Shortest route to the Pacific coast from Cochabamba—Journey
to Sucre _viâ_ Totora determined upon—Leave Cochabamba
in one of Haviland and Keay’s coaches—Dangers of the
journey—Tarata and Cliza—The pampas compared to the plains
of Central India—Punata—Señor Manuel Arauco, his house,
family, museum, etc.—Manufacture of felt hats, ponchos,
etc.—Arani—Lagoons near Vacas—Irrigation works—New road
between Arani and Totora—Pocona—Totora—Proposed road from
Totora to the river Chimoré—Probable future system of roads in
the east of Bolivia—Misque—Ravines and river-courses used as
roads—Aiquile—Chinguri—Quiroga—Palca—Cuestas Jaboncillo and
Masa-Cruz—Canto Molino—Thermal spring of Huata—First view of
Sucre.
From Cochabamba, the shortest route across the republic to the Pacific
coast, is to go by Oruro to Tacna and Arica, and the road is a regularly
travelled one, with posting-houses, which I have been told are the best
in Bolivia. My business obliged me to visit Sucre, and I determined
to make a round by Totora and Misque, in order to see a new cart-road
that was in course of construction from Arani to Totora, at which place
I hoped to obtain some information as to the practicability of a road
from thence to the Chimoré, the proposed new port for the navigation
enterprise of the Madeira River.
The only means of travelling in the interior of Bolivia is by mules; so
I bargained with an arriero for the necessary animals for the journey to
Sucre, at the rate of fifteen pesos, about £2 8_s._, for each animal,
the arriero having to provide forage at his own expense. This is the best
bargain to make, but the arrieros prefer getting the traveller to buy the
forage, so that, acting in collusion with the villagers or posting-house
keepers, they may be able to defraud the unfortunate traveller daily.
The usual charge per mule from Cochabamba to Sucre is about twelve or
thirteen pesos, say £2, inclusive of expenses for forage, etc.; but the
route by Totora is longer than the route mostly used, which goes by San
Pedro, so I had to pay a higher price. As some parts of the road are
said to be infested by foot-pads, it is not advisable to travel alone;
and as it would be difficult to find an honest arriero who would do
so, it is just as well to make some inquiries about the arriero that
offers his services, and secure one that is known to the merchants or
respectable people. The gentry who in Bolivia practise the profession
of mule-drivers, are not as a rule to be trusted with untold gold, but
the “gay muleteer” seems all over the world to have rather a shady
reputation; however, if a traveller secures an arriero that is well known
to the merchants, he and his belongings will be perfectly safe.
On the 31st of August, I despatched my arriero ahead with my baggage and
saddle-mules, and settled to leave Cochabamba in Messrs. Haviland and
Keay’s coach about mid-day, the proprietors, my worthy American friends,
having given me a free ride to Arani. We ought to have left at mid-day,
but the prefect was behindhand with his despatches to the central
government at Sucre, so we were detained for nearly an hour beyond the
proper time of starting. The coaches are big, lumbering affairs, looking
like a cross between a Spanish diligence and a French char-à-banc, but
they are, by their weight and strength of springs and wheels, well suited
to the extremely rough roads that have to be travelled over. They are
drawn by six horses, driven in our case by an American coachman with a
wooden leg, he having had his leg broken in one of the frequent upsets
that the conveyances meet with. A Bolivian who travelled in my company
to Totora, and who was contractor for the new road that I was going to
see, was lame from the same cause; so when I took my seat, and said
farewell to the friends who came to see me off, I must say I had serious
misgivings as to whether I should reach the journey’s end in safety, and
would far rather have mounted my mule, instead of accepting the seat in
the coach.
