Cl^IlVf BINO AND
:bxploration i IN T'H.'Eif
BOLIVIA-TNT

K?

'"illl|||lfe'Si
S IR. JV1AK.TIW O ON-WA.T
'T^LE«¥]MII¥lEI^SflirY-

Gift of the
HONORABLE HIRAM BINGHAM
YALE 1898

¦-t<^''^i

[i-. 124

ON THE ROCK-WALL OF ILLIMANI

THE
Bolivian Andes

A RECORD OF CLIMBING & EXPLORA TION
IN THE CORDILLERA REAL IN THE
YEARS 1898 AND 1900

BY
SIR MARTIN CONWAY

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1901

Copyright, 1901, by Harper & Brothers.
Ali rights reserved. r^
May, 1901. \''

J

S
^

TO

Gen. J0S6 MANUEL PANDO
PRESIDENT OF THE
REPUBLIC OF BOLIVIA

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. London to Colon ... .
II. The Isthmus of Panama
III. A Central American Revolution
IV. Panama to Lima . .
V. Lima to Lake Titicaca ,
VI. Lake Titicaca to La Paz
VII. La Paz . ...
VIII. La Paz to CotaSi a
IX. The Fertile Slopes of Illimani
X. Illimani : The Lower Slopes
XI. Illimani : The Rock-Wall
XII. Illimani: The Final Climb
XIII. Return to La Paz
XIV. Preparing to Ascend Sorata
XV. The Approach to Mount Sorata
XVI. Obstacles to Ascent of Sorata
XVII. First Attempt on Mount Sorata
XVIII. Visit to Sorata Town . . .
XIX. The Rubber Industry. .
XX. The Eastern Valleys .
XXI. Climbing Ancohuma
XXII. Surveying Under Difficulties
XXIII. The Gold-Mine of Cusanaco
XXIV. The Yani Mine
XXV. Ascent of PeSTas Hill
XXVI. Tin-Mines of Huaina Potosi
XXVII. Last Ride Over the Puna
XXVIII. La Paz to Oruro . .
XXIX. Oruro to the Pacific

I
i6
24
345163
7789
104113
122132145
154
160172184
192
203
219
228240257267
274291
300312324

Appendix .
BibliographyIndex . .

343 398
401

ILLUSTRATIONS

:!

:\

ON THE rock-wall OF ILLIMANI ....
A PEASANT'S HUT, JAMAICA ...
ARCH OF TRIUMPH AT JACMEL . .
PANAMA CATHEDRAL 
PALM AVENUE, PANAMA 
LADING CATTLE 
A BALSA LADEN WITH PETROLEUM . .
ON THE OROYA RAILROAD ... . .
TERRACED HILL-SIDE 
THE SUMMIT OF THE OROYA RAILWAY .
THE PAMPA OF AREQUIPA 
THE OUTSKIRTS OF AREQUIPA . .
AREQUIPA PLAZA 
AREQUIPA CATHEDRAL TOWERS
A BALSA ON LAKE TITICACA . . ...
A TILBURY 
CONGRESS BUILDING, LA PAZ 
THE GUIDES LADING A MULE . ...
AN INDIAN WEAVING ....
THE LA PAZ VALLEY 
ROAD UP EARTH PYRAMIDS IN THE LA PAZ
VALLEY 
A DONKEY CARAVAN IN THE LA PAZ VALLEY
THE LA PAZ VALLEY 
THE LA PAZ VALLEY ROAD 
NEAR HUARICANA 
COTANA 
ILLIMANI AND THE PIC DE PARIS FROM ABOVE
CAIMBAYA 
THE GLACIERS OF ILLIMANI 
THE FLANK OF ILLIMANI  vii

Frontispiece.
Facing p. 10
30404648
54 56
58 647078
9092 94
96
100104
114116118

ILLUSTRATIONS
INDIAN PORTERS . . . . ¦ }

Facingp. 12.0
FROM THE TOP OF THE ROCKS, ILLIMANI , '

A HEAVY LOAD  I24
PREPARING TO CAMP ON ILLIMANI  " I2&

1

\

128

ON THE TOP OF ILLIMANI ... . . . . (
HIGHEST CAMP ON ILLIMANI  S
THE SKIRTS OF ILLIMANI'S GLACIERS  " I32
THE CULMINATING SNOW-FIELD FROM THE PICO
DEL INDIO ... . . . . " 134
ILLIMANI FROM THE COHONI ROAD .... 1
ILLIMANI AND THE PICO DEL INDIO FROM j- " 1 38
ABOVE THE HIGHEST CAMP 
THE DESCENT OF ILLIMANI  " I42
ILLIMANI FROM THE COHONI ROAD  " I48
THE OUTSKIRTS OF ACHACACHE ....
AN INDIAN FUNERAL 
ACHACACHE CHURCH 
INDIAN CHILDREN . 
MOUNT SORATA  ... . " I74
ROCKTOOTH CAMP (SECOND) ON MOUNT SORATA . " 180
HAUKANA PEAK AND GLACIER  " 184
the col near rocktooth camp . . . )
haukaRa peak . . .  )
dragging sledge up mount sorata. . .
hoisting sledge among the big crevasses
OF MOUNT SOHATA . . . . .
A HALT AMONG THE SERACS OF MOUNT SORATA . " 192
MOUNT SORATA IN CLOUDS FROM NEAR THE
HUALLATA PASS ... ..." 19&
ANCOHUMA FROM THE UPPER SNOW-FIELD . . .
CHULPA ON ABICHACA HILL ... ...
EARTH PYRAMIDS ON THE WAY TO THE ALTO
DE ANIMAS  . .
MR. N. E. BIEBER AT THE TOP OF THE ALTO DE
ANIMAS . . . . . . ...
GORGE. IN THE PALCA VALLEY 
MINERS' HUTS AT CUSANACO  " 260
ALTO DE ANIMAS . ....
THE PALCA VALLEY ROAD 
'THE FORCE"  1
THE CUSANACO GOLD-MINE  \ " 274
viii

166168

186

190

234 244252 254 258

264

ILLUSTRATIONS

RUINED CHAPEL ON THE TOP OF PE5tAS HILL . . Facing p. 282
SHRINE ON PESAS HILL  \
HUT NEAR THE TOP OF PENAS HILL  S
THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF MOUNT CACA-ACA . . .
MOUNT CACA-ACA 
BETWEEN LA PAZ AND ORURO 
A BAGGAGE WAGON 
LAVA STREAM ON THE PAMPA  )
VOLCANO AND SALT-PLAIN NEAR UYUNI . . . i
BOLIVIAN MINERALS  351, 363
BOLIVIAN FOSSILS  389

284292294
314 320338

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES

CHAPTER I
LONDON TO COLON
TO live im Ganzen, to experience in full the charm,
the joy, the opportunity of life, has always been
the aim of healthful manhood; but thus to Uve
is over and over again to find that "what was once
precious is become indifferent." Each new experience
is enjoyed at the expense of its predecessor, each new
interest supplants the one that went before. The travel
ler, especially the exploring traveller, is perhaps more
inevitably conscious of this succession of interests than
are men of any other category, for to him each new
point of attraction becomes physically visible ahead as
the old one fades away behind or dips below the horizon.
Each goal attained becomes a mere mile-stone of the
way. Also, when a journey is ended, and memory
takes the place of sight, the mind no longer trudges
on from successive scene to scene, but, isolating this
or that vision of paramount beauty or interest, dwells
upon it, or leaps with light speed from one to another,
A I

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
never laboriously retreading the footsteps of connecting
stages. Authors of books of travel are thus all aUke faced
by one initial problem : Shall the writer take the reader
with him along the road, or, like a lantern showman,
shall he display only the choice moments and striking
scenery of the journey? The latter alternative is the
more attractive, but there is an insuperable objection
to it : it takes no account of the fact that scenery— that
is to say, the impression produced on the observer's
mind by a scene or an event — depends not merely upon
the thing beheld, but upon the nature of the beholder
too, the mood in which he looks, the experiences through
which he has passed, the preparation through which he
has gone. If the Jungfrau Railway is ever finished,
the view from the summit will produce upon travellers
who mount by its long tunnel a very different impres
sion from that received by a climber who laboriously
fights his way to the top over long glaciers and snow-
fields and up steepening ice-slopes and the final ridge.
A prize seized and possessed as the outcome of long
and well-spent energy will be to its owner a much more
delightful thing than a prize won in a raffle. It is the
difference between a war medal and a five-shilling piece.
If my readers care to feel even a semblance of what I
have felt, they must, in some degree at least, travel the
road with me. I cannot even leap with them from
London to Bolivia, for the eyes that I opened on Bolivia's
lofty plateau had traversed its far and near environ
ment, and were equipped for interpreting the scene w^th
something acquired on the way in the long days of land
and sea travel thither.

LONDON TO COLON
It was on the 13th of July, 1898, that I sailed from
Southampton by the Royal Mail Company's steamship
Don, the same boat that nineteen years before carried
Mr. Whymper to his famous journey of exploration in
the Great Andes of Ecuador. Like him, I was accom
panied by two Alpine guides from the village of Val
Tournanche, Antoine Maquignaz and Louis Pellissier
by name. Pellissier had never been from home before,
but Maquignaz, in 1897, was H.R.H. the Duke of the
Abruzzi's leading guide in the journey which resulted
in the first ascent of Mount St. Elias in Alaska. I
took him on the recommendation of his uncle, J. B.
Aymonod, one of the most charming as well as one of
the best mountain-guides, who accompanied Mr. E. A.
Fitzgerald and me on our Alps from End to End journey
in 1894. How Pellissier was enlisted I forget, or I
would here record my thankfulness to the power that
gave me so admirable a companion. Maquignaz is
the son of Jean Pierre and nephew of Jean Joseph
Maquignaz, two very famous guides, both members
of the first party that ever climbed the Matter-
horn from the Italian side, as readers of Whymper's
Scrambles may remember. Jean Joseph, with Dan
iel, brother of Antoine Maquignaz, also made the
historic first ascent of the Aiguille du G^ant. My
leading guide was thus a representative of one of
the most famous guide families of the Alps.
Early in the afternoon of a lovely day our ves
sel cast off her moorings and steamed away down
Southampton Water; the sun shone on white-sailed
yachts racing before a merry breeze. A big North
German Lloyd liner turned round beside us, picked
3

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
up passengers and mails from a tender, and was off
again, westward ho! Two hours later she was out of
sight ahead. Of all the chief ocean entries to England
this by the Needles is incomparably the finest, the
most beautiful, the great historic approach; what
greetings and farewells have saluted those white
blades thrust upward from the blue sea!
Four days of pleasant monotony followed, each a
little warmer than the one before. Such wind as
blew followed in our wake and scarcely rocked the
ship. All this time we were in the West Indies; for
it is one of the charms of ocean travel in a big liner
that the moment you have sailed you are in the coun
try towards which you are sailing. In a yacht, wher
ever you go, you remain at home, for the home party
surrounds you ; but in a public liner you at once form
part of a company most of whom belong to the place
of destination. An outward-bound P. & 0. is a piece
of India; an outward-bound Cunarder is the United
States in miniature. Our Royal Mail boat was an
epitome of the West Indies. The moment we sailed
England became a memory to all; their holiday was
ended, they were returning to their respective homes.
At Barbados, the great West Indian junction, they
would scatter to all their islands, from St. Kitts to
Trinidad and south to Demerara. A few would come
on to Jamaica, and very few to Colon for Central Amer
ica; only three or four were bound with me for Peru.
No sooner, then, was our English coast lost in the
summer haze than their talk was of the West Indies,
of the sugar industry especially, and of "bounties "J
of fruit-growing, and the need of swift steamers to
4

LONDON TO COLON
pour the oranges and bananas and mangoes of Ja
maica into the London markets; of local politics and
problems, the need for retrenchment in public ex
penditures; of the negro and labor questions in some
of their infinite forms; of land questions, of possible
new industries, and what not.
Such talk with a number of men, each of whom
knows by experience the difi&culties of his own prob
lem, is the best preparation for viewing their country,
which swiftly gains actuality and ceases to be a mere
figure on a map. Charts are produced, descriptions
given, plans for the employment of one's time suggest
ed, invitations hospitably tendered. Thus what a few
days before was but a name takes form in one's mind
as solid ground. The various islands begin to have
each an individuality of its own. As one walks the
deck with a fellow-passenger after the morning bath,
or in the intervals of squash cricket or some other
game, the stone walls of reserve fall down; the man
tells his tale to a sympathetic companion — you hear
of his home, in Scotland, it may be, of his store in
Trinidad, or his plantation in Jamaica, of his difficul
ties, his successes, and his hopes. A week or two
so spent expands life. The young men and maidens
on board danced and sang every evening, and played
games vigorously all day long, whatever the heat;
cricket every afternoon, and shovel-board at intervals,
the ancient "slide-thrift, otherwise called shove-
grout," one of the "crafty games" rendered illegal
by an act of Henry VIII. "for the maintaining ar
tillery." On the morning of our fourth day of warming air
5

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
and pleasant breezes I came on deck to find the cliffs
of San Miguel, the largest of the Azores, close at hand.
The island front was swimming in moisture-laden,
sunny air, and girt by the white-maned horses of a
turquoise sea. Boldly profiled cliffs of scarred red
rock or steep tree-dotted slopes support the cultivated
land — an undulating area of green and golden squares,
vineyards, and cornfields. Deep wooded chines are cut
into the swelling mass. Higher aloft ridges fringed
with trees ran together into graceful peaks, or lost them
selves in a soft roof of cloud which floated over the
island. Down by the shore glittered white-walled cot
tages or farms. A larger splash of brightness away
to the westward revealed the town and church of Villa
Franca. An hour or two later this land of beauty and
romance had melted away into light, through stages
of increasing transparency, and so disappeared, long
before dipping behind the horizon bounds.
Beyond the Azores came weather quite reason
ably warmed through, a delight to experience after
a background of cold English spring; yet, thank
Heaven! our race was nurtured in east winds and
gray skies, which drive men to keep moving, and make
work essential to happiness. In the tropics work is
a curse; in England and the other arctic regions it
is a joy. On the eleventh day out (noon, lat. 14° 45' N.,
long. 57° 11' E.) we came into a dirty green sea, colored,
I was told, by the mud of South American rivers; we
also entered an area of splendid torrential showers,
good to watch as they swept over the ocean. Next
morning our anchor was punctually dropped at six
o'clock in the harbor of Barbados, an island about as
6

