Coni and its trade—Yuracaré Indians—Their bark shirts,
ornaments, and dyes—Musical instruments—Tradition of Cain
and Abel—Difference between the Indians of the interior and
those of the plains—Bravery of the Yuracarés—Start from
Coni—Pachimoco—River San Antonio—Cristal Maio—Continuous
rains—Zinc-roofed houses—Coca plantations—Minas
Maio—Metalliferous character of district—Coffee and cotton—El
Chaco—Cuesta of Lina Tambo—Los Jocotales—Inca Corral—Cuesta de
Malaga—Snowstorms.
Coni is distant about forty-five leagues from Cochabamba, and is only a
small clearing in the jungle, with a few huts, where the mule-drivers and
traders from Cochabamba remain while waiting in the dry season for the
arrival of the canoes from Trinidad. At this place I found a corregidor
and a few traders who had come down from Cochabamba, the corregidor to
receive the departmental tolls on the traffic, and the traders their
cargoes of cocoa, as well as to ship the return loads of wheaten flour,
salt, and potatoes.
The salt is made up in bricks weighing probably ten or twelve pounds
each, and is brought from the “salitreras,” or salinas of Central and
Western Bolivia. A brick, or “pan” as it is called, is worth three pesos,
or about 9_s._ 6_d._, in Trinidad. The trade in this article is a very
important one to the civilized Indians of the Beni, as that department is
entirely without any salt deposits; but the savages of the Madeira, such
as the Caripunas and Pacaguaras, do not seem to have acquired a taste for
the luxury, as, although they will eat salted provisions when given to
them, they do not ask for salt or care to accept it.
There were about 200 mules in all waiting at Coni, the cargo for each one
being eight Bolivian arrobas, or about two hundred-weight. During the
five or six months that this trade is open, more than 1000 cargoes of
eight arrobas each are received from Cochabamba in salt or flour, while
a similar quantity of cocoa, dressed hides, and tiger skins is returned;
and this trade is carried on under every possible difficulty of miserable
roads and defective means of navigation. As the mule-drivers only come
to Coni when they expect to get a freight, intending travellers must
make arrangements to have animals ready for their arrival, or they will
probably have to foot it over very bad roads. The hire of a mule from
Coni to Cochabamba, or _vice versâ_, is fourteen pesos (about £2 5_s._).
Coni is about 950 feet above sea-level, and has a delightful climate, the
vegetation not being of that dense and rank nature found on the Amazon
and Madeira Rivers. There are consequently fewer insect plagues, such as
mosquitoes, etc., and fever and ague are very little if at all known.
When the Amazonian route for the commerce of Bolivia begins to be fairly
opened up, the present location of the port of Coni must be abandoned,
and a clearing and port made on the Chimoré, at the small Indian village
of the same name on that river.
The district is the home of the Yuracaré Indians, who are called
savages, but are very friendly and well disposed. They are nomads in
so far as that they only live in one clearing for perhaps two or three
years, until they are tired of the spot, or fancy that the chaco does not
yield so well as it did at first; while possibly another reason for the
move is that, as they are very smart hunters, the game has got scarce
within reasonable walking distance. They then shift to another part of
their district, which extends from the higher waters of the Chapari to
the foot of the hills of San Antonio and Espiritu Santo on the road to
Cochabamba.
The day after our arrival at Coni, two of the headmen came to pay us a
visit, accompanied by half a dozen of their women, who were laden with
burdens of plantains and yams, which they carried in nets, supported on
their backs by a band which passed across their foreheads. These people
are very much like the ordinary Mojos Indians and the Pacaguaras of the
river Trés Irmãos, but are much more civilized than the latter tribe,
as they do not all wear their hair in the usual savage style, cut close
over the eyes and hanging down behind, while they always have some sort
of clothing, either a bark shirt or some articles purchased from the
traders. Many of them understand Spanish very fairly, and they all were
very well behaved; indeed, it was wonderful to see what self-restraint
they exercised, controlling their curiosity in a marvellous manner, and
not asking for everything that took their fancy, as do the Pacaguaras
and Caripunas of the rapids; and I rewarded their patience accordingly
by presents of cigars, sugar, biscuits, and a “pinga” or small drink of
Hollands apiece, which latter they seemed to approve of highly. The men
are fairly formed and of good stature, but the women are undersized, and
appear to be rather ill-treated, as is customary among savage tribes.
