Machu Picchu
It was in July, 1911, that we first entered that marvelous canyon of
the Urubamba, where the river escapes from the cold regions near Cuzco
by tearing its way through gigantic mountains of granite. From Torontoy
to Colpani the road runs through a land of matchless charm. It has the
majestic grandeur of the Canadian Rockies, as well as the startling
beauty of the Nuuanu Pali near Honolulu, and the enchanting vistas of
the Koolau Ditch Trail on Maul. In the variety of its charms and the
power of its spell, I know of no place in the world which can compare
with it. Not only has it great snow peaks looming above the clouds more
than two miles overhead; gigantic precipices of many-colored granite
rising sheer for thousands of feet above the foaming, glistening,
roaring rapids; it has also, in striking contrast, orchids and
tree ferns, the delectable beauty of luxurious vegetation, and the
mysterious witchery of the jungle. One is drawn irresistibly onward
by ever-recurring surprises through a deep, winding gorge, turning
and twisting past overhanging cliffs of incredible height. Above all,
there is the fascination of finding here and there under the swaying
vines, or perched on top of a beetling crag, the rugged masonry of
a bygone race; and of trying to understand the bewildering romance
of the ancient builders who ages ago sought refuge in a region which
appears to have been expressly designed by Nature as a sanctuary for
the oppressed, a place where they might fearlessly and patiently give
expression to their passion for walls of enduring beauty. Space forbids
any attempt to describe in detail the constantly changing panorama,
the rank tropical foliage, the countless terraces, the towering cliffs,
the glaciers peeping out between the clouds.
We had camped at a place near the river, called Mandor Pampa. Melchor
Arteaga, proprietor of the neighboring farm, had told us of ruins at
Machu Picchu, as was related in Chapter X.
The morning of July 24th dawned in a cold drizzle. Arteaga shivered
and seemed inclined to stay in his hut. I offered to pay him well if he
would show me the ruins. He demurred and said it was too hard a climb
for such a wet day. When he found that we were willing to pay him a
sol, three or four times the ordinary daily wage in this vicinity,
he finally agreed to guide us to the ruins. No one supposed that they
would be particularly interesting. Accompanied by Sergeant Carrasco
I left camp at ten o'clock and went some distance upstream. On the
road we passed a venomous snake which recently had been killed. This
region has an unpleasant notoriety for being the favorite haunt of
"vipers." The lance-headed or yellow viper, commonly known as the
fer-de-lance, a very venomous serpent capable of making considerable
springs when in pursuit of its prey, is common hereabouts. Later two
of our mules died from snake-bite.
After a walk of three quarters of an hour the guide left the main road
and plunged down through the jungle to the bank of the river. Here
there was a primitive "bridge" which crossed the roaring rapids at
its narrowest part, where the stream was forced to flow between two
great boulders. The bridge was made of half a dozen very slender logs,
some of which were not long enough to span the distance between the
boulders. They had been spliced and lashed together with vines. Arteaga
and Carrasco took off their shoes and crept gingerly across, using
their somewhat prehensile toes to keep from slipping. It was obvious
that no one could have lived for an instant in the rapids, but would
immediately have been dashed to pieces against granite boulders. I
am frank to confess that I got down on hands and knees and crawled
across, six inches at a time. Even after we reached the other side
I could not help wondering what would happen to the "bridge" if a
particularly heavy shower should fall in the valley above. A light
rain had fallen during the night. The river had risen so that the
bridge was already threatened by the foaming rapids. It would not
take much more rain to wash away the bridge entirely. If this should
happen during the day it might be very awkward. As a matter of fact,
it did happen a few days later and the next explorers to attempt to
cross the river at this point found only one slender log remaining.
Leaving the stream, we struggled up the bank through a dense jungle,
and in a few minutes reached the bottom of a precipitous slope. For
an hour and twenty minutes we had a hard climb. A good part of the
distance we went on all fours, sometimes hanging on by the tips
of our fingers. Here and there, a primitive ladder made from the
roughly hewn trunk of a small tree was placed in such a way as to
help one over what might otherwise have proved to be an impassable
cliff. In another place the slope was covered with slippery grass
where it was hard to find either handholds or footholds. The guide
said that there were lots of snakes here. The humidity was great,
the heat was excessive, and we were not in training.