LONDON TO COLON
large as the Isle of Wight. The omnibus steamers
that come from different directions to meet the mail
were anchored around, boats and launches were flying
to and fro, while shrieking negro boys in their tiny
home-made craft congregated about our ship to dive
for coins. I made haste to land, in company with
Mr. F. Cundall, the capable Director of the Jamaica
Institute — a kind of offshoot of the English Science
and Art Department. We jumped into a buggy with
out delay and drove out into the country.
I make no attempt to catalogue what we saw. The
impression made upon me was overpowering and will
last. The town was well enough, and its historical
reminiscences would have sufficed to fill many days
with interest, but these were insignificant behind the
immediate sense of exuberant life, animal and vege
table. The ways simply abounded in niggers; their
bits of cottages were everywhere ; their babies swarmed
like flies in Egypt. Nature provides a perfect setting
for these white-robed throngs on the white roads flood
ed with sunshine. It was the flamboyant trees that
completed my wonder, trees like acacias, but with
scarlet flowers instead of green leaves. I suppose
they have leaves, but it is the flowers that you see,
a flush of glory overarching the roads and contrasting
with the blue sky and piled-up towers of white cloud.
There were palms waving beside them, and the white
walls of houses and gardens flooded with Bougain-
villeas in full bloom; and there were hibiscus, and I
know not what more, all bursting with life and tri
umphing in gay efflorescence. There were orchards
and gardens and sugar plantations covering every
7

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
yard of cultivable land, for the population is too great
for the land, so that not an inch can be left unfilled.
The pressure of population in Barbados, like the cli
mate in Europe, forces men to labor.
As we drove inland we rose above the sea-level
and obtained wider views. A beautiful garden ap
peared in a fine position. The house was embow
ered in the flamboyant trees. I made bold to drive
up to it; it proved to be the residence of the Colo
nial Secretary, and the master gave us hospitable
entertainment. I tried to take a photograph in natural
colors* of the gorgeous vegetation, but the breeze
would not permit a sufficiently long exposure. We
drank our morning coffee on the terrace under the
shadow of flowers, with a landscape of sugar-fields
stretching away to the beautiful sea. The drive
was continued through intricate lanes, abounding
in niggers, and past barracks and drill-grounds down
to the hotel at Hastings-by-the-Sea, where we lunched
on flying-fish and mangoes, and rejoiced to be alive.
A couple of months later came a great hurricane that
blew flat all the trees and ravaged the gardens that
were now looking so fair; but the same nature that
destroyed will raise again, and ten years hence the de
struction of yesterday will be unperceived.
The last hours of our stay in Barbados were spent
in the club, among a group of captains and ship
ping agents, the local personification of that old and
most respectable company, the Royal Mail, which
seems to hold the West Indies in the hollow of its hand.
* Ives's process. The apparatus, which is not expensive, can be
bought in London from the Photochromoscope Syndicate
8

LONDON TO COLON
The talk was of harbor-masterships vacant, and who
would get them; of the prospects of one man and the
misfortunes of another; of how Jones was getting fat
and Brown was drinking too much; of the parson's
wife, who makes the best guava jelly in the world;
and of a certain dozen bottles of Barbados rum lying
hidden somewhere, that surpassed all other spirits
ever distilled since the foundation of the earth. At
last the company broke up and went aboard the various
steamers already weighing their anchors. An hour
later, when the sun was setting beneath a towering
purple cloud with a great gold wing, three spots of
smoke on the horizon showed where the scattering^
ships were gone.
From Barbados to Jacmel, in Hayti, is a run of 815
miles. At an early hour one morning we entered
the beautiful bay, and the cutter was launched to
land the mails. As an exceptional privilege, and
after undertaking to be responsible for our own safety,
Cundall and I were allowed to land. Few travellers
in recent years have landed at Jacmel. The "Black
Republic," whose birth was watched with an ill-
founded enthusiasm, and whose history is a tale of
steady decadence, cannot even keep order in the foul
streets of one of its chief ports. Seen from the ship,
Jacmel looks lovely, a specimen of tropical village of
picturesque huts among graceful palms, surrounded
by hills whose densely wooded covering has the velvety
texture, even when beheld from a great distance, that
differentiates tropical from temperate forests. I sup
pose there exists in the whole round world no island
more blessed with natural beauty than Hajrti. Its
9

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
bays, its beautiful hills rising to 12,000 feet, its in
comparably fertile soil, its wealth of water, should
combine to make it the very garden of the earth; but
it is a garden inhabited by a people sinking back into
savagery and for whom there will be no salvation till
the white man has shouldered them again as part
of his burden. The day that the United States, having
brought order and prosperity to Cuba and Porto Rico,
adds Hayti and Santo Domingo to its growing empire,
will be the most fortunate that has ever dawned on
those unhappy regions since Columbus discovered the
island of Hispaniola.
Rowing ashore, we landed at a half -ruined jetty,
near which rose an ugly arch of triumph made of
planks in honor of the recent visit of President Heu-
reaux of Santo Domingo (since murdered). It may
have cost $50 to build. I am told that it figured in
the republic's accounts for some $30,000. Near the
landing-place was the town pump, only a foot or two
away from a stinking sewer. There was also a broken
electric light on a post. Beyond a paved street, rather
rougher than an average moraine, were some crazy
public buildings, made of planks nailed to a frame,
and roofed with corrugated iron; many of the planks
were loose and most were rotten. The filth of the
streets was indescribable; the few people about were
as degraded and dirty as any I ever saw. They looked
upon us with eyes of malignant suspicion. The
houses matched the people. There was no proper road
leading inland, but only a wandering track, which
amply suffices for all the trade that comes to this port.
If there were any energy or uprightness in people or
10

A peasant's hut, JAMAICA

ARCH OF TRIUMPH AT JACMEL

LONDON TO COLON
government, Jacmel ought to be a thriving emporium
of trade. But it is as good as dead. The degradation
of the people is lower than in the days of slavery.*
The sight of Jacmel is one of the most horrible I
ever beheld. If civilization's day is ever done, and
mankind begins to rot away, it v\ill die out like this.
Whoever has seen Jacmel will be cured for life of the
belief that self-government is any panacea for human
ills. Under self-government Hayti has sunk from a
thriving community to a foul blot on the face of the
earth. However well self-government may suit some
few white races, it is poison to blacks, and the man
who takes it away from them will be their greatest
benefactor. Under no system of slavery and despotism
could the individual's state be more miserable than
it is in Jacmel to-day. With joy we found ourselves
again on board ship, which all day long sailed by
the south coast of the island — an array of beautiful
hills, fair valleys, and pleasant, undulating lowlands.
Next morning (July 29th) we came early in sight
of Jamaica, and watched the Blue Mountains, d^^ed
purple and gold in the glory of sunrise. While round
ing Port Royal and entering the fair bay of King
ston, we talked of Rodney and Nelson. Cundall, with
his wealth of local knoAvledge, peopled the scene for
"¦ " In Haiti," says Henry Sandham in Harper's Magazine
(August, 1899), " if you see a bridge, go round it ; whenever you see
a sidewalk, take the road. ... I wish it were possible even to refer
to all the evidence ot the high state of civilization of this island only
one hundred years ago that we passed in our climb up that mountain ;
aqueducts, bridges, houses, gateways, etc., to say nothing of sections
of broad, well-paved highways, that must have been marvels— all
destroyed when Haiti became a republic." TI

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
me with heroes of the past. Under his hospitable
wing I spent the next two days in uninterrupted en
joyment. Between Kingston and Jacmel no more
emphatic contrast can be conceived. Nature is the
same in both ; the difference is in man. The Jamaica
negro is the best negro in the New World; such, at
any rate, is the officially recorded experience of the
contractors for the Panama Canal.* Though not
an agreeable person, by all accounts, the Jamaica
negro is a fairly good workman, and has other merits.
I suppose that, like other negroes, he is a problem;
but this book is no place for problems, nor was I travel
ling in the part of special Providence. Jamaica to
me was a picture, a scene of abounding beauty and
exuberant vegetable wealth. From Barbados to Pana
ma the luxuriance of vegetation continually increased,
and it was this preparation of the eye that made the
Peruvian desert so appalling a contrast. For this
reason only do I here briefly refer to a country that has
* " Dans ces colonies (les Antilles anglaises) la liberation du nfegre
ne lui a pas fait oublier sa place naturelle, et s'il avail eu quelque
tendance k en perdre le souvenir, ses maitres de la veille, ses supSrieurs
d'aujourd'hui, auraient su le lui rappeler. La race s'est conserves
intelligente et forte, et, en quelques ann6es, de ces cultivateurs de cafe
on {i. e., the canal engineers) a pu faire des mecaniciens et des chauf
feurs capables de conduire des locomotives ; on a fait meme des ter-
rassiers chargeants aux grands wagons, ce qui represente un effort
de travail considerable dans ces pays chauds. En resume, cette
categorie d'ouvriers a donne des satisfactions relatives ; en tout eas,
c'est la categorie certainement la plus elevee de travailleurs qui soit
venue s'employer au Canal. . . . Les ouvriers blancs, seuls, ap-
portent, dans ce qu'ils font, la conscience du devoir k accomplir et la
vanite de I'ouvrage bien presente. Le nfegre, avec son laisser-aller et
son sentiment de maraudeur, n'est pas capable de cette notion."—
P. Bunau-Varilla, Panama. Paris, 1892, 8vo, pp. 60, 61.
12

LONDON TO COLON
been completeh" described by generations of \isitors
and inhabitants.
My whole time was spent on the plain and slopes
between Kingston and the Blue Mountains, in weather
that was fine, though punctuated with thunder-storms.
We saw the hills from the plain, as a purple wall piled
high with white domes of cloud, a background to roj-al
palms of Cuba and flamboyant trees; we looked down
from the hills upon the plain, girt and framed by them,
spreading away green and rich to the glittering sea.
I shall never forget the view of the lulls from the Hope
Botanical Gardens — a foreground of fair la\\'ns and
chosen trees, where the orchid-house is a palm avenue,
and where ferns grow with superb luxuriance. Nor
shall I ever forget the panorama of the plain from
the old barracks, now Reformatory', of Stony Hill,
the crest of the road crossing the island from south
to north; nor the gorgeous storm that stalked across
it, coming down in great majesty from the mountains
and vanishing over the sea. If I had a week in Ja
maica again I would devote much of it to the various
botanical gardens, where man asks questions and
Nature makes reply. There are experimental stations
in the hills and in the plains, large cinchona and
orange plantations on suitable lands, grounds de
voted to experiments with sugar, pineapples, and
fruits of all sorts. It is impossible to overestimate
the value of this work to the island. If sugar fails it,
there is hardly a limit to its possible fruit production ;
but the native fruits are not good enough for export.
Oranges, mangoes, pineapples need cultivation and
improvement, and the way of doing this is shown for
13

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the people at trifling cost, under the control of able
men of science. Such did not appear to be the opinion
of the elected members of the legislature, whose de
bate on the estimates for these very gardens I had
the opportunity of attending. They were for closing
as many of them as possible. They proposed to
abandon to destruction a plantation of 100,000 young
orange-trees. "What's the use of trying to improve
our oranges?" they said. "They are the best in the
world as they are, growing silvestre, sown by the
birds. It is all waste of energy. Look at your cin
chona plantation — what that cost. Let us close them
all and save money."
A little of this kind of debate was enough. Cun
dall whisked me off to see his museum, where is a
library of books and prints dealing with Jamaica,
laboriously brought together by him out of the second
hand booksellers' catalogues of the world. A glimpse
into the natural - history museum, with its beautiful
preparations of marine organisms and its remarkable
collection of local cretaceous fossils, was all that I was
allowed; then off to Gordontown in the hills, by way
of the Hope Botanical Gardens and a fine road zig
zagging up a deep valley densely wooded with blos
soming trees and creepers, and flowers below — a perfect
bewilderment of beauty, all reeking wet after one of
the frequent downpours proper to this time of year.
One could almost see things growing in the dampness.
We drove back to Cundall's house, with a flaming
gold sunset above the dark plain; and, after a dinner
of novel foods and fruits, spent a long, delightful
evening under the stars, with music of the trees and
14

LONDON TO COLON
the gentle, perfume-laden breeze. The last thing I
remember in Jamaica was breakfast in the beautiful
garden of an old Cambridge contemporary, beneath a
gorgeous flamboyant tree with a royal palm above it
and the Blue Mountains behind. The cool morning
air was perfectly still ; the low sun drew long shadows
across the dew-spangled grass ; humming-birds seemed
to hang over the bushes like live flowers. In the midst
of this paradise my friend talked of his longing for
gray, damp, populous old home.