[Illustration: NECKLACE OF BRIGHT RED BEANS.]
They use but few adornments, a necklace of wooden beads or of seeds being
the general ornament amongst them. Their bark shirts are the finest that
are made anywhere in the Beni. Those made by the Mojos Indians are all
of a dark-brown colour, and of coarse, rough texture; but the Yuracarés
make theirs from a tree that gives a fine white bark, which, when beaten
out to the proper thinness, is painted in very bright colours. Some of
the patterns thus painted on the shirts are of great merit, and all the
colours are extracted from the various dye-yielding trees or earths
of the forests. A good cascara can be bought from them for about two
pesos. The chief, or cacique of the tribe, on state occasions wears a
curious appendage or pigtail, composed of bright feathers from macaws and
toucans, backs of bright-coloured beetles, and shells of nuts, etc. All
the tribe paint small black stripes and rings on their arms and legs,
whilst the women have a smear of red or black paint on their cheeks. I
was fortunate enough to secure three very fine specimens of these bark
shirts, one of the cacique’s pigtails, some of their necklaces, and a set
of their musical instruments, which, as may be surmised, are of a most
primitive character. They are of various shapes, producing at most three
or four notes, and are generally made of some hard kind of wood; but a
monkey’s thigh-bone or the leg-bone of a stork is often pressed into the
service, as, being hollow, these bones are easily made into a rough kind
of flute or whistle. I could not discover much melody in the concerts
which these Indians favoured us with, the principal object seeming to be
the production of as much noise as possible; the custom being for as many
performers as there are instruments, to seat themselves in a ring, and
each one to produce any note he pleases without the slightest reference
to his neighbour’s efforts. The effect is therefore more startling than
pleasant, especially as the fifers are accompanied by a drummer, whose
business seems to be to overcome, if possible, with his own horrible
instrument, the effect of the ear-piercing whistles.
[Illustration: GROUP OF BOLIVIAN MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, ETC.
A, Flute, made of hard wood; B B B, Whistles, made of hard wood; C,
Flutes, made of leg-bones of a stork; D D D, Necklaces, made of seeds and
beads; E, Ornaments, made of nut-shells and toucan breast feathers; F,
Small comb, made of hard wood; G G, Necklaces of monkey’s teeth; H, Tooth
of Capybara, used as ear ornament by Caripunas.]
These Indians produce a very fair kind of cloth or drill from the wild
cotton which is found in abundance on their territory, and as they are
very clever in extracting dyes of different colours from the forest, they
make up some very good hammock-cloths, sashes, and other articles. They
probably have been taught this art of weaving by the civilized Indians of
the Beni, who, as I have before mentioned, make some very excellent and
durable material called macanas.
[Illustration: AUTHOR, AND YURACARÉ INDIANS. (_From a photograph taken at
Cochabamba._)]
The corregidor says that altogether there are about 500 or 600 men in the
tribe, and they appear to be fairly under his orders. As I was travelling
on public business and had taken charge of despatches for the Government
at Chuquisaca from the prefect of the Beni, the corregidor offered me a
guard of these Indians for the journey to Cochabamba, and appointed the
cacique and five young Indians to accompany me. The cacique’s name was
Gregorio Frias, and he seemed to have an idea that he was a relative
of the then president of the republic, Don Tomas Frias; and perhaps he
was not far wrong, as I was told that a few years ago a brother of his
excellency lived in the district for some time, and had many of these
Indians at work on his chaco and coffee plantations, some trees of which
are still to be seen at the Coni, bearing excellent fruit. The other
Indians were young men, named Juan Baptista, Amadeo, Carlos, Roman, and
Donato, who were all pleasant-looking young fellows that I was glad to
have as companions of my march to Cochabamba.
The Yuracarés have evidently been under the tutelage of the Jesuit
missionaries in bygone years, as they preserve a few traditions in proof
thereof. It is supposed that some unscrupulous servant of the Church
made use of the ascendancy gained by the Jesuits over these Indians for
his own purposes, and oppressed them until they turned against him and
his religion. I observed that the oldest of those who travelled with me
always took off their hats when passing a church, as though they had
some idea of paying respect to it; but the same men told me that they
considered the priests to be very bad men, and that they would not allow
them to visit or remain in their villages.