The roads were frightfully loose, the six horses raising fearful clouds
of dust; consequently the driver and native passengers required frequent
and copious draughts of their national drinks at every chicha-shop we
passed, these libations being varied by repeated applications to bottles
of “pisco,” or white rum, during the runs between the “chicherias.” I
don’t think that I could conscientiously say that this heavy drinking
was entirely caused by the dust, as all the passengers seemed to have
provided themselves with bottles of pisco quite as part of their
travelling impedimenta. The result was that the driver soon got so
intoxicated that he was quite unable to keep his team on the track which
was dignified with the name of a road. How he managed to keep himself on
the box was a marvel; but I fancy that he was able to jam the end of his
wooden leg into a crack in the foot-board, and so, getting a purchase, he
was able to retain his seat notwithstanding his condition, and the severe
lurches that the coach took at frequent intervals. As for the passengers,
the frequent drinks took effect in different ways; the men were mostly
hilarious and noisy, but the females of the party, and some of the
younger males, were very ill. Certainly the movements of the coach, as it
swayed and rolled over the ruts and channels in the track, were almost
as bad as those of a small Liverpool liner “in the Bay of Biscay O!” but
if so much pisco and chicha had not been consumed _en route_, I think we
should have been spared some of the very distressing scenes that occurred
on the road.
Leaving Cochabamba, we were soon on the pampas, and as August is one
of the dry months, the fields were bare and dusty, but in the spring
and showery seasons large crops of barley, wheat, and maize are raised.
The pampas are dotted over with the dome-shaped huts and houses of the
Quichuan Indians, and from their being built in mud and stones, the
country presents features similar to many of the plains of Central India,
with their stone and mud walled villages. We passed through the towns
of Tarata and Cliza, both populous and flourishing places, built on the
flat pampas, and at each of these towns we had to stop while politics
were discussed, and vast quantities of pisco and chicha consumed; indeed,
these stoppages were so frequent and of such lengthy duration, that it
was quite dark before we arrived at Punata, where my Bolivian friends
had determined to put up for the night; considering the bad state of the
roads, the condition of our Jehu, the frequent jibbing of the horses,
who, whenever the coach got into an extra deep rut, scattered all over
the road and stood head to head, refusing either to pull, or even to move
out of the way and allow the passengers to push the coach themselves, a
performance that we had to go through several times, until the horses
seemed to be ashamed of themselves, and suddenly started off at full
gallop again.
The arriero, with the mules and luggage, got to Punata shortly before we
arrived there, and were waiting for us on the plaza. My Bolivian friend
would not allow me to go to the public tambo, but took me to the house of
a friend of his, Señor Manuel Arauco, who received me most kindly, and
gave me both house-room and entertainment. My host is one of the most
influential persons of Punata, and a most remarkable man. On entering
his house I was much struck with the dignity of his appearance, he being
perhaps six feet three or four inches, and of a frame suitable to such a
height; but when he did me the honour of introducing me to his family,
and I beheld a tall and stately lady in the prime of life, with, three
queenly daughters, all up to six feet at least, and of most handsome and
pleasing features, I thought it would be hard to match such a bevy of
graces anywhere else in the world. My first impressions almost inclined
me to believe that some one of the numerous accidents of the journey from
Cochabamba had been fatal in its effects, and that I, a second Gulliver,
had awakened in Brobdignagia, but the kind and pleasing manners of my
host and hostess soon convinced me that, though my entertainers were
giants they were also mortals. The evening passed away quickly, in the
usual rocking-chair and desultory chit-chat style, and the following
morning I was ready for the road by 7 a.m.; but my Bolivian friend was
not to the fore, heavy drinking not being compatible with early rising. I
therefore sent my baggage mules ahead with the arriero and servant boy,
giving them orders to wait for me at Vacas, the village where we intended
to make the next halt, the distance from Punata being about thirty miles.
While waiting for my Bolivian friend to sleep off the effects of
yesterday’s chicha and pisco, I strolled through the streets of Punata,
which I found to be a town of about 16,000 inhabitants, with the usual
central plaza, and roughly paved, but well laid-out streets. The chief
trade seemed to be in wheat, barley, and potatoes, which were to be
bought either wholesale or retail in almost every store. Clothing for
the Indian population seems to be made in the town; ponchos and a kind
of rough cloth being made from vicunha and other wools. Felt hats are
also a staple industry of the place, and, being of excellent quality,
are much sought for throughout the republic. The best and softest are
made from vicunha wool, and are worth from twelve to fifteen pesos
bolivianos—say £2 10_s._ to £3; but one of sheep’s wool can be bought
for any price, from half a dollar upwards. The makers of these hats use
a rough frame, on which a cloth is stretched to receive the wool; under
this is suspended a kind of bow, the cord of which passes about an
inch or two over the cloth; the wool is then beaten by the cord being
pulled smartly, the effect of the process being to beat the wool into
a very fine fluff, which is wetted and pressed into the required shape
with the addition of sufficient size to give the necessary stiffness.
