THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS
The lofty mountain zones of Peru, the high bordering valleys, and the
belts of rolling plateau between are occupied by tribes of shepherds. In
that cold, inhospitable region at the top of the country are the highest
permanent habitations in the world--17,100 feet (5,210 m.)--the loftiest
pastures, the greatest degree of adaptation to combined altitude and
frost. It is here only a step from Greenland to Arcady. Nevertheless it
is Greenland that has the people. Why do they shun Arcady? To the
traveler from the highlands the fertile valleys between 5,000 and 8,000
feet (1,500 to 2,500 m.) seem like the abode of friendly spirits to
whose charm the highland dweller must yield. Every pack-train from
valley to highland carries luxury in the form of fruit, coca, cacao, and
sugar. One would think that every importation of valley products would
be followed by a wave of migration from highland to valley. On the
contrary the highland people have clung to their lofty pastures for
unnumbered centuries. Until the Conquest the last outposts of the Incas
toward the east were the grassy ridges that terminate a few thousand
feet below the timber line.
In this natural grouping of the people where does choice or blind
prejudice or instinct leave off? Where does necessity begin? There are
answers to most of these questions to be found in the broad field of
geographic comparison. But before we begin comparisons we must study the
individual facts upon which they rest. These facts are of almost every
conceivable variety. They range in importance from a humble shepherd’s
stone corral on a mountain slope to a thickly settled mountain basin.
Their interpretation is to be sought now in the soil of rich playa
lands, now in the fixed climatic zones and rugged relief of deeply
dissected, lofty highlands in the tropics. Some of the controlling
factors are historical, others economic; still other factors have
exerted their influence through obscure psychologic channels almost
impossible to trace. The _why_ of man’s distribution over the earth is
one of the most complicated problems in natural science, and the
solution of it is the chief problem of the modern geographer.
At first sight the mountain people of the Peruvian Andes seem to be
uniform in character and in mode of life. The traveler’s first
impression is that the same stone-walled, straw-thatched type of hut is
to be found everywhere, the same semi-nomadic life, the same degrees of
poverty and filth. Yet after a little study the diversity of their lives
is seen to be, if not a dominating fact, at least one of surprising
importance. Side by side with this diversity there runs a corresponding
diversity of relations to their physical environment. Nowhere else on
the earth are greater physical contrasts compressed within such small
spaces. If, therefore, we accept the fundamental theory of geography
that there is a general, necessary, varied, and complex relation between
man and the earth, that theory ought here to find a really vast number
of illustrations. A glance at the accompanying figures discloses the
wide range of relief in the Peruvian Andes. The corresponding range in
climate and in life therefore furnishes an ample field for the
application of the laws of human distribution.
In analyzing the facts of distribution we shall do well to begin with
the causes and effects of migration. Primitive man is in no small degree
a wanderer. His small resources often require him to explore large
tracts. As population increases the food quest becomes more intense, and
thus there come about repeated emigrations which increase the food
supply, extend its variety, and draw the pioneers at last into contact
with neighboring groups. The farther back we go in the history of the
race the clearer it becomes that migrations lie at the root of much of
human development. The raid for plunder, women, food, beasts, is a
persistent feature of the life of those primitive men who live on the
border of unlike regions.
The shepherd of the highland and the forest hunter of the plains
perforce range over vast tracts, and each brings back to the home group
news that confirms the tribal choice of habitation or sets it in motion
toward a more desirable place. Superstitions may lead to flight akin to
migration. Epidemics may be interpreted as the work of a malignant
spirit from which men must flee. War may drive a defeated group into the
fastnesses of a mountain forest where pursuit by stream or trail weakens
the pursuer and confines his action, thereby limiting his power. Floods
may come and destroy the cultivated spots. Want or mere desire in a
hundred forms may lead to movement.
Even among forest tribes long stationary the facile canoe and the light
household necessities may easily enable trivial causes to develop the
spirit of restlessness. Pressure of population is a powerful but not a
general cause of movement. It may affect the settled groups of the
desert oases, or the dense population of fertile plains that is rooted
in the soil. On the other hand mere whims may start a nomadic group
toward a new goal. Often the goal is elusive and the tribe turns back to
the old haunts or perishes in the shock of unexpected conflict.
In the case of both primitive societies and those of a higher order the
causes and the results of migration are often contradictory. These will
depend on the state of civilization and the extremes of circumstance.