I translate the following account of one of their traditions from a
journal published in Cochabamba in October, 1872, in which is given a
short account of the sources of the river Mamoré. The paper says, that
“a little distance above the junction of the rivers Sacta and Vio,
three large stones are met with, placed one above the other in the form
of a column about thirty yards in height, dividing the river into two
channels, and offering a gigantic and imposing spectacle to the observer.
According to the tradition of the Yuracarés, the human species sprang
from the union of the tiger with these stones, the offspring being
called Mamoré, which, in their tongue, is equivalent for Eve. This Eve
had two sons: one, a son of crime and perversity, became the progenitor
of the Carais, as the Yuracarés call the Bolivians and other strangers
who pass through their territory; the other, full of goodness, virtue,
and blessings, was the ancestor of the Yuracarés. This tradition, which
parodies the characters of Cain and Abel, serves to prove that these
Indians preserve some notions of the Book of Genesis, which had probably
been taught them by the missionaries that had been amongst them.” Here is
a confusion of ideas, one of the most curious of which seems to me to be
the placing the tiger as the deity, or first cause, as this would seem
to have some analogy with the tiger-worship prevailing amongst certain
tribes of the jungles of Hindostan.
At Coni I was first struck with the great difference between the Bolivian
Indians of the interior of the republic and the Indians of the plains of
the Beni. The former, who are all styled “Collas” (meaning dwellers in
the Cordilleras) by those who inhabit the plains, are at first sight
seen to be of an entirely different race, evidently dwellers in a cold
climate, whilst the Indians of the plains are only able to live in warm
tropical places. The Colla Indian is hardly ever seen without his poncho
on, and muffler, or “bufanda,” round his neck. At a glance you see that
he has an aversion to the cleansing effect of water, whilst the Indian
of the plains only wears his poncho at nights or on very cold days, and
will, if he is allowed, spend half his time in bathing. The Yuracarés who
accompanied me continually stopped for a bath every time we crossed the
river.
Through the kindness of Don Ignacio Bello, to whom nearly all the animals
then at the Coni were contracted, I was able to arrange for mules for my
journey to Cochabamba; and on the 9th of August I started, accompanied by
an arriero, or mule-driver, and my servant-boy, the Cruzeño that I had
been fortunate enough to secure in Exaltacion, who, instead of going from
Trinidad to Santa Cruz, his native place, had decided to follow me to
Sucre on the understanding that I should send him home from that town—a
promise that I readily agreed to, for he had become very useful and
trustworthy, but which he, poor boy, never saw carried out, as he died of
small-pox in Cochabamba. The Cacique of the Yuracarés and the five boys
of the tribe also accompanied me, and proved very useful on the road, as
they generally managed during the day to shoot with their bows and arrows
either fish from the river or game from the forest, a welcome addition
to the repasts at the nightly halts. These Indians always volunteer to
accompany a traveller of any position, and as it was desirable that they
should be especially well disposed towards the navigation and railway
enterprises, I took considerable pains to conciliate them, and believe
that when operations are resumed for opening up the Bolivian commerce
they will be found very useful allies. As labourers will have to be taken
to the works from the interior of the republic, the Yuracarés can be made
very useful in clearing ground at the Chimoré port, and in navigating
the canoes that take the labourers as far as Trinidad, or perhaps as far
as the first of the rapids, Guajará Merim, from whence the labourers
could march to the various points on the railway where their services
are required. They could also be made use of as guards against the few
hostile tribes of the Mamoré, such as the Sirionos and the Chacobos;
while, under proper management, it might be possible to induce a hundred
or two of them to locate themselves at the wooding stations which will be
required above the rapids when steam navigation is organized. As these
Indians are more expert with their bows and arrows than any other tribe
of the Mamoré, their presence would effectually check the incursions
of those savages that refuse to approach civilization in the slightest
degree. They are also reputed to be the bravest of all the tribes of the
Beni, as proof of which I was told that the many marks and scars on their
bodies are caused by the practice that prevails amongst the young braves
of the tribe of slashing their bodies in sport, to show how well they can
bear pain; and if a quarrel arises amongst them, the custom is for the
whole of the tribe to turn out in the chaco, or some other open spot,
where the belligerents are set opposite each other at about 100 paces,
when, each being armed with bow and arrows, a regular duel ensues, the
tribe encouraging the combatants to continue the fight until one of them
is mortally wounded or sinks exhausted from loss of blood.