The delay in starting also gave me the opportunity of becoming better
acquainted with my host, Señor Arauco, whom I found to be a most worthy
and intelligent man. He possesses a very interesting museum of animals,
birds, insects, and general products of the province, and although
he is of independent circumstances, he is by no means an idle man.
He told me that his amusements consisted of the “arts and sciences,”
and that he made what discoveries he could, and instructed young men
of the town in any that proved to be useful. Indeed, the whole family
seemed to be occupied in teaching something, for the young ladies
taught artificial-flower making and lace-making gratuitously, they
having learned these useful accomplishments from books. Señor Arauco’s
labours included photographing, bird-stuffing, and preserving skins of
animals, cabinet-making, tanning, and wood-staining; and he showed me
some excellently tanned specimens of leather of different colours and
qualities; also various dyestuffs and drugs collected in the forests of
the hills which border on the plains of the Beni. Amongst other articles,
I noticed and brought away samples of brasiletto wood, campeachy, and a
root which might be utilized as a purple dye instead of orchella weed;
also turmeric, collected near Santa Cruz, and called “coorcama” in the
district. This article commands a large sale in Europe at about £30 per
ton, and as it is to be found in large quantities on the slope of all the
hills bordering the plains of the Beni, it might, with great advantage,
be made an article of export when the railway of the rapids has been
constructed. Señor Arauco, spoke with great enthusiasm of the benefits
to accrue to the eastern provinces of Bolivia from the completion of the
railway and navigation schemes.
Towards mid-day my Bolivian companion pulled himself together, and we
started from Punata about 1 p.m., and, after a couple of hours’ ride,
passed through Arani, a small town at the end of the pampa, remarkable
only for its extremely narrow and ill-paved streets. We then began to
ascend the hills by the new road, for which my Bolivian companion was
the contractor. The road is worked in zigzag grades up the mountain
sides, the inclination being probably 1 in 8 and 1 in 10, and seeming to
me to be too steep for any kind of coach, including American ones with
wooden-legged drivers. The scenery in these parts is wild and gloomy, the
hills being almost denuded of any kind of vegetation except a long rough
grass, which seems to give good pasturage to the cattle, roaming about
apparently quite untended or watched by any one. The view from the hills
looking across the pampas of Arani and Cliza would have been very fine
had it not been much obscured by clouds of dust, and by the mirage left
by the intense heat of the mid-day sun.
We had to ride pretty sharply, as travelling after dark on such roads
is not at all a pleasant business, for one could easily miss the road,
and find one’s self rolling down the mountain side; but we had better
luck, and got to Vacas about seven o’clock, just as night was falling in.
Near Vacas are the lagoons from which it is proposed to take water for
the irrigation of the pampas of the Cliza and Arani valley. These lakes
are three in number, the largest being about one and a half leagues in
length, by half a league in breadth. The works, which have been carried
out by Messrs. Haviland and Keay, of Cochabamba, for account of Mr. Henry
Meiggs, of Lima, are now in abeyance, and it was supposed that they
would be abandoned, as it was surmised that if the channels cut from the
lagoons to the pampas were opened, the lagoons would drain dry in about
four years, and therefore no return for the capital spent (about £50,000)
would be obtained. I think it may be considered that these lagoons are
only drainage deposits from the surrounding hills, which attain altitudes
of 14,000 and 15,000 feet, the lakes themselves being about 9500 feet
above sea level, while the pampas to be irrigated are at an altitude
of nearly 9000 feet. There are no rivers to empty themselves into the
lagoons, and there is only the drainage of the hills to depend upon,
and as this drainage is probably in excess of the yearly evaporation,
the level of the water is kept up; but some authorities think that the
lakes are decreasing yearly in size, while others say that the level is
kept up by a supply from springs below the ordinary surface level. These
lakes are probably parallels, on a small scale, of Lake Titicaca, in the
north-western corner of Bolivia, or of the Lake of Valencia in Venezuela,
lakes that are known to be decreasing rapidly from extended agriculture,
aided, in the case of Lake Valencia, by denudation of forests. If
irrigation could be taken to the pampa lands of the Cliza valley, they
would perhaps become the richest agricultural plains in the world, as
their climate, owing to the considerable elevation, is suitable for the
production of almost any cereal; and it seems somewhat strange that
proper statistics of the rainfall of the district have not been taken,
in order to determine whether the yearly supply received into the lakes
would be equal to the demand.
