Roads leading to the Sierra--Chaclacayo and Santa Ines--Barometrical
observations--San Pedro Mama--The Rio Seco--Extraordinary Geological
Phenomenon--Similar one described by Mr. Darwin--Surco--Diseases
peculiar to the Villages of Peru--The Verugas--Indian mode of treating
the disorder--The Bird-catching Spider--Horse-Shoeing--Indian
Tambos--San Juan de Matucanas--The Thorn-apple and the Tonga--The Tambo
de Viso--Bridges--San Mateo--Passports--Acchahuari--Malady called the
Veta--Its effects on horses--Singular tact and caution of
Mules--Antarangra and Mountain Passes--Curious partition of
Water--Piedra Parada--Yauli--Indian Smelting Furnaces--Mineral
Springs--Portuguese Mine owners--Saco--Oroya--Hanging
Bridges--Huaros--Roads leading from Oroya.
From Lima two main roads lead to the Sierra or the mountains. One runs
northward through the valley of Canta, in the direction of the rich
silver mines of Cerro de Pasco; the other, taking a more southerly
direction, passes through the Quebrada of Matucanas, to the villages of
Tarma, Jauja, and Huancayo; and still further south, leads to
Huancavelica, Ayacucho, and Cuzco. All the roads running from the coast
to the Sierra, present a similarity of character. Taking an oblique
direction from the margin of the coast, they run into one or other of
the fan-shaped Cordillera valleys, all of which are intersected by
rivers. Following the course of these rivers, the roads become steeper
and steeper, and the valleys soon contract into mere ravines,
terminating at the foot of the Cordillera. The traveller then threads
his way up the acclivity, amidst stupendous masses of rock, until he
reaches the lofty ridge. Then a gradual descent leads to the level
heights, and thence into the deep mountain valleys.
Former travellers having already described the route by way of Canta, I
will here trace the course through the Quebrada of Matucanas. In so
doing, I am enabled to present to the reader the results of some
barometrical observations which are the more interesting, inasmuch as
the Cordillera here advances more nearly to the coast than at any other
point.
The most easterly gate of the city of Lima (the Portada de Maravillas)
opens upon a broad road, which runs directly eastward. At the distance
of about a league and a half from the city, the road passes over a stone
bridge called the _Puente de Surco_, a place famed for robbers. At this
point the surrounding country presents a wild and dreary aspect. Ranges
of grey and barren hills encompass the valley; the ground is for the
most part covered with sand and gravel. Desolate remains of plantations
and the ruins of habitations bear evidence of the life and activity that
once animated this desert region, now abandoned by all save the fierce
bandit and his victim, the solitary traveller.
Along the margins of the river, patches of moor-ground here and there
serve as pasture. Clover and maize are produced only in those parts
where the soil is manured and artificially watered. Low brushwood and
reeds, growing on the banks of the Rimac, supply firewood to the city of
Lima, and are a source of profit to some of the plantation-owners in
the valley. At Periachi, four leagues from the capital, the road takes
a turn to north-east, and continues in that direction, with but little
deviation, as far as the base of the Cordillera. Two leagues beyond
Pariachi we reach Chaclacayo, a village containing about thirty
miserable reed huts. The plantation of Santa Ines, a little further
on, is situated at 2386 feet above the level of the sea.[52] Mr.
Maclean, an English merchant in Lima, who has sent many interesting
Peruvian plants to the hothouses of England, and who has made some
very attentive barometrical observations during a journey in the
interior of the country, calculates the altitude of Chaclacayo at 2265
feet above the sea.[53] Rivero makes it 2010 feet above that level.[54]
The difference between these calculations is remarkable; and in more
considerable altitudes the discrepancy is still more considerable, being
sometimes as much as from eight to nine hundred feet. I am inclined to
believe that it is attributable less to inaccuracy of observation than
to the very imperfect instrument made use of by Rivero. Maclean's
observations, with some trifling exceptions, correspond with mine. He
used one of Fortin's barometers, and I one of Lefevre's, which, prior to
my departure from Europe, had, during several weeks, been regulated at
the observatory in Paris. Unluckily, this excellent instrument was
injured by a fall from my horse, and I found it impossible to get it
repaired. Some barometrical observations made by M. C. Gay, during a
journey in Peru, in the years 1839-40, with one of Bunten's barometers,
deviate very considerably from all those above mentioned. Between the
calculations of Gay and Rivero there is an average difference of from
six hundred to one thousand feet.
On the road to Pasco, the Hacienda of Cavallero corresponds, in its
distance from the capital, with the village of Chaclacayo, on the road I
am here describing. At Chaclacayo wheat and sugar are cultivated. The
sugar cane thrives well, and might be grown in greater quantity. In some
of the coast districts I have seen the sugar cane cultivated at the
height of 4500 feet above the sea; and I have seen it grow
spontaneously, and attain perfect maturity, as high as 6800 feet.
From Santa Ines the road continues gradually ascending to the little
village of San Pedro Mama, where the two rivers, San Mateo and Santa
Olaya, unite and form the Rimac. The walls of mountain which enclose the
valley here rise almost perpendicularly, and afford nestling-places for
small, richly-plumed parrots (_Conurus rupicola_, Tsch.). I was much
surprised to see these birds inhabiting the barren rocks, as the parrot
always dwells in woody regions, and is found in other places only when
on its passage. I know no other species of this family, save the one I
have just mentioned, which permanently nestles on mountains.
Three leagues beyond San Pedro lies the village of Cocachacra. It is a
small and poor place, but is picturesquely situated, and enjoys a fine
climate. Its name, signifying _coca-field_, or _plantation_, denotes
that coca must formerly have been cultivated here. At present that
plant is not grown in any part near the coast, as it requires a damp and
very warm climate. Cocachacra is 5386 feet above the level of the sea.