When the desert blooms the farmer of the Piura Valley in northwestern
Peru turns shepherd and drives his flocks of sheep and goats out into
the short-lived pastures of the great pampa on the west. In dry years he
sends them eastward into the mountains. The forest Indian of the lower
Urubamba is a fisherman while the river is low and lives in a reed hut
beside his cultivated patch of cane and yuca. When the floods come he is
driven to the higher ground in the hills where he has another cultivated
patch of land and a rude shelter. To be sure, these are seasonal
migrations, yet through them the country becomes better known to each
new generation of men. And each generation supplies its pioneers, who
drift into the remoter places where population is scarce or altogether
wanting.
[Illustration: FIG. 24--This stone hut, grass-thatched, is the highest
permanent habitation in Peru, and is believed to be the highest in the
world. Altitude of 17,100 feet (5,210 m.) determined by instrumental
survey. The general geographic relationships of the region in which the
hut is situated are shown in Fig. 25. For location see the topographic
map, Fig. 204.]
Dry years and extremely dry years may have opposite effects. When
moderate dryness prevails the results may be endurable. The oases
become crowded with men and beasts just when they can ill afford to
support them. The alfalfa meadows become overstocked and cattle become
lean and almost worthless. But there is at least bare subsistence. By
contrast, if extreme and prolonged drought prevails, some of the people
are driven forth to more favored spots. At Vallenar in central Chile
some of the workmen in extreme years go up to the nitrate pampa; in wet
years they return. When the agents of the nitrate companies hear of hard
times in a desert valley they offer employment to the stricken people.
It not infrequently happens that when there are droughts in desert Chile
there are abundant rains in Argentina on the other side of the
Cordillera. There has therefore been for many generations an irregular
and slight, though definite, shifting of population from one side of the
mountains to the other as periods of drought and periods of rain
alternated in the two regions. Some think there is satisfactory evidence
to prove that a number of the great Mongolian emigrations took place in
wet years when pasture was abundant and when the pastoral nomad found it
easy to travel. On the other hand it has been urged that the cause of
many emigrations was prolonged periods of drought when the choice lay
between starvation and flight. It is evident from the foregoing that
both views may be correct in spite of the fact that identical effects
are attributed to opposite causes.
[Illustration: FIG. 25--Regional diagram for the Maritime Cordillera to
show the physical relations in the district where the highest habitation
in the world are located. For location, see Fig. 20. It should be
remembered that the orientation of these diagrams is generalized. By
reference to Fig. 20 it will be seen that some portions of the crest of
the Maritime Cordillera run east and west and others north and south.
The same is true of the Cordillera Vilcapampa, Fig. 36.]
_Note on regional diagrams._--For the sake of clearness I have
classified the accompanying facts of human distribution in the
country of the shepherds and represented them graphically in
“regional” diagrams, Figs. 17, 25, 26, 32, 34, 36, 42, 65. These
diagrams are constructed on the principle of dominant control. Each
brings out the factors of greatest importance in the distribution
of the people in a given region. Furthermore, the facts are
compressed within the limits of a small rectangle. This
compression, though great, respects all essential relations. For
example, every location on these diagrams has a concrete
illustration but the accidental relations of the field have been
omitted; the essential relations are preserved. Each diagram is,
therefore, a kind of generalized type map. It bears somewhat the
same relation to the facts of human geography that a block diagram
does to physiography. The darkest shading represents steep
snow-covered country; the next lower grade represents rough but
snow-free country; the lightest shading represents moderate relief;
unshaded parts represent plain or plateau. Small circles represent
forest or woodland; small open-spaced dots, grassland. Fine
alluvium is represented by small closely spaced dots; coarse
alluvium by large closely spaced dots.
To take an illustration. In Figure 32 we have the Apurimac region
near Pasaje (see location map, Fig. 20). At the lower edge of the
rectangle is a snow-capped outlier of the Cordillera Vilcapampa.
The belt of rugged country represents the lofty, steep, exposed,
and largely inaccessible ridges at the mid-elevations of the
mountains below the glaciated slopes at the heads of tributary
valleys. The villages in the belt of pasture might well be
Incahuasi and Corralpata. The floors of the large canyons on either
hand are bordered by extensive alluvial fans. The river courses are
sketched in a diagrammatic way only, but a map would not be
different in its general disposition. Each location is justified by
a real place with the same essential features and relations. In
making the change there has been no alteration of the general
relation of the alluvial lands to each other or to the highland. By
suppressing unnecessary details there is produced a diagram whose
essentials have simple and clear relations. When such a regional
diagram is amplified by photographs of real conditions it becomes a
sort of generalized picture of a large group of geographic facts.