Shortly after noon we reached a little grass-covered hut where several
good-natured Indians, pleasantly surprised at our unexpected arrival,
welcomed us with dripping gourds full of cool, delicious water. Then
they set before us a few cooked sweet potatoes, called here cumara,
a Quichua word identical with the Polynesian kumala, as has been
pointed out by Mr. Cook.
Apart from the wonderful view of the canyon, all we could see from
our cool shelter was a couple of small grass huts and a few ancient
stone-faced terraces. Two pleasant Indian farmers, Richarte and
Alvarez, had chosen this eagle's nest for their home. They said they
had found plenty of terraces here on which to grow their crops and
they were usually free from undesirable visitors. They did not speak
Spanish, but through Sergeant Carrasco I learned that there were more
ruins "a little farther along." In this country one never can tell
whether such a report is worthy of credence. "He may have been lying"
is a good footnote to affix to all hearsay evidence. Accordingly,
I was not unduly excited, nor in a great hurry to move. The heat
was still great, the water from the Indian's spring was cool
and delicious, and the rustic wooden bench, hospitably covered
immediately after my arrival with a soft, woolen poncho, seemed most
comfortable. Furthermore, the view was simply enchanting. Tremendous
green precipices fell away to the white rapids of the Urubamba
below. Immediately in front, on the north side of the valley, was
a great granite cliff rising 2000 feet sheer. To the left was the
solitary peak of Huayna Picchu, surrounded by seemingly inaccessible
precipices. On all sides were rocky cliffs. Beyond them cloud-capped
mountains rose thousands of feet above us.
The Indians said there were two paths to the outside world. Of one we
had already had a taste; the other, they said, was more difficult--a
perilous path down the face of a rocky precipice on the other side
of the ridge. It was their only means of egress in the wet season,
when the bridge over which we had come could not be maintained. I was
not surprised to learn that they went away from home only "about once
a month."
Richarte told us that they had been living here four years. It
seems probable that, owing to its inaccessibility, the canyon had
been unoccupied for several centuries, but with the completion of
the new government road settlers began once more to occupy this
region. In time somebody clambered up the precipices and found on
the slopes of Machu Picchu, at an elevation of 9000 feet above the
sea, an abundance of rich soil conveniently situated on artificial
terraces, in a fine climate. Here the Indians had finally cleared
off some ruins, burned over a few terraces, and planted crops of
maize, sweet and white potatoes, sugar cane, beans, peppers, tree
tomatoes, and gooseberries. At first they appropriated some of the
ancient houses and replaced the roofs of wood and thatch. They found,
however, that there were neither springs nor wells near the ancient
buildings. An ancient aqueduct which had once brought a tiny stream
to the citadel had long since disappeared beneath the forest, filled
with earth washed from the upper terraces. So, abandoning the shelter
of the ruins, the Indians were now enjoying the convenience of living
near some springs in roughly built thatched huts of their own design.
Without the slightest expectation of finding anything more interesting
than the stone-faced terraces of which I already had a glimpse, and
the ruins of two or three stone houses such as we had encountered
at various places on the road between Ollantaytambo and Torontoy,
I finally left the cool shade of the pleasant little hut and climbed
farther up the ridge and around a slight promontory. Arteaga had
"been here once before," and decided to rest and gossip with Richarte
and Alvarez in the hut. They sent a small boy with me as a guide.
Hardly had we rounded the promontory when the character of the
stonework began to improve. A flight of beautifully constructed
terraces, each two hundred yards long and ten feet high, had then
recently rescued from the jungle by the Indians. A forest of large
trees had been chopped down and burned over to make a clearing
for agricultural purposes. Crossing these terraces, I entered the
untouched forest beyond, and suddenly found myself in a maze of
beautiful granite houses! They were covered with trees and moss and
the growth of centuries, but in the dense shadow, hiding in bamboo
thickets and tangled vines, could be seen, here and there, walls
of white granite ashlars most carefully cut and exquisitely fitted
together. Buildings with windows were frequent. Here at least was a
"place far from town and conspicuous for its windows."