CHAPTER II
THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA
ALL too soon for me we were aboard and away,
f-\ sailing no longer westward, with the swell be
hind, but south, for two nights and a day of
solid discomfort — typical weather for the Caribbean
Sea. The almost empty ship was rolled about by
the agitated waters. Deluges of rain fell, winds
blew, and thunder crashed. The air was as heavy
with moisture as it could be soaked. All on board
were limp and many were sea-sick. Thus when
we anchored off Colon, least attractive of ports, it
seemed quite a haven of rest, though when the time
came for shifting my baggage from boat to train it
proved to be the very reverse. In no hurry to land,
I sat for an hour or two with the ship's officers, to
whose kindness I am much indebted, and talked
with the many Colonians who came aboard on ap
parent business of one kind and another, but really
to ask for ice. In the Republic of Colombia ice is a
government monopoly. The supply for the Isthmus
is made at Panama, and just now — horror of horrors ! 
the ice-machine had broken down ; so the entire popula
tion, from highest to lowest, had to drink their cock
tails tepid during three whole weeks! Revolutions
have arisen from lesser misfortunes. i6

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA
The site of Colon is by nature a rank tropical swamp.
ft has been partly reclaimed by the railway and canal
companies. Most of it, however, is not reclaimed at
all, and there the houses are built, like prehistoric
lake-dwellings, on piles sunk into the black swamp,
into which also the black, whity-brown, or yellow in
habitants cast the refuse of their filthy lives, so that
the accumulation swimming or stranded below the
houses is as vile and putrid as anything to be found
in the worst back-eddy of a European sewer. " Colon
unhealthy!" said a man to me, with modest depreca
tion. " Colon unhealthy ! Do you thinli people could
live like this if the place were not naturally one
of the healthiest in the world? Now Panama and
Guayaquil, if you lilce, ..." It was alwaji-s that
way; no one would ever acknowledge his town to be
unhealthj\ " Yellow - fever ! We've not had yellow-
fever here for twenty- years, but at Cartagena the
workmen are d^Hng like flies." I dare say at Carta
gena they would have reported an epidemic at Co
lon. An embanked promenade, vith an avenue of cocoa-
palms leading to De Lesseps' abandoned house, and
a statue of Columbus protecting (good heavens!) an
emblematical figure of America — these are all the
sights of Colon. When I had seen them I returned
to the ship, where my doings had been reported. " If
that man goes on walking about in the sun, he'll be
doAvn with j^ellow-fever by evening," said some one
of me ; but it was no use foreboding ; I was here to see
things and intended to see them. After a frightful
struggle my goods were all booked at the station and
B 17

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
we were ready to start upon the most expensive journey
for its length in the world, not even excepting the
Mendoza Raihvaj^ From Colon to Panama the dis
tance is about forty-five miles. The fare for myself,
the two guides, and the baggage was over £io. At
last the train started and we soon came upon the wreck
of the savings of the good people of France. It was a
pitiful sight. There were rows of dredges in the
water, and fields of abandoned machinery on shore,
much of it never even put together, more put together
but never used, boilers, piles of rails and tram-lines,
innumerable trucks with their wood-work rotted away,
sheds full of engines, the whole invaded by tropical
growth and standing on the edge of the rank swamp
through which the railroad runs. Presenth' come drier
patches where bananas grow, and palms matted with
creepers. It was a disappointment to find all this
soaking greenery hardly enlivened by a single blos
som. By degrees the land became more solid and a
hard mound or two emerged from the pools of lazih^
flowing waters that still predominated. The whole
region had an abandoned aspect. It seemed as though
vegetation overpowered animal life. Birds were few.
Yet there must have been something to shoot, or the
gun-carrying nigger I saw waiting about, up to his
waist in water, would hardly have looked so cheerful.
Imagination pictured the place full of things creep
ing and gliding. Damp, tropical regions always pro
duce on me the impression that whoever made them
made them to be the home of vegetation, and that man
is out of place in them. The conditions are hostile
to his habitation. He may come and look but if he
i8

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA
stays his active energies are sapped and he tends to
vegetate himself.
Where the ground began to rise definitely we came
to the station and village of Gatun on the famous (or
infamous) Chagres River. The \illage consisted of
a corrugated iron church and rows of plank huts
with iron roofs, all evidentlj" made to a set of patterns
and imported from France — so many houses of one
type, so mam' of another. It was all prettily enough
projected, but multitudes of difficulties arose that were
unforeseen in the hurry of reckless enthusiasm.
"The fundamental error made by De Lesseps and
his associates," WTites Colonel William Ludlow,* "was
in basing the Panama plans and estimates upon the
most favorable results obtained in the Suez construc
tions, without making adequate or any allowance for
the radicallj' different conditions. Suez was merely
one hundred miles of level digging through sand, in
a region where the rainfall is but an inch or two in
the year, the climate comparatively cool and health
ful, a large supply of native labor, and the mechanical
resources of Europe at no great distance; but, not
withstanding these advantages, the work, planned on
an estimate of §40,000,000, cost Si 10,000,000, on a
reduced cross-section, before it was opened. The
physical conditions on the Isthmus are the precise
reverse of those in Egj-pt, and the cost of everj- item
of work was enormoush' greater. A material in
crease was inevitable, even with the most careful
and economic management. The scarcity- and dimin-
* Harper's Magazine, ilay, 1898, p. 842, an excellent summary of
" The Trans-Isthmian Canal Problem." 19

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ished effectiveness of labor, losses from disease and
sickness, the interference and burden of the heavy
rainfaU, would at least have doubled cost, and to
these drawbacks were added poHtical disturbances
and local acts of violence, with a home administra
tion of unparalleled extravagance."
The estimated cost of the whole enterprise was
$210,000,000. In 1888, five years from the commence
ment of work, $300,000,000 were actually spent and
only one-third of the work to be done was completed.
The consequent failure of the company was due only
in a small part to financial improprieties. Reckless
impatience was the main cause of ruin. If a long
experimental stage had been passed through first,
and the conditions of the problem had been discovered
and overcome one by one before work on a great scale
was taken in hand, a very different result would have
been arrived at. In fact, most of the $300,000,000
was spent experimentally, and therefore largely
wasted. Even when the company went into liquida
tion, its remaining assets being some $70,000,000
(including the Panama Railroad), and some $15,000,-
000 recovered from blackmailers, the new company,
which continued the enterprise, had to spend most of
its funds on the very experiments which ought to have
been made before regular work was ever begun. It
has, moreover, dredged the mouth of the Rio Grande
and carried a deep channel three miles out to sea; it
has also built a pier and port near Panama, and deep
ened the Emperador and Culebra sections. The orig
inal design, it must be remembered, was for a sea-
level canal — a Bosporus. This was soon changed
20

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA
to a lake and ten-lock canal, and this has been varied
several times, while the width of the water-way has
been greatly reduced. Of course, the cessation of
work in 1888, and the consequent scattering of the
staff, many of whom had become immune from the
local fevers, was in itself a great destruction of capital.
As the train carried us along, I noticed that the
soil of the middle region was rich and red, and that
the waters of the Chagres, flowing along in great
flood, were thick with it. Heavy clouds drifted over
head; every moment we expected a new torrential
downpour to redrench the sopping earth. Such storms
are of daily occurrence in the rainy season ; they raise
the Chagres twenty or thirty feet in a few hours. A
river like that is indeed a wild neighbor for a canal
which has to borrow the river's bed in several places.
Between Gatun and Bujio came low hills, with a few
cane-walled, thatched huts in clearings, and some
banana-groves and patches of indifferent cultivation,
but nature retains the upper hand.
Bujio is a finer village than Gatun, with great wealth
of corrugated iron, and in its neighborhood are acres
on acres of wasted machinery lying about on the ground
among trucks and numbered huts and bits of shaped
iron and steel; and there is a street of stores where
Chinese swarm, dressed in ugly European clothes.
The air here was more recl^y than ever, though a
storm had recently passed over. The people came
crowding down to the steamer just like any throng
of Hindoos. Here was the Chagres River once more,
flowing with swift current, while every flat place was
under water. It is at this spot, according to most of

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the projects, that the great dam should be built to close
the Chagres River and catch its flood in a lake which
at the smallest estimate would be very large. Whether
the dam would withstand the sudden pressure of the
enormous floods which rise in this district is a question
that engineers must answer. I believe there is some
doubt about it.
Another field of abandoned machinery, more big
dredges in the river, then the tropical bush began
as before, deluged and covered up in creepers and
saturated with wet. To continue cataloguing the
flotsam and jetsam of the Canal Company is scarcelj^
worth while. We passed whole villages of empty
huts and more fields of machinery than I could keep
count of. At last came really higher ground and
fairly open country; that is to say, country that had
been cleared and kept clear of bush, where the high
est village, though most of the houses in it were empty,
had a healthier and more livable appearance, and the
air felt fresher than any we had breathed thus far.
Near the station some kind of a itte was going on,
to the accompaniment of a fife-and-drum band, while
a cricket-match was being played by the negroes, and
the ball had just been landed with a mighty swipe
right into the heart of the neighboring bush. We
thus came out on the top level and saw the famous
Culebra cutting, which, to my astonishment, appeared
practically finished. There were still three thousand
men at work upon it, but all that remained for them
to do was a relatively small deepening of the gigantic
trench which yawned before us.
The descent to the flat plain, at the edge of which
22

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA
the town of Panama is built, carried us through scenery
in most respects similar to that passed on the ascent,
though the hills were more picturesque, the slopes
more rapid, and the valleys more precipitous. It is
not on this side that the problem of the canal is difficult
of solution. The two great difficulties, as everybody
knows, have been to form a stable cutting through
the rotten substance of the Culebra Hill and to deal
with the flood waters of the Chagres River. The
Culebra cutting is practically complete, and I do not
think that any doubt remains as to the success of that
gigantic undertaking, but the problem of the Chagres
River is not yet solved. One of two things must be
done — either a great lake must be made to catch the
tremendous floods that come down in the rainy season,
or the course of the river itself must be changed by
carrying a tunnel through from the west, whereby
the waters of the Chagres would be thrown off down
the Pacific slope into the Bay of Panama. Which of
these alternatives will ultimately be adopted I do not
know.

CHAPTER III
A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
IT has been my good or ill fortune to visit Panama
on three different occasions. Perhaps the most
interesting of these visits was the second, made
in the summer of 1890. A few days before sailing from
London I had met a Colombian gentleman. "Is it true
that there is a revolution going forward in your coun
try?" I asked. "That is nothing," was his reply;
"it is our substitute for cricket. Our young men
must have their games." A month later I saw the
game played. It proved to be not unexciting.
On the morning of July 24th we landed at Colon.
Telegraph communication with Panama was interrupt
ed, and the local newspapers were silent about the exist
ence of military operations, but report said that Panama
was besieged and was to be stormed that day. "Be
sieged!" snorted our Yankee skipper; "I have seen
these disturbances. Two smafl bodies of opposing
troops come in sight of one another. They fire their
guns in the air and then they run away in opposite di
rections. That is a Central American revolution. You
won't have any trouble." We climbed on board the
morning train, which started as usual for Colon. I
sat beside a French engineer of the Panama Canal,
and was fully occupied for the two or three hours of the
24

A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
journey in observing the works accomplished or in prog
ress, which he explained to me. Three thousand men
are still continually at work, and the great Culebra cut
ting has been excavated down to the level of 45 metres
above the sea. At Culebra the engineer left me, and
a short time afterwards the train halted in the outskirts
of Panama. We had heard no firing, and were skepti
cal about there being any fighting. Looking forward
along the fine, I saw a man wave his hat, whereupon
the train advanced slowly. It entered a shallow cutting
with a high bank on the right (Panama behind it) and
a low one on the left. Looking up to the right, we saw a
few armed men, and presently discovered that the whole
length of that embankment was topped by a breast
work lined with riflemen, whose heads occasionally
peeped over and looked at us. Three himdred yards or so
away to the left in a scrub-covered swamp were an in
determinate number of men, the attacking force. Across
the fine a little way ahead was a road-bridge, which
proved to be the object of attack. A few hundred yards
farther ahead was the corrugated iron railway station,
ending in a warehouse carried on a pier stretching out
into the sea. We had not advanced many yards tow
ards the bridge before a few shots were fired, the temp
tation of the heads peering over at the train probably
being too much for the attacking force. They were at
once replied to, and, before we realized what was hap
pening, the train was between two lines of some 2000
fighting-men, separated by less than a quarter of a rmle,
and pumping lead at one another from Mauser rifles.
A shell dropped near the bridge as we crossed below it.
The men on our right fired over the train, but the
25

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
cars were often exposed to the insurgents on our left,
and bullets came over in a horizontal stream, the
cars being freely hit. Down on the floor dropped the
passengers with singular unanimity. "AU come for
ward to the baggage van," shouted the guard; and
forward they went along the corridor of the traia, grovel
ling on hands and knees, the funniest sight imagina-
able. There were old and young, men and women,
priests, niggers, peasants, bagmen, globe-trotters, and
what not. One very fat old negress blocked the way,
and a yet fatter priest climbed on her, like one tortoise
over another. Both got wedged between the seats.
As a matter of fact, one place was as safe or dangerous
as another.
In this condition the train stopped in the goods station,
and every one was left to shift for himself. There were,
of course, no porters or officials of any sort ; there was
nowhere for the passengers to go. Bullets were coming
freely through the shed, and a few hours later our train
was itself the main point of attack, the two opposing
forces fighting between the wheels and through the
windows. At present, however, the attack was only
beginning to be pressed home. The passengers having
local knowledge melted away in a moment, and we
foreigners, a dozen men, were left like sheep without a
shepherd. Under the impression that I was going tow
ards the town, I walked along the shore and came out
directly into the open, faced by a line of skirmishers,
who gave me a warm reception. I doubled back with
no undue delay and entered the American company's
warehouse on the pier, wherein a great multi-colored
mob were sheltering. Several individuals were wounded
26