One could very well extend the method to the whole of South
America. It would be a real service to geography to draw up a set
of, say, twelve to fifteen regional diagrams, still further
generalized, for the whole of the continent. As a broad
classification they would serve both the specialist and the general
student. As the basis for a regional map of South America they
would be invaluable if worked out in sufficient detail and
constructed on the indispensable basis of field studies.
It is still an open question whether security or insecurity is more
favorable for the broad distribution of the Peruvian Indians of the
mountain zone which forms the subject of this chapter. Certainly both
tend to make the remoter places better known. Tradition has it that, in
the days of intertribal conflict before the Conquest, fugitives fled
into the high mountain pastures and lived in hidden places and in caves.
Life was insecure and relief was sought in flight. On the other hand
peace has brought security to life. The trails are now safe. A shepherd
may drive his flock anywhere. He no longer has any one to fear in his
search for new pastures. It would perhaps be safe to conclude that there
is equally broad distribution of men in the mountain pastures in time of
peace and in time of war. There is, however, a difference in the kind
of distribution. In time of peace the individual is safe anywhere; in
time of unrest he is safe only when isolated and virtually concealed. By
contrast, the group living near the trails is scattered by plundering
bands and war parties. The remote and isolated group may successfully
oppose the smaller band and the individuals that might reach the remoter
regions. The fugitive group would have nothing to fear from large bands,
for the limited food supply would inevitably cause these to disintegrate
upon leaving the main routes of travel. Probably the fullest exploration
of the mountain pastures has resulted from the alternation of peace and
war. The opposite conditions which these establish foster both kinds of
distribution; hence both the remote group life encouraged by war and the
individual’s lack of restraint in time of peace are probably in large
part responsible for the present widespread occupation of the Peruvian
mountains.
The loftiest habitation in the world (Fig. 24) is in Peru. Between
Antabamba and Cotahuasi occur the highest passes in the Maritime
Cordillera. We crossed at 17,400 feet (5,300 m.), and three hundred feet
lower is the last outpost of the Indian shepherds. The snowline, very
steeply canted away from the sun, is between 17,200 and 17,600 feet
(5,240 to 5,360 m.). At frequent intervals during the three months of
winter, snowfalls during the night and terrific hailstorms in the late
afternoon drive both shepherds and flocks to the shelter of leeward
slopes or steep canyon walls. At our six camps, between 16,000 and
17,200 feet (4,876 and 5,240 m.), in September, 1911, the minimum
temperature ranged from 4° to 20°F. The thatched stone hut that we
passed at 17,100 feet and that enjoys the distinction of being the
highest in the world was in other respects the same as the thousands of
others in the same region. It sheltered a family of five. As we passed,
three rosy-cheeked children almost as fat as the sheep about them were
sitting on the ground in a corner of the corral playing with balls of
wool. Hundreds of alpacas and sheep grazed on the hill slopes and valley
floor, and their tracks showed plainly that they were frequently driven
up to the snowline in those valleys where a trickle of water supported a
band of pasture. Less than a hundred feet below them were other huts and
flocks.
Here we have the limits of altitude and the limits of resources. The
intervalley spaces do not support grass. Some of them are quite bare,
others are covered with mosses. It is too high for even the tola
bush--that pioneer of Alpine vegetation in the Andes. The distance[6] to
Cotahuasi is 75 miles (120 km.), to Antabamba 50 miles (80 km.). Thence
wool must be shipped by pack-train to the railroad in the one case 250
miles (400 km.) to Arequipa, in the other case 200 miles (320 km.) to
Cuzco. Even the potatoes and barley, which must be imported, come from
valleys several days’ journey away. The question naturally arises why
these people live on the rim of the world. Did they seek out these
neglected pastures, or were they driven to them? Do they live here by
choice or of necessity? The answer to these questions introduces two
other geographic factors of prime importance, the one physical, the
other economic.
The main tracts of lofty pasture above Antabamba cover mountain slopes
and valley floor alike, but the moist valley floors supply the best
grazing. Moreover, the main valleys have been intensively glaciated.
Hence, though their sides are steep walls, their floors are broad and
flat. Marshy tracts, periodically flooded, are scattered throughout, and
here and there are overdeepened portions where lakes have gathered.