Maclean fixes the altitude of San Pedro Mama, Santa Olaya, and
Cocachacra, at 5331 feet. Supposing this calculation to be correct with
respect to the latter village, it cannot also apply to San Pedro Mama
and Santa Olaya, which lie much lower. At the two last-mentioned places
I made no barometrical observations.
On the Pasco road the hamlet of Llanga is situated, at twelve leagues
from Lima. On the other road Cocachacra is the same distance from the
capital; but Cocachacra is about 2400 feet higher than Llanga. Between
Cavallero and Llanga there is an interesting geological phenomenon,
which I will here describe.
At the distance of two leagues from Lima the road takes a turn. At first
it runs direct north, or north-north-west; suddenly it turns to
north-north-east, and advances along the bank of the river Chillon as
far as Cavallero. From thence, with slight deviations, it continues in
the same course to Llanga, but at a considerable distance from the
river, as the latter takes a wide sweep northward. From Cavallero the
road runs for the space of three leagues, still ascending, through a
barren district, along the dry bed of a river, called the Rio Seco. The
last half-league of the way is very steep, and leads to the ridge of a
chain of hillocks running diagonally across the valley. The ground is
strewed with fragments of porphyry and other kinds of rock, like the bed
of the Rimac. On reaching the ridge of the line of hillocks, the
traveller beholds on the other side a hollow basin, like the dry bed of
a lake: a furrow, extending lengthwise through this hollow, is the
continuation of the bed of the river which is intersected by the chain
of hills. Descending into the valley, and again following the course of
the Rio Seco to the distance of about three leagues, we reach the
village of Alcocoto, and once more arrive on the bank of the Rio de
Chillon.
Here, therefore, we have evidence of the following remarkable facts,
viz.:--that at some former period the river of Chillon flowed
north-westward from Alcocoto to Cavallero, in the bed that is now
dry; and that a chain of hills has been upheaved diagonally across the
valley and the river. By this chain of hills the water, being dammed
up, formed a lake; then it was again driven back; until the stream
broke into a new course at Alcocoto, by which means the lake emptied
itself, and, having no new supply of water, it dried up. Now the Rio
de Chillon flows from Alcocoto to Cavallero, taking a wide turn, first
westward, next south-westward, and lastly, direct south, until, at a
sharp angle, it unites with the old bed of the river. The point of
junction is a quarter of a mile from the Hacienda Cavallero. This is,
however, not a solitary example of the course of a river being
interrupted by the uplifting of a ridge of hills. A similar instance
is mentioned by Mr. Darwin, who, however, did not see it himself, but
who describes it as follows, from the observation of his countryman,
Mr. Gill, the engineer:--
"Travelling from Casma to Huaraz, not far distant from Lima, he (Mr.
Gill) found a plain covered with ruins and marks of ancient cultivation,
but now quite barren. Near it was the dry course of a considerable
river, whence the water for irrigation had formerly been conducted.
There was nothing in the appearance of the water-course to indicate that
the river had not flowed there a few years previously; in some parts,
beds of sand and gravel were spread out; in others, the solid rock had
been worn into a broad channel, which in one spot was about forty yards
in breadth, and eight feet deep. It is self-evident that a person
following up the course of a stream will always ascend at a greater or
less inclination. Mr. Gill, therefore, was much astonished, when walking
up the bed of this ancient river, to find himself suddenly going down
hill. He imagined that the downward slope had a fall of about forty or
fifty feet perpendicular. We here have unequivocal evidence that a ridge
had been uplifted right across the old bed of the stream. From the
moment the river-course was thus arched the water must necessarily have
been thrown back, and a new channel formed. From that period, also, the
neighboring plain must have lost its fertilizing stream, and become a
desert."[55]
The inference here deduced is, that the rising took place at a period
when the district was inhabited and cultivated by men. Of the period
of the uplifting between Cavallero and Alcocoto I could discern no
proofs. But the impression produced by the dry river bed involuntarily
suggests the idea that, at no very distant period, it must have been
the lodgment of a stream; for it is in all respects similar to the
temporary dry river beds so frequently met with on the coast of Peru.
I made repeated visits to the Rio Seco, and I always contemplated with
wonder the curious deviation of the river's course. But I must candidly
confess that during my abode in Peru, I did not venture to attribute
that deviation to so partial an uplifting; for I was ignorant of the
existence of any similar phenomenon which would have supported such an
opinion. Now, however, the example referred to by the eminent English
geologist, and which has its existence on the same coast of Peru, sets
all my doubts at rest, and I am quite convinced of the correctness of
Mr. Darwin's view of the subject.
Having made this digression, I must now carry the reader back to
Cocachacra. Pursuing the road to the distance of three leagues further,
we arrive at San Geronimo de Surco. The valley in this part becomes more
contracted; but on the whole its character is unchanged, with the
exception that the mountains gradually become higher and steeper, and
the soil less fertile. The road frequently runs along lofty walls of
rock, or winds round sharp projections, which overhang deep chasms, in
passing which the greatest precaution is requisite.
In several of the valleys on the road from the coast to the Sierra, and
above all in the valley of Surco, there are certain springs, the water
of which the Indians never drink. When a stranger unguardedly approaches
one of these springs for the purpose of quenching his thirst, he is
saluted by warning cries of _Es agua de Veruga!_ (It is veruga water!)
Even horses and mules are not suffered to refresh themselves at these
springs, where the water is supposed to have the effect of producing a
disorder called the _Verugas_. As the existence of this disease is not
known in any other country, there appears ground for believing that it
has its origin in certain local circumstances. The verugas first
manifests itself by sore throat, pains in the bones, and other feverish
symptoms. In the course of a few days an eruption of red-colored
pimples, or boils, appears. These pimples sometimes increase in
magnitude, till, in some parts of the body, they become nearly as large
as an egg, and blood flows from them to such an excess, that the
strength of the patient is exhausted, and consumption frequently
follows. From the small verugas the flow of blood is greatest. I knew an
instance of a half-caste Indian who from a small veruga below the ankle
lost two pounds of blood.