A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
there in rapid succession. Every man I asked for
geographical information was in no condition to give
it, till I struck a young Jamaica negro, who professed
to know the position of the American Consulate. By
this time I had lost all trace of my fellow-travellers,
who were somewhere in the crowded warehouse, so the
negro and I sallied forth alone down a bullet-swept
street and then around a corner. We passed carts laden
with dead and wounded, bumping hideously against
one another over the uneven road. The streets were
practically deserted, but almost every house displayed a
flag, English and American flags being commonest —
any flag, indeed, except the Colombian. It looked as
though some f^te was about to take place. Through
doors ajar and barred windows frightened faces peeped
and withdrew. W^e passed two men firing their rifles
this way and that, in a state of excitement, either
drunk or running amuck. Bullets were always whis
tling overhead and pinging against the houses.
The American Consulate was full of refugees, for
whom the hospitable Consul was at his wits' end to find
food, none having entered the town for some days.
Newly directed, I found my way to the house of Mr.
Mallet, the English Consul, who most kindly received me.
This house also had been struck by plenty of missiles,
and I suppose that few houses in the town escaped.
Later in the day my fellow-travellers told their story.
After waiting on the pier under fire for an hour or two,
they fortunately attracted the attention of a boat's crew
of H. M. S. Leander, and were rowed off to a schooner
out of the reach of danger, where they remained without
food till the middle of the afternoon, watching the battle,
27

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
which went forward on the beach and a short way inland
before their eyes. There was no firing of guns into the
air and running away. The combat was waged on both
sides with the utmost bravery, the opposing forces being
always at close range. Several times the insurgents
charged the barricaded bridge and the intrenched rail
way embankment and station. Once they all but car
ried the position by direct assault. They could not
turn it, for it was protected at one end by the sea and at
the other by a pathless swamp. When evening came
the position of the two parties was unchanged. There
were unsuccessful night attacks, and firing went on al
most all night.
Neither side had any ambulance arrangements worth
mention. Asked for their ambulance, the insurgents
produced two spades. Accordingly, Captain Fegan
landed an ambulance party and a hundred men from
H.M.S. Leander next morning, and a suspension of hos
tilities was arranged. The scenes in and about the
trenches were of the most horrible description. Nearly
one-quarter of the troops engaged on both sides were
killed or wounded. The trenches were full of dead.
The wounded had crawled into neighboring houses and
hidden themselves under beds and in various holes and
corners, where many of them had died. Nothing had
been done for them. No surgical treatment whatever
had been applied. The injured men displayed the ut
most apathy. They neither groaned nor complained.
One or two came to have bullets cut out, and stood ap
parently unconcerned throughout painful operations.
Equally apathetic were the uninjured. They offered
no help to the British tars, and even refused to lend a
28

A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
hand towards moving the wounded when asked to do so.
No attempt had been made to collect, still less to bury,
the dead, upon whom the tropical sun had been pour
ing down for a whole day. Fighting recommenced the
second afternoon, and was continued all night again,
but the insurgents' task was now hopeless. The gov
ernment had received reinforcements at Colon, and it
was a mere question of hours when they would arrive
by train. Still, the insurgents continued the fight,
hurling themselves against an impregnable position.
Their two field-guns were tolerably well handled, but
the defences were too strong. All night long the rain
of bullets poured upon the town; the principal hotel
was hit every few minutes, and the visitors lying in
their beds had their windows broken or heard the bullets
hammering on the walls.
On the third day the ambulance party again went
forth. Before the morning was far advanced the in
surgents, after receiving a guarantee that no one's
life should be taken, made an otherwise uncondi
tional surrender. The town immediately came to life.
Though the inhabitants almost to a man sympathized
with the insurgents, they hurried out into the streets
wearing the government colors, and all was rejoicing
and triumph. An amnesty was at once issued to all
political offenders, and the revolution was at an end so
far as Panama was concerned. The disorganized local
authority was incapable of dealing with the problem of
burying the dead. The wounded had been carried by
the sailors to the hospitals of the Canal Company and
the town, where, however, there was no accommodation
except the floor for more than a small portion of them.
29

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
The dead stiU lay in the roads, the streets, the trenches,
and beneath bushes where they fell. Ghastly sights met
the eye on all sides— frightful things no longer recogniz
able as men. Thousands and tens of thousands of car
rion crows came flying in from all directions and settled
upon the field of battle. At night some attempt was
made to burn the bodies with petroleum, but it was un
successful — indeed, onlj'^ made matters worse. Next
day the condition of things grew yet more disgusting
and dangerous to the public health. A wind blowing
over the trenches to the town rendered it almost unin
habitable. Next night a better -organized effort was
made. Big fires were lit and well supplied with brush
wood and oil, and most of the bodies were disposed of
in a sufficiently grewsome fashion. There was nothing
exceptional in this treatment of the dead. It is the
South American revolutionary fashion. All over
South America, where there have been battles, you
find human bones Ij'ing about until nature does away
with them. Sometimes, perhaps, as near Lima, you
may meet with a monumental bone-house, where the
skeletons have been gleaned and piled together, but
that is the exception. -The rule is to leave the dead
where they fall, for the sun and the crows to deal with
after their fashion.
During the week I spent at Panama and in its neigh
borhood, in 1898, 1 devoted most of my time to the in
vestigation of the present condition and past history of
the canal; and I concluded, as I believe every one con
cludes who investigates the matter, that the canal can
be and will be finished at no very distant date and
no very vast expenditure of money, and this whether
.30

PANAMA CATHEDRAL

PALM AVENUE, PANAMA

A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
the Nicaragua Canal is made or not. It is impossible
to imagine that, when such an enormous fraction of
the work has been completed, it will be allowed to go
to ruin. If the worse comes to the worst, and the
French Concession lapses and the works revert to
the Republic of Colombia, it is obvious that the gov
ernment will be willing to get them completed, at how
ever low a price it may be necessary for them to reckon
the work that has been done. I have not been over any
part of the site of the Nicaragua Canal, but one fact
about the region through which that must pass is, I
believe, admitted by all — it is a region where earth
quakes are very frequent. Now whether a lock-
canal can be safely maintained in an earthquake
region, no one knows. Possibly the locks might be
frequently deranged or put entirely out of action.
No such misfortune is likely to interfere with the
locks of the Panama Canal, for I believe the Isthmus,
in this neighborhood, at any rate, is free from earth
quakes. Undoubtedly it would be well to have two
canals, and that may be the outcome. But if there
is to be only one, the short Panama Canal, which is
now in so advanced a state of excavation, undoubt
edly offers the best chance of success.
As a town Panama is greatly to be preferred to
Colon, for Colon is nothing but a nineteenth-century
settlement, while Panama has some of the dignity
and picturesqueness of an old Spanish city. It has
its churches, its large cathedral and fine houses,
and is apparently a more important centre of trade.
The hotel was haunted by a most entertaining
crowd of old inhabitants, who, as usual, protested
31

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
against any reflections on the salubriousness of the
city. " Yellow - fever, my dear sir? We never have it;
healthiest place in these regions; never had fever
in my life, and I've lived here fifty years come next
January. Now, for a pest-house, take Colon or Guay
aquil. Those are foul places, where they have fever
all the time; but Panama is as good a place to live
in as there is in the world."
"But it's dull here," interrupted his neighbor.
"Yes," replied the other, "damned dull; but it is
better here than at other places, and if only the canal
were finished we should look up. Yes, sir; if the
United States took it up, we should finish that canal
in four years ; and we would, but the Company wants
us to buy all its rusty machines at the price they paid
for them. No, sir; we don't buy a dead hog when
we want a live one."
These old fogies of the town were full of reminis
cences; some of them were Forty-niners, and fine
tales they had to tell of their adventures in old days,
crossing the Isthmus partly by the Chagres, and
then by mules over the hills; and how many people
died by the way, and how many of those that they
had started with they never saw again. And then
there was the talk about the canal, and how money
had been poured out like water, and how the engi
neers and the contractors and the contractors' men
had died one after another like flies; of the waste
of life, waste of money, waste of everything, that
they had seen and battened on. But one and all
believed that sooner or later the canal would be
2>2

A CENTRAL AMERICAN REVOLUTION
finished, and the great days of Panama would come
again. Time did not hang heavy on my hands, for I went
out to see the canal, or drove through the beautiful
Hospital Park, which overlooks the bay and its islands,
and where the cheerful Mother Superior received us
with utmost kindness, and sent for an English Sister
to come and tell us about the place. If the French
Canal Company had done nothing else than build
this hospital, Panama at all events would have to
remember it with thankfulness. Not far away is the
enormous cemetery, which tells its own tale ; and beside
it is a hideous coffin-strewn patch of land, reserved
for the Chinese, where the dead are left till their rela
tives, if they have any, can dig them up and take
them back again to China.
Panama, in fact, is not really a bad place to live in ;
such, at all events, was the mature opinion of our
consul, Mr. Mallet. It is feverish, of course, has its
own very choice fever, and is liable to epidemics, but
its situation is beautiful, on one of the loveliest bays
in the world, dotted with islands which form salubri
ous holiday resorts. In the dry and comparatively
healthy season the country behind the town is a splen
did and easily accessible sporting-ground. There is
alligator -shooting also to be had up the creeks, and
the continual flow of travellers passing through pre
vents the stagnation which is felt in towns less im
mediately on one of the world's highways.
c

CHAPTER IV
PANAMA TO LIMA
OX the 5th of August we sailed away on the
Pacific Steam Navigation Company's mail-
steamer Peru. These steamers, which pa
trol the west coast of South America, never have to
face a really heavj- sea, and are therefore built in a
fashion not possible for ordinary ocean-going boats.
All the cabins open to the deck, so that you can He
on your deck-chair in front of your own door. Few
lines of steamers have a more comfortable fleet, but
the boats are by no means fast. Thej^ onlj- travel
about one hundred miles a day, including halts.
From the ship, h^g a mile or two off the town,
close to a pretty, wooded island, the view of the bay
was very beautiful. To the eastward, a few miles off,
were the site and ruins of Panama, which Morgan
and his buccaneers cruelly pillaged and burned,
after boldly marching across the Isthmus, in January,
1671. Hazy in the distance were the Pearl Islands,
where in 1685 the buccaneers laj', under the command
of Edward Davis, awaiting the Spanish treasure-fleet
from Lima, with Dampier on board writing a journal.
The Spaniards succeeded in landing the treasure be
times, so that the buccaneers had nothing to win
by fighting ; but if a battle had taken place, and the
34

PANAMA TO LIMA
command of the South Seas had been, as it probably
would have been, won by the buccaneers, an inde
pendent buccaneer realm would probably have arisen
and the course of South American history might
have been different.
As we sailed off, the Bay of Panama put on all its
beauty. A gorgeous cirque of rainy-season clouds
marshalled themselves around upon the hills — piled
monsters, rearing aloft like a wave gathered for its
plunge, sunshine on its brow and purple gloom in its
bosom, or like a range of snow-mountains founded
on the forest-covered hills. The Pearl Islands and
the coast disappeared; the calm, opalescent sea and
pale-blue sky above remained. A night of beaut}'
followed, breathing soft, warm air. The pole-star
trembled on the northern horizon, while the moon
and her perfect reflection floated serenely in sky and
sea. The weather at Panama had been most indubita
bly hot — a steaming heat that sucked the strength
out of a man — but before we reached Guayaquil (even
the very day that we crossed the equator) the heat
was gone, and I found that woollen underclotliing
suitable for a London vinter was not uncomfortable
on the line in the Pacific. Of course, when we came
to Gua3'aquil and landed it was warmer again, but
the sea do\ATi this western coast is always cool, owing
to the Antarctic current. The coast of Ecuador,
where we first saw it, was low and dull, lump3^ land
seen under a gray and overcast sky. Its historic
interest, however, is great, for one cannot visit these
lands without tlainking much of Pizarro and his bold
35

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
companions, men whose rare bravery will always
cause their crimes to be less regarded than the marvel
of their adventures. Little love though I bear to the
Conquistadores, I found it impossible to look unmoved
upon Puna Island, where Pizarro fought his first
fight with the Coast Indians.
In three days and a half from Panama we anchored
in the river of Guayaquil by night, and I landed early;
not, indeed, in any eagerness to see the town, but
all agog to climb the little mound of Santa Ana,
whence on rare occasions giant Chimborazo is visi
ble in all his greatness. I might have saved myself
the trouble, however, for not the faintest sign of a
mountain was in sight, only an extensive flat country,
with a noble river more than a mile and a quarter
wide winding through it, and some small hills ris
ing in various directions. It was a picturesque view
enough, but not what a mountaineer came forth to
see. The point where I stood was, I imagine, the
spot daily visited by Mr. Whymper, when he was
waiting to start up-country for his expedition to the
Andes of Ecuador, but I gather that he was no more
fortunate in the matter of view than I was.
Descending the little hill, we tumbled into the back
garden of one Brosel, who looked upon us with em
phatic suspicion, an attitude of mind fully shared
by his dogs.
"What do you come here for?" he said.
"To take your photograph," I replied.
"To take my photograph! But how can you do
that?" " I will do it with this box," I said.
36

PANAMA TO LIMA
"Well, that is a good idea! What do you want
me to do?"
" Sit on that chair and put the dogs out of the way —
all the dogs."
"Very good," he said, "but I must first go in and
brush up."
He disappeared and came out again in a moment,
like a quick-change man, in a new suit of store clothes.
After no little discussion we posed him on a crooked
chair on the hill-side, and all was ready for the act,
when he jumped up and cried out :
" Stop ! Stop ! How much are you going to make
me pay for this?"
"Nothing," I said.
"That's impossible," he said. "What will you get
out of me?"
" I will get nothing out of you."
"But I think you will,'"' he said. "You will be
wanting something or you will not give me the pho
tograph." It was with difficulty that I calmed his fears and
took the photograph.
The town of Guayaquil, like so many tropical cities,
stands on a reclaimed swamp. One wonders how
the people live in these places. I imagine in Guaya
quil they would not live if the town were not period
ically burned down. Fires destroy the rapidly ac
cumulating filth. One such fire had swept away
practically the whole town a year or two before my
visit. The place was still in process of rebuilding.
The new houses had quite a magnificent appearance.
Looked at not too close, one might believe them to
37