There is a thick carpet of grass, also numerous huts and corrals, and
many flocks. At the upper edge of the main zone of pasture the grasses
become thin and with increasing altitude give out altogether except
along the moist valley floors or on shoulders where there is seepage.
If the streams head in dry mountain slopes without snow the grassy bands
of the valley floor terminate at moderate elevations. If the streams
have their sources in snowfields or glaciers there is a more uniform
run-off, and a ribbon of pasture may extend to the snowline. To the
latter class belong the pastures that support these remote people.
In the case of the Maritime Andes the great elevation of the snowline is
also a factor. If, in Figure 25, we think of the snowline as at the
upper level of the main zone of pasture then we should have the
conditions shown in Figure 36, where the limit of general, not local,
occupation is the snowline, as in the Cordillera Vilcapampa and between
Chuquibambilla and Antabamba.
A third factor is the character of the soil. Large amounts of volcanic
ash and lapilli were thrown out in the late stages of volcanic eruption
in which the present cones of the Maritime Andes were formed. The coarse
texture of these deposits allows the ready escape of rainwater. The
combination of extreme aridity and great elevation results in a double
restraint upon vegetation. Outside of the moist valley floors, with
their film of ground moraine on whose surface plants find a more
congenial soil, there is an extremely small amount of pasture. Here are
the natural grazing grounds of the fleet vicuña. They occur in
hundreds, and so remote and little disturbed are they that near the main
pass one may count them by the score. As we rode by, many of them only
stared at us without taking the trouble to get beyond rifle shot. It is
not difficult to believe that the Indians easily shoot great numbers in
remote valleys that have not been hunted for years.
The extreme conditions of life existing on these lofty plateaus are well
shown by the readiness with which even the hardy shepherds avail
themselves of shelter. Wherever deep valleys bring a milder climate
within reach of the pastures the latter are unpopulated for miles on
either side. The sixty-mile stretch between Chuquibamba and Salamanca is
without even a single hut, though there are pastures superior to the
ones occupied by those loftiest huts of all. Likewise there are no
permanent homes between Salamanca and Cotahuasi, though the shepherds
migrate across the belt in the milder season of rain. Eastward and
northward toward the crest of the Maritime Cordillera there are no huts
within a day’s journey of the Cotahuasi canyon. Then there is a group of
a dozen just under the crest of the secondary range that parallels the
main chain of volcanoes. Thence northward there are a number of
scattered huts between 15,500 and 16,500 feet (4,700 and 5,000 m.),
until we reach the highest habitations of all at 17,100 feet (5,210m.).
[Illustration: FIG. 26--Regional diagram to show the physical relations
in the lava plateau of the Maritime Cordillera west of the continental
divide. For location, see Fig. 20. Trails lead up the intrenched
tributaries. If the irrigated bench (lower right corner) is large, a
town will be located on it. Shepherds’ huts are scattered about the edge
of the girdle of spurs. There is also a string of huts in the deep
sheltered head of each tributary. See also Fig. 29 for conditions on the
valley or canyon floor.]
The unpopulated belts of lava plateau bordering the entrenched valleys
are, however, as distinctly “sustenance” spaces, to use Penck’s term, as
the irrigated and fertile alluvial fans in the bottom of the valley.
This is well shown when the rains come and flocks of llamas and sheep
are driven forth from the valleys to the best pastures. It is equally
well shown by the distribution of the shepherds’ homes. These are not
down on the warm canyon floor, separated by a half-day’s journey from
the grazing. They are in the intrenched tributary valleys of Figure 26
or just within the rim of the canyon. It is not shelter from the cold
but from the wind that chiefly determines their location. They are also
kept near the rim of the canyon by the pressure of the farming
population from below. Every hundred feet of descent from the arid
plateau (Fig. 29) increases the water supply. Springs increase in number
and size; likewise belts of seepage make their appearance. The gradients
in many places diminish, and flattish spurs and shoulders interrupt the
generally steep descents of the canyon wall. Every change of this sort
has a real value to the farmer and means an enhanced price beyond the
ability of the poor shepherd to pay. If you ask a wealthy _hacendado_ on
the valley floor (Fig. 29), who it is that live in the huts above him,
he will invariably say “los Indios,” with a shrug meant to convey the
idea of poverty and worthlessness. Sometimes it is “los Indios pobres,”
or merely “los pobres.” Thus there is a vertical stratification of
society corresponding to the superimposed strata of climate and land.