The road from the Coni leads in a south-west direction, and is simply
a path cut through the forest of sufficient width for a mule and its
cargo. After about four hours’ ride we arrived at Pachimoco, a single
house, where lives the Intendente of the Yuracarés, José Tiflis by name,
and next in authority to the cacique. We were received very kindly, the
supplies of the chaco, such as yucas, maize, and plantains, being freely
offered to us. Here I noticed that many of these Indians suffer from
skin diseases, amongst them being a leper. Their women are dirty and
uncombed, and, after the usual manner of savages, have to do all the hard
work of wood and water carrying, while the men hunt, fish, and plant in
the chacos. From the Coni to Pachimoco is reckoned as five leagues, but
it cannot be more than four, if so much, as we were travelling barely
four hours and did not do more than about a league an hour, as the road
was very bad, being full of pot-holes of mud and slush. The “naturales,”
as the Yuracarés are generally termed by the Bolivians, are splendid
walkers, and on the few good parts of the road I had to keep my mule
well at work in order to be up with the cacique, who led the way on
foot ahead, carrying my gun, and a very fair-sized burden slung at his
back. Just as we got to the clearing a heavy shower of rain fell, so I
decided not to go any further that night, but accepted the invitation of
the intendente, who had the centre of the hut cleared for my camp-bed. A
number of the Trinitario boatmen, who had walked over from the Coni to
visit the Yuracarés, slept just outside the hut, and kept up a continuous
chatter till far on into the night.
The next morning (10th August) the mules were caught and cargoes up by
about half-past seven, and, bidding adieu to the intendente and his
family, we took the road, refreshed by a few hours’ good sleep. A couple
of hours’ riding brought us to the river San Antonio, an affluent of the
San Mateo, which river runs into the Chapari. The San Antonio, where we
first crossed it, is about a mile in width, forming, at this dry season,
an immense playa of water-worn stones, through which the river finds
its way in shallow channels, whilst during the rains the whole width is
covered with a very turbulent and rapid stream, perfectly impassable
by man or beast. The eastern bank of this river was a succession of
high cliffs. One which we passed under I judged to be 130 to 150 feet
sheer perpendicular height, being cut straight down—the rock, a rotten
sandstone of reddish brown colour, having been cut down by the river,
which is continually wearing it away at its base. Other cliffs, as
high and yellower in colour, appeared on ahead, glistening brightly in
the glare of the sun. Amongst the stones in the bed of the river were
limestones, sandstones, and conglomerates of all colours, many being
splotched with a bright red lichen that grows on the rocks and stones
that are under water. The limestones were almost all veined with a clear
opaque quartz, and I observed a fine class of serpentine, the base of a
dark olive green, with veins of whitish colour.
Having crossed the river, the track leaves the plains of the Mamoré and
the Chapari, and soon commences to enter upon the mountainous districts
called the Yungas of Espiritu Santo. The track so far is but a path cut
through the forest, and is in wet weather quite impassable, from the
depth of mud and the numerous holes in which mule and rider may easily
come to grief. Over the hilly lands it has in former days been roughly
paved in parts, after the fashion of old Spanish roads. Where this rough
paving is absent the paths are much worn by the trampling of the mules,
and by the drainage of the rains which hollows them out, so that at times
one seems to be riding between two walls of earth.
After about seven hours’ ride, we arrived at a “pascana,” or
stopping-place, in the Yungas, near the same river that we had crossed
early in the morning; and the spot being convenient for a resting-place,
we halted for the night, turning the mules loose to graze on the
river-banks. This practice of loosing the mules at night causes great
delay in starting on the following morning, but it is unavoidable until
clearings are made in the forest, as the animals must be free to wander
at will in the forest in search of the softer leaves, succulent plants,
and small patches of grass, which is all they get after their day’s work,
for the arrieros will not carry any corn with them, as it would occupy
the place of a cargo, and so deprive them of so much freight.