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FIGURE
Flashlight view of Interior of Cave, Machu Picchu
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FIGURE
Temple over Cave at Machu Picchu Suggested by the Author as the
Probable Site of Tampu-Tocco
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Under a carved rock the little boy showed me a cave beautifully lined
with the finest cut stone. It was evidently intended to be a Royal
Mausoleum. On top of this particular boulder a semicircular building
had been constructed. The wall followed the natural curvature of the
rock and was keyed to it by one of the finest examples of masonry I
have ever seen. This beautiful wall, made of carefully matched ashlars
of pure white granite, especially selected for its fine grain, was the
work of a master artist. The interior surface of the wall was broken
by niches and square stone-pegs. The exterior surface was perfectly
simple and unadorned. The lower courses, of particularly large ashlars,
gave it a look of solidity. The upper courses, diminishing in size
toward the top, lent grace and delicacy to the structure. The flowing
lines, the symmetrical arrangement of the ashlars, and the gradual
gradation of the courses, combined to produce a wonderful effect,
softer and more pleasing than that of the marble temples of the
Old World. Owing to the absence of mortar, there are no ugly spaces
between the rocks. They might have grown together.
The elusive beauty of this chaste, undecorated surface seems to me
to be due to the fact that the wall was built under the eye of a
master mason who knew not the straight edge, the plumb rule, or the
square. He had no instruments of precision, so he had to depend on
his eye. He had a good eye, an artistic eye, an eye for symmetry
and beauty of form. His product received none of the harshness of
mechanical and mathematical accuracy. The apparently rectangular
blocks are not really rectangular. The apparently straight lines of
the courses are not actually straight in the exact sense of that term.
To my astonishment I saw that this wall and its adjoining semicircular
temple over the cave were as fine as the finest stonework in the
far-famed Temple of the Sun in Cuzco. Surprise followed surprise in
bewildering succession. I climbed a marvelous great stairway of large
granite blocks, walked along a pampa where the Indians had a small
vegetable garden, and came into a little clearing. Here were the ruins
of two of the finest structures I have ever seen in Peru. Not only were
they made of selected blocks of beautifully grained white granite;
their walls contained ashlars of Cyclopean size, ten feet in length,
and higher than a man. The sight held me spellbound.
Each building had only three walls and was entirely open on the
side toward the clearing. The principal temple was lined with
exquisitely made niches, five high up at each end, and seven on the
back wall. There were seven courses of ashlars in the end walls. Under
the seven rear niches was a rectangular block fourteen feet long,
probably a sacrificial altar. The building did not look as though
it had ever had a roof. The top course of beautifully smooth ashlars
was not intended to be covered.
The other temple is on the east side of the pampa. I called it the
Temple of the Three Windows. Like its neighbor, it is unique among
Inca ruins. Its eastern wall, overlooking the citadel, is a massive
stone framework for three conspicuously large windows, obviously too
large to serve any useful purpose, yet most beautifully made with the
greatest care and solidity. This was clearly a ceremonial edifice of
peculiar significance. Nowhere else in Peru, so far as I know, is there
a similar structure conspicuous as "a masonry wall with three windows."
These ruins have no other name than that of the mountain on the
slopes of which they are located. Had this place been occupied
uninterruptedly, like Cuzco and Ollantaytambo, Machu Picchu would
have retained its ancient name, but during the centuries when it
was abandoned, its name was lost. Examination showed that it was
essentially a fortified place, a remote fastness protected by natural
bulwarks, of which man took advantage to create the most impregnable
stronghold in the Andes. Our subsequent excavations and the clearing
made in 1912, to be described in a subsequent volume, has shown that
this was the chief place in Uilcapampa.
