USPANTAN AND THE RIO NEGRO.
We had ridden on our way for about five miles over a fairly level plain
covered with rastrojos and dried-up grass, relieved here and there
by a few straggling ocote pines and mimosa shrubs, when we caught
sight of some artificial mounds on the far side of a gully to the
right of the track. Tying up our mules we climbed down to the banks
of a small rushing rivulet, crossed the stream, and scrambling up on
the other side found ourselves on a detached bare plain surrounded
on all sides by barrancas. At one end of this plain the mounds were
symmetrically arranged. There was a clearly defined plaza about fifty
yards across with low mounds on three sides of it, and on the fourth
side a mound about forty feet high, which showed some slight signs of
having formerly supported a small stone-roofed temple; on its summit
a few stones had been heaped together by the neighbouring Indians to
form a little cave or grotto in which to burn incense. In the plaza in
front of the temple mound was a small mound which may have been used
as an altar. From the other end of the plaza mounds extended in fairly
regular order for a considerable distance.
Two of the largest of the foundation-mounds had been dug into by a
German priest, Father Heyde, who was formerly cura of Joyabaj, one of
the neighbouring towns. These excavations showed us that the mounds
themselves were formed of cores of earth covered over with a coating
of rough stones, imbedded in mud, about 5 feet in thickness, and this
again was faced with masonry of roughly squared stones and a thick
coating of plaster. Patches of the outer casing of squared stones with
the plaster facing still adhering to it could be seen where the surface
had been left undisturbed. On the summit of one of the temple mounds
we were able to trace, at the inner angle of the wall, the plaster
flooring of the cue, or sanctuary, which showed us that the whole
chamber measured only about five feet by seven.
Lying on the ground were two blocks of stone shaped into serpents'
heads with human faces between their open jaws, undoubtedly of the
same style and marked with the same conventional curves as those
found at Copan and other more ancient ruins in Central America. Both
of these carved stones had tenons about two feet long, by which they
could be fixed into the masonry, and they had probably fallen from the
balustrade of a stairway in front of the principal temple. We found
one other carved stone of much the same character, with a tenon over
three feet long. Whilst walking about the mounds we picked up numerous
fragments of broken pottery and some chaya or obsidian flakes.
Beyond the mounds, which probably mark the site of the public or
ecclesiastical buildings, the plain extends for some distance, and here
may have stood the more lightly constructed houses of a considerable
population. The deep barrancas surrounding the whole site formed a
natural moat and made the position easily defensible.
We spent an hour rambling amongst these ruins, and then rode on to
overtake our pack-mules, which, as the country was open, we could still
distinguish some miles ahead of us by the little cloud of dust that
marked their progress. About four o'clock we came to the edge of the
gorge of the Rio Negro and began a steep descent of twelve or thirteen
hundred feet to the bridge over the river. The views which opened
before us as we descended were very fine and of a peculiar character.
Abrupt granite rocks jut out from the steep slopes, which are
themselves curiously rounded in outline, and are covered with a coating
of thick rough grass, giving them the appearance of being clothed in
green velvet shot with gold. On the far side of the river and to the
north of us the sierras rose to a great height, the more distant ranges
covered with a dense forest. The stream at the bottom of this gorge
is swift and deep, and the water is of a beautiful greenish colour.
It is not more than thirty yards wide, and we crossed it on a bridge
of large roughly-squared logs, laid side by side without any attempt
to fasten them or bind them together, and supported by four lofty and
stoutly-built stone piers.
A short distance below the bridge the river is stopped in its course
by a high hill, which stands squarely across the gorge and forces the
stream to take a sharp bend to the right. As we crossed the bridge a
heavy rain-cloud hovered over this mountain and presently a draught
of air drove it our way and it broke over us in a sharp shower, which
lasted but a moment, and was followed by a rainbow of wonderful
brilliancy which spanned the gorge. It was the expiring effort of
the northern wind, which can carry the moisture from the Atlantic no
further, and the last glittering drops of moisture seemed almost to
hang in the air, and, refusing to moisten the slopes facing south,
were blown across the gorge to strike on the northern face of the
hills, keeping the grass green on that side only. When the rain-cloud
dispersed, flocks of brilliant green parrots flew screaming over our
heads, and after much chattering finally settled to roost in the
neighbouring trees.
