments; half-breeds or Cholos are far more gayly clad in very full skirts and shawls of bright colors, round, flat-brimmed straw or felt hats, and imported shoes with high heels and tops that reach almost to the knees; the number of townspeople, creoles and foreigners, seems negligible compared to the throngs of Indians and Cholos; in fact, some authorities state that there are one hundred of the latter to one of the former. On market-days long lines of llamas, burros, and mules thread their way through the crowded streets, bearing fire-wood, charcoal, meat, and vegetables for the sustenance of the city.
About the most interesting place in La Paz to us, and at the same time the most repellent, was the Museo Nacional. It contained several dark, cavernous rooms crowded with a wealth of specimens, mostly in the form of ceramics, minerals, and mummies. They were piled promiscuously everywhere in the most slovenly and disgusting manner. Naturally, this treatment did not tend toward their preservation; rats had undermined the mounds of human remains, gnawed holes into the bodies, and made their nests in the interior; pottery had crashed from unstable shelves, and bird and mammal skins were badly moth-eaten. I trust that a more efficient management may rescue these treasures.
The plazas, of which there are four or five, are small and not particularly attractive. The cold climate prevents the growing of tropical decorative plants that are always so conspicuous in cities and towns of the lower country. The _gente decente_, or upper class, meet in the Plaza de Armas on Sundays for a chat with friends, a stroll to exhibit their finery, and to listen to the music.
The Aymarás who inhabit the entire highlands are of a treacherous disposition and have several times organized their forces preparatory to making war on the Bolivians. As their number is very great they are a menace that is very real and serious. When an uprising is threatened, the chiefs are arrested and punished, and then the rebellion dies down for want of leaders. These Indians still retain the _despeñadora_, or death-doctor, in the more remote and inaccessible regions. This person is a woman who possesses the knack of doing away with the aged and infirm of her district, and the office is handed down from mother to daughter. When any one within her jurisdiction becomes too old to work, or is ill with a malady thought to be incurable, the _despeñadora_ is called in; she straddles the poor unfortunate and ends his existence by deftly dislocating the vertebræ of the neck. Whenever government officials learn of the operation of one of these women, they are taken into custody and punished.
One of the favorite sports of the _Paceños_ is to hunt wild cattle in the high valleys between the peaks. Numerous herds are still in existence and it is said that they are of a savage disposition and furnish good sport. I met an American who had been thrown from his horse and gored by a wild bull that charged him from a distance of several hundred yards.
The country between La Paz and Oruro is very similar to that we had crossed coming from Guaqui. There are the same vistas of barren plains, green fields, llamas, and asses on the slopes, and dazzling snow-fields in the background. The plateau is strewn with marine fossils, mostly _trilobites_, reminders of the days when Lake Titicaca was many times its present size. We covered the one hundred and twenty-seven miles to Oruro in six hours, and spent the night there. This city owes its existence to the many mines located near by--some within the city’s limits--and to the wealth they yield in tin, silver, and other metals. Next morning the journey was continued toward Cochabamba. Shortly before noon the level country was left behind and we started down the eastern slope of a ridge that leads into the lower country. This part of the road-bed is new; the greater part of it is laid on a narrow shelf of rock carved and blasted out of the mountainside. Perpendicular walls of granite tower above to a height of hundreds of feet on one side; in places the top of the huge masses seems to hang over the track in a tottering position and one expects the rumble of the train to set it in motion and bring an avalanche of destruction down upon one’s head.
A small stream flows through the bottom of the gorge. During the greater part of the year it is a mere rivulet that trickles harmlessly over the shallow, pebbly bottom of its course; but when the torrential rains of winter fall it rises rapidly to the proportions of a mighty river and sweeps away sections of the railroad. Long rows of breakwater have been placed alongside the base of the road-bed to protect it from the ravages of the flood; they consist of loaf-shaped piles of stone bound together with wire netting; these would be effective against the water alone, but they cannot resist the demolishing force of the huge boulders that are rolled down from the mountains by the strong current.
A number of breaks in the line had been made by landslides just before our visit, so the train could not proceed beyond Changollo, a settlement of half a dozen Quechua Indian huts and a good-sized station, the elevation of which is ten thousand feet. We were met by a representative of the railway company and given quarters in the station buildings; the other passengers immediately engaged mules and llamas and started for Cochabamba. The reason for our delay was that we had just received a shipment of ammunition and supplies from New York, and some time would be required to repack them in parcels of equal weight suitable for transportation by pack-train.