At Salamanca (Fig. 62) I saw this admirably displayed under
circumstances of unusual interest. The floor and slopes of the valley
are more completely terraced than in any other valley I know of. In the
photograph, Fig. 30, which shows at least 2,500 feet of descent near the
town, one cannot find a single patch of surface that is not under
cultivation. The valley is simply filled with people to the limit of its
capacity. Practically all are Indians, but with many grades of wealth
and importance. When we rode out of the valley before daybreak, one
September morning in 1911, there was a dead calm, and each step upward
carried us into a colder stratum of air. At sunrise we had reached a
point about 2,000 feet above the town, or 14,500 feet (4,420 m.) above
sea level. We stood on the frost line. On the opposite wall of the
valley the line was as clearly marked out as if it had been an
irrigating canal. The light was so fully reflected from the millions of
frost crystals above it that both the mountainside and the valley slopes
were sparkling like a ruffled lake at sunrise. Below the frost line the
slopes were dark or covered with yellow barley and wheat stubble or
green alfalfa.
It happened that the frost line was near the line of division between
corn and potato cultivation and also near the line separating the steep
rough upper lands from the cultivable lower lands. Not a habitation was
in sight above us, except a few scattered miserable huts near broken
terraces, gullied by wet-weather streams and grown up to weeds and
brush. Below us were well-cultivated fields, and the stock was kept in
bounds by stone fences and corrals; above, the half-wild burros and
mules roamed about everywhere, and only the sheep and llamas were in
rude enclosures. Thus in a half hour we passed the frontier between the
agricultural folk below the frost line and the shepherd folk above it.
[Illustration: FIG. 27--Terraced valley slopes at Huaynacotas, Cotahuasi
Valley, Peru. Elevation 11,500 feet (3,500 m.).]
[Illustration: FIG. 28--The highly cultivated and thoroughly terraced
floor of the Ollantaytambo Valley at Ollantaytambo. This is a tributary
of the Urubamba; elevation, 11,000 feet.]
[Illustration: FIG. 29--Cotahuasi on the floor of the Cotahuasi canyon.
The even skyline of the background is on a rather even-topped lava
plateau. The terrace on the left of the town is formed on limestone,
which is overlain by lava flows. A thick deposit of terraced alluvium
may be seen on the valley floor, and it is on one of the lower terraces
that the city of Cotahuasi stands. The higher terraces are in many cases
too dry for cultivation. The canyon is nearly 7,000 feet (2,130 m.) deep
and has been cut through one hundred principal lava flows.]
In a few spots the line followed an irregular course, as where flatter
lands were developed at unusual elevations or where air drainage altered
the normal temperature. And at one place the frost actually stood on
the young corn, which led us to speculate on the possibility of securing
from Salamanca a variety of maize that is more nearly resistant to light
frosts than any now grown in the United States. In the endless and
largely unconscious experimentation of these folk perched on the valley
walls a result may have been achieved ahead of that yet reached by our
professional experimenters. Certain it is that nowhere else in the world
has the potato been grown under such severe climatic conditions as in
its native land of Peru and Bolivia. The hardiest varieties lack many
qualities that we prize. They are small and bitter. But at least they
will grow where all except very few cultivated plants fail, and they are
edible. Could they not be imported into Canada to push still farther
northward the limits of cultivation? Potatoes are now grown at Forts
Good Hope and McPherson in the lower Mackenzie basin. Would not the
hardiest Peruvian varieties grow at least as far north as the
continental timber line? I believe they could be grown still farther
north. They will endure repeated frosts. They need scarcely any
cultivation. Prepared in the Peruvian manner, as _chuño_, they could be
kept all winter. Being light, the meal derived from them could be easily
packed by hunters and prospectors. An Indian will carry in a pouch
enough to last him a week. Why not use it north of the continental limit
of other cultivated plants since it is the pioneer above the frost line
on the Peruvian mountains?
The relation between farmer and shepherd or herdsman grows more complex
where deeper valleys interrupt the highlands and mountains. The
accompanying sketch, Fig. 32, represents typical relations, though based
chiefly on the Apurimac canyon and its surroundings near Pasaje. First
there is the snow-clad region at the top of the country. Below it are
grassy slopes, the homes of mountain shepherds, or rugged mountain
country unsuited for grazing. Still lower there is woodland, in patches
chiefly, but with a few large continuous tracts. The shady sides of the
ravines and the mountains have the most moisture, hence bear the densest
growths. Finally, the high country terminates in a second belt of
pasture below the woodland.