On the further side of the river we camped for the night, pitching our
tent on the only level spot which we could find large enough to hold
it. The mozos were tired, and no bribe would induce them to return
across the bridge and climb up the slopes to cut the green grass, so
we were obliged to turn our mules loose to pick up the best supper they
could find on the sun-baked hills around us.
[Illustration: LOOKING BACK ACROSS THE RIO NEGRO.]
We had descended to the bridge by a track which might claim to have
been made for the passage of men and animals, but the ascent next
morning on the northern side of the valley could boast of no such
mark of civilization. The tracks, if such they could be called, were
numerous and confused, and had been formed by mules, cattle, and
Indians wandering about in all directions seeking a firm foothold
amongst the loose stones and slippery rocks. Our animals were suffering
from want of food, and we left them to scramble up by themselves;
the unshod mules, although they made many halts, easily distanced
the horse, whose iron shoes clattered in uneasy jerks over the loose
stones. We ourselves were not inclined to hurry, as the ascent on
foot was very tedious, and we were glad of the halts, which gave us
time to enjoy the beautiful views across the gorge and to watch the
breeze ripple along the velvety slopes on the far side of the river,
and turn the grass from green to gold and gold to green again. This
ever-changing background seemed only to intensify the blue-green of the
isolated pine-trees which clung to the steep slopes and helped to make
up a landscape as quaint and delicate in colour as it was beautiful in
outline.
We clambered up about 3000 feet, and then mounting our animals rode
over the ridge and found ourselves amongst rolling hills almost bare of
grass, but supporting here and there rugged-looking ocote pines, and in
every sheltered nook a frangipani-tree with its bare fleshy branches
tipped with glorious bunches of yellow and white blossoms. After riding
for an hour or more through this desert we stopped for breakfast by the
edge of a ravine where the Indians knew of a spring hidden away in a
scrubby thicket. Then we continued our gradual ascent, and the oaks and
pines increased in number until they formed patches of woodland. Great
bunches of mistletoe of various sorts--green and orange and brown--were
conspicuous amongst the oak-leaves, and the branches of the trees were
laden with clusters of orchids and tillandsias. My companions gathered
for me beautiful sprays of orchid blossom and gorgeous crowns of
crimson leaves which surround the flowering spikes of the tillandsias,
and these, added to the bunches of frangipani we had plucked on the
arid hillsides and fresh green sprigs of lycopodium, overflowed the
mouths of my saddle-bags and formed a decoration to my saddle that
would have been the envy of Covent Garden.
As we rode on, the marked difference in colour between the north and
south sides of the hills began to disappear; a green tinge was spread
over the whole. Then a turn in the track showed the main range in
front of us covered with dark forest to the summit and dotted here
and there with bright green patches where the Indians had made their
plantations. Heavy clouds hung over the mountain-tops, marking the edge
of the rainfall which deluges the country to the north up to the end
of February. A short descent brought us to the bank of a brilliantly
clear stream, an affluent of the Rio Negro, and half an hour later we
rode into the straggling village of San Miguel Uspantan, lying at the
foot of the forest-clad sierra. The Alcalde allotted us a room in the
convento, which had been swept and garnished with a fresh carpet of
pine-needles in expectation of the arrival of the Jefe Político of the
Department of Quiché.