Vacas is a small Indian village, of no other interest than that it
is said that from thence exists a path that leads to the Chimoré and
Coni, and its position on the map would lead to the belief that it is
favourably situated for explorations to those rivers. As we arrived after
dark, we found the posta locked up and deserted, but, after some little
trouble, the man in charge was hunted up by our arriero, and a fowl and
some potatoes having been purchased, we set our boys to make a “chupe;”
for we had been provident enough to put up a small bag of onions,
chillies, and other condiments, not forgetting the ever necessary garlic,
before we left Cochabamba. We therefore managed to make a very excellent
pot, which provided us with a capital supper, after which my camp-bed
was put together for me, and my Bolivian friend contented himself with a
shake-down on the mud bench, which, with a rough table, forms the only
furniture of the postas, whilst the arriero and the boys slept on the
hides and mats that we carried for covering the cargoes of baggage, and
for protecting the animals’ backs from the pack-saddles.
The next morning, the 2nd of September, we were up betimes, having our
mules saddled and cargoes up by 6 a.m., when we left Vacas, intending
to make the day’s journey end at Totora, distant about twelve leagues.
The greater part of the route lay over the new road from Arani to
Totora, which has been made without any engineering help, the grades,
consequently, being very uncertain. The sites chosen for the road might
also in many cases have been much improved upon. In one instance, part
of the road, about two leagues before arriving at Pocona, a small and
unimportant village about midway between Arani and Totora, has been
taken over a ridge, the descent from which is accomplished by a zigzag
of three inclines of possibly 1 in 6 at least, while a far preferable
route up a ravine near by was available, in which the abrupt descent
might have been avoided by a continuous grade of about 1 in 25. However,
considerable work has been undertaken in the construction of this road,
some of the cuts being of great depth, one point of rock being cut down
fifty feet at least. Altogether, the work reflects the greatest credit
on the contractor, Señor Demetrio Jordan, of Cochabamba, it being the
first piece of road construction undertaken in the republic by a Bolivian
contractor. The tools in use by the peons were of the most miserable
description, and of native manufacture, and, considering this, it is
clear that the Quichuan Indians may be made very fair navvies. The daily
wages they earned were, I was given to understand, about four reales, or
1_s._ 7_d._, without provisions.
Pocona merits no other mention, than that its beautiful site, at the
head of a splendid valley, will attract a population when the interior of
the republic enjoys the facilities of improved ways of communication.
At dusk we arrived at Totora, the approach to which reminded me very much
of a ride in the Black Country of home, for the numerous chicherias on
the outskirts of the town were belching forth many-tongued flames of fire
into the gathering darkness. Totora is a place of considerable trade, and
contains about 15,000 inhabitants. It is the chief emporium in Eastern
Bolivia for “coca,” which is collected here from the plantations of the
Yungas of San Antonio and Espiritu Santo, etc., and despatched to the
towns of the interior. The tax levied on this article forms a principal
item of the budget of the treasury of the republic, and my friend the
Bolivian contractor received payment for his road from Arani by the
hypothecation of this tax for a certain number of years. Coffee, flour,
sugar, and potatoes are also articles of export to other departments,
while foreign merchandise finds its way here from Sucre and Santa Cruz,
numerous droves or “recuas” of mules and donkeys being met with between
Totora and Sucre.
