our things unpacked and occupied our beds, knowing that a pretty early
start would be made in the morning. The night passed uneventfully, and
at daybreak we got under way, bound for Achicachi, about five leagues
off. There is still a road for vehicles to this town, and keeping along
the shores of Lake Titicaca, we reached this larger Indian town about 9
a.m. The population was about 5,000 Indians, but it is a very
uninteresting, bleak spot, and we only remained long enough to have a
square meal, which we were again fortunate enough to have provided for
us by the reigning magistrate. That over, we then dispatched our coach
on its return journey to La Paz, and thought of our other means of
transport for the forward journey. Good mules we had sent ahead, and
were now awaiting us saddled and ready, and we at last got started on
this the more arduous part of our journey inland. Our destination for
the night was Gualata, a small holding belonging to my fellow-traveller,
and we reached it at about 1 o'clock, having climbed probably 2,000 feet
higher up the mountains. Cultivation of cereals and potatoes is carried
on on a limited scale, owing to the altitude, and taking it all round,
the house, although comfortable enough, was situated in about as bleak
and bare a spot as it is pretty well possible to imagine.
Nevertheless, it was peopled by about sixty Indians, who turned out in
true Indian style in their beautifully coloured robes and making
horrible discordant noises which were intended for music--all, of
course, to show their appreciation of their "patron." Here, of course,
we got all we required, and as there were any amount of fowls to be had,
our bill-of-fare improved in accordance. There was nothing to do
specially, and we did not feel inclined to move about much at this
elevation above the sea, so we were quite pleased when bed-time came
round, and without any ceremony each retired to their respective couches
_on the floor_. Owing to excessive cold, however, sleep was out of the
question, and it was a relief when day dawned on May 22nd. After
refreshing ourselves with a cup of tea we set out for Sorata, distant
about six leagues. Travelling was now much slower as the roads were very
bad, and in some places very steep and covered with loose stones. This
made the foothold bad for the mules, but we trusted to the useful
animals entirely, letting them go along on a loose rein to choose their
own footing, which they did very successfully. We passed the Indian
village of Illabaya, perched on the side of a hill, and all plotted out
in small squares for the cultivation of vegetables, etc., of which we
bought a supply for our own use. The highest point we passed was over
14,000 feet, and then began the gradual descent into the pretty little
town of Sorata, 6,000 feet lower down. The path was not of the best, and
the pace was very slow; but the scenery was quite refreshing compared
with what we had already passed through.
Sorata is indeed very pretty and quaint, and although comparatively out
of the world, a traveller can spend a short time there pleasantly, and
personally speaking, the few days we remained were very enjoyable,
thanks once more to my friend's influence. For a change we did not sleep
on the floor, and by way of recreation I scented out a billiard table,
not a good one, it is true, and the balls were rather elliptical; but as
I had once personated the "Mikado," _à la Gilbert & Sullivan_, the
conditions were not so disconcerting as they would doubtless have been
to a less famous personage! Sorata, being the nearest town to the
Bolivian rubber districts which export their products to the Pacific
coast, is naturally of more consequence on that account, as all
materials and merchandise for the interior must pass through the hands
of the Sorata merchants, while the rubber exported to the coast also
finds its way through the medium of Sorata agents.
There is the usual plaza in the centre of the town, where the youth and
beauty disport themselves in the way peculiar to these mountainous
regions, which consists of walking round and round at a good pace to
keep up the circulation, as the weather is nearly always cold in Sorata.
Illampu, the competitor of Illimani and Aconcagua, and which claims to
be the highest peak in South America, rises up magnificently right above
and round the town, and visitors for the first time must really wonder
how they are to find a road to cross these gigantic mountains, as the
town appears to be so completely shut in.
However, on 27th May we started to ascend the track forming the way to
the interior, and got a fine send-off by the inhabitants, the more
important of whom turned out to bid us adieu and wish us luck over a
case or two of beer. The climb before us was a constant one for 18
miles, and to-day we were to pass the highest point of our entire trip.