[Illustration: FIG. 32--Regional diagram representing the deep canyoned
country west of the Eastern Cordillera in the region of the Apurimac.
For photograph see Fig. 94. For further description see note on regional
diagrams, p. 51. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 correspond in position to the same
numbers in Fig. 33.]
[Illustration: FIG. 30--Terraced hill slopes near Salamanca. There is no
part of the photograph which is not covered with terraces save a few
places where bushy growths are visible or where torrents descend through
artificial canals.]
[Illustration: FIG. 31--Alpine pastures in the mountain valley between
Chuquibambilla and Lambrama. Huge stone corrals are built on either
slope, sheltered from the night winds that blow down-valley.]
Whenever streams descend from the snow or woodland country there is
water for the stock above and for irrigation on the alluvial fan below.
But the spur ends dropping off abruptly several thousand feet have a
limited area and no running streams, and the ground water is hundreds of
feet down. There is grass for stock, but there is no water. In some
places the stock is driven back and forth every few days. In a few
places water is brought to the stock by canal from the woodland streams
above, as at Corralpata.[7] In the same way a canal brings water to
Pasaje hacienda from a woodland strip many miles to the west. The little
canal in the figure is almost a toy construction a few inches wide and
deep and conveying only a trickle of water. Yet on it depends the
settlement at the spur end, and if it were cut the people would have to
repair it immediately or establish new homes.
[Illustration: FIG. 33--Valley climates of the canyoned region shown in
Fig. 32.]
The canal and the pasture are possible because the slopes are moderate.
They were formed in an earlier cycle of erosion when the land was lower.
They are hung midway between the rough mountain slopes above and the
steep canyon walls below (Fig. 32). Their smooth descents and gentle
profiles are in very pleasing contrast to the rugged scenery about them.
The trails follow them easily. Where the slopes are flattest, farmers
have settled and produce good crops of corn, vegetables, and barley.
Some farmers have even developed three-and four-story farms. On an
alluvial fan in the main valley they raise sugar cane and tropical and
subtropical fruits; on the flat upper slopes they produce corn; in the
moister soil near the edge of the woodland are fields of mountain
potatoes; and the upper pastures maintain flocks of sheep. In one
district this change takes place in a distance that may be covered in
five hours. Generally it is at least a full and hard day’s journey from
one end of the series to the other.
Wherever these features are closely associated they tend to be
controlled by the planter in some deep valley thereabouts. Where they
are widely scattered the people are independent, small groups living in
places nearly inaccessible. Legally they are all under the control of
the owners of princely tracts that take in the whole country, but the
remote groups are left almost wholly to themselves. In most cases they
are supposed to sell their few commercial products to the _hacendado_
who nominally owns their land, but the administration of this
arrangement is left largely to chance. The shepherds and small farmers
near the plantation are more dependent upon the planter for supplies,
and also their wants are more varied and numerous. Hence they pay for
their better location in free labor and in produce sold at a discount.
So deep are some of the main canyons, like the Apurimac and the
Cotahuasi, that their floors are arid or semi-arid. The fortunes of
Pasaje are tied to a narrow canal from the moist woodland and a tiny
brook from a hollow in the valley wall. Where the water has thus been
brought down to the arable soil of the fans there are rich plantations
and farms. Elsewhere, however, the floor is quite dry and uncultivated.
In small spots here and there is a little seepage, or a few springs, or
a mere thread of water that will not support a plantation, wherefore
there have come into existence the valley herdsmen and shepherds. Their
intimate knowledge of the moist places is their capital, quite as much
as are the cattle and sheep they own. In a sense their lands are the
neglected crumbs from the rich man’s table. So we find the shepherd from
the hills invading the valleys just as the valley farmer has invaded the
country of the shepherd.
[Illustration: FIG. 34--Regional diagram to show the typical physical
conditions and relations in an intermont basin in the Peruvian Andes.
The Cuzco basin (see Fig. 37) is an actual illustration; it should,
however, be emphasized that the diagram is not a “map” of that basin,
for whilst conditions there have been utilized as a basis, the
generalization has been extended to illustrate many basins.]
The basin type of topography calls into existence a set of relations
quite distinct from either of those we have just described. Figure 34
represents the main facts. The rich and comparatively flat floor of the
basin supports most of the people. The alluvial fans tributary thereto
are composed of fine material on their outer margin and of coarse stony
waste at their heads. Hence the valley farms also extend over the edges
of the fans, while only pasture or dense chaparral occupies the upper
portions. Finally there is the steep margin of the basin where the
broad and moderate slopes of the highland break down to the floor of the
basin.