On this part of the journey, a small tent that I had with me came in
exceedingly useful, as without it I should have had to sleep at night
exposed to the dews, which are very heavy, to say nothing of the rains,
which fell frequently. A small ridge-shaped tent of striped cloth is
easily carried on such a journey, as it requires two poles only, which
should be jointed and form one package together with the pegs and ropes,
whilst the cloth folds into another. The two packages just fit nicely
between two portmanteaus, and complete one mule-burden. The tent-cloth
should by all means be double, as the heavy rains soon soak through, and
drip from a single cloth.
August 11th. We could not start till half-past seven in the morning,
having had considerable trouble to get the mules together. The road keeps
up the course of the San Antonio, into which it descends frequently,
and these ascents and descents, or “cuestas,” as they are called, gave
us some of the roughest riding I have ever had. When the hill to be
surmounted is very high and steep, the path is cut in zig-zags, which
were so short and of such sharp turns that when one mule was in the bend
of one angle the next one in the file was immediately below, while the
preceding one would be just overhead. However, I managed to ride the
whole way, although it is the usual practice to climb these cuestas on
foot, and drive one’s mule on ahead, after having made fast the bridle
to the saddle; but I had to dismount once in crossing the river, when
the mule had mounted a large stone in mid-stream, and was in danger
of slipping; so I got down, and having coaxed her to descend into the
stream again, was able to remount and complete the passage. The day was
passed in this kind of rough work, and towards afternoon we came to
patches of cleared lands and scattered houses in the district known as
Espiritu Santo. Our third halt was made at one of these clearings, called
“Cristal Maio,” situated at an elevation of 1920 feet above sea-level.
These settlements are made by Bolivians of the type found throughout the
interior of the republic, such as Cochabambinos, Pazeños, etc., as they
are called according to the town or district from which they come. It
is, however, only the Bolivians with any tinge of Spanish blood that are
known by these names, as the pure Indians are all either Quichuans or
Aymarás.
The principal proprietor of the district is a Señor Prado of Totora near
Cochabamba, and by permission of his mayordomo, or head man, I put up for
the night in one of his houses; and as I had during the day shot a fine
large black monkey, we had a good supper for all hands. This mayordomo
was at first inclined to refuse us permission to stay for the night on
the lands under his care, and ordered us off, even going so far as to
fetch a rusty old musket out, and threaten to shoot our mules, which my
arriero had very imprudently let loose into a clearing of grass without
permission; but upon my ordering the mules to be caught and tied up,
he was pacified, and a little quiet persuasion, accompanied by a cigar
and a “pinga” of “re-sacada” or nip of extra strong aguadiente from my
travelling flask, together with the prospect of a share of our supper of
roast monkey, procured us leave to hang up our hammocks in the house and
turn the mules into the regular “largadero,” or grazing ground, along the
river-bank.
Before night closed in I had a splendid bath in the torrent near at hand,
and as all mosquitoes, marigueys, and other venomous flies have been left
behind, it was highly enjoyable. Amongst the rocks in the bed of the
torrent was a soft kind of marble, quite white and crystalline; there was
also a slaty sort of limestone of an earthy nature, with thin white veins
or bands of quartz; and there was evidence in the rusty look of many
boulders that iron enters into the composition of many of the formations
of the district, even if true ironstone is not to be found. A stone was
given to me here which had bands of a soft black substance that seemed to
me to be an inferior kind of plumbago, and I was told that there was a
large deposit of this mineral in the neighbourhood.
Rain is said to be almost perpetual in this district, the months of
August and September alone being blessed with a few fine days. The
houses, in view of this constant rain, are built with roofs of very
steep pitch, with an angle of sixty degrees perhaps; whilst the settlers
who can afford the heavy cost have covered their houses with sheets of
tin or zinc, brought at great expense from Cochabamba and the Pacific
coast. The timbers used are extraordinarily heavy, in order that the
violence of the wind in the frequent storms may not overturn the houses.
A foundation wall of dry stone, raised about eighteen inches from the
ground, is first placed, and on that a bed-plate of hard timber dressed
with the axe to twelve or fourteen inches square, then the uprights and
wall-plates to match complete a most solid framing. In many cases side
walls are altogether absent, the only closed-up part being in the tall
sloping roof. The wind has thus free passage through the lower part, and
the house is not so easily overturned—a catastrophe which I was told
frequently happens to houses with closed side walls.