I was not able to trace this disease to any other cause than that which
the Indians assign to it. At all events, it is certain that travellers
who abstain from drinking the water of the condemned springs, escape the
verugas; whilst those who only once taste such water, are attacked by
the disorder. It is the same with mules and horses. One of my mules
which drank veruga water was attacked by a large tumor on the leg. The
disease is notoriously prevalent in the village of Santa Olaya.
The medical treatment of the Verugas by the Indians is quite empirical.
They administer to the patient the infusion of a plant which they call
_Huajra-Huajra_; that is, Horn-Horn.[56] I never witnessed any
convincing proof of its efficacy. Its operation appears to be merely
sudorific. A preparation of white maize is also frequently given, and
it has the effect of assisting the action of the skin. When the
eruption of the verugas is tardy, a few spoonfuls of wine are found to
be of great service. Sudorific and purifying medicines, together with
cutting out the large verugas, and keeping the wounds for a time in a
state of suppuration, have heretofore been found the best mode of
treatment. An accurate chemical analysis of the water which the Indians
declare to be _agua de veruga_, would be very desirable.[57]
In the Quebrada of Canta, where the verugas are less common than in
that of Matucanas, another disease, called the Uta, is of very frequent
occurrence. The uta is a sort of cancer, and it is more fearful in its
consequences than the verugas. Probably in no country in the world do
so many local diseases prevail as in Peru. Every valley has its own
peculiar disease, which frequently does not extend beyond the boundary
of a few square miles, and is quite unknown in neighboring districts.
The origin of these disorders is, doubtless, to be traced to certain
mineral or vegetable influences as yet unknown. It is remarkable how
unequally these baneful visitations affect the different races of the
inhabitants. The Indians and the lighter classes of half-castes are
most frequently attacked by the verugas; the whites are less liable to
the disease, whilst the negroes and people of the darker shades of
mixed blood seldom suffer from it. The Indians and the Chinos are
particularly liable to the uta. The caracha, of which I have already
spoken,[58] visits the Negroes, the Zamboes, and the Mulattoes; the
lighter-complexioned races being much less liable to it.
At Quibe I saw a bird-catching spider (_mygale_), of extraordinary large
size. The back part of the body alone measured two inches. Being at some
distance I supposed it to be one of the rodent animals, and I fired at
it. To my mortification I discovered my mistake when too late, for the
specimen was completely destroyed by the shot, and was useless for my
collection. The Indians assured me that on the margin of the stream
which flowed near the plantation many larger individuals were to be
found; but I never saw another of such remarkable size as the one I
inadvertently destroyed.
San Geronimo de Surco is 6945 feet above the level of the sea. It is a
long village, and is situated in one of the most fertile parts of the
valley. The houses are detached one from another, and each is
surrounded by a little chacra. This place may be regarded as the
boundary-line between the coast and the Sierra. The climate is
agreeable--rather hot than cold. Most of the coast plants thrive here
with little culture. Bananas, chirimoyas, superb granadillas,
pomegranates, camotes, &c., grow here in luxuriant abundance. Yuccas I
did not see: their elevation boundary is lower. San Geronimo de Surco
is infested with swarms of annoying insects, especially sancudos
(_Culex molestus_, Kell.), and stinging flies (species of _Simoleum_),
which banish sleep from the resting-place of the weary traveller.
In this village there is an old Spaniard who keeps a tambo, and at the
same time exercises the calling of a farrier. One of my horse's shoes
being loose, I got him to fasten it on. For hammering in eight nails he
made me pay half a gold ounce, and at first he demanded twelve dollars.
He doubtless bore in mind the old Spanish proverb: "_Por un clavo se
pierde una herradura, por una herradura un cavallo, por un cavallo un
cavallero_,"[59] and he felt assured that I must have the damage repaired
at any price. Shortly after my arrival in the Sierra I got myself
initiated in the art of horse-shoeing, and constantly carried about with
me a supply of horse-shoes and nails, a plan which I found was generally
adopted by travellers in those parts. It is only in the larger Indian
villages that farriers are to be met with, that is to say in places
fifty or sixty leagues distant from each other.
From Surco the road runs to the distance of two leagues tolerably
level, and very close to the river, which, from Cocachacra, bears the
name of Rio de San Mateo. The next village is San Juan de Matucanas, at
a little distance from which there is a tambo, situated at the height
of 8105 feet above the sea.[60] These tambos of the Sierra are wretched
places, but the traveller may find in them shelter, and possibly some
miserable kind of food. Even in Lima the tambos are not much better. In
the capital a tambo affords the traveller the accommodation of a room,
containing a table, a chair, and a bedstead; for it is always
understood that he brings his mattress and bedding along with him. In
the interior of the country the accommodation is limited to an empty
space on the floor, just large enough to spread a mattress upon.
Whenever the state of the weather permitted I always preferred sleeping
in the open air. Even on a rainy night a lodging on the outside of the
door is preferable to the interior of the hut, where Indians, negroes,
dogs and pigs are all huddled together. In these tambos there is
seldom any scarcity of brandy or chicha; but the hungry traveller
sometimes cannot get even a potatoe or a bit of maize. Frequently, when
the Indians really have provisions they will not produce them, because
they are fearful of not being paid. This suspicion is pardonable
enough; for when troops march through the villages the inhabitants are
often cheated by the officers, and ill-treated into the bargain.
Generally, in this part of the country, the people are civil, and will
readily sell provisions if they are paid. Not so the Indians of the
higher mountains eastward of the Cordillera. To the traveller's demand
for something to eat, their uniform reply is "_Manam canchu_" (we have
nothing); and it is often found necessary to resort to force in order
to convert this monotonous answer into the more agreeable "_Ari
conchu_" (here is something).