This we reached about midday, at just under 16,000 feet. We were above
the perpetual snow-line for a short time, and it was piercingly cold,
besides we had to go slowly on account of the thin air, but we kept
steadily on and reached an old mining establishment called "El Injenio"
at 5 p.m., having done 24 miles in all since morning. There is a long,
steep descent to the old mining camp by a narrow winding track cut out
of the mountain side, and as the drop on one side to the little stream
down below was about 40 to 50 feet, and there was no protecting fence of
any kind, we decided to get off our mules, and accordingly completed the
worst part of the way on foot, and of course this made travelling very
much slower.
Apparently, gold-washing had not been carried on for a very long time,
as although the main building still has a roof, the whole place has a
very deserted look about it; but, nevertheless, it still affords a
covering for weary travellers like ourselves, and we soon began to
select the most comfortable looking corners for our beds. There was an
old Indian there who earns a meagre existence by selling forage to
passing travellers for their beasts of burden; and he was also utilised
by us for getting a fire ready and boiling water for a welcome cup of
warm tea.
One thousand feet above our heads, as it seemed, we could see Llane,
another of these quaint, Indian hamlets, but the appearance of the
exceedingly precipitate track up to it did not excite us in any desire
to make the ascent. After partaking of some food, we got under our
blankets in the usual way at sunset to once more sleep the sleep of the
contented traveller. By 6.15 next morning we were again in the saddle
and under way--the road was now even narrower than before, about two
feet wide only--winding round and round the mountain side, ascending all
the time, and in some parts far too steep for comfortable riding. From
now onwards the journey was over tracks, not roads, and many of the
ascents and descents were so steep that it was quite out of the question
to attempt to negotiate them on muleback. We, accordingly, with
philosophic patience had just to accept the inevitable, and get off and
lead our animals over these now really dangerous parts. Some of the
precipices down to the river bed were now much deeper, and had we slid
over, we might have experienced considerable inconvenience at the
bottom, and a greater difficulty in getting up again. The roads became
worse and worse, and really they could be given no other name than
"goat-tracks," but the mule is a wonderful beast, and let him have his
head (on no account attempt to guide him), there is not much fear of any
serious trouble. Our sleeping place for the night was to be at an old
ruin of a house at a bare, but more level, opening in the mountains,
called Tolapampa, and before reaching this we had to negotiate much the
worst pass on the whole route. This is called the "tornillo" (screw),
and it is a real corkscrew path, cut out of the mountain side at an
angle of about 50 deg., and about 450 feet of a climb.
Riding was of course impossible, and we scrambled more than walked until
we safely got over the top, very tired and puffed out. The mules with
their cargo followed our example, and it was wonderful to see how they
kept their feet; as one false step might have sent them to the bottom,
carrying everything behind them too, and on more than one occasion this
has happened, the animals falling, generally being killed outright in
the fall. Pushing on as fast as possible, it was not till 4 o'clock p.m.
that our residence for the night loomed in view, and it did not inspire
one that it could supply much in the way of home comforts. Sure, the old
hovel had walls and a roof, but beyond that there were no windows, and
where the door ought to have been there was only a hole in the wall, but
nothing to close it with to keep out the intense cold.
We, of course, knew when we started that we would have to rough it, so
there was no use grumbling now, and therefore set about at once to get
something to make a fire with. With great good fortune we, after a great
deal of searching and gathering, obtained some old rubbish that burned.
I say with good luck, because this is a treeless region yet, at an
elevation of 10,000 feet, and fuel is naturally always at a premium. For
cooking it did not matter so much, as we had a spirit lamp, but it was
to warm our bodies and keep up our spirits that made the fire so
desirable. Darkness was on us before we finished our evening meal, and
we looked forward to the night with no very pleasant forebodings--and it
did turn out a tiresome night--it rained all the time and the cold was
extreme--so much so, that we eventually sat up most of the time, hoping
by daylight to move on to a more charitable atmosphere.
I think I should not miss this opportunity of relating an experience of
mine when I journeyed over the same route on another occasion. Then I
was only accompanied by two Indians--no white people--and was travelling
towards Sorata. I remember very well we reached Tolapampa, already
described, in the afternoon, it having rained constantly all day. I was
suffering from malaria very acutely, and the high levels at which we had
been travelling also affected me grievously. I arrived at Tolapampa
soaked to the skin, shivering cold, and really more dead than alive. To
aggravate matters we could not light a fire--everything was wet--and I
can assure you it was anything but a bright outlook for us. Another gang
of about ten Indians also turned up, and we did look a sorry lot.