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
be splendid structures of stone. i\s a matter of fact,
they were of split bamboo and plaster, with corru
gated iron roofs, and you could stick a penknife
through the walls. The poor people in the suburbs
dwelt in wretched huts without walls, built upon
piles, as in the slums of Colon. I asked a Guayaquil
gentleman how he came to be alive in such a climate.
"Alive!" he said. "In Guayaquil? Why not? It's
one of the healthiest places in the world. Now Pan
ama or Colon, or places like those' — et cetera. I be
gan to know this tune.
A little distance south of Guayaquil begins the
desert-coast region of South America, which con
tinues uninterruptedly as far south as Coquimbo in
Chile. The change from fertility to mere sandj^
wastes is made in a few miles, and nothing can be
imagined more barren and desolate than is the shore
thenceforward. There is little attraction to land at
the ports on this forbidding coast. Thejr are not proper
ports at all, but only roadsteads, where the ship lies
at anchor while dilatory peoi)le bring the cargo out
on lighters, and officials invent excuses for wasting the
ship's time. Now it is a bishop for whom one is kept
waiting several hours; now some local functionary
or some local functionary's cargo. In the Peruvian
ma^ona-land such trifles are not worth considering.
If gringos are annoyed, so much the better ; no one else
minds. Only at the north-Peruvian port of Payta
did I care to land, while quantities of cattle and bales
of cotton were being shipped. The cattle were brought
out in flat-bottomed barges, about a hundred on a
barge. One by one they were hoisted on board by a
38

PANAMA TO LIMA
rope passed round their horns. The process was not
devoid of cruelty. I am told that the beasts are driven
down from up-country, and that they have no food,
the last day at least, on the road. Neither are they
fed on board ship. If the voyage lasts three days,
hungry they go.
Payta is a dead-and-alive place, built of bamboo
huts, where it only rains once in seven years, and
where all the drinking-water has to be brought by
train from the interior. Nothing grows in the neigh
borhood. Sand and gravel slopes behind the town
lead steeply up to a flat, far-stretching desert-plateau
called Tabalazo, on which lies a bed of recent marine
deposits, containing quantities of well-preserved shells
belonging to existing species. This dreary town
was for the time enlivened by rumors of a revolu
tion said to be beginning in the interior. A Peru
vian man-of-war was lying at anchor, having recent
ly landed some troops. A gentleman of influence,
whom the government wished to remove from the
scene of temptation, was hustled on board our boat,
with orders to repair to Lima and stay there for the
benefit of his health as long as the revolution lasted.
While lying off Payta we were boarded by various
traders in so-called Panama hats, which, indeed, are
not made at Panama at all, but only at a group of vil
lages about flfty miles inland from Payta. Gone are
the great days of the Panama hat — the days when a
wealthy slave-owner would pay a hundred dollars for
one of finest make ; yet even now the genuine arti
cle is a far better-made affair than the best London
shops would enable one to guess. It happened that
39

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
one of our passengers was an experienced dealer in
Panama hats, and he explained to us the difference
in quality and the different kinds that were offered
for sale.
"This hat," he said, "is worth five dollars, this
ten, and this twenty. If you were to go to the vil
lages you would no doubt find better ones, but it is
seldom that they make the very best now."
I was wearing what I believed to be a Panama hat,
which I had bought in London and paid a pound
for. I handed it to him, saying, "And what is this
worth?" "Paris machine-made — one dollar," was his prompt
and doubtless accurate reply.
There also came on board, and sailed with us a
stage or two, numerous petty dealers in fruit and
vegetables. This was the case not only at Payta,
but at most ports down the coast, the bi-weekly steamer
serving the purpose of an itinerant market for poultry
and vegetables. The west coast of South America
throughout the desert belt is about as dull a seaboard
as you will find in the world. Such, at all events,
was my experience of it. I had expected that the
coast-range of mountains would be visible at least
sometimes, and had pictured myself sitting on the
deck of the steamer in the comfortable enjoyment
of tropical heat tempered by sea-breezes, while the
outlying ranges of the Cordillera passed before my
view from hour to hour. Instead of this, all that I
saw beneath a roof of cloud, and through an atmos
phere thick with moisture or dust, was the sandy
margin of the continent backed by bare slopes reach-
40

LADING CATTLE

A BALSA LADEN WITH PETROLEUM

PANAMA TO LIMA
ing up to hills of mean appearance, whose summits
were frequently lost to view in the heavy sky. Only
once was there a momentary glimpse of greater alti
tudes, or even a suggeston of snow. The nights
were always cold; one was wet and foggy, too, the
siren blowing for hours — the tropics forsooth! Mo
notony and insignificance were the general char
acteristics of the scene. Not indeed that the abso
lute barrenness of the desert coast had not a certain
dignity of its own; the desert is always dignified; its
mere emptiness suffices to endow it with a sense of
breadth. But the ports and human settlements had
a sordid appearance to my eyes. Not one of them
possessed any picturesqueness or excited a trace of
human attachment towards it as a place of abode.
Each town, if these collections of wooden shanties
with corrugated iron roofs can be called towns, bore
on the face of it the fact that no human being would
live there if he could help it. Eten, Pacasmayo,
Salaverry — we anchored off them all in succession.
They had their cheap iron piers where the lighters
were laden, their railway stations for short lines run
ning inland, and that was all. At each we lay a
wearisome number of hours, impatient to move on;
and, now that they are gone, none of them lingers in
my memory as less dreary, less unattractive than the
rest. The only incidents I remember in the voyage
from one port to another was the sight of here and
there a whale or a whaling-vessel "trying off," or a
guano island, or rocks haunted by seals. But such
slight excitements were few and far between, so that
when at last, on the 15th of August, we anchored off
41

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Callao, with four days to spare, I landed with no little
satisfaction. Nothing, I think, indicates more plainly the en
thusiasm with which Pizarro and his companions
set forth on their enterprise of South American con
quest than the fact that, after sailing as they did
for weeks and months down this forbidding coast,
they still retained faith in the wealth of that unseen
interior which in due season they landed to visit.
The mere sight of so barren and apparently value
less a region would have determined the hopeful
ness of an ordinary sane man. But, I presume, the
wonderful experiences of Cortez in Mexico had so
worked upon the imaginations of his contempora
ries that they saw gold ever^^where, and would not
have been surprised to find it l3ing about in solid
lumps upon the most desert shore. Of course, at
the mouths of the fertile valleys were large native
towns, and the mounds which to-day contain their
ruins are in some cases visible to a passing ship.
Could we have landed and inspected these, the voy
age from Guayaquil to Lima would not have been
so dull.
We landed at Callao just in time to catch the evening
train to Lima, while the sun, nearing the horizon,
poured a flood of crimson orange light below the ever
lasting pall of cloud that at this time of year hangs
over the coast region. Purple hills sloped up on
either hand from the level fields of sugar-cane, maize,
etc., which were divided from one another by adobe
walls shining crimson in the sunset light. The walls
and houses thus glorified seemed as though built of
42

PANAMA TO LIMA
some priceless substance, but the glory was evanes
cent. Almost before the effect had faded we were in
the capital town of Peru, where I was most hospitably
entertained by Mr. Alfred St. John, the British charge
d'affaires. Even to the eye of a casual visitor Lima is a
decidedly impressive town. The latticed bow -win
dows, reminiscent of Moorish influences from the
Far East, render the streets highly picturesque. The
great old Spanish houses, with their arcaded patios
and their galleries, sometimes enlivened by blossom
ing shrubs or trees, of which the passer-by gains a
glimpse through the open portes-cocMres, tell of the
rich and splendid society of by -gone days. The
cathedral and churches, if not architecturally beauti
ful, are at all events imposing; and the population
that throng the roads show that if there is no longer
an abounding prosperity, there is at least a tolerably
high standard of average comfort. By all accounts
the society of Lima is pleasant and refined. The
ladies are said to be charming, and those best able
to judge think most highly of the city as a place of
abode. A passer-by like myself, the length of whose
visit was measured by hours, had, of course, no op
portunity for forming an opinion. What sights there
were I made haste to see — the desiccated body of Pi
zarro in a glass box in the cathedral, a rather second-
rate museum of Peruvian antiquities in a building
erected for an exhibition, the Botanical Garden, and
a few of the principal old houses. That which was
once the abode of the Inquisition was now in the occu
pation of the French Minister, Monsieur Larrouy, of
43

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
whose kindness to me I retain a warm recollection.
The palace occupied by the President and his ministers
is said to date, in part, at any rate, from the days of
Pizarro, while in one of the court-yards there is a
tree reported to have been planted by the conqueror
himself. It goes without saying that the streets were
dirty, ill-paved, and close. The sanitary condition of
the town, I imagine, leaves a good deal to be desired.
As a place to sleep in, Lima is by no means to be recom
mended. The cocks crow there with a frequency
and vigor which I understand is regarded as an ex
cellent sign by poultry fanciers, but is far from con
ducive to the slumber of neighbors. The police and
watchmen are apparently under orders to warn thieves
of their whereabouts at frequent intervals by loudly
blowing on their whistles.
Next morning at an early hour I hastened to the
railway station. The weather was depressing and
drizzly, the roads muddy; all the people who were
out were well wrapped up with shawls round their
mouths. Thus I started to make the ascent to the
crest of the Andes by the famous Oroya Railway,
which, starting from sea-level, takes you in nine
hours to an altitude somewhat higher than that of
the summit of Mont Blanc. As we left the town
by a valley leading inland, the low mists began to
clear away and disclosed upon the hills a belt of me
tallic green lustre caused by vegetation springing
up at this time of year where the mists rest. The
valley produces rich crops of corn, sugar, cotton,
and tropical fruits wherever artificial irrigation reaches.
The irrigated area is very much smaller than it used
44

PANAMA TO LIMA
to be in pre-Columbian days. Terraced fields, once
irrigated by now ruined aqueducts, stretch up the hill
sides in all directions. The terraces, falling into decay,
show how much larger an area was under crops in the
days of the Incas, and account for the dense population
which inhabited the numerous ruined villages that
are seen along the foot of the hills. There is some
thing inexpressibly sad in the sight of these abandoned
terraces, broken watercourses, ruined villages, and
signs of a vanished population. The villages stand
at the edge of the cultivated land, just as they do in
Egypt ; but if the irrigated flat ground recalls the val
ley of the Nile, the terraced fields reaching far aloft
awake vivid reminiscences of the mountain country
along the northwest frontier of India — as, for instance,
in Hunza, where the native population are living in a
stage of civilization that must bear no little likeness
to that of the Peruvians under Inca government.
The mist-nurtured vegetation did not go far inland,
but was succeeded by hill-slopes sunburned and ap
parently desert.
As we went inland the hills grew bigger and some
what bolder in outline. The vallej'^ bottom became
fuller of trees and bush. Presently we left the dreary
roof of fog behind, and, at a height of some 5000 feet
above the sea, where the health resort of Matucana
is prettily situated, came out into fresh air and bright
sunshine. Now the valley narrows, patches of snow
come in view ahead, knobs of rock protrude through
debris slopes, and cliffs and the great knees of the
mountains appear aloft. The gradient of the rails
grows steeper; the engine pants, and, no longer fol-
45

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
lowing the bed of the valley, the line begins to wind
its way up the side, taking advantage of every con
tour which enables a little altitude to be gained by
corkscrew curves or other engineering devices. About
10,000 feet above the sea comes San Mateo, a famous
resort for consumptives. And now the first symptoms
of mountain sickness — sorocche, as they call it in
Peru* — began to be experienced by my fellow-travellers.
Most of them had brought some pet remedy, something
to sip or something to smell, but I could not perceive
that these nostrums were any more effectual than
those patronized by Channel passengers as remedies
for sea-sickness. One had only to look around the car
to see how rapidly the complaint was invading the
company. A great silence fell upon all. People
crouched themselves into strange positions. They
wrapped up their heads in shawls, or otherwise en
deavored to find relief from their unwonted sensa
tions. At first those who were less affected over
whelmed their companions with fruitless advice, but
gradually the advisers themselves succumbed, and
before long uncanny sounds were heard from all parts
of the train.
The ascent became steeper. There were several
zigzags, at each of which the position of the engine
had to be changed from one end of the train to the
other; and there were corkscrew tunnels and spider-
legged bridges over narrow ravines, curves up side-
vaUeys, and circumventings around protruding bosses
—in fact, every ingenious contrivance for getting
* It is commonly called soroche, but I am told the correct Indian
word is soroc-che. 46

ox THE OROYA RAILROAD

TERRACED HILL-51DE

PANAMA TO LIMA
up hill by a steady grade of 4 in lOO. The higher
we rose the brighter was the sunshine and the fresher
the air. Now and again the train was halted, that
rocks fallen on the line might be cleared out of the
way, such little accidents being of continual occur
rence. At Chicla (12,215 feet) the valley opens and
becomes for a while more level. At last we were above
the highest of the terraced fields, where grazing-
grounds take the place of former cultivation.
By the time we reached Casapalca (13,606 feet), I
was distinctly conscious that we were no longer down
at sea-level. A slight dizziness came over me, I felt
a tension across the crown of the head, a disagreeable
excitement, a tingling in the soles of the feet as though
they were in contact with velvet, and I walked with
an uncertain step. But all these symptoms were mild
enough not to prevent my enjoyment of the journey.
We now passed great caravans of llamas, the first I
had seen. They were engaged in carrjang ore to the
smelting-works of Casapalca. Beyond the grassy
valley a small glacier - covered peak came in sight
ahead, and soon we passed by rocks evidently
smoothed in ancient days by glacier ice. Patches of
snow were lying beside the line in the shadows; a
hard frost chilled us to the marrow of the bones. I
cannot say that I felt regret when we entered the sum
mit tunnel and knew that we had reached the up
ward limit of our way. At the far end of the tunnel
we came out again into sunshine, and the siaow range
of the inner Cordillera smote upon our eyes in all
its silver splendor, while a beautiful glacier-covered
mountain rose close at hand. 47