Matucanas, which is rather a large village, lies on the left bank of the
Rimac. The houses are of brick, and roofed with straw. The soil round
this village is fertile, though not favorable to the growth of those
plants which demand a very warm temperature. The agricultural produce is
therefore limited to maize, wheat, lucerne (which is very abundant), and
potatoes; the latter are sent in great quantities to the capital. The
cactus grows on the hills, and its excellent fruit (_tunas_) forms also
an article of trade.
Beyond Matucanas the valley contracts into a narrow ravine no broader
than the bed of the river, and it gradually assumes a wilder character.
The way is difficult along the ridge of hills which borders the left
bank of the river. The vegetation is less monotonous and scanty than in
the valleys of the coast, and all the fissures of the hills are filled
with verdure. The stunted willow (_Salix Humboldtii_, Wild.) grows along
the banks of the river, and on the less steep declivities is seen the
red thorn-apple (_Datura sanguinea_, R. Pav.). To the latter the natives
give the names _Huacacachu_, _Yerba de Huaca_, or _Bovachevo_; and they
prepare from its fruit a very powerful narcotic drink, called _tonga_.
The Indians believe that by drinking the tonga they are brought into
communication with the spirits of their forefathers. I once had an
opportunity of observing an Indian under the influence of this drink.
Shortly after having swallowed the beverage he fell into a heavy stupor:
he sat with his eyes vacantly fixed on the ground, his mouth
convulsively closed, and his nostrils dilated. In the course of about a
quarter of an hour his eyes began to roll, foam issued from his
half-opened lips, and his whole body was agitated by frightful
convulsions. These violent symptoms having subsided, a profound sleep of
several hours succeeded. In the evening I again saw this Indian. He was
relating to a circle of attentive listeners the particulars of his
vision, during which he alleged he had held communication with the
spirits of his forefathers. He appeared very weak and exhausted.
In former times the Indian sorcerers, when they pretended to transport
themselves into the presence of their deities, drank the juice of the
thorn-apple, in order to work themselves into a state of ecstasy. Though
the establishment of Christianity has weaned the Indians from their
idolatry, yet it has not banished their old superstitions. They still
believe that they can hold communications with the spirits of their
ancestors, and that they can obtain from them a clue to the treasures
concealed in the _huacas_, or graves; hence the Indian name of the
thorn-apple--_huacacachu_, or grave plant.
A few miles beyond Matucanas there is a lateral valley, larger and more
pleasant than the principal valley. It is called the Quebrada de Viso,
and is watered by a little stream. At the point where this Quebrada
forms a junction with the principal valley is situated the Tambo de
Viso. It is 9100 feet above the level of the sea.[61] At this tambo the
traveller may find a tolerable night's lodging for himself, and fodder
for his horse. Here the river is crossed by a bridge, and the road then
proceeds along the left bank of the river, after having been on the
right bank all the way from Lima. The bridges across these mountain
streams are always constructed at points where the river is most
contracted by the narrow confines of the ravine. They consist merely of
a few poles made of the trunk of the Maguay-tree (_Agave Americana_),
and connected together by transverse ropes; the ropes being overlaid
with twisted branches and pieces of hoops. These bridges are not more
than three feet broad, and have no balustrades. When the space between
the banks of the river is too long for the Maguay stems, strong ropes
made of twisted ox-hides are substituted. In crossing these bridges
accidents frequently happen, owing to the hoofs of the horses and mules
getting entangled in the plaited branches along the pathway. A little
way beyond San Mateo I narrowly escaped being precipitated, with my
mule, into the rocky chasm forming the bed of the river.
The road between Viso and San Mateo, a distance of about three
leagues, is exceedingly difficult and dangerous. The ravine becomes
narrowed to a mere cleft, between walls of mountain rising on either
side to the height of more than a thousand feet; sometimes
perpendicularly, and at other times inclining inwards, so as to form
gigantic arches. The path runs along the base of these mountains,
washed by the foaming waves of the stream; or it winds up the side of
the precipice, over huge fragments of rock, which, being loosened by
the rain, afford no secure footing for the heavily laden mules.
Frequently these loosened blocks give way, and roll down into the
valley. The journey from Viso to San Mateo is associated in my mind
with the recollection of a most mortifying accident. A mass of rock,
such as I have just described, gave way, and rolling down the
precipice, hurled one of my mules into the foaming abyss. My most
valuable instruments, a portion of my collections, my papers, and--to
me an irreparable loss--a diary carefully and conscientiously kept for
the space of fourteen months, were in a moment buried in the river.
Two days afterward the current washed the dead mule ashore at
Matucanas, but its load was irrecoverably lost.
Every year many beasts of burthen, and even travellers, perish on this
road. In the Tambo de Viso I met an officer who, with two of his sons,
was coming from the Sierra. He had placed the youngest before him, and
the other, a boy of ten years of age, was seated on the mule's
crupper. When they were within about half a league from Viso, a huge
mass of rock, rolling down from the mountain, struck the elder boy,
and hurled him into the river. The afflicted father was anxiously
seeking to recover the body of his lost child.
San Mateo is on the right bank of the river, and is the largest
village in this valley. It corresponds in situation with Culluay in
the Quebrada of Canta; as Matucanas corresponds with the village of
Obrajillo. San Mateo is 10,947 feet above the level of the sea.[62]
The soil produces abundance of potatoes, Ocas (_Oxalis tuberosa_) and
Ullucas (_Tropaeolum tuberosum_). Maize ripens here perfectly, but the
heads are small. The lucerne is also small, but very abundant; it is
very much exposed to injury from the frost, and is only good for use
during the five rainy months of the year. Five hundred feet higher,
that is to say, about 11,500 feet above the sea, is the boundary
elevation for the growth of lucerne.