However, these natives, seeing that I was so weak (I had had malaria
almost constantly during the previous six months), did all they could to
get me to "buck up," and kept moving me backwards and forwards to warm
myself, which operation I well remember was a very tedious one. They
also tried to get me to eat of their cold frugal fare; but that was
beyond me; and after they decided it was time to rest for the night, I
scrambled in _amongst them_--Indians all round me--so as to benefit from
the heat of their bodies. It was neither a very pleasant nor a very
clean position that I occupied, and I can hardly realise how I had the
courage to do what I did; but the facts remain the same, and at any rate
I got some rest.
It poured all night, and when at daybreak I suggested to my men that it
was time to start, they positively refused to move until the rain
ceased. I brought all my persuasive powers to bear, but it was of no
avail, and as I had decided to go on alone, all I got out of them was a
promise they would follow me at 10 o'clock. It was very disappointing,
but I was determined to get forward at all cost. I therefore started on
my lonely journey at eight o'clock, with the rain, and at times sleet,
coming down in bucketfuls; I could hardly see in front of me at times,
and it was destined to be a trip of which I shall always retain very
vivid recollections. On this occasion, owing to the excessive rains, all
the little mountain streams, which under normal circumstances are of no
inconvenience to travellers, had been converted into veritable roaring
torrents, causing me on more than one occasion to think twice before
attempting a crossing. To condense matters as much as possible, let me
remark that it rained all day; travelling was not only difficult but
positively dangerous, and I, being so ill, could hardly keep my seat on
my mule. All this made travelling so slow that I was still a long way
from "El Injenio," my objective point for the night, when darkness
overtook me. I had the narrow, dangerous paths to go along which I have
already described, and I therefore did not trust to getting over them on
muleback, but took the safer and, in my opinion, more sensible plan of
leading my animal. This was tedious work, but it was to become worse
very soon. I arrived at one of those swollen mountain streams, the
appearance of which in the darkness fairly frightened me. My mule would
not look at it, and for a while I did not know exactly what to do. I
could judge that it was four or five feet deep, and rushing past at a
great rate. Neither mule nor I could ever have hoped to keep our feet if
we had attempted crossing, as it was about thirty feet wide. I left my
mule and commenced to reconnoitre along the side, when I came to what
had been a bridge, but which was partly washed away, leaving a gap of
about four feet in the middle, as far as I could judge in the uncertain
light, and over which it was impossible for a mule to go. Leaving my
mule, I made a good jump, and, fortunately, got over all right, but,
after all, I did not know in the least where I was, and, before
attempting to return to my animal, I started to go forward in the hope
of at least striking some sheltered spot where I might pass the night.
Meantime, however, I heard a crash, and, as it turned out, away had gone
the remainder of the bridge, leaving me on one side, and now completely
isolated from my mule and saddle-bags. There was no use fretting, so I
continued moving on--it was now dark--feeling my way, and keeping very
carefully away from the river. I had not proceeded very far before my
progress was all too suddenly arrested. I did not until the next morning
know what actually did take place, but the facts are as follows: In
groping my way along I had actually been walking on the very edge of a
sort of precipice, and apparently had simply stepped over the side. At
any rate, I rolled to the bottom, which, luckily for me, was only about
fifteen feet; but it was quite a bump, and I wondered where I had
actually landed. As it was so black, and I did not know anything of my
surroundings, I simply made up my mind to remain where I had fallen
until morning. I ought to tell you that, although I had plenty of
matches, they were all wet with the rain, so that they would not light,
and I had to remain in darkness all night. My saddle-bags were with the
mule, and I did not even know now where the animal might be. I was
soaking wet, shivering with ague, nothing to eat, plenty of cigarettes
and matches, but unable to smoke or even make a light, so my
disagreeable plight can to some extent be imagined. Moreover, there were
about six inches of water all round me, so that I could not attempt to
sleep. The cold was intense, and I can safely say that I never spent
such a long, disagreeable, and dreary night in all my previous
experience, and I hope never to be compelled to do so again. There are
bears in this district also, but I am thankful to say that I was not
molested in any way.