In Totora I sought information with reference to roads leading to the
head-waters of the Chimoré, and was introduced to two of the principal
men of the place, Don Eugenio Soriano, and Don Saturnino Vela. These
gentlemen are owners of “cocales,” or plantations of coca, in the
hills which form the watersheds of the affluents of the Mamoré, and of
those of the Rio Grande, Señor Soriano has made a track from Totora
to Arepucho, where his cocales are situated, and is now cutting a
further track from Arepucho to the Chimoré. He assured me that a much
better road is found by Arepucho than by Espiritu Santo and the Yungas
of San Antonio, and gave me the distances thus: Totora to Arepucho,
fourteen leagues, and Arepucho to the Chimoré, twelve leagues; total
twenty-six. The road from Cochabamba to Coni, _viâ_ Espiritu Santo, is
forty-four leagues. If the road from Arepucho to Totora be made, the
twenty-six leagues can be easily ridden in two or three days at most;
and from Totora to Cochabamba, the road being good, can be done in two
days, making, say, five days in all, the last day of which can be done
in coach from Arani. The Espiritu Santo route cannot be got over with
any degree of comfort in less than seven days, and the road is not
susceptible of much improvement; whilst the wide crossing of the river
San Antonio renders the route almost impracticable for general traffic.
It appears, therefore, that future efforts for the opening up of the
interior of Bolivia by the Amazon and Madeira route, should be directed
to the construction of a road from the Chimoré, _viâ_ Arepucho, to
Vacas or Totora, this latter place having the advantage of being a good
starting-point for a road to Sucre, as well as to Cochabamba and Oruro.
These roads may, at some future date, be developed into an internal
system of railways for the eastern part of Bolivia, in connection with
the Madeira and Mamoré Railway.
The next day’s journey was to terminate at Misque, distant about twelve
leagues. The arriero and his mules were despatched early, whilst I
waited till about nine o’clock, by which time a breakfast was prepared
for me by the family that, through the introduction of my Bolivian
companion, had given me lodgings for the night.
The height of Totora is about 10,000 feet above sea-level, and the
surrounding country is rocky and barren. The road rises slightly on
leaving the town, and soon falls on to a large plain, about 500 feet
below the Totora hills. It then rises very sharply to 11,500 feet, only
to descend, by a very steep and bad “cuesta,” into a narrow and tortuous
quebrada, up which it runs for about a couple of leagues. This part of
the route was said to be infested by robbers, but though I passed up
it alone I was unmolested, except by stray cattle, that several times
disputed the right of way with me. Certainly a better place for attacking
travellers could scarcely be imagined, for the ravine was in many parts
not more than twenty yards in width, its steep sides being covered with
brushwood, affording capital cover for an ambush.
Road-making in Bolivia is still in its infancy, and in the hilly parts
of the interior the tracks are taken up the bottom of the ravines, as,
during the dry seasons, a better riding road is found there than could,
without considerable work, be had on the sides. This arrangement is
all very well when the ravines and rivers are dry, but in the rainy
season they become quite impassable, and consequently all communication
between towns situated as Totora and Misque are, is at an end until dry
weather returns. Riding in these ravine roads is also very dangerous
in unsettled weather, for a storm may occur on the hills from which
the ravine leads, and a flood will then come down upon the unfortunate
traveller, with but little warning of its approach.
I overtook the arriero, with his train of cargo-mules, about two o’clock
in the afternoon, and the whole day was passed in very rough riding,
the “cuestas” and “bajadas” or ascents and descents being frequent and
severe. At Misque, where we arrived about 7 p.m., I presented a letter of
introduction with which I had been favoured to one of the head men of the
town, who I will leave nameless, on account of the shabby manner in which
the people of his household treated me. The patron himself was not at
home when I arrived, and it seemed that his people had been celebrating
his temporary absence with a drinking bout; for when I knocked at the
door, I was greeted with shouts of derisive laughter, and roughly told
that I had better take up my quarters in the “cabildo,” or town gaol.
This incivility mattered but little to me, personally, as I had my small
tent and plenty of provisions, and could therefore pitch my camp in the
plaza of the town with perfect comfort to myself; but I always preferred
getting house quarters, if possible, as, the nights being cold, my
arriero and servant-boy required shelter also. However, we found an empty
room in the town hall, and took possession of it, cooking our supper in
the courtyard; and during the night the patron returned, and immediately
came to see me, tendering profuse and profound apologies for the way in
which his people had treated me. Such an occurrence deserves noting, on
account of its being the only instance that ever I heard of upon which a
traveller has been turned away with inhospitality from a Bolivian house
of any pretensions to respectability, and I am sure the owner, in this
case, was very much annoyed at his family’s rudeness.