The chief agriculture of the district is that of “coca,” the “cocales”
or plantations of which seem to be the principal wealth of the settlers,
as the best districts for the production of this valuable plant appear
to be the eastern slopes of the northern hills of Bolivia. A very large
trade in the article is carried on at most of the towns of the republic,
but Totora appears to be the principal depôt. The plant is a small tree,
allowed to grow to four or five feet in height, and planted in rows about
eighteen inches apart, which are kept in excellent order. The leaves,
which are narrow and about two or three inches in length, are collected
carefully, dried in the sun on a prepared earthen or cement floor, and
then, when pressed into “seroons,” are ready for dispatch to Totora,
where they fetch from eleven to sixteen pesos the “sesta” of twenty-two
pounds, say 1_s._ 7_d._ to 2_s._ 4_d._ per pound.
The use of coca is almost unknown to, and certainly not practised by the
Indians of the plains of the Mamoré, but the Quichuan and Aymará Indians
appear to be unable to exist without this stimulant, for it serves them
in place of food and drink when driving their mules or llamas on the
long journeys which separate the towns of the interior of the republic.
These Indians carry, attached to their belts or waistbands, a small
pouch with two compartments: in the larger the coca leaves are kept;
whilst the other has a store of wood-ashes, a pinch of which is put into
the mouth along with two or three of the leaves. The use of wood-ashes
put me in mind of the East Indies, where a small quantity of lime or
ashes is used along with the betel leaves and areca palm nut, the whole
together forming the luxury for masticating called “Pan.” I heard some
wonderful tales of the pedestrian powers of the Indians, and observed
that the arrieros and others with whom I travelled always provided a
store of coca amongst the first articles, when preparing for a journey.
Any of these Indians will think nothing of keeping on the run all day
behind the baggage-mules, and doing thirty or forty miles daily for weeks
together. I cannot speak from personal experience of the beneficial
effects of “coca-chewing” in staving off hunger, as on my journeys I have
always been fortunate enough to have sufficient provision for the day’s
requirements in my saddle-bags; and I must say that I always preferred
even a hard biscuit, to say nothing of a hard-boiled egg or a snack of
cold meat, to a chew of coca; so perhaps the few experiments I made were
not sufficiently persevered in. There is very little if any taste in the
coca leaf, the only flavour being such as well washed-out tea leaves
would be likely to afford.
The night passed quietly under the roof placed at our disposition by our
irate friend the mayordomo, and the following day, the 12th August, we
started about 8 a.m., after the usual trouble and delay in catching the
mules. This fourth day’s ride continued to be over very rough ground, the
whole of the distance done being over a succession of cuestas, which, in
places, were actual staircases. At one moment the rider would ascend to
3000 feet elevation, and then quickly down to 2500 and even 2000, the
road being dug out of the side of the rock, just wide enough to allow of
the passage of one mule with its burden.
At a place called Minas Maio there is a tradition that gold has been
found in the sands of the ravine, and at a river called the “Tuy,” in
Espiritu Santo, the river-bed was full of quartz stones, from which I
selected a few that have since been declared by a geological authority to
have come from gold-bearing reefs. There is also much shaly ironstone in
some of the ravines, while copper pyrites abound in some of the quartz
stones in the rivers; and there is no doubt that the region is highly
metalliferous, and will well repay explorers when improved navigation
on the Mamoré and the projected railway round the rapids of the Madeira
shall have caused the amelioration of the present bad roads of the
district.
There are a good many houses on the slopes of the hills surrounding the
broader part of the valley of the Tuy, which appears to be still on
the watershed of the Mamoré. Several of these houses are roofed with
sheets of tin, and the clearings, though small, are many in number, thus
making up a good acreage of cleared land. Towards dusk we stopped at a
place called “El Chaco,” and occupied a corner of a hut; but whose it
was, or by whose permission we took up our quarters therein, I failed
to discover. There were one or two miserable-looking Indians about, but
they said nothing to us as we appropriated the space we required; and it
seems to be the custom in these parts for travellers to enter any house
they please, and take possession of whatever part of it suits their
fancy best. I observed, however, that this custom only holds good when
the traveller, from his appearance and belongings in baggage, animals,
servants, etc., seems likely to be able to pay for the shelter he seeks.