The spirit of hospitality, so generally prevalent among the Sierra
Indians, does not seem to animate the Cholos of San Mateo. Their manners
are rude and reserved, and they are very distrustful of strangers. As
soon as a traveller enters the village, the Alcade and the Rejidores
make their appearance, and demand his passport. If he cannot produce it,
he may possibly be put upon a donkey, and conducted to the nearest
Prefect, or may moreover run the risk of being ill-treated. But,
fortunately, it is easy to escape such annoyances. Any scrap of printed
or written paper will answer for a passport, as it rarely happens that
either the Alcade or the Rejidores can read. On one occasion when my
passport was demanded, I discovered I had lost it. Fortunately, I had in
my pocket a bit of waste paper, which I had used instead of wadding in
loading my gun. I ventured at all hazards to hand it to the Indian
Rejidor, who having unfolded it stared very gravely at the words _Lucia
di Lammermoor_, which he saw printed in large characters. It was the
bill of the opera I had attended a few evenings before my departure from
Lima. After examining the bill very attentively, and then scanning me
very narrowly, the Rejidor returned the paper, with the observation that
the passport was quite correct.
From San Mateo the road runs for half a league through a gloomy
ravine; and then suddenly takes a steep ascent up the side of the
mountain, over fragments of stones, lying one above another like
flights of steps. The stream dashes from rock to rock, covering the
narrow path with foam, and washing away the blocks of stone which, in
some of the most dangerous parts, serve as barriers along the edge of
the precipice. On this road long trains of mules are frequently met
coming from the Sierra. The traveller, at their approach, seeks some
little recess into which he may creep, and there stand closely jammed
against the mountain until the train passes by. This is attended by
great loss of time, owing to the slow and cautious pace at which the
mules proceed. On such a rencounter in a narrow mountain path, I was
once obliged to wait for several hours, whilst two hundred mules
passed by; and at the spot where I and my horse stood, the laden
animals had scarcely space sufficient to set down their feet at the
very edge of the pathway. In some places it is perfectly impossible
either to go on one side or to turn back; and when horses or mules
meet at these difficult points, one of the animals is obliged to
plunge into the stream, before the other can have room to pass. The
numerous curvatures of the road, and the projecting masses of
mountain, render it impossible to see advancing objects in sufficient
time to avoid collision.
After having passed this difficult tract, which is called by the natives
Cacray, we reach the summit of the acclivity down which the mountain
stream descends. Here the valley presents quite the Sierra character. It
is no longer confined within steep and rugged mountain walls, but runs
in undulating contours along the bases of the hills, and gently ascends
eastward towards the principal chain of the Cordillera. The road is
sometimes on the right and sometimes on the left bank of the river. Two
leagues beyond San Mateo lies Chicla, a miserable Indian village, which,
according to Maclean's calculation, is 12,712 feet above sea level. In
some of the more sheltered parts barley is planted; but it does not
ripen, and is merely used as fodder (_Alcazer_). Chicla is the last
place in this valley where the soil is in any degree capable of
cultivation. Half a league further on, there are a few scattered Indian
huts, called the village of Acchahuari. One of these huts is a tambo,
which can never be forgotten by any unfortunate traveller who may have
taken up his abode in it. Necessity several times compelled me to seek a
night's lodging in this horrible tambo; but I never could remain in it
till morning; and even amidst snow or rain I have been glad to get out,
and take up my resting-place on the outside of the door. The hostess is
a dirty old Indian woman, assisted by her daughter; and the hut is
filthy beyond description. For supper, the old woman cooks a vile mess
called _Chupe_, consisting of potatoes and water, mixed with Spanish
pepper; but it is so dirtily prepared, that nothing but the most deadly
hunger would induce any one to taste it. The beds consist of sheep-skins
spread on the damp floor; and one bedchamber serves for the hostess, her
daughter, her grandchildren, and the travellers; an immense woollen
counterpane or blanket being spread over the whole party. But woe to the
unwary traveller who trusts himself in this dormitory! He soon finds
himself surrounded by enemies from whose attacks it is impossible to
escape; for the hut is infested with vermin. Even should he withdraw
into a corner, and make a pillow of his saddle, the annoyance pursues
him. Add to all this a stifling smoke, and all sorts of mephitic
exhalations, and troops of guinea-pigs who run about during the whole
night, and gambol over the faces and bodies of the sleepers,--and it may
readily be conceived how anxiously the traveller looks for the dawn of
morning, when he may escape from the horrors of this miserable tambo.
Acchahuari is 13,056 feet above the sea level. The climate is very
ungenial. During the winter months, rain and snow fall without
intermission; and even during the summer, heavy drifts of snow are not
unfrequent. From April to July, the medium temperature during the night
is 4 deg. R.
After passing Cacray the diminished atmospheric pressure begins to
produce an effect on coast horses which have not been accustomed to
travel in the Sierra. They are attacked with a malady called the _veta_,
which shows itself by difficulty of breathing and trembling. The animals
are frequently so overpowered that they are unable either to move or
stand, and if they are not immediately unsaddled and allowed to rest
they perish. The arrieros consider bleeding a cure for this malady. They
sometimes slit the horse's nostrils, a remedy which is probably
efficacious, as it enables the animal to inhale the air freely. Chopped
garlic put into the nostrils is supposed to be a preventive of the veta.
Mules are less liable to the malady probably because they ascend the
acclivities more slowly than horses. The disease does not attack the
native horses of the Sierra, for which reason they are better than the
coast horses for mountain travelling. Mules, however, are preferable to
either. It is wonderful with what tact and penetration the mule chooses
his footing. When he doubts the firmness of the ground he passes his
muzzle over it, or turns up the loose parts with his hoof before he
ventures to step forward. When he finds himself getting into soft and
marshy ground he stands stock still, and refuses to obey either stirrup
or whip. If by accident he sinks into a morass, he makes a halt, and
waits very contentedly until he receives assistance. But in spite of all
this sagacity the traveller will not do well to resign himself wholly to
the guidance of his mule. In ordinary cases these animals allow
themselves to be guided, and sometimes they appear to think it more safe
to trust to the bridle than to themselves. One of my mules frequently
gave me curious proofs of this sort of calculation. When, in very
difficult parts of the road, I dismounted, in order to walk and lead him
by the bridle, I found it impossible to get the animal to move either by
force or persuasion. He spread out his legs, fixed his hoofs firmly into
the ground, and obstinately resisted all my endeavors to make him move.