It did not take an expert to realize, from the glimpse of Machu
Picchu on that rainy day in July, 1911, when Sergeant Carrasco and
I first saw it, that here were most extraordinary and interesting
ruins. Although the ridge had been partly cleared by the Indians for
their fields of maize, so much of it was still underneath a thick
jungle growth--some walls were actually supporting trees ten and
twelve inches in diameter--that it was impossible to determine just
what would be found here. As soon as I could get hold of Mr. Tucker,
who was assisting Mr. Hendriksen, and Mr. Lanius, who had gone down the
Urubamba with Dr. Bowman, I asked them to make a map of the ruins. I
knew it would be a difficult undertaking and that it was essential
for Mr. Tucker to join me in Arequipa not later than the first of
October for the ascent of Coropuna. With the hearty aid of Richarte
and Alvarez, the surveyors did better than I expected. In the ten days
while they were at the ruins they were able to secure data from which
Mr. Tucker afterwards prepared a map which told better than could
any words of mine the importance of this site and the necessity for
further investigation.
With the possible exception of one mining prospector, no one in Cuzco
had seen the ruins of Machu Picchu or appreciated their importance. No
one had any realization of what an extraordinary place lay on top of
the ridge. It had never been visited by any of the planters of the
lower Urubamba Valley who annually passed over the road which winds
through the canyon two thousand feet below.
It seems incredible that this citadel, less than three days' journey
from Cuzco, should have remained so long undescribed by travelers
and comparatively unknown even to the Peruvians themselves. If the
conquistadores ever saw this wonderful place, some reference to it
surely would have been made; yet nothing can be found which clearly
refers to the ruins of Machu Picchu. Just when it was first seen by a
Spanish-speaking person is uncertain. When the Count de Sartiges was
at Huadquiña in 1834 he was looking for ruins; yet, although so near,
he heard of none here. From a crude scrawl on the walls of one of the
finest buildings, we learned that the ruins were visited in 1902 by
Lizarraga, lessee of the lands immediately below the bridge of San
Miguel. This is the earliest local record. Yet some one must have
visited Machu Picchu long before that; because in 1875, as has been
said, the French explorer Charles Wiener heard in Ollantaytambo of
there being ruins at "Huaina-Picchu or Matcho-Picchu." He tried to
find them. That he failed was due to there being no road through the
canyon of Torontoy and the necessity of making a wide detour through
the pass of Panticalla and the Lucumayo Valley, a route which brought
him to the Urubamba River at the bridge of Chuquichaca, twenty-five
miles below Machu Picchu.
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FIGURE
Detail of Exterior of Temple of the Three Windows, Machu Picchu
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FIGURE
Detail of Principal Temple Machu Picchu
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It was not until 1890 that the Peruvian Government, recognizing the
needs of the enterprising planters who were opening up the lower
valley of the Urubamba, decided to construct a mule trail along the
banks of the river through the grand canyon to enable the much-desired
coca and aguardiente to be shipped from Huadquiña, Maranura, and Santa
Ann to Cuzco more quickly and cheaply than formerly. This road avoids
the necessity of carrying the precious cargoes over the dangerous
snowy passes of Mt. Veronica and Mt. Salcantay, so vividly described
by Raimondi, de Sartiges, and others. The road, however, was very
expensive, took years to build, and still requires frequent repair. In
fact, even to-day travel over it is often suspended for several days
or weeks at a time, following some tremendous avalanche. Yet it was
this new road which had led Melchor Arteaga to build his hut near
the arable land at Mandor Pampa, where he could raise food for his
family and offer rough shelter to passing travelers. It was this
new road which brought Richarte, Alvarez, and their enterprising
friends into this little-known region, gave them the opportunity of
occupying the ancient terraces of Machu Picchu, which had lain fallow
for centuries, encouraged them to keep open a passable trail over
the precipices, and made it feasible for us to reach the ruins. It
was this new road which offered us in 1911 a virgin field between
Ollantaytambo and Huadquiña and enabled us to learn that the Incas,
or their predecessors, had once lived here in the remote fastnesses of
the Andes, and had left stone witnesses of the magnificence and beauty
of their ancient civilization, more interesting and extensive than any
which have been found since the days of the Spanish Conquest of Peru.