At Uspantan we were on the borders of the unknown, for to the north of
us the map shows nothing but uninhabited mountains and forests, and
rivers whose courses have only recently been traced flowing towards
the land of the untamed Lacandones. In the 16th and 17th centuries
both military and missionary expeditions penetrated these forests, but
the memory of them has faded away, and to learn their history one has
to hunt through the monkish chronicles or dive into the mountains of
manuscript stored in the archives at Seville. The recent additions to
the map are due to the interminable boundary disputes with Mexico, and
are the result of much hard work on the part of survey expeditions led
by Professor Rockstroh and Mr. Miles Rock, which were attended by much
suffering and loss of life.
Our room in the convento was only a monk's cell, windowless, and
infested with rats and mice. It opened into a long gallery, with a
kitchen at one end and at the other a door leading into the church. The
monks had of course long ago disappeared from the scene, and at the
present time there is not even a cura resident in the village. One of
the cells was used as a school for girls who were taught by a Ladino
woman. There was much interest taken in us by these queer-looking
scholars, clad in white huipils and blue enaguas, who fluttered about
us like frightened birds, we being probably the first of our kind they
had ever seen.
The little village was in no way pretty, but the climate was
exceedingly pleasant, the blossoms on the orange-trees in the plaza
filled the air with perfume, the green hills round us were refreshing
to look at, and our tired animals fared sumptuously. Our housekeeping
was of the usual primitive kind; we set up our dining-table in the
gallery, and cooked our food at a fire on the ground just outside. The
kitchen of the convento was closed and we were refused the use of it,
but on the third day of our stay several bustling Ladino women took
possession of it, kindled big fires, put on huge pots to boil, and set
to work to pluck and prepare numberless fowls, all in anticipation of
the Jefe's visit. Whilst these matters were in progress down swooped
an angry company of Indian "mayores," the town councillors of the
Indian Municipality, who for some minutes stood at the kitchen door and
pelted the cooks with hard-sounding words, which in their monosyllabic
language seemed literally to fly from their mouths like peas from a
boy's pea-shooter. It was a question of firewood: someone had clearly
stolen somebody else's firewood, but who stole whose and how the matter
was settled we never knew; however, the cooks seemed to have the best
of it, for, after the charge was made, all talked at once for the space
of ten minutes at the top of their voices, and then the "mayores"
retired, looking more important and superior than when they arrived.
The preparations for the Jefe and his party seemed to exhaust the
food-supply of the village, and nothing more could be bought; but
luckily we had bespoken a turkey on the day we arrived, and a
magnificent bird he looked, when just as we were starting on a ramble,
we met him being led home in triumph by our boys, Caralampio having
hold of the extreme end of one outstretched wing, and Santos of the
other, whilst the turkey paced solemnly between them. When we returned
from our walk we found our household with their heads together in deep
consultation; the turkey had been killed and plucked, but there was
no pot big enough in which to cook him. Cooked he must be that night,
so he was set up on end in the largest pot we possessed and one end of
him was cooked first, then he was turned over and we cooked the other
end. After that he was cut up and grilled over the embers, and very
excellent he proved to be.
As soon as we had settled down in our headquarters we began to make
diligent enquiry about the existence and position of ruined Indian
buildings. All sorts of answers had been given to our questions. Some
said that there were ruins five leagues distant, others that they
were just over the hill, and others that they were to be found in all
directions; and the latter were probably right. However, it was settled
to look first of all for those said to be close by, so my husband and
Gorgonio left me alone at the convento and started off one morning
along the spur of the hill which runs out into the valley to the west.
They walked about a mile and a half without seeing any trace of mounds
and were nearly giving up the search in that direction, as the end of
the ridge appeared to be so near, when they noticed that the shrubs
in front of them covered an artificial mound, and that there was a
dip in the ground between them and it. This dip proved to be a ditch,
which may originally have been twenty feet deep, cut across the narrow
neck of the ridge, and a long steep-sided mound barred the passage on
the other side. Beyond this mound the top of the hill broadened out
again into an extent of ground nearly the same as that of the site of
Utatlan, and almost the whole of it was covered with foundation mounds.