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Mr. Ellis, the Permanent Way Inspector of the
line, was awaiting me with a hand-car, composed of
four wheels, a platform, a seat, and a brake. As
soon as the train had started down eastward the hand
car was set on the lines to run us back to Lima. The
air was so bitterly cold that I was glad enough to
wrap myself in two thick ponchos provided by the
foresight of Mr. Ellis. Gravitation was our engine;
it gripped us in the midnight darkness of the tunnel,
where, sightless, we felt the ground as it were sliding
out beneath us. The wheels whirred. There was
the sense though not the aspect of motion till the
tunnel's eye came in view ahead, a mere speck of light
revealing stalactite icicles on walls and roof. Larger
and brighter it grew; like a bomb from a mortar we
burst forth into day. Down we went — down and
down. The kilometre posts flew by like a railing.
We were swung around corners, and plunged into
and out of the night of tunnels. These, when curved,
as they frequently were, seemed to screw about us with
a motion of their own Faster and faster we went;
the landscape shot up on either hand. Some llamas
strayed on the track, and we missed them by the breadth
of a fleece. We dashed along the margin of giddy
precipices and over unpaved bridges, through which
one looked down into giddy depths. Bang! went the
wheels against a stone fallen upon the rail. The car
was flung into the air, but fell back safely upon the
track. Mr. Ellis did not notice so trifling an occur
rence, but I did, and have recalled it since with inward
shuddering. At the V's we had to dismount, turn
over the points, and then proceed in the opposite di-
48

PANAMA TO LIMA
rection. If we had overshot the mark we should
have leaped off the point of the line and flown down
the precipice. Such an accident once happened, in
days of revolution, to a trainful of soldiers. Some
engineer, unaccustomed to the line, was told off to
drive the train. He put it in motion without proper
ly applying the brake. It rushed down with fright
ful velocity, and was almost immediately beyond
control. The passengers realized their approaching
fate, and raised a wild shout of terror as the train
dashed over the point of the V and was smashed to
atoms two thousand feet below. The handle of the
brake was found flung across to the other side of the
valley with a human arm still grasping it.
The changes of vegetation at different levels, slowly
climbed through in the ascent, were much more con
spicuous in the rapidity of our downward passage.
The snow-patches and the green uplands were swiftly
left behind. We passed through a belt of blue blos
soms like lupines, and then a belt of yellow. The
evening shadow climbed the hill. As we came down
into the narrow gorges a roof of pink cloud hung over
head. We saw it in the intervals between tunnel
and tunnel, the effect being specially fine at a place
well named Infernillo, where a spider-like bridge,
hung across from one vertical cliff to another, unites
two corkscrew tunnels. The world was turning
faster against us than we were rushing west. The
brief twilight was soon over and solid night came
on. Then the romance of this one hundred and fifty
miles' switchback ride began, and fancy was turned
free to dignify our flight with imaginary terrors.
D 49

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
There was no moon, but Jupiter and Venus, in close
conjunction just over the edge of the black hill, were
bright enough to cast a shadow. The Southern Cross
was now and then visible ahead. The Milky Way
shone brighter than I ever remember it. Meteors
darted across the sky, and the hill-tops reflected flash
es of summer lightning. Now and again we passed
the house of some railroad employe, where a light
shone and dogs rushed barking forth ; but we hurried
on unceasingly down and down, rejoicing in the furious
flight. At Matucana the night was spent in a reason
ably comfortable inn. Next morning the descent was
continued, but the gradient and our consequent speed
were less. The only remaining excitement was caused
by the knowledge that a train was coming up in the
opposite direction, travelling at a pace of twenty miles
an hour. The quick twists and turns of the line ren
dered it impossible for us to see far ahead, and we might
easily run into it if great care were not taken. We
waited long in one or two sidings, hoping the train
would pass. Finally, deciding to trust to luck, we
ran down to a station where the missing train was
drawn up at the platform, a solid hour and a half be
hind its time. The sun was hot through all this part
of the descent, but on coming under the shadow of the
coast cloud we were glad enough to put our ponchos
on for the run into Lima.

CHAPTER V
LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
TWO days later I was on board ship again, sail
ing away southward over the calm ocean.
There were three more ports to stop at, each
as uninteresting as those that had gone before; and
there were more guano islands to pass. The coast
remained as dull as ever in the thick air and gloomy
sky. Off Pisco, where the cheap spirits come from, a
countless number of pelicans, cormorants, and other
birds were flying or floating over a great shoal of fish.
It was wonderful to see the large pelicans dropping
into the sea from a great height, with their curious
sidelong dip, and always coming up with a fish in
their ungainly beaks. Picture the long, dark, fore
shortened mass of birds on the splashing water, the
similar cloud a hundred feet or so above in the air;
at one end of this a cascade of birds falling and diving
with a great splash; at the other end the birds who
had swallowed their catches rising again into the air
and flying forward till they gained the front rank
and dived again, thus producing an elongated oval
which seemed to roll forward over the sea. The
noise of crying and splashing could be heard from
a great distance. Near at hand, the air was
simply black with the profusion of bird-life. The
51

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
divers and cormorants swam about on the surface
and took ample toll on their own account. Such a
sight amply sufficed to account for the guano islands.
On the 2ist of August, just thirty-nine days from
London, I was awakened at an early hour with the
welcome information that we were approaching Mol-
lendo. Kind friends boarded the ship to receive me
when she cast anchor. Our baggage was dropped
into one barge, myself into another, and we rowed
away for shore. Fortunately the sea was reasonably
calm; not that storms are frequent down this coast,
but there is often a heavy swell, causing an immense
surf to break upon the shore. At no time is landing
an easy matter at Mollendo, for there is always a
considerable surf, but the actual landing-place is
protected by a reef of rocks very similar to that pro
tecting the shore at Beyrout, on the Syrian coast.
The boat was rowed through a narrow opening in
the reef, the great white breakers foaming close on
either hand. Though the rowers evidently knew
their business, an inveterate landsman like myself
does not pass such a place without experiencing some
emotion. Inside the reef the water was, of course,
calmer, but the swell penetrated there; and the rise
and fall of the waves was such that, after coming
close to the landing-place, we were more than half an
hour before the opportunity came for jumping ashore.
I landed breathlessly almost in the arms of the mayor of
the little town, who officially greeted me with a welcome
to Peru, and a warm expression of good wishes for the
success of my expedition into the Bolivian mountains.
Mollendo is one of the cleanest towns I saw any-
52

LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
where in South America. This is due to the energy
of the local board, elected by all the inhabitants of
the place irrespective of nationality. Mollendo is
thus very healthy, and serves as a sanitarium for
Arequipa and La Paz. Mr. V. H. McCord, the man
ager of the railway, took me at once under his wing,
and himself accompanied me by the train when he
had finished breakfast. Instead of striking straight
inland, the rails follow the coast for thirteen miles,
along a sandy flat, where the marks left by the great
earthquake wave of 1868 are still clearly visible. Turn
ing up a valley, we began to ascend over a sloping
desert, which irrigation would fertilize if only there
were water to be had. The road winds about and
gains altitude without need for big cuttings, tunnels,
or bridges. In fact, if I remember right, there is only
one very short tunnel, and one, or, at the utmost, two
bridges on the whole length of the line from the sea
right up to Lake Titicaca.
At a certain level, approximately the same, I sup
pose, as that where I observed the same phenomenon
behind Lima, comes the belt where mists are frequent,
and where, accordingly, at this time of year some
vegetation can grow. The slopes were pleasantly
green, and there was here and there a fragrant white
flower with strong perfume like a tuberose. Here
in the damp season cattle are fattened in large num
bers for the Iquique market. The fertile Tambo
Valley came into sight, below to the south, with a fine
view of hills at the head of it, piling themselves up
and up farther inland, the buttresses of the continent.
Looking back in the other direction, the surf-edged
53

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
sea was still visible. The view marvellously devel
oped as we rose above the undulating green fore
ground to a crinkled blue, purple, and yellow desert,
that stretched away down on the one hand to the
ocean, and up on the other to the high mountains,
where the great volcano Misti (18,650 feet, railway
survey) came in sight.
A little over three thousand feet above sea-level
we emerged on an almost flat pampa that seemed to
cry aloud for irrigation. There does, in fact, exist a
perennial stream which might be turned on to it by
a short tunnel; but such is the uncertainty of titles
to land in this country that no capitalist would be
rash enough to venture his money in the enterprise.
The green belt was left behind, and the rippled white
desert stretched around, with black hills rising from
it — the first specimen of the volcanic mountain land
scape of which I was afterwards to see so much. A
larger desert pampa followed, higher up, flooded by
great lakes of mirage; and here came into view, away
to the northward, the great mountain whose true
name is Ampato, but known at Arequipa as Coro-
puna. Its altitude, as measured by the railroad sur
veyors, is 22,800 feet. I never saw it save from a great
distance, but the enormous glaciers that flow down
and envelop all sides of its dome-like mass prove it to
be a peak of great height. I should not be surprised
if an accurate measurement found it to be higher
than the highest peaks of the Argentine Andes. Misti
and its larger neighbor, Chachani," were full in view
?Nineteen thousand feet (railroad survey). The astronomers at
Arequipa state that this peak is probably about 20,000 feet high.
54

s

LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
ahead, their summits crowned with considerable ac
cumulations of winter snow.
The desert was now dotted all over with heaps of
sand, self-piled on a crescent-shaped base, the con
vex side of the crescent facing the prevalent wind.
These heaps of sand slowly march across the plain
by the simple process of the wind blowing the sand
up the outer slope of the heap to the top, whence it
falls down the inner face. When one of the sand-
heaps reaches the edge of the railway line, it has to
be dumped over on to the other side by a gang of nav
vies. There it reforms its crescent shape and pro
ceeds upon its slow journey. The crescents are of
various sizes, averaging perhaps some twenty-five
yards in width. Above the fields of sand-heaps, at
an elevation of 5000 feet, the railway enters a region
of mounded stony hills, where it winds up to the edge
of the deep-lying canyon of a river whose waters fer
tilize the oasis of Arequipa.
Descending to the river, we soon ran into Arequipa
station, as the lowering sun picked out, with blue
shadows and ruddy lights, the fine ridges and gullies
that seam the Misti's graceful cone. McCord hos
pitably put me up in the station-house. There were
several bullet-marks in the walls of my room, scars
of the last revolution. The sofa in the sitting-room
had a tragic interest, for under it an unpopular officer
was run to earth and shot by the revolutionaries.
As I was unpacking my things a smart shock of earth
quake occurred, causing the place to rattle and quiver
as though a heavy freight-train were passing. In
Arequipa no one pays much attention to earthquakes,
55

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
for they are of daily occurrence and the houses of
the town are specially built to resist them.
The four days I was compelled to wait in Arequipa
for the weekly train that goes up to Lake Titicaca
were a pleasant interlude. The climate of Arequipa
is exceedingly treacherous for a new-comer. The
place is 7550 feet above sea-level; the nights, there
fore, at this season of the year, are bitterly cold, though
by day the sun has great power. It is easy to take
a violent chill, and pneumonia is a very common and
fatal disease.
Had I not been occupied with much unavoidable
business, it would have been pleasant and not dif
ficult to have made the ascent either of Misti or of
Chachani. Misti is very easy to climb; mules can
go to the summit, where stands a small meteorolog
ical observatory equipped with self - recording in
struments, a dependence of the Harvard College As
tronomical Observatory at Arequipa. Every fort
night a man goes up to bring down the observations
and set the instruments. Chachani has likewise
been ascended. Mr. Wagner, of the Cailloma Mine,
whom I had the good fortune to meet at the Are
quipa Club, informed me that he found among the
old papers at the mine one dating from the time of
the Spaniards, which stated that the summit of Cha
chani was the burial-place of an Inca. A plan of
the tomb was appended, with a point marked on it
indicating the position of treasure. After repeated
attempts, Mr. Wagner succeeded in reaching the
summit of the mountain from the north, and did,
in fact, find the remains of the building. He took
56

THE OUTSKIRTS OF AREQUIPA

LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
some native workmen up with him and made exca
vations on three different days. Portions of the
skeleton of a woman were revealed, and some wood
en cups and spoons, and fragments of pots. The
old plan proved to be correct in its main outlines,
and the point indicated for the treasure was identi
fied without difficulty; but it was evident that a pre
vious treasure-seeker had been there, for the grave
had been disturbed, and anything of value it ever
contained had no doubt been rifled long ago. He
told me that the pavement and walls of the grave
were of granite, a rock which is found near the base
of the mountain below the volcanic superstructure.
To a new-comer from Europe the town of Arequipa
is very interesting. It arouses strange reminiscences
of the Old World, with a novel touch added by the
craftsmanship of the local Indians. A group of crafts
men, however minutely directed by a foreign architect,
will inevitably leave traces of their own character
upon their work. Thus, in the chief streets of the
town, the one-storied fagades of the thick tufa-walled
houses are designed with pilasters, cornices, and oth
er architectural members of classical or renaissance
tradition; while the sculptured details, sometimes
very rich in effect, are rough and almost barbaric
in style. The by-streets are, of course, dirty and
pervaded by most unpleasant odors. At night the
whole place is loud with the shouts of intoxicated
men and the voices of barking dogs, like the jackals of
the East. The passer-by obtains brief glimpses into
slummy drinking-dens and dimly lit places of amuse
ment, where a low population of half-breeds takes
57

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
such recreation as it is likely to desire. To walk
at night to one's lodgings, as I often did, was a suffi
ciently unpleasant experience, unless one adhered to
the main street.
In the midst of the city is a great cathedral, shaken
down more or less frequently by earthquakes, and
now in process of rebuilding by local talent. It is
large, and not architecturally unimpressive, though
in a wild fashion of its own. The towers are almost
riotous in design, as indeed are old Spanish-American
church-towers generally, yet it is impossible to deny
that they have a certain splendor and dignity. The
interior of the cathedral is whitewashed and spacious,
with some rude but effective carving in suitable posi
tions. High mass was going on when I entered.
For orchestra there was a cracked piano, jerkily
erupting airs from "La Fille de Madame Angot."
One boy and one man, standing together at the ex
treme west end of the church and shouting all they
knew how, were the whole choir. Workmen were
sawing wood and hammering nails in the aisle while
the service proceeded, and incense was ascending
in clouds by the altar.
I likewise visited the Jesuits' church, the interior
of which must have been striking when there were
six side-chapels, with great altar-pieces reaching to
the vaulting, all carved, painted, and gilded in the
most gorgeous Spanish style, with figures in niches,
painted, enamelled, and dressed up to life, some of
more than average excellence. Unfortunately, these
fine decorations are now considered old-fashioned,
and three of them have been removed, though some
58