Misque is an old cathedral town, once of considerable importance, as is
evidenced by the many pretentious buildings, now empty and falling into
decay. It is said that the abandonment of the town during late years has
been caused by a curse that has fallen on it, because of the murder,
during a revolution, of one of the bishops of Misque, who, after death,
was dragged through the town at a horse’s tail. The true reason for the
desertion of the place is more probably to be found in the prevalence
of an aguish fever, caused by bad drainage. The town is situated in a
beautiful plain, about 7000 feet above sea-level, and should, therefore,
be very healthy. Irrigation has been carried to some extent, several
fields and “pôtreros,” or feeding-grounds for cattle, in the immediate
neighbourhood of the town being in very fair order. Due provision for the
escape of surplus water has not, however, been provided, and the stagnant
water, left to dry up by evaporation, is doubtless the cause of the
sickness.
The next stage, done on September 4th, was from Misque to Aiquile, about
ten leagues. The first half of the day’s riding was made up a very wide
and almost dry river-bed, the slopes of the hills on either side being
dotted with comfortable-looking farmhouses. The road travelled over
during this day was much more level than that of the previous days, the
greatest altitude passed being about 9000 feet, and we arrived at Aiquile
early in the afternoon. The corregidor of the town was a very amiable
and pleasant man, who soon procured very comfortable lodgings for me,
in the house of an old lady said to be 105 years old. This age was duly
attested by the church books, and certainly the appearance of the old
lady seemed to give authenticity to the statement. She herself told me
that she attributed her great age to the miraculous care of a “Crucified
Christ” that she had in a glass case, and under lace curtains, in her
principal room; but the climate of the place seemed to me so delightful,
that I should not have been surprised to have heard that people generally
lived to great ages there. The town is a thriving place, of about 4000
inhabitants, the streets being broad and well laid out. The trade seems
to be entirely in agricultural products, principally carried on with
the town of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, to which place a road branches off
from Aiquile. Flour, potatoes, coca, and salt are sent to Santa Cruz, in
return for sugar and chocolate. Aiquile is 7850 feet above sea-level.
September 5th. We were in the saddle by 8 a.m., and on for Chinguri and
Quiroga, another stage of about nine leagues. Both these places are small
hamlets of little importance, the only thing worthy of mention being
that at Quiroga, about 7000 feet above sea-level, there are several
very large and fine “cañaverales,” or fields of sugar-cane, small in
height and of slender growth, but said to yield good produce. Cultivation
was well carried on, considerable work in aqueducts, channels, and
other irrigational requirements having been executed. The corregidor
of Quiroga was not so amiable as his official brother of Aiquile, and
refused to give me any assistance in obtaining a night’s lodging. We
therefore looked about the town to shift for ourselves as we best could,
and entering the courtyard of the largest house in the place, we found
that the owner was absent, and therefore we appropriated the “patio,” or
central courtyard, to our use, and made up our beds under the verandah,
which protected us a little from the dew at night.
From Quiroga to Palca forms the next day’s journey of about twelve
leagues, mostly through a succession of ravines, the bottom lands being
cultivated with sugar-cane and maize, or lucerne (“alfa”), wherever
irrigation has been found practicable. At about the middle of the stage
the traveller enters upon the course of the Rio Grande, flowing between
two ranges of hills, on either of which a road might, with considerable
ease, be constructed. Bolivian road-makers, as I have already observed,
prefer the bed of a river to its banks, and so the road or track is
taken up the stream, crossing it about seven times. The river was rising
rapidly as we rode up its course, and I therefore looked out anxiously
for a bridge, which is much talked of as a wonderful work of art; but,
on getting to it, found that, as is apparently customary with bridges
in Bolivia, it consisted of abutments only, the roadway being missing
entirely; so we had to ford the river again, the water coming well up
to our saddles. This bridge had a suspended roadway on chains, to which
so great a sag or curve was given, that during a heavy flood the whole
top structure was washed away. The site was well chosen at two points
of rock jutting out from the main hills on either side, and approaching
each other to within about 100 feet, the foundations for the abutments
being so good, that, notwithstanding the badness of the masonry, they had
for some years resisted the frequent floods. The Rio Grande, therefore,
does not offer any very great obstacle to the formation of a good road
to Sucre, which will some day be constructed—that is, when the Bolivians
begin to think more of road-making, and improving the interior of their
country, than of revolutions. In the rainy season, when the river is
full, and, by reason of its extremely swift current, quite impassable to
animals, a “balsa,” or raft, worked somewhat lower down the river than
the site of the broken bridge, forms the only means of communication. The
day’s ride terminated at Palca, a small farm, or “hacienda,” where, the
proprietor being absent, we could get no other accommodation than a bare
room to sleep in and fodder for our mules.