There was a small plaza with a temple mound at the east side of it, and
an altar mound in front of the temple. In some cases the foundations
retained part of their casing of well-dressed stone and cement facing.
In position and arrangement the ruins differed little from those at
Iximché and Utatlan, and the town, surrounded as it is by deep valleys
with precipitous sides, must have been almost impregnable.
On another day, accompanied by Gorgonio and a Ladino guide, we went
to look at some other ruins to the north-east of the village. It was
a most charming ride through a well-watered park-like grass valley,
the hills on either side covered with well-grown oaks and pines, and
bounded to the north by the high forest-clad sierra. We passed out
of this valley through a gap in the sierra in a northerly direction
and rode through pretty little valleys cleared for cultivation. The
timber improved the higher we mounted, until the ocote pine gave way to
white pines and cypresses and the forest on the hills around us was a
close growth of magnificent trees. A ride of about an hour and a half
brought us to the valley where the ruins stood. The soil was covered
with tuft grass sometimes shoulder high, and it was not easy to make
out the plan of the foundations, but as usual we found a well-defined
plaza. The mound at the end of it was long and low and did not differ
from the others in the neighbourhood, and could not have supported a
stone-roofed building. Inside the plaza, where the altar mounds usually
stand, we could just with difficulty trace the remains of two small
oratories, which did not measure more than 3½ by 7 feet. A small
temple mound stood apart towards the west, and there were traces of
building on the edges of the valley; but the entire group of ruins
was small and of no great importance and we were led to believe that
similar small groups abound in the country around.
Gorgonio told us that a feeling had sprung up against us amongst the
villagers owing to reports that we had come to spy out the land with a
view to starting cattle ranches, and hunting for treasure amongst the
ruins, and it required some powers of persuasion to convince them that
we were travelling for pleasure and had no intention either of buying
up their lands or digging for an imaginary treasure. The ordinances
issued from time to time by the Government prohibiting excavations and
the removal of sculptures and pottery have confirmed both Indians and
Ladinos in the belief that the mounds contain hidden treasure, and the
result may easily be disastrous, for it is as likely as not that the
Indians may themselves begin rummaging amongst the ruins in search of
treasure which does not exist, and will destroy in the process much
that, although it is valueless to them, is of the highest importance to
the archæologist.
We had now had a good rest and were prepared to continue our journey.
When I came out of my cell on the morning of the 3rd February,
ready for the start, I found the villagers assembled in front of
the convento, erecting triumphal arches decorated with pine-boughs
and strips of blue and white paper, the colours of the State. Fresh
pine-needles were being strewn on the floor of the gallery, and the
kitchen department was in a very excited condition, for the Jefe
Político was reported to be close at hand. It was clearly time for us
to be off, as no offer of payment would buy us a chicken for luncheon;
so wishing the great man a good appetite for the very substantial
breakfast which was being prepared for him, we rode on our way.
Our next halting-place was to be Belehú, said to be about seven and a
half leagues distant. The track passed through groves of pine and oak,
opening now and again on beautiful grassy valleys, where cattle were
peacefully grazing. There was something wonderfully exhilarating in
these early morning rides. The cool freshness of the sparkling air,
the brilliant blue of the skies flecked with fleecy clouds chasing one
another in endless succession, the beauty of the wayside flowers, the
various notes of the strange birds, all raised one's spirits until one
felt inclined to shout with delight. This may read like a fanciful
exaggeration, but it is an actual fact, which repeated itself on every
morning's ride through the Altos. But to go on with our journey. We
stopped for breakfast at the little village of Santa Cruz, and were
there detained for two hours waiting for the cargadores who, as usual,
lagged behind. However, we were fortunate in falling in with a party of
Coban Indians who were returning to their homes by way of Belehú, and
were able to engage their assistance as carriers and thus make sure of
our dressing-bags and comforts for the night.