AREQUIPA PLAZA

AREQUIPA CATHEDRAL TOWERS

LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
one told me that they were not destroyed but only
transferred to a country church, the name of which
I did not learn. My presence was evidently obnox
ious to the verger. He pursued me with scowlings
and mutterings, and slammed the door behind me
on my departure, gringos being almost as obnoxious
to the ignorant Catholic lower orders of Peru and
Bolivia as Christians are to fanatical Mohammedans.
One afternoon I had the loan of a slight, spirited
pacing pony of charming disposition. In company
with a kind friend I rode out to visit the observatory.
The ponies were wonderfully sure-footed, as indeed
was necessary, for the tracks they had to travel over
were of the most rugged description. But the ride
was delightful. It led through the enchanting semi-
Oriental suburbs of the town and by positions com
manding beautiful views. In aspect Arequipa, as
one looked down from a distance upon its white stone
walls, its many cupolas, and its all-pervading trees,
strongly resembled an Eastern city. At the ob
servatory I was most hospitably received, and all
doors were opened to me. Mr. Clymer and his fel
low-observer showed me their fine instruments. I
was, of course, especially interested in the admirable
equipment for celestial photography, for which this
observatory is deservedly famed. They also de
scribed to me the ascent of Mount Misti, which both
of them had made on more than one occasion, and
they gave me, among other beautiful photographs
taken from the summit, the one which I have the pleas
ure, with permission, to publish here.
At seven in the morning of the 25th of August,
59

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the train at last started which was to carry us to the
.shores of Lake Titicaca. A railway official came
down to see me off and cast an eye over the train.
He detected a dirty friar who had filled the place of
two travellers with his baggage. "Take it out and
get it registered," he said. The man protested, at
first truculently, then grovellingly. "Out you go,
then, baggage and all. It's too bad," he said to me;
" in this priest-ridden country we have to carry priests
for half-price, and these barefoot Johnnies for nothing,
and the barefooters give more trouble than any other
passengers. They are always going up and down
as though they were the busiest people — a mean,
filthy, idle lot.''
The sun was 3'^et low; a smoke-cloud hanging over
Arequipa indicated that the town had breakfasted.
Misti and Chachani, on either hand, seemed to swim
in the glowing air. Green fields spread wide on either
bank of the river, till the desert resumed its sway,
and cactus and spare brown plants were all the vege
tation that remained in sight. The soil consisted
of volcanic ejections of gray and pink mud, with large,
angular rocks embedded. The whole area through
which we were passing was cut up into small hills
and shallow, winding valleys, all equally desert.
Clouds now settled heavily on the high mountains,
and all the view we had was backward over the sea
like pampa. About thirteen thousand feet above
sea-level came a land of tussocky grass, supporting
sheep, llamas, and a few horses. Now the car began
to smell of some nasty camphorated drug that the
passengers were sniffing as a remedy for mountain
60

LIMA TO LAKE TITICACA
sickness. Silence had long ago descended upon the
people; those who could disposed themselves to slum
ber. Even the two dirty friars stopped the gossip
with which they had entertained each other all the
way, and only a babe gave vent to its feelings in
ceaseless yells and screams. Presently another baby
began to howl in chorus. The higher we got the more
undulating and uninteresting was the scenery of
the bleak and bare region. A fog descended and
blotted out all view. On the top level the only growths
were the moss-heaps called yareta, a resinous growth
largely used for fuel, and grass tussocks growing
round the edges of the moss-heaps. Patches of snow
were lying about, dimly seen through the mists. Droves
of llamas, great flocks of sheep, and a few cattle
came vaguely into sight and faded away. Once or
twice we saw wild vicunas, so well accustomed to the
passing of trains as to take no heed.
At half -past two we were on top of the pass (14,666
feet), and I was pleased to find that on this occasion
I experienced none of the disagreeable sensations
that assailed me on the Oroya railroad a few days
before. There was no view either from the pass or
during the first part of the descent, which was made
in fog and driving snow over an immense moor. Two
lakes came by, in a wild, abandoned-looking region,
admirably suited to be a home for Thebaid hermits,
but quite wasted on a worldly age. Plenty of ducks,
of three different kinds, frequent the waters. At
Maravillas (13,000 feet) snow gave place to rain. A
ranch on one side of the line and smelting-works on
the other seemed forbidding abodes in the raw day.
61

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Down we went by steady incline. At the cold hour
of sunset we came out on flat ground, occupied by
barley-fields, but once covered by the waters of Lake
Titicaca. Abandoned terraced fields ringed the hill
sides all about, but darkness swallowed them up, and
when we reached the port of Puno (12,540 feet) and
went on board the little steamer Coya, the cold night
had already come on.

CHAPTER VI
LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
THE Scotch engineer made me comfortable,
and in conversation with him the time passed
pleasantly. He told me of the troubles they
had had with the boats, which were brought up in
sections years ago and had to be put together on
the shore. Maintenance and repair must be accom
plished without any of the usual facilities, but such
is the energy and intelligence of the European engi
neering staff that everything goes well. When traf
fic increased, and a larger boat was needed, one of
the steamers was actually hauled up on the shore of
the lake, cut in half then and there, and a great ad
dition made to its length by adding a new piece in
the middle. Of course, in times of revolution it is
the aim of both parties to obtain possession of these
steamers at the earliest moment, and many an excit
ing adventure has happened upon them. Bullet-
marks can be traced all over them, and they have
been the scene of bloody combats. "Many's the
man I've seen shot on this deck," said my friend.
I wish I might here retell some of the tales he told
me. When morning came the coldness of the night
was proved by the ring of ice surrounding the shore.
63

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
It was the opening of a calm and brilliant day, as
good fortune had it, for the waters of Titicaca are
usually stirred to tumult by contending winds that
rush down the surrounding hills without warning.
Thus the steamer passengers usually suffer terribly
from a combination of sea and mountain sickness of
so overpowering a character that even the best sail
ors seldom escape; and the stokers and crew, who
should be habituated, if habituation were possible,
are by no means always free from the complaint.
Of all lakes in the world this one, the largest in South
America, named Titicaca* in the ancient language
of the country, is in many respects the most remark
able. Its altitude, according to the railway survey,
is 12,516 feet above sea-level. In the rainy season it
rises about five feet higher. Its area is over three
thousand square miles, half the size of Lake Ontario,
fourteen times the size of the Lake of Geneva. It is
over one hundred miles in length, and averages thirty
miles in width. Twenty streams empty into it. The
Rio Desaguadero very slowly flows out to Lake Poopo,
fifty leagues away to the southeast, from which there
is no surface exit. The level of the surface of both
lakes has sunk within the historic period. • Three
hundred years ago the margin of Titicaca was near
the ruins of Tiahuanaco, which now lie over six miles
from the water's edge. At an earlier date, when the
* Titi karka, Titi ccacka, Titi ccpn-na are early spellings of the
name given in Padre Baltasar de Salas's MS., Historia de Copa-
cabana (1618-1625), printed in the La Paz Review, La Brisa, Vol.
I., No. 2 (October 31, 1898). Titi/ Caca! is commonly said to have
been a war-cry. 64

i

,„i.

'i

4- 1

1

1 f

i

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
temple was built, it stood upon an island. At an
earlier but still recent geological epoch the southern
limit of the great inland sea was in about latitude
27° S.
Before the boat started I made short excursions
along the shore to investigate the native boats called
balsas. They are made of the great Titicaca rush,
very neatly bound together, just as they used to be
made in the days of the Incas. They are not, of
course, very long-lived things, for when once the
rushes become well sodden the boats are waterlogged,
and have to be drawn up on shore and left for many
days or even weeks to dry before they can be used
again. In these crazy craft the Indians, nevertheless,
navigate the great lake, and even cross it from side to
side. There were plenty of birds in sight — gulls,
coots, various ducks, and some herons, besides smaller
birds. The low lands and hills round the shore were
all sunburned and sorrowful, apparently sparsely
populated, but the multitude of abandoned terraced
fields now visible in the dayhght were proof, if proof
were needed, of the greater population that once dwelt
on this high plateau. From December to May, which
is the rainy season, the land is green, and produces
a harvest of barley, potatoes, and other hardy growths.
Now all the hills were yellowy brown, a golden frame
for the blue water.
Our steamer passed down a canal cut in the shal
lows, and so out into a bay. At its south horn is
Taqueli Island, very useful, at times of revolution
or general election in Peru, for the temporary exile
of persons obnoxious to the party in power. As
E 65

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the steamer rounded the island and entered the waters
of the great lake. Mount Sorata came into view eighty
miles awa}', perfectly clear, apparently rising out of
the waters themselves. Nothing was visible but its
snow-covered upper portion, which shone with great
brilliancy in the bright day. To behold thus plainly
and from so remote a distance one of the chief goals
of our expedition was rare good fortune. It would
be difficult for a reader to imagine the excitement we
felt as we gazed upon the mountain through our tele
scopes and canvassed the possibility of an ascent.
All day long it was before us, gradually coming nearer
and revealing more definitely the intricacies of its great
northwestern face. The more we looked at it the more
we admired the beauty of its appearance and the less
we liked it as a mountain to climb. It is a very com
plex mass, with high snow plateaus below the snow
areted summit towers, drained by ice-falls and steep
couloirs cut in its cliff-rimmed base. The northern
peak, the true Illampu, is finest in form, a rock-
walled mass seemingly vertical on all sides save where
it is buttressed by narrow rock ridges. North of
Mount Sorata the range drops to a long, almost flat,
line of hills about i6,ooo feet in height. Southward
the range extends away and away, a straight line of
snow mountains thoroughly Alpine in appearance.
Perspective makes them sink one beyond another
till Cacaaca appears like a rival to Sorata, and as fine
or even finer in form. From hour to hour the snow^^
range, of which Sorata is the northern end, revealed
itself, one peak after another appearing above the
waters and gradually joining itself to its neighbors.
66

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
Far away to the north, and belonging to a different
mountain system, there stood another great peak,
apparently the unmeasured Asongati, which I only
saw on this occasion. It had every appearance of
being about as lofty as Mount Sorata.
The mountain sj'stem in Bolivia is rather com
plicated. Hugo Reck,* whose classification has been
followed very generally, divides it into five parts :
I. The Coast Cordillera.
2. The Cordillera de los Andes or Western Cor
dillera. 3. The Cordillera Real or Bolivian Andes.
4. Isolated ranges lying between 2 and 3.
5. Ranges east of the Cordillera Real.
For practical purposes, however, it is best to di
vide the whole into two main and approximately
parallel ranges, the Western Cordillera and the Cor
dillera Real, between which lie lakes Titicaca and
Poopo and the high plateau or Puna. We crossed
the Western Cordillera on our way up from the sea
by train ; the Cordillera Real was now before us. These
two ranges are said to separate from each other
in latitude 14° 40' S., where is the pass leading over
from Titicaca to Cusco, and to reunite, or at least
approximate, about latitude 24° S. Though the
eastern range in its whole length may be correctly
termed the Cordillera Real, that proud designation
was undoubtedly gained by the splendid snow -cov
ered stretch which is terminated to the north and
the south by the two world-renowned mountains So-
* Hugo Reck, Geographie mid Statistik der Republik Bolivia. Pe-
termann's Mittheilimgen, 1865. With map.
67

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
rata* and Illimani, sixty-four miles apart. Locally the
snowy part of the range is called Cordillera Brava,
but this designation seems to be falling into disuse.
With our attention concentrated upon the distant
mountains, the nearer lands and hills received less
notice than they deserved, and it was with surprise
that I found the famous Titicaca Island close at hand.
We passed close along its western shore, and then
through the narrow Tiquina strait that separates
it from the peninsula of Copacabana. This island of
Titicaca and its neighbor Coati, the islands of the Sun
and of the Moon, are said to have been the original
home of the Incas, as all who have read Prescott's
Pizarro know. It was on Titicaca Island that Manco
Capac (Mallcu Kcapa) and his wife Mama Oello Huaco
(Marmi Ojllata) arose, the legendary founders of
Inca civilization. It was the people of these islands,
and possibly of the neighboring mainland, that grad
ually extended their power over the inhabitants of
the plateau. Afterwards sweeping northward, they
founded the great city of Cusco, whence their empire
spread to remote and now not definable boundaries.
Later researches have thrown much doubt upon the
correctness of this popular history, f The ruins of the
great Inca buildings on these two islands were visible
from the boat, and as I passed I promised mj'self to
make a special pilgrimage to them. But fortune
was averse, and I left Bolivia without seeing them
* This peak is generally, but incorrecth', called after its second
summit, Illampu. The name of the highest point is Ancohuma or
Hank-uma. t For a brief rSsumS of the results of modern research, see A. H.
Keene's Man, Past and Present, Cambridge, 1899.
68