But as soon as I remounted he willingly obeyed every movement of the
bridle. With this mule I could ride through marshes, which I could never
do with any other. He appeared to reflect that, as I only dismounted
when the road was unsafe, his life was in no less danger than mine.
About a league beyond Acchahuari the valley is bounded by the
principal chain of the Cordillera. The ascent may be gained by two
different roads. One, the steeper of the two, runs southward, across
the Piedra Parada; the other, on which the ascent is somewhat easier,
takes an easterly direction, over Antarangra. We will first trace the
latter course, which is the most frequented. At the extremity of the
valley, and twenty-eight leagues from the capital, is situated the
last village, Cashapalca, 13,236 feet above the sea. Its inhabitants
are chiefly employed in mining. Formerly, vast quantities of silver
were obtained here. But most of the mines are now either under water
or exhausted, and the village, with its mine works, has dwindled into
insignificance. Beyond Cashapalca there is a tract of marshy ground,
which being passed, a narrow winding road of about two leagues leads
up the acclivity. The soil is clayey, and thinly bestrewed with alpine
grass, intermingled with syngenesious and cruciferous plants. Two
plants which are called by the natives _mala yerba_ and _garban
zillos_, and are a deadly poison to mules and horses, grow in great
abundance here. The numerous skeletons of beasts of burthen seen along
the road bear evidence of the fatal effects of those plants. Higher up
the ascent the vegetation becomes more and more scanty, until at
length it entirely disappears, and nothing is visible but the barren
rock of the Sierra highlands.
The last division of acclivity is called by the natives the Antarangra
(copper rock). On it there is a small heap of stones, which I shall
describe by and by, and a cross made of the stems of the _Baccharis_.
From this point the traveller catches a distant glimpse of the
heaven-towering summit of the Cordillera.
I speedily mounted the ascent, and reached the goal of my journey.
Here I found myself disappointed in the expectation I had formed of
commanding an uninterrupted view over boundless space and distance.
The prospect is greatly circumscribed by numerous rocky elevations,
which spring up in every direction. The mountain passes running across
the ridge of the Cordillera are bounded on all sides by rocks,
sometimes not very high, but at other times rising to the elevation of
1000 feet. The pass of Antarangra (also called Portachuelo del Tingo,
or Pachachaca) is 15,600 above the sea.[63] Nevertheless it is, during
a great part of the year, free from snow. Scarcely a quarter of a
league further northward are the eternal glaciers, and they are
several hundred feet lower than the Pass. That the Pass itself is not
permanently covered with snow is a circumstance which may probably be
accounted for by the direction of the atmospheric currents. The east
winds penetrate into the deep recesses of the valleys, which are
sheltered against the cold south wind by the adjacent mountain ridge.
The passes have a gloomy character, and the rugged grandeur of the
surrounding country presents an aspect of chaotic wildness and
disorder. The ground is covered with huge masses of rock; and the
ungenial fruitless soil is shunned alike by plants and animals. The
thin tendrils of a lichen, here and there twining on a damp mass of
stone, are the only traces of life. Yet the remains of human industry
and activity are everywhere observable. On all sides are seen the deep
cavities which formed the entrances to the now exhausted mines. These
cavities are sometimes situated at elevated points of the almost
inaccessible walls of rock, and are occasionally found in the level
part of the valley, and close on the roadway. Instances have occurred
of travellers being killed by falling into these holes, when they have
been covered by thick falls of snow.
It is curious to observe, on the Pass of Antarangra, the partition of
the waters flowing into the two great oceans, the Atlantic and the
Pacific. Scarcely thirty paces distant from each other there are two
small lagunas. That situated most to the west is one of the sources of
the Rio de San Mateo, which, under the name of the Rimac, falls into the
Pacific. The other laguna, that to the eastward, sends its waters
through a succession of small mountain lakes into the Rio de Pachachaca,
a small tributary to the mighty Amazon river. It is amusing to take a
cup of water from the one laguna and pour it into the other. I could not
resist indulging this whim; and in so doing I thought I might possibly
have sent into the Pacific some drops of the water destined for the
Atlantic. But the whim, puerile as it may be, nevertheless suggests
serious reflections on the mighty power of nature, which has thrown up
these stupendous mountains from the bosom of the earth; and also on the
testaceous animals found on these heights, memorials of the time when
the ocean flowed over their lofty summits.
From the ridge the road runs eastward along a branch of the principal
mountain chain. This branch forms the southern boundary of a
gently-sloping valley. The declivity is terrace-formed, and on each
terrace there is a small clear lake. This series of lakes is called
_Huascacocha_ (the chain of lakes). In their waters, as in most of the
mountain rivers, there is found in great numbers a small species of
shad-fish (_Pygidium dispar_, Tsch.). They are caught during the night
in nets, or by lines, to which the bait is fastened by small
cactus-thorns.
The third in the series of the lagunas is called _Morococha_ (the
colored lake). On its banks some buildings have been constructed, for
the smelting of copper ore. The mines which yield this metal are on the
southern declivity, close to the road leading down from the Cordillera.
Formerly these mines were worked for silver, but were not found very
productive of that metal. Now they are again actively worked, and copper
is obtained from them. The working of the Peruvian copper mines has
hitherto been much neglected, though copper ore is exceedingly abundant.