In consequence of the many clearings, it is now necessary to tie up the
mules at night, and they are given a grass called “saracachi,” which
appears to be grown especially for them. This grass, which is rough and
coarse, but much liked by the animals, is peculiar to the district, and
grows in low stunted bunches, which are cut off at the ground, leaving
the roots, which soon afford another growth. Coffee of a very superior
class grows here, but does not appear to be cultivated largely, owing,
doubtless, to the greater profits yielded by the coca. Cotton also is
somewhat general, and the trees appeared to be of very fine growth,
but as they were only in flower, I could not judge of the quality.
Cultivating the coca for trade, and plantains for food, appear to be the
sole occupation of the wretched-looking Collas and Quichuan Indians,
who all seem, in this district at least, to be a most morose set of
fellows. They work in regular gangs in the coca plantations, about a
dozen Quichuan Indians, or peons, at work, cleaning between the rows,
being overlooked by a colla “sobre-estante,” or foreman. The settlers are
inhospitable in the extreme, but perhaps this may be because they only
produce sufficient provisions for their own use. I found it impossible to
purchase even a fowl, or a few eggs, at any price; so that, had I not had
with me a small supply of good “charqui” from Trinidad, and a few tinned
meats, I should have passed a bad time on this part of the road. The
people about here appear to understand but little Spanish, their ordinary
language being Quichuan; and they appear to be in the utmost poverty,
although I was told that the peons earn four reales per day (about 1_s._
7_d._), and are found in rations of yucas and plantains. They are, as
a rule, dirty and uncombed, being clothed in rags of all colours—that
is, if one can apply the word “colour” to the different dingy hues that
prevail in their extraordinary apparel.
The mountains at El Chaco rise, on either side of the river, to a height
of probably 6000 or 7000 feet, their tops, generally in the clouds,
being clothed with forest. Rain fell heavily during the night, and the
following morning (the 13th) was also wet, so we waited till 8 a.m.,
when, there being no sign of a break in the downpour, we made up our
minds to brave the worst and continue our journey. The road soon became
terribly bad, being much softened by the heavy rain; and on one cuesta,
where there had been a great landslip during the past wet season, the
riding became very dangerous—so much so that we were forced to dismount
and drive the mules on ahead. This landslip was of such extent that it
seemed as though the whole side of the hill had fallen away, the path
being covered up for more than a mile in length, a distance that had to
be traversed in drenching rain over the _débris_ of the mountain-side;
and as at every step one sank in the soft earth nearly up to one’s knees,
both men and animals were glad to get on to the track again. The summit
of this range, called the “Cuesta del Lina Tambo,” took us up to about
6150 feet above sea-level. Towards afternoon the rain ceased, but the
forest was very wet and the mists very thick.
At about 5000 feet elevation, I noticed that the lowland vegetation of
palms of all classes ceased, and tree-ferns became very numerous, whilst
mosses and ferns in endless varieties were most luxuriant. The trees,
which were now less lofty, were all thickly covered with moss.
After passing the summit of Lina Tambo, we crossed a river, called the
San Jacinto, over a bridge of rough timbers, spanning perhaps sixty feet,
and built with abutments of dry stone (_i.e._ without mortar). From these
abutments large balks of timber projected on either side about twelve
feet, and were joined together by a centre span of about thirty-five,
the whole forming a substantial, though strange-looking structure. When
crossing this river, one would be led to think that the main watershed
of the district had been passed, as the San Jacinto apparently flows in
a contrary direction to that of the San Mateo and San Antonio; but this
must be caused by a great bend of the ravine which forms its course, for
it is also an affluent of the Chapari and Chimoré system, the highest
Cordillera being still two days’ ride further on. Owing to the time
occupied in trudging across the landslip, the night overtook us before
we could reach the next houses, called Los Jocotales, and we therefore
made the fifth night’s halt at a “pascana,” or resting-place, by the
road-side, setting up the tent, and hobbling the mules to prevent their
straying; but notwithstanding our care in this respect, we found next
morning that one of them was missing, and from her tracks we found that
she, having probably slipped her hobbles, had wandered onwards on her own
account, thinking, doubtless, that as the roads were so bad she would
get on better without a burden. We had to divide her cargo amongst the
others, and after following her up for about a couple of hours, we found
her, grazing by the way-side, and were again able to make her perform
her share of the work; and soon after we came to Los Jocotales, where
we had hoped to have passed the previous night. At this place tolls are
taken, two reales, or 9½_d._, being charged for each cargo of merchandise
carried by mules or donkeys; but luggage, or any articles not intended
for sale, are allowed to go free. The traders complain bitterly of having
to pay tolls upon a road that is so little cared for as this is; and
certainly their complaints are just ones, for no repairs are ever done
to the road unless a landslip takes place, which, as it totally destroys
the road, renders a reconstruction imperatively necessary. This toll
is farmed out by the municipality of Cochabamba, and the farmer being
supposed to maintain the road out of the tolls he collects, of course he
does not spend more in repairs than he is positively obliged to.