Changollo was headquarters for the construction-gangs working on the line. About half a dozen Englishmen and Scotchmen were in charge of the work, and they showed us every possible courtesy and attention during our brief stay there. I regret constantly that it is not possible to give detailed credit to all the people, South Americans and foreigners alike, who treated us with such unfailing courtesy throughout our years of travel in the southern continent, and to whose assistance we are so heavily indebted for the success that attended our efforts; but to do so would fill the pages of a volume several times the size of this one without leaving space for my narrative.
All of the railroad men boarded with an Englishman named Cole and his wife. The Coles were a middle-aged couple who had spent the greater part of their lives together travelling around the world. Among other places, they had lived in India and in Africa. They had a score of parrots, cockatoos, and dogs that accompanied them in all their wanderings; caring for this miniature menagerie must have been a troublesome job while moving from place to place, but they took the place of children and were looked after just as tenderly. Cole claimed that he was the only man on earth who had been bitten by a black mamba--a species of giant cobra--and lived to tell the tale. He was following a path through the silent jungle one day at dusk when a black form lunged down upon him from some branches that overhung the trail; at the same time he felt a dull, throbbing pain in his left arm, and realized what had occurred. His first impulse was to flee in terror; however, better judgment prevailed and he opened and sucked the wound and applied a tourniquet above it. Then he hurried home and drank large quantities of ammonia and also applied some to his arm. He stated that he was very ill for several weeks but that persistent use of the ammonia overcame the effects of the poison and he gradually recovered.
Through the kindness of our new friends we secured hand-cars on which to resume the journey to the end of the line--about ten miles distant. The baggage was placed on some of them while we occupied another. The way lay down-hill and we dashed along at a great pace, taking curves without diminished speed. There were several short tunnels, the entrances of which loomed up like the black openings in a grotto; in a flash we were plunged into absolute darkness; a moment later we raced back into bright sunshine. Whenever an obstruction in the track ahead was sighted the brakes were applied and then everything was carried around and the trip continued. We met a good many Indians on the road-bed; they preferred its use to the rocky trail along the river, and even drove their burros and llamas on it. All employees of the company had orders to punish any one found on the track, in order that they might learn to keep off it, as there would otherwise be a great loss of life when trains begin their runs over the line. The favorite form of chastisement consisted of pouncing on the Indians and taking their hats away from them. The head-gear was taken several miles down the track and thrown into the top of a cactus or thorny tree. If the offender resisted the seizure of his hat he was told that he might have it by calling on the foreman of the nearest construction-camp; when he arrived a good lecture was given him and in some instances a fine was imposed.
It took several hours to reach the end of the line, as landslides and the attendant portages around them had been numerous. We spent the remainder of the day and the night at Arce, an Indian village. Several hundred Quechuas had gathered, as it was market-day; they brought a good deal of cloth and beautiful blankets to sell, but their prices were several times those asked in more remote regions. At night the assembly played on reed flutes and native guitars, sang, danced, and drank _chicha_; the revelry lasted until the first gray streaks of dawn appeared over the mountain-top, and then the mob dispersed to their distant homes in the high valleys.
Our journey was continued the morning after reaching Arce. We had secured a train of good, strong mules and expert Indian _arrieros_. The trail lay along the river-bed, which was very wide and paved with small pebbles. At numerous points Quechua women had put up small shacks of stones and reeds; they squatted within the makeshift shelters all day long. A white rag floating above from a tall bamboo announced to the weary wayfarer that _chicha_ was for sale within, and all the travellers we saw religiously stopped at each of these road-houses to slake their thirst. At one point a wall of rock rises from the stream to a height of three thousand feet; two condors were perched upon the very tip, their black forms clearly outlined against the sky, while two others circled swiftly above. We passed through the towns of Yberta and Sacamolla without stopping to rest, and after fifteen and a half hours’ continuous riding reached the home of the manager of the railroad, a Mr. Taylor, with whom we spent the night. The place is called Parotani, and we subsequently spent some time there investigating its interesting fauna. At noon on the following day we reached Vinto, which marks the beginning of an electric tram-line to Cochabamba. We did not take advantage of this easy means of transportation, but continued the journey on mule-back, and two hours later found ourselves at our destination.