The road from Morococha to Pachachaca is very uniform. The latter
village, which is situated 12,240 feet above the level of the sea, was
formerly a place of much greater importance than it now is. In its
neighborhood there are a number of spacious buildings constructed at
the time of the unfortunate English mining speculation. Most of them
are only half finished. At the entrance of the village there is a
large hacienda. In some of the apartments the flooring is of wood; a
thing seldom seen in these parts, where the wood for such purposes
must be brought from the eastern declivity of the Andes: the
difficulty and expense attending this transport are so considerable,
that a wooden floor is a great rarity in the habitations of the
Cordillera. A mine belonging to the hacienda is situated five leagues
north-west of Pachachaca, and yields rich silver ore; but a great
part of it is at present under water, and its drainage would be a very
difficult undertaking.
Returning to the point where the two roads across the Cordillera
separate at Cashapalca, we will now trace the route by way of Piedra
Parada. This way is shorter than that by Antarangra, but the ascents
are much steeper. The first objects met with by the traveller on this
road are some Indian huts, called _yauliyacu_, and the ruined hacienda
of San Rafael. These being passed, the ascent continues over broken
masses of rock. About 15,200 feet above the sea there is a huge block
of mountain, called the Piedra Parada, close against which a chapel
was formerly erected; the mountain forming the back wall of the
structure. Now there is merely an iron cross, fixed on the upper part
of the block of mountain. On this spot the Archbishop used formerly to
celebrate mass, when he was on his rounds through the diocese. The
chapel was destroyed by lightning, and has not been rebuilt. The pass
of the Piedra Parada is 16,008 feet above the sea, and is always
covered with snow. Travellers frequently lose their way in this pass,
an accident which befel me in March, 1842, when I was proceeding alone
by that route. Being overtaken by a violent fall of snow, I could
scarcely see a few paces before me. After wandering about for several
hours, my horse became weary, and I began to despair of extricating
myself from the dreary plains of snow. Late in the evening I reached a
little valley, where, sheltered by some rocks, I passed the night. On
the following morning I renewed my journey, and after considerable
exertion I arrived at an Indian hut, where I obtained such directions
as enabled me to recover the right course.
The eastern declivity of the Pass of Piedra Parada is steeper than that
of Huascacocha. After a difficult ride of about two leagues, we reach
first the valley, and then the village of Yauli. The village lies at the
height of 13,100 feet above the sea, and consists of about one hundred
and fifty miserable huts, affording habitations for between twelve and
fourteen thousand Indians, most of whom are employed in mining.
The Cordillera, in the neighborhood of Yauli, is exceedingly rich in
lead ore, containing silver. Within the circuit of a few miles, above
eight hundred shafts have been made, but they have not been found
sufficiently productive to encourage extensive mining works. The
difficulties which impede mine-working in these parts are caused
chiefly by the dearness of labor and the scarcity of fuel. There being
a total want of wood, the only fuel that can be obtained consists of
the dried dung of sheep, llamas, and huanacus. This fuel is called
_taquia_. It produces a very brisk and intense flame, and most of the
mine-owners prefer it to coal. The process of smelting, as practised
by the Indians, though extremely rude and imperfect, is nevertheless
adapted to local circumstances. All European attempts to improve the
system of smelting in these districts have either totally failed, or
in their results have proved less effective than the simple Indian
method. Complicated furnaces made after European models are
exceedingly expensive, whilst the natives can construct theirs at the
cost of fifty or sixty dollars each. These Indian furnaces can,
moreover, be easily erected in the vicinity of the mines, and when the
metal is not very abundant the furnaces may be abandoned without any
great sacrifice. For the price of one European furnace the Indians may
build more than a dozen, in each of which, notwithstanding the paucity
of fuel, a considerably greater quantity of metal may be smelted than
in one of European construction.
About half a league beyond Yauli there are upwards of twenty mineral
springs, all situated within a circuit of a quarter of a mile. Several
of them contain saline properties. One is called the _Hervidero_ (the
whirlpool). It is in the form of a funnel, and at its upper part is
between ten and twelve feet diameter. Its surface is covered with
foam. The temperature of the water is only 7 deg. C. higher than the
atmosphere. Some of these springs are tepid and sulphuric; and the
temperature of one of them is as high as 89 deg. C. Near some of the
springs quadrangular basins have been constructed for baths, which are
said to be very efficacious in cutaneous and rheumatic complaints. The
climate of Yauli is exceedingly rigorous. In summer the medium
temperature of the night is 8 deg. C., but the days are mild. In winter,
on the other hand, the night is +1 deg. C., and the day scarcely +3 deg. C.,
as the sky is continually overhung with thick clouds, which disperse
themselves in continual falls of snow. I passed several weeks in Yauli
and in the wild country around it, and during that time I made many
valuable additions to my natural history collection.
The distance between Yauli and Pachachaca is two leagues. The road
descends gently along the right bank of the Rio de Yauli, which forms
the principal source of the Rio de Oroya. In this direction, as well as
in other parts adjacent to Yauli, there are numerous remains of mining
works, formerly the property of Portuguese. These works were destroyed
at the time of the persecution of the Portuguese in Peru, when the
consul, Juan Bautista, was hanged by the Inquisition, in Lima. Over
those events there hangs a veil of mystery, which will probably never be
removed. The Portuguese were the most powerful and intelligent
mine-owners in Peru, and their prosperity excited the envy of the
Spanish viceroy. A number of Portuguese emigrants, who came from
Brazil, to settle in the Peruvian province of Maynas, furnished the
viceroy with a ground of complaint, real or pretended. He set forth
that the Portuguese of the eastern parts of South America intended to
make themselves masters of Peru, and conjointly with the Inquisition
he commenced coercive measures against them. Their consul was accused
of heresy, condemned and hanged, and the emigrants were pursued and
put to death. Some of them escaped into the forests, where they were
massacred by the Indians, and only a very few succeeded in getting
back to Brazil. Many of the wealthy Portuguese mine-owners, seeing the
danger that threatened them, sank their vast treasures in lakes, or
buried them in retired places in the plains. These treasures consisted
chiefly of smelted ore and silver coin, and only a very small portion
was afterwards discovered. Thus were these active and intelligent
mine-owners sacrificed, either to a chimerical and unfounded
suspicion, or to a feeling of avarice, which, after all, failed in
attaining its object. The consequences were disastrous to the country.