After breakfast we began an ascent through groves of oak and pine
trees adorned with blossoming orchids and great bunches of green and
orange-coloured mistletoe. We were now on the high ridge of hills which
runs eastward into the great bend of the Rio Negro. After sweeping
round this promontory the river flows almost due west to Chixoy, and
then takes another sharp bend to the north, disappearing from view in
a great black gorge of the mountains. The scenery was magnificent: the
bold sierra to the north was wooded to its summit, and three thousand
feet below us the river wound like some huge green serpent stealing
through the grass. On the lofty ridge we were traversing the air
reached us cleared and purified by the stormy winds of the Mexican
Gulf, and was fresh and cool both in the morning and afternoon; but it
had parted with its last drops of moisture on the opposite hills, so
that one drawback to our journey through this enchanting country was
the lack of water. The beds of the little mountain streams were all
dried up, and we found only one spring at which the animals could drink
throughout the whole day's ride.
We were still riding along the ridge, uncertain how far we might be
from our destination, when night came upon us. Both my mule and I were
tired, and we had already exceeded the distance I expected to travel;
but we had still to wander on along what seemed to me an interminable
winding path. Again and again I thought we were at our journey's end,
but the lights ahead of us proved to be fireflies which flitted off
at our approach. At last we caught sight of a dim flicker of light
which did not elude us, and proved to be that of a solitary tallow dip
burning before the altar in the Cabildo of Belehú. We found the village
to consist of a thatched roof cabildo, an outhouse, and two or three
Indian huts. The Cabildo had but one room, which served both as town
hall and chapel. Some Indians, who were praying before the shrine when
we rode up, received us hospitably and at once set off for the Alcalde,
who came and placed the room at our disposal, and kindled a fire for
us in the outhouse. The little room was clean and sweet-smelling, with
a carpet of fresh pine-needles, and pine-boughs hung around the walls,
again in anticipation of a visit from the Jefe. At one end stood the
altar decorated with artificial flowers and coloured papers, and edged
with a row of extinct candle-stumps. On a small table covered with a
white cloth reposed the silver-headed stick of the Alcalde, and on the
altar itself lay the wands of office of the Alguacils and Mayores.
My weariness disappeared before the hope of hot coffee and a wash; but
in part I was doomed to disappointment, for just as we were making
ourselves comfortable and setting up our beds, Gorgonio came in with a
long face to tell us that there was no water to be got within a league
and a half, and that the supply brought in the morning for the needs
of the villagers was exhausted! After some hunting about we managed to
secure half a kettle full of the precious liquid for the coffee; but
the poor mules had to go waterless, and content themselves with the
fresh green grass, of which luckily there was a good supply, and our
baths had to be put off until the morning.
We were destined to receive that night yet another shock, for while
preparing supper and chatting with the Indians round the fire in
the outhouse, we learnt that there was no road out of the village
practicable for mules except that by which we had arrived. The road we
had been told of as leading south across the river to Cubulco was a
myth: it was a mere track hardly passable for Indians carrying loads,
and altogether impossible for animals. Here was a dilemma! We were
caught in the great bend of the river with no way to get out of it
without retracing our steps, which we were most unwilling to do, and
the only bridge over the river down stream was at Chixoy, to reach
which we should have to return at least as far as Santa Cruz before
descending into the valley, and when we had crossed it we should
be as far as before from Rabinal. After many questionings and much
interpretation, we learnt that the track used by the Indians going to
Coban followed the crest of the hill for some five or six miles to the
eastward, and then made a rapid descent to the river at Agua Blanca.
The track along the high ground was said to be good, but the descent
impossible for loaded mules; however, so loth were we to turn back,
that we determined to try it, and the Alcalde was told to engage some
Indians to relieve the mules of their loads during the steep descent.