The last stage commences at Palca, and ends at Sucre. The ride is a
short one of about eight leagues, but on account of the many ascents and
descents it is advisable to set out early. We left about 6 a.m., and soon
reached the “Cuesta de Jaboncillo,” so called from the greasy nature of
the earth—apparently a steatite, or soapstone—on which the mules find
great difficulty in keeping a footing. This cuesta, short but sharp in
slope, is of no great height; but the next, called “Masa Cruz,” rises to
about 8550 feet above sea-level, and on the Sucre side falls 1350 feet in
about a couple of miles. This was perhaps the steepest hill that I ever
recollect riding over; for although the ruling gradient would be only
about 1 in 9, or say 11 per cent., many parts of the descent were 1 in
4, or 25 per cent., and in these places it was as much as I could do to
preserve my seat in the saddle. A traveller in the interior of Bolivia
must be careful to purchase a stout and strong crupper—the best being the
native-made ones—to be made fast, by at least three thongs or laces, to
as many rings or D hooks at the back of the saddle. These do not gall the
mules so much as the English make; but many travellers prefer a breeching
and breast-strap, so that they are ready for both ascents and descents.
At the foot of Masa Cruz, on a small plot of flat land, formed at
the junction of three large and deep ravines, are a few houses and a
flour-mill called “El Canto Molino.” Here most of the maize and wheat
grown in the Cochabamba districts is ground. It seemed strange that corn
should have to be brought all the way from Cochabamba to this place to
be ground, and the fact offers a striking example of the difficulties
caused by the want of good roads; for, just as Mahomet had to go to the
mountain when he found that the mountain could not go to him, so the corn
of Cochabamba has to be taken to Canto Molino to be turned into flour,
for there only is good material for millstones to be found. It would
be almost an impossibility to drag grindstones up the ascents between
the Canto Molino and Cochabamba, but the corn and flour can be easily
carried, and affords remunerative employment to a small army of mule and
donkey proprietors. The machinery of the mill is, as may be supposed, of
very old-fashioned and primitive construction, being principally made of
hard wood. The power is obtained from a vertical wheel, driven by water
led down from the neighbouring ravines.
From Canto Molino the road leads up a ravine of from 200 to 300 yards
in width, with hilly country on either side offering good sidelong
ground for a road; but here again the road is taken up the bed of the
river, which, from being dry for the greater part of the year, offers a
ready-made road quite good enough for animal traffic. At Huata, in this
ravine, there is a thermal spring, at which a bathing establishment, much
patronized by the residents of Sucre, has been built. The spring is led
into a receptacle about twenty feet square by five or six feet deep, the
water flowing constantly through, so that one can enjoy its delightful
temperature notwithstanding the smallness of the bath. I had no means of
gauging the temperature, but should guess that it was about 75° or 80°
Fahr.; and it is necessary to be rather cautious about exposure after
bathing, as the place being about 8000 feet above sea-level, changes
in the temperature are not infrequent. Beyond Huata there is a very
sharp cuesta, which rises to 10,000 feet elevation, and shortly after
surmounting the crest of this hill, the capital of Bolivia, Sucre, or
Chuquisaca as it is called in the Quichuan tongue, comes into view. The
first appearance of the town is both pleasing and imposing, for the
number of churches, convents, and other large public buildings give an
air of importance to the place, which is not maintained upon closer
inspection. The country round about is very bare and dull-looking,
vegetation being, it may be said, entirely absent from the prospect, as
water in the district is very scarce, and only to be met with in the
bottom of the numerous ravines, with which the surrounding hills are
deeply scored. On the eighth day from Cochabamba I arrived at Sucre, the
time usually occupied in travelling between the two places being five to
six days; the _détour_ that I made, by Totora, occupying two days more
than the route by the valley of San Pedro.
[Illustration: SUCRE, OR CHUQUISACA, CAPITAL OF BOLIVIA.]