Peruvian mining has never recovered the prosperity which it enjoyed
under the management of the Portuguese.
Between Yauli and Pachachaca the way is difficult, and without an
accurate knowledge of the route, the traveller is likely to lose his
way, and may even incur the danger of sinking in the marshes which
spread along the bank of the river. From Pachachaca a broad and gentle
sloping valley conducts to La Oroya, a distance of about three leagues.
In the range of mountains forming the southern boundary of this valley,
the river winds its way through deep ravines. About half a league from
Pachachaca there is a ford where the road divides; one division passing
over the steep mountains of Yanaclara to Jauja, and the other running
into the wild valleys of Huayhuay. Midway between Pachachaca and La
Oroya there is a small, miserable Indian village called Saco, which is
seldom visited by travellers, as it is difficult to procure in it the
commonest necessaries of food. In this place there is a natural bridge
across the river, which has worked out a bed for itself beneath the
rocks. At several points along the course of this river I observed
similar bridges of rock, but this one only is passable for horses.
La Oroya lies on the left bank of the river of that name, and
communicates with the right bank by means of a large hanging bridge
(Puente de Soga). These bridges are composed of four ropes (sogas) made
of twisted cow-hide, and about the thickness of a man's arm. The four
ropes are connected together by thinner ones of the same material,
fastened over them transversely. The whole is covered with branches,
straw, and roots of the Agave tree. On either side, a rope rather more
than two feet above the bridge serves as a balustrade. The sogas are
fastened on each bank of the river by piles, or riveted into the rock.
During the long continuous rains these bridges become loose and require
to be tightened; but they are always lower in the middle than at the
ends, and when passengers are crossing them they swing like hammocks. It
requires some practice, and a very steady head, to go over the soga
bridges unaccompanied by a Puentero.[64] However strongly made, they are
not durable; for the changeableness of the weather quickly rots the
ropes, which are made of untanned leather. They frequently require
repairing, and travellers have sometimes no alternative but to wait for
several days until a bridge is passable, or to make a circuit of 20 or
30 leagues. The Puente de Soga of Oroya is fifty yards long, and one and
a half broad. It is one of the largest in Peru; but the bridge across
the Apurimac, in the province of Ayacucho, is nearly twice as long, and
it is carried over a much deeper gulf.
Another curious kind of bridge is that called the Huaro. It consists
of a thick rope extending over a river or across a rocky chasm. To
this rope are affixed a roller, and a strong piece of wood formed
like a yoke, and by means of two smaller ropes, this yoke is drawn
along the thick rope which forms the bridge. The passenger who has to
cross the Huaro is tied to the yoke, and grasps it firmly with both
hands. His feet, which are crossed one over the other, rest on the
thick rope, and the head is held as erectly as possible. All these
preliminaries being completed, an Indian, stationed on the opposite
side of the river or chasm, draws the passenger across the Huaro. This
is altogether the most disagreeable and dangerous mode of conveyance
that can possibly be conceived. If the rope breaks, an accident of no
unfrequent occurrence, the hapless traveller has no chance of escaping
with life, for being fastened, he can make no effort to save himself.
Horses and mules are driven by the Indians into the river, and are
made to swim across it, in doing which they frequently perish,
especially when being exhausted by a long journey, they have not
strength to contend against the force of the current.
The village of Oroya, about a quarter of a mile from the bridge, is
built on a declivity, and according to Maclean's calculation is 12,010
feet above the level of the sea. It contains fifty-one miserable huts,
which are the habitations of about two hundred Indians. From Oroya
several roads branch off into the different mountain districts. The most
frequented is that over the level height of Cachi-Cachi to Jauja. Along
this road there are extensive tracts of ground covered with calcareous
petrifactions. Another road leading to Tarma passes by the ancient Inca
fortress Huichay. A third, and much frequented road is that by way of
Huaypacha, and from thence to Junin and Cerro de Pasco.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 52: All these calculations are by English feet.]
[Footnote 53: Jardine and Selby's Annals of Natural History.]
[Footnote 54: Nivelacion barometrica desde el Callao hasta Pasco, por el
camino de Obrajillo, y desde el mismo lugar hasta la capital por via de
Tarma, hecha y calculada por Mariano Eduardo Rivero y Usturitz in
Memorial de Ciencias naturales, &c.]
[Footnote 55: Darwin's Journal, p. 350]
[Footnote 56: The Spaniards term this plant _Una de gato_ (Cat's-claw),
the stalk being furnished with hooked thorns resembling claws.]
[Footnote 57: For further information relative to this disease, see my
communication to Wunderlich and Roser's "_Archiv fuer Physiologische
Heilkunde_."]
[Footnote 58: See page 153.]
[Footnote 59: By a nail is lost a shoe, by a shoe a horse, and by a
horse a rider.]
[Footnote 60: According to Maclean, the elevation of Matucanas is 8026
feet above the level of the sea. I presume that this calculation
refers to the village itself, which is situated about the eighth of a
league from the tambo, and lies much lower.]
[Footnote 61: According to Maclean's calculation, the Tambo de Viso is
9072 feet above the sea.]
[Footnote 62: Maclean states the elevation to be 10,984 feet above
the sea. Rivero makes it 9570, and Gay 10,408 feet. Gay's is the only
measurement which in any manner corresponds with mine and Maclean's.
In general Gay's calculations are between 600 and 800 feet higher
than ours.]
[Footnote 63: Maclean makes it 15,543 feet; Gay, 15,924 feet; and Rivero,
only 14,608 feet above the level of the sea.]
[Footnote 64: The _Puenteros_ (Bridge Guides) are Indians who assist
travellers in crossing these dangerous bridges.]