We were up early the next morning, but not early enough for the
Indians, who, the day being Sunday, arrived at dawn to say their
prayers before the altar; and I was obliged to barricade the door
against one devout person, who tried to force his way in before I was
dressed. As soon as possible I opened the door for them, and in they
came, and, quite regardless of us or our doings, lighted their candles
and knelt before the altar at their devotions. There was no leader and
no regular service; each man said his prayers out loud, and from one
who prayed in Spanish we caught now and then a few sentences recounting
the story of his pilgrimages and naming the offerings he had given at
various shrines. In a few minutes their prayers were over, and devoutly
crossing themselves they left the room.
By the time we had finished our coffee the mozos were ready to start,
and we rode for about two leagues on a fair track, now through woodland
and now through milpas and bright green patches of sugar-cane, enjoying
charming views of the wooded ridge we were leaving behind us and of the
lofty mountains on the far side of the valley. At a distance of about
five miles from the village we came to a rivulet, where the animals
were at last able to quench their thirst, and two miles further on
the steep descent of nearly four thousand feet began. Here we halted
to unload the mules and give over their burdens to the care of the
Indian carriers. We did not unsaddle the animals, but were careful
to remove stirrups and stirrup-leathers, and to see that all straps
and girths were secure. My husband and I led the way, keeping well
ahead of the mules, lest one of them should roll over us. It was an
exceedingly rough and difficult walk, and we were more than three hours
accomplishing it. Two of the mules fell, and the horse rolled over; but
none of them were hurt, and we all arrived safely at the river.
In answer to our shouts a man emerged from a house on the opposite
bank and came over to us on a very small raft which he brought across
the stream by hauling on a rope made fast to both banks. On this craft
we were ferried over, two at a time. I dare say the passage was safe
enough, but that was not exactly my impression whilst crossing, for the
current was very swift and the raft almost entirely under water, and
we had to curl ourselves up on a ricketty seat in order to keep dry.
At our landing-place, called Agua Blanca, there were only two houses,
and these were inhabited by Cobaneros, friends of Gorgonio, who gave
us food and shelter for the night, treated our tired animals most
hospitably, and refused all payment.
Alas! we had now left the beautiful climate of the Altos behind us,
the air was hot and muggy and swarming with insect life, and we were
glad when the dawn came and we could mount our mules to climb the steep
hillside which led up to the tableland of the Alta Vera Paz. It was
not a pleasant day's journey, as our animals were very tired and a
thick mist cut us off from the enjoyment of the landscape. About midday
rain began to fall, the first we had felt since leaving the city of
Guatemala, and the first break in our sunlit journey. About one o'clock
we rode into the little town of San Cristóbal, which lies buried in
fruit-trees on the edge of a pretty little lake. The coffee-plants here
are not closely-clipped bushes but veritable trees laden with ripe
red berries, and we found the whole Indian population busily engaged
gathering in the crop and singing and chatting cheerfully over the
task.
We passed through the plaza with its picturesque church, catching only
a glimpse of the lake, as the mist still hung low, and the hills were
veiled in clouds, and then rode on through lanes which were continuous
bowers of the richest greenery and brilliant with flowers and fruit. A
few miles further on we reached the village of Santa Cruz, and struck
the main road to Coban; then the travelling became very bad, for the
rainy season was not over and the long lines of ox-carts which carry
the coffee down to the Port of Panzos had cut the soft road-bed into
rough ruts and deep holes. We had still four leagues to ride, and night
came on before we reached our destination. My mule floundered into the
great holes full of half-dried mud, and it was all I could do to keep
my seat. Outside the town we were met by Mr. Thomae, to whom we had
telegraphed from San Cristóbal, and who had ridden out to meet us and
escort us to his home, where his wife gave us the kindliest welcome. A
clean bedroom, white sheets, and plenty of towels offered a refreshing
change after camps, conventos, and cabildos, and an ever-thoughtful
hospitality induced us to stay on for a whole pleasant week in our
comfortable quarters.
[Illustration: ZOPILOTES.]