Towards morning the rain slackened, and when daylight came I never felt
more thankful in my life. I climbed out of my nest, and there, only
about a hundred yards away, was my faithful mule standing exactly as I
had left him. I waited until the water in the stream had gone down
sufficiently, and crossing on foot, with the water about two feet deep,
I mounted my mule, and then recrossed on muleback. I knew from the
number of hours I had travelled on the previous day I could not be far
from Injenio, and I was right, as in less than an hour I saw my
destination right ahead of me. I was in a pitiful condition, and could
hardly stand up. The old Indian recognised me and got me dry wraps after
a fashion, and I got under his dry blankets. I could not eat, but I
drank a large quantity of "Aguardiente," which at least put some life
into me. In the meantime I did not know what had become of my pack
animals and Indians, but I was not in a state to worry about them, and
didn't. Instead, I kept my bed for about thirty hours, until I was
revived somewhat. Then, luckily, my men turned up, and I was able to
continue my journey to Sorata.
Well, we left Tolapampa about 6 a.m., and for the best part of the day
the route was over country very similar to that passed on the previous
day; but we were descending rapidly now, and the temperature became
perceptibly much warmer, in fact, by the afternoon we had indications
that soon we should arrive in the "montes," where we would have
vegetation in abundance, and consequently we would at least have some
shade during the heat of the day. The road, nevertheless, continued to
be very rough and broken, and we had frequently to dismount and lead our
animals for long distances at a time. The long pass of Margurani was
unusually tiring, as it was down hill most of the time, and over loose
rocks and stones, which were very hard on our poor feet. Pararani, a
small stopping-place, was reached about 2 p.m., and as both we and the
animals had just about had enough of it, we decided to remain for the
night.
We were now right in tropical surroundings, and the beautiful palms and
ferns, not to mention the magnificent butterflies of all colours, were a
grateful contrast to the scenery we had been accustomed to since we left
Sorata. We were now only about two thousand feet above sea level, and
the weather was very hot indeed, mosquitoes and other worrying insects
were very plentiful; but, bad as they can be, they seemed trivial
troubles compared with what we had come through. At this "puesto" we
were better treated, as we obtained vegetables, bananas, and oranges,
and with our tinned stuffs made quite a decent repast. The place was
owned by a Spaniard, and he, along with his wife, cultivates a little
piece of ground, and supplied passing travellers with general rations
for both man and beast. The place was clean in comparison with what we
had been accustomed to, and we seemed to sigh a mutual sigh of content
at our good luck in reaching this "oasis." We rested all afternoon, and
got to bed early, and, although there were rats about, I slept "like a
log," I was so fearfully tired.
In the morning, however, I awoke refreshed, and with our usual
punctuality got away at 6 o'clock, feeling that at last we were nearing
our journey's end, as we now directed our animals' heads towards
Copacabana, the nearest of the rubber forests belonging to my friend.
This was only three or four leagues off, and the going was somewhat
improved also, so our progress was a good deal faster than usual. During
the greater part of the present journey, the weather, so far, had been
fairly good, that is, taking into consideration the high regions through
which we had come, but we were not fated to be so successful on this our
last day. In fact, we had not gone far, when a really characteristic
tropical shower baptized us properly, and continued during the whole of
the rest of the day, the result being, as may be imagined, that we
arrived at "Copacabana" like the proverbial "drookit mice." As the path
was beneath the trees all the way, we got the full benefit of the rain
dripping from the branches overhanging, which was just like a shower
bath all the time. However, I got into dry clothes, and, I think, felt
when I got into the Estancia house, that after all the "roughing," the
trip was, in part, compensated for by the new experiences I had gone
through, making my way over these very mountainous regions at such a
very high elevation.
However, I remained for over a year in the rubber districts, and had an
opportunity of seeing how the work is carried on and of judging of the
enormous profit which must result to the lucky owners. Unfortunately,
the climate is of the very worst, and the malaria being of a very
malignant nature, is very hard on white people. I had my full share of
this "terciana," as it is called, and sometimes wonder how I really
managed to work my way to the outside world again.
In conclusion, let me express a modest hope that the perusal of my
humble effort to put personal adventures on paper may at least convey to
the reader some idea of what has to be experienced if one chooses to be
a wanderer like myself in remote places, and that he or she may to a
certain extent enjoy the result nominally, without going through the
hard work involved in the actual performance.