Towards mid-day we ascended a very high ridge of hills, on the summit
of which the aneroid marked nearly 8000 feet above sea-level. Here my
arriero knocked up with a bad foot, from having, at Pachimoco, trodden
upon an arrow, which entered the sole of his foot. The wound being but
a slight one, he did not pay proper attention to it, but now, from the
walking, it has become so painful as to necessitate his taking some rest;
so, although it was only about two o’clock in the afternoon, as soon
as we had passed the hill we made for the first houses that were to be
seen. These were a few small huts where live the Indians in charge of
the cattle grazing on the coarse and rough grass on the hillsides. These
huts are called Inca Corral, and are pitched in a wide valley, running
nearly north and south at an elevation of 7715 feet above sea-level. The
wind blew down this valley with searching force, the thermometer at night
sinking to 39½° Fahr. The Quichuan Indians build their huts so small and
so low in height, that I was at first much averse to sleeping in any of
them, especially as they are generally black with smoke and dirt from the
fire burning in an earthen pan on the floor, the smoke from which has to
find its way through sundry holes and crevices in the walls and roof. At
this place I set up my tent, but the wind blew so keenly that the canvas
was quite unable to keep it out; and although I had plenty of blankets, I
passed a miserable night, from the intense cold caused by the searching
gusts, which seemed to pass right through all the wraps I could heap on
the camp-bed. After this night’s experience I was never too particular as
to the size or the condition of the hut offered me as a sleeping-place,
for in these high altitudes, four walls with a roof of mud, or of any
other solid material, are much preferable to canvas.
The country has now become much more open, the tropical forests having
been left behind and below us. The ferns of all kinds are now lost, and
the few trees are quite stunted and covered with mosses and lichens,
which, being mostly of a whitish colour, give an appearance of age and
decay to the prospect. Maize of a very large size and very sweet is grown
here, also barley and potatoes. A so-called fruit, but which is really a
root, in appearance and taste much like a small yellow carrot, is eaten
raw in large quantities, and esteemed a great delicacy by the cotters;
its name, as nearly as I could make out, is “Yacunes.”
On the next day, August 15th, when daylight broke, the grass was covered
with hoar-frost, and as the thermometer only registered 39°, the cold
seemed intense—at least, to our party, who had just come from the
tropical plains of the Mamoré. The morning was, however, clear, and
therefore, as soon as the sun shone over the hills, the temperature rose
rapidly. Proceeding up the valley or raised plateau of Inca Corral, we
soon began the ascent of the Cuesta de Malaga, the highest on the road
between Coni and Cochabamba. This hill is really the dividing ridge of
the watersheds of the Mamoré and Rio Grande systems. On this ascent I
noticed that all trees stopped at about 10,800 feet elevation. Some high
peaks near the pass had snow in their crevices, and I was told that in
1873 a snow-storm in August filled up the pass, and an arriero and his
“recua,” or drove of mules, perished in the drift. A cross set up by the
way-side attests the catastrophe. Here we met a party of the Yuracaré
Indians on their way back from Cochabamba, where they had been sent by
the Corregidor of Coni as escort to a lady relation of his returning
thither. The poor fellows seemed to feel the cold terribly, as the only
wraps they had were their bark shirts and a few strips of linen cloth.
Their blue faces and swollen fingers told a tale of so great suffering,
that the few reales they gained by their journey were indeed well earned.
Seeing how the cold affected these Indians, I asked the party with me if
they would not rather return; but the younger ones, who had never been to
Cochabamba, were anxious to see the city, and therefore elected to go.
Fortunately, I had a few spare blankets, and at nights, when they were
huddled together, they were able to keep fairly warm.
The summit of the pass I made to be 12,550 feet, and soon after crossing
it we came to cultivated lands and a few isolated huts.