[Illustration: FIG. 35--Climatic cross-section showing the location of
various zones of cultivation and pasture in a typical intermont basin in
the Peruvian Andes. The thickness of the dark symbols on the right is
proportional to the amount of each staple that is produced at the
corresponding elevation. See also the regional diagram Fig. 34.]
If a given basin lies at an elevation exceeding 14,000 feet (4,270 m.),
there will be no cultivation, only pasture. If at 10,000 or 11,000 feet
(3,000 or 3,350 m.), there will be grain fields below and potato fields
above (Figs. 34 and 35). If still lower, fruit will come in and finally
sugar cane and many other subtropical products, as at Abancay. Much will
also depend upon the amount of available water and the extent of the
pasture land. Thus the densely populated Cuzco basin has a vast mountain
territory tributary to it and is itself within the limits of barley and
wheat cultivation. Furthermore there are a number of smaller basins,
like the Anta basin on the north, which are dependent upon its better
markets and transportation facilities. A dominance of this kind is
self-stimulating and at last is out of all proportion to the original
differences of nature. Cuzco has also profited as the gateway to the
great northeastern valley region of the Urubamba and its big
tributaries. All of the varied products of the subtropical valleys find
their immediate market at Cuzco.
The effect of this natural conspiracy of conditions has been to place
the historic city of Cuzco in a position of extraordinary importance.
Hundreds of years before the Spanish Conquest it was a center of
far-reaching influence, the home of the powerful Inca kings. From it the
strong arm of authority and conquest was extended; to it came tribute
of grain, wool, and gold. To one accustomed to look at such great
consequences as having at least some ultimate connection with the earth,
the situation of Cuzco would be expected to have some unique features.
With the glorious past of that city in mind, no one can climb to the
surrounding heights and look down upon the fertile mountain-rimmed plain
as at an ordinary sight (Fig. 37). The secret of those great conquests
lies not only in mind but in matter. If the rise of the Incas to power
was not related to the topography and climate of the Cuzco basin, at
least it is certain that without so broad and noble a stage the scenes
would have been enacted on a far different scale.
The first Inca king and the Spanish after the Incas found here no mobile
nomadic tribes melting away at the first touch, no savages hiding in
forest fastnesses, but a well-rooted agricultural race in whose center a
large city had grown up. Without a city and a fertile tributary plain no
strong system of government could be maintained or could even arise. It
is a great advantage in ruling to have subjects that cannot move. The
agricultural Indians of the Andean valleys and basins, in contrast to
the mobile shepherd, are as fixed as the soil from which they draw their
life.
The full occupation of the pasture lands about the Cuzco basin is in
direct relation to the advantages we have already enumerated. Every part
of the region feels the pressure of population. Nowhere else in the
Peruvian Andes are the limits between cultivation and grazing more
definitely drawn than here. Moreover, there is today a marked difference
between the types that inhabit highland and basin. The basin Indian is
either a debauched city dweller or, as generally, a relatively alert
farmer. The shepherds are exceedingly ignorant and live for the most
part in a manner almost as primitive as at the time of the Conquest.
They are shy and suspicious. Many of them prefer a life of isolation and
rarely go down to the town. They live on the fringe of culture. The new
elements of their life have come to them solely by accident and by what
might be called a process of ethnic seepage. The slight advances that
have been made do not happen by design, they merely happen. Put the
highland shepherd in the basin and he would starve in competition with
the basin type. Undoubtedly he would live in the basin if he could. He
has not been driven out of the basin; he is kept out.
And thus it is around the border of the Abancay basin and others like
it. Only, the Abancay basin is lower and more varied as to resources.
The Indian is here in competition with the capitalistic white planter.
He lives on the land by sufferance alone. Farther up the slopes are the
farms of the Indians and above them are the pastures of the ignorant
shepherds. Whereas the Indian farmer who raises potatoes clings chiefly
to the edge of the Cuzco basin where lie the most undesirable
agricultural lands, the Indian farmers of Abancay live on broad rolling
slopes like those near the pass northward toward Huancarama. They are
unusually prosperous, with fields so well cultivated and fenced, so
clean and productive, that they remind one somewhat of the beautiful
rolling prairies of Iowa.