FOOTNOTES:
[F] Allow me to remind the reader that Lake Titicaca is the highest
water in the world which is navigated by steam.
[Illustration: _Loading Wheat at the Port of Buenos Aires._]
PROGRESS OF THE PORT OF BUENOS AIRES.
The first Custom House built for the port of Buenos Aires was in 1603.
The only work carried out in the harbour up to the end of the eighteenth
century was the construction of thirty-five metres of brick quay-wall at
the site of the "Arsenal" on the Riachuelo. We find that although
between the years 1852 and 1858 many plans were presented for building
of piers, these were only carried into practice and built by the
Government under the technical direction of Engineer E. Taylor; a new
Custom House replacing the fortress, a timber pier for loading and
unloading goods, and another pier for passenger traffic at the locality
of the old mole. In the year 1878 the Riachuelo was first opened for
traffic for sea-going ships, and in 1879, 197 vessels with 55,091
tonnage had entered the Riachuelo. As early as 1862 Ed. Madero turned
his attention to the question of docks for the port of Buenos Aires, and
in 1865 applied for permission to construct them at his own cost, but
the application was rejected. Four years later he presented another
application, which suffered the same fate. In 1869 the total exports
from Buenos Aires were 397,722 tons, the bulk of which were loaded at
the Riachuelo, and steamers over 100 metres long frequented the harbour
about the time of 1870. It was not until 1882 that Ed. Madero succeeded
in obtaining the concession of building the docks for the port of Buenos
Aires. The docks were to be constructed on the river side of the city,
between the gasworks on the north and the Riachuelo River on the south.
The trade of the City of Buenos Aires up to the time of the opening of
the South Basin had nearly all been carried on between the shore and the
steamers by lighters and small steam tenders. The usual anchorage for
the ocean steamers was in the "bar anchorage," a distance of about
fourteen miles from the city. The cargoes were transhipped into
lighters, which brought them as near to the shore as possible, and from
this point they were taken to the Custom House in specially-constructed
carts with very large wheels. Passengers were transhipped in the bar
anchorage into small tenders, and were brought to a point about 500
metres from the end of the passenger mole. From these tenders, when
there was sufficient water, they were taken ashore in small boats,
while, if the water was too low to go alongside the mole, they also had
to be brought ashore in carts. In many cases, however, passengers were
brought on in tenders and landed at the Riachuelo wharves, which were
then under construction. The first steamers that arrived in the River
Plate were those of the Royal Mail Company, followed by the French
Messageries Maritimes, and shortly afterwards by the Lamport & Holt
Line.
Up to the year 1870 these lines, and a few more that were started,
progressed very slowly, although the rates of freight were then very
high; but after that trade increased gradually, and not only a fair
number of sailing-vessels arrived yearly, but the regular lines of
steamers increased their number of sailings. The great drawback was the
deficient state of the port, where steamers had to lie at a distance of
fourteen to sixteen miles, and most of the sailing-vessels at ten to
twelve miles from the shore. There was no channel dredged, and even the
Riachuelo was so scantily supplied with water that lighters drawing
seven to eight feet were sometimes for weeks prevented from getting out
to deliver their cargo to the sea-going vessels in the outer roads. The
discharge was exclusively effected into lighters, which, apart from the
heavy expense incurred by the receiver of the goods, presented the great
objection that a considerable portion of the cargo was often broached
and pilfered before it reached the shore, claims for which had to be
paid by the ship. Another point was that many of these lighters were old
sailing-vessels or steamers, and, in the unseaworthy and leaky state
they were in, often arrived with their cargo considerably damaged. On
the completion of the South Basin on 28th January, 1889, passengers were
able to embark or disembark with a little more comfort, and cargoes were
landed on the quays. Docks 1 and 2 have each a water area of 23 acres,
being 570 metres long by 160 metres wide, with a quay length of 1,420
metres. No. 3 Dock has a water area of 27 acres, is 690 metres long by
160 metres wide, with a quay length of 1,660 metres. No. 4 Dock has a
water area of 25 acres, is 630 metres long by 160 metres wide, with a
quay length of 1,535 metres.