It remains to consider the special topographic features of the mountain
environments we are discussing, in the Vilcapampa region on the eastern
border of the Andes (Fig. 36). The Cordillera Vilcapampa is
snow-crested, containing a number of fine white peaks like Salcantay,
Soray, and Soiroccocha (Fig. 140). There are many small glaciers and a
few that are several miles long. There was here in glacial times a much
larger system of glaciers, which lived long enough to work great changes
in the topography. The floors of the glaciated valleys were smoothed and
broadened and their gradients flattened (Figs. 137 and 190). The side
walls were steepened and precipitous cirques were formed at the valley
heads. Also, there were built across the valleys a number of stony
morainic ridges. With all these changes there was, however, but little
effect upon the main masses of the big intervalley spurs. They remain as
before--bold, wind-swept, broken, and nearly inaccessible.
[Illustration: FIG. 36--Regional diagram for the Eastern Cordillera or
Cordillera Vilcapampa. Note the crowded zones on the right (east and
north) in contrast to the open succession on the left. In sheltered
places woodland extends even higher than shown. At several points
patches of it grow right under the snowline. Other patches grow on the
floors of the glaciated valley troughs.]
The work of the glaciers aids the mountain people. The stony moraines
afford them handy sizable building material for their stone huts and
their numerous corrals. The thick tufts of grass in the marshy spots in
the overdeepened parts of the valleys furnish them with grass for their
thatched roofs. And, most important of all, the flat valley floors have
the best pasture in the whole mountain region. There is plenty of water.
There is seclusion, and, if a fence be built from one valley wall to
another as can be done with little labor, an entire section of the
valley may be inclosed. A village like Choquetira, located on a bench on
the valley side, commands an extensive view up and down the valley--an
important feature in a grazing village where the corrals cannot always
be built near the houses of the owners. Long, finger-like belts of
highland-shepherd population have thus been extended into the mountain
valleys. Sheep and llamas drift right up to the snowline.
There is, however, a marked difference between the people on opposite
sides of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. On the west the mountains are
bordered by a broad highland devoted to grazing. On the east there is a
narrower grazing belt leading abruptly down to tropical valleys. The
eastern or leeward side is also the warmer and wetter side of the
Cordillera. The snowline is several hundred feet lower on the east. The
result is that patches of scrub and even a little woodland occur almost
at the snowline in favored places. Mist and storms are more frequent.
The grass is longer and fresher. Vegetation in general is more abundant.
The people make less of wool than of cattle, horses, and mules.
Vilcabamba pueblo is famous for its horses, wiry, long-haired little
beasts, as hardy as Shetland ponies. We found cattle grazing only five
hundred feet below the limit of perpetual snow. There are cultivated
spots only a little farther down, and only a thousand feet below the
snow are abandoned terraces. At the same elevation are twisted quenigo
trees, at least two hundred years old, as shown by their rings of
growth. Thus the limits of agriculture are higher on the east; likewise
the limits of cattle grazing that naturally goes with agriculture. Sheep
would thrive, but llamas do better in drier country, and the shepherd
must needs mix his flocks, for the wool which is his chief product
requires transportation and only the cheap and acclimated llama is at
the shepherd’s disposal. From these facts it will be seen that the
anthropo-geographic contrasts between the eastern and western sides of
the Cordillera Vilcapampa are as definite as the climatic and vegetal
contrasts. This is especially well shown in the differences between dry
Arma, deep-sunk in a glaciated valley west of the crest of the
mountains, and wet Puquiura, a half-day’s journey east of the crest.
There is no group on the east at all comparable to the shepherds of
Choquetira, either in the matter of thorough-going dependence upon
grazing or in that of dependence upon glacial topography.
[Illustration: FIG. 37--Cuzco and a portion of the famous Cuzco basin
with bordering grassy highlands.]
[Illustration: FIG. 38--Terraced valley slopes and floor, Urubamba
Valley between Urubamba and Ollantaytambo.]
[Illustration: FIG. 39--Huichihua, near Chuquibambilla, a typical
mountain village, in the valleys of the Central Ranges, Peruvian Andes.]
[Illustration: FIG. 40--Potato fluid above Vilcabamba at 12,000 feet
(3,660 m.). The natural sod is broken by a steel-shod stick and the seed
potato dropped into a mere puncture. It receives no attention thereafter
until harvest time.]
Topography is not always so intimately related to the life of the people
as here. In our own country the distribution of available water is a far
greater factor. The Peruvian Andes therefore occupy a distinctive place
in geography, since, more nearly than in most mountains, their physical
conditions have typical human relations that enable one clearly to
distinguish the limits of control of each feature of climate or relief.