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
again. Just as we were approaching the strait which
gives access to the inner lake, known as Vinamarca,
the sun set, bathing the snow mountains in violet
gloom before the on-coming of the windless night.
Then the moon shone bright and beautiful upon the
waters. At eight o'clock we anchored off the Bolivian
port Chililaya,* having thus reached our destination
in forty-four days from London.
At an early hour next morning, Mr. N. E. Bieber,
Managing Director of the Yani Gold Mine, to whom
I had a letter of introduction, came on board and
greeted me. Thoroughly au fait with the ways of
the port, he made arrangements for landing my goods
and sending them off by cart to La Paz. A number
of native Aymara Indians carried the things ashore,
each man wrapping a box up in his poncho, and sup
porting it on his back just as my coolies used to do
in Kashmir. This was my first contact with the
pure-breed Indians of South America. All the men
were dressed in the same fashion, wearing trousers
split down the back of the leg from the knee down
ward, with some kind of loose linen lining which
flapped about through the slit; a European shirt, and
perhaps a waistcoat, covered their bodies, but their
chief garment was a great blanket of some brilliant
color, such as crimson, with strips of green or yellow
at the ends ; a hole cut in the middle admitted the head,
while the loose ends flapped down all round. A
poncho is to an Indian what a mantle was to an Irish
man in the days of Edmund Spenser. "When it
* One hundred and eleven miles by steamer from Puno.
69

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
raineth, it is his pent-house ; when it bloweth, it is his
tent; when it freezeth, it is his tabernacle. In sum
mer he can wear it loose, in winter he can wrap it close;
at all times he can use it, never heavy, never cum
bersome." For head-gear the Indians usually wore
a sort of close-fitting woollen nightcap with flaps
over the ears, and over that a round-crowned, rather
narrow-brimmed felt hat. They were all phenomenally
dirty. The hardness of their lives and the severe
climate of this high plateau on which they live were
manifested by their deeply furrowed, weather-beaten
faces, burned brown by the sun and cracked by the
cold winds.
A so-called tilbury, which had been telegraphed
for in advance, was awaiting us. It proved to be
an ordinary light American wagon drawn by four
mules. Like all the La Paz tilburies, it was old, and
inspired little confidence in its capacitj^ for holding
together any length of time. The harness was no
less antique than the machine, and was patched up
with pieces of cord, and bore the signs of many a
rough-and-ready repair.
With much shouting and cracking of his whip,
our driver got his sorry team in motion, and off we
went at a brisk pace, with a stray donkey cantering
ahead. Two more tilburies were starting at the same
time. Wherever the road was wide enough the drivers
raced against one another, wildly screaming. Mine
was the slowest team, and we were soon left behind.
That was my luck throughout this journey. What
ever train I took was the slowest of the week. The
five ocean steamers I voyaged on were each and all
70

H'i

¦Hf

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
the slowest of their respective lines. The road wound
over some low mounded hills, and descended with a
sharp zigzag on to the plain. Just at this point, a
week before, one of the tilburies lost a wheel ; the vehicle
rolled over down the slope, killing one of its occupants
on the spot and dangerously injuring the other. The
whole of our drive from the lake to the edge of the La
Paz basin lay along the high Bolivian plateau, here
called the Puna. This plateau, lying between the
coast and inner Cordilleras, stretches southward for
several hundred miles at about the same altitude.
In many respects, as will hereafter appear, it reminded
me of Tibet. At the time of my journey it was held
in the bonds and drought of winter, so that, but for
the old furrows of last year's ploughing and the brown
stubble visible here and there, one would have imagined
it to be a mere desert. One or two insignificant streams
were passed, expanding into occasional ponds, the
surfaces of which were so stoutly covered with ice that
they had to be broken before the horses could drink.
The air was bitterly cold, and, until the sun had climbed
fairly high, we suffered considerably from chill. At
12,500 feet above sea-level the climate must always
be severe. The natives' habit of wrapping up their
heads in shawls or ponchos is easily accounted for.
Pneumonia is the commonest and most fatal disease
in the high parts of Bolivia. Few people live to any
great age there. Even in the town of La Paz, which
lies in a hollow and is well protected from most winds,
old people are rare, and a man seventy years of age
is pointed to as a phenomenon.
When the small hills of Chililaya had been left
71

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
behind, the great mountain range on our left became
visible. Mount Sorata being thirty miles away, rather
behind us, Cacaaca almost as far ahead, and the
nearest mountain, between the two, about twenty
miles off, while great Illimani was seen from time to
time in the distance, fifty-five miles away. Detached
hills, those of Penas and Palcoco in particular, rising
like islands out of the plain, sometimes shut off parts
of the higher range, but in the main we saw it through
out the day as a long white wall rising at the top of a
series of gentle slopes cut up by deep valleys. It was a
beautiful range, but owing to the clearness of the air
seemed very much closer to the road, and therefore
smaller than it really was. Naturally our eyes were
riveted on it, and at every pause we directed our tele
scopes upon the different peaks and discussed the
probabilities of ascents and the routes to be taken.
The side of Sorata which was now displayed to us
was evidently a better side for attack than that seen
from Lake Titicaca, and a great glacier descending
from the foot of the highest peak, in direction almost
due south, offered a route by which I decided to at
tempt the ascent when the proper time came.
The road was a good enough track, dusty and
heavy, but fairly level, so that by changing horses
every couple of hours we were able to make a good
pace. At first we met few people, but after passing
the points of junction, first with the road from Acha-
cache and afterwards with that from Pucarani, it be
came lively enough. We passed many small farms,
and saw larger villages, and even towns, some dis
tance away. Almost every man we met was an Indian ;
72

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
they travelled sometimes singly, carrying loads, but
usually in parties of half a dozen or more, driving
laden caravans of donkeys or llamas, and sometimes
pigs for the market. The donkeys were small, and
bore large loads, usually sheaves of cebada— that
is to say, barley cut before it is ripe, and dried with
the corn in the ear. This is the principal crop of the
Puna, and forms an admirable fodder for mules and
donkeys. A continual stream of caravans thus laden
pours from all the country round into La Paz, and
on the return brings back such small merchandise
as the villagers consume. The poverty of the people
was obvious enough ; when I was afterwards informed
that the agricultural wage is only from about two
pence to threepence a day, I was not surprised.
As the day advanced the bright sunshine and the
crisp air became most exhilarating; the freshness of
all the sights and novelty of the scene even awoke
the interest of Maquignaz, who seldom allowed the
calm of his indifference to be disturbed by the strange
ness of his surroundings. Before noon white clouds
began to mount from the hot valleys on the far side
of the Cordillera, and showed themselves over the
crest of the range; this we afterwards learned to be a
daily phenomenon. In fine weather at early morning
the range is generally clear, but long before sunset great
masses of clouds that come up from the hot, damp
east, pouring over every pass, bury the mountains
out of sight and often drift down to the plain, bringing
occasional thunder-storms with them. In the months
of June and July, I believe, this eastern cloud does
not appear, but in 1898 it came regularly throughout
73

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
August, September, and October, gradually increasing
in size and in the frequency of the storms to which
it gave rise. In November and the succeeding months
it settles down on the country as a rainy season, lasting
until the following April or May.
Thus hour succeeded hour, and we became more
and more thickly enveloped in dust till there was no
difference between the color of our faces and our clothes.
We grew tired of the bumping, tired of the uniformity
of our surroundings. Before the afternoon was far
advanced the sense of novelty had entirely worn away,
and even I was feeling bored with the monotony of
our movements. To make matters worse, a long,
gentle, upward slope reduced our pace and hid all
view ahead. When I least expected it, the leaders
dipped over the edge of the rise, turned sharp to the left,
and as the carriage followed them we found ourselves,
without warning, on the edge of a cliff (called La
Bajada) which dropped some 1600 feet to a great
basin, that looked for all the world like the crater
of some enormous volcano — a basin ten miles or so
in diameter, with a valley leading up from it towards
beautiful Cacaaca, and another stretcliing downward
to a remote distance. Below us, like a mosaic pave
ment, lay red-roofed La Paz, a much greater city
than I had imagined, while twenty-five miles away
rose the glorious isolated snowy mass of Illimani.
This view, wonderful at any time, produces an in
describable effect upon all persons coming newly to
La Paz, so suddenly does it burst upon the unpre
pared vision of the traveller. The whole of this great
basin and the ramifying valleys that debouch upon
74

LAKE TITICACA TO LA PAZ
it have been excavated by the agency of water from
the vast alluvial mass out of which the high Bolivian
plateau is built. A great inland sea, whereof Lake
Titicaca is but a small remnant, once stretched to the
foot of the Cordillera and hundreds of miles away
southward of La Paz. It was slowly filled up by the
denudation of surrounding mountain ranges. Once
or twice volcanic discharges, from some vent the posi
tion of which is not ascertained, were cast into the
waters, as is evident from the two or three bands of
trachytic tuff displayed by the great section down
which I was now looking. It is the immensity of this
great excavation, which is visibly in process of en
largement at the present day, and the barrenness of
its freshly carved walls, that impress an observer.
Save in the neighborhood of La Paz, in the bottom of
the great hollow, where artificial irrigation can be car
ried on, there is hardly a trace of fertility, except, I
suppose, in the rainy season. All the forms are those
made by an apparently torrential flow of water, which
cuts deep gullies and eats back by cirques into the
cliffs, bringing down landslides and mud avalanches
in great masses. Yet, except in the traces of its action,
there was no sign of water; all was dry and baked
and bare.
To bring a railroad from Chililaya to the point
where we now stood, which is called the Alto, would
be a perfectly easy thing to do, but to drop it down
to the town would be far from a simple matter. The
road is well laid out in zigzags, down which the til
buries are galloped at a fine pace. There are steeper
paths for mules and donkeys, while llamas still use
75

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the world-old tracks which were trodden by their pred
ecessors centuries before the Incas ever rose from
obscurity. Quitting the carriage, I ran down the cliff
by the straightest way and entered the outskirts of
the town alone. They were not in any respect like
European suburbs, nor could one have mistaken them
for the suburbs of an Oriental city. It was impossible,
however, not to feel that, in type, the surroundings of
the way were of great antiquity. There is a certain
Spanish varnish on the surface, and the larger build
ings and towers, seen farther off in the midst of the
town, obviously remembered Spain; but the Indian
suburbs bore on the face of them the marks of an
ancient tradition, a habit of life old as the East, yet
other. It was not refined, however picturesque. The
mud hovels by the road-side were oftenest drinking
booths, where the signs of intoxication were flagrant,
and the folk looked degraded and dirty; yet their
costumes, with all their bright colors, made the roads
like a flower-garden.

CHAPTER VII
LA PAZ
LA PAZ, seen from above, looks flat; when you
get among its streets, it is difficult to stand on
the steeply inclined pavements. Where the
paved way began I rejoined the tilbury; the man
whipped up his horses, and we flashed along the ways
at a dangerously swaggering pace, amidst a volley
of cracks from the whip. People jumped aside and
only just succeeded in escaping our wild rush. How
we bumped and rattled! I looked every moment for
the wheels to fly into disconnected spokes; but noth
ing happened. After swirling round one corner after
another, a final dash brought us into the great square
of the town, the Plaza (named " i6 de Julio ") lacking
which no South American city could respect itself.
We drew up before the door of "Guibert's Hotel," a
really admirable hostelry to find in so remote a place.
A moment later I was installed in excellent rooms,
well furnished and thoroughly European in aspect,
with a view from the windows across to a cathedral,
and with all signs of civilization around. Had it
not been that the lip of the Alto's cliff appeared high
up on the sky-line, and the dust of the Puna was thick
upon me, I might have found it easy to imagine that
all the experiences of the day had been a dream, and
77

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
that I had come to this town, as one usually comes
to civilized places, by train. Before I had had time
to don the garments of civilization, the hospitable
gentry of La Paz came to greet me with the cocktail
of welcome. One and all offered me their help and
did their best to make me feel at home at the very
moment of arrival; nor from that moment until the
day I left Bolivia did I experience at the hands of the
people of La Paz anything but the utmost kindness,
the grateful memory of which will not leave me until
the end of my days.
The first work there was for me in La Paz was to
settle relations with the climate, or rather with the
altitude, for the hotel in the Plaza stands 11,945 f^et
above sea-level, and it takes time to habituate one's
self to living day in and day out so far above one's
usual altitude. Having already spent a week at
Arequipa and on the way up, always more than 7000
feet above sea-level, and for the best part of three days
from 12,000 to 14,000 feet, without experiencing the
smallest discomfort, the last thing that occurred to
me was that I should find the altitude of La Paz at all
disconcerting. But the day after my arrival I awoke
with headache and a general feeling of sickness,
which increased as the hours went on, so that there
was nothing to do but to go to bed again and stay
there. I attributed my woes to the hospitality attend
ing my arrival, but when the doctor came he assured
me that I was only suffering from the normal incon
venience which besets new-comers, the redoubtable
sorocche, or mountain-sickness, and that I should
get over it sooner or later. As a matter of fact, it
78

4*. a^j^YRtr

CO.NGRESS BUILDING, LA PAZ

LA PAZ
passed away in twenty-four hours. Englishmen,
familiar only with European altitudes, generally
labor under the delusion that they have never expe
rienced any effect from diminished atmospheric press
ure, because they have never been mountain-sick.
They ascribe such fatigue as they may have felt near
a mountain-top entirely to the work done in climbing.
But if they could be moved to La Paz, for however
short or long a time, they would soon perceive that
they were not at sea-level. The streets of the town
being steep, all the inhabitants, when they come to
walk up - hill, demonstrate by the rapidity of their
breathing and the slowness of their gait that they too
are affected by the diminished atmospheric pressure.
Many persons can never become habituated to the alti
tude, and are more or less ill during the whole course
of their stay. This is particularly the case with
children and persons of advanced age. In my opinion
the diminution in atmospheric pressure affects men
to an appreciable extent at far lower levels than is
generally believed. Because a man is not conscious
of the effect, it does not at all follow that no effect is
produced upon him.
South America, as is generally known, is a great
country for horse - racing. Even at La Paz races
were of frequent occurrence. I was informed by
sportsmen, thoroughly acquainted with racing at
many different levels, in Chile, Bolivia, and Vene
zuela, that every thousand feet above sea-level tells
markedly upon a horse. Thus, taking Valparaiso
and Santiago, in Chile, as instances, the race-course
of the latter being some 2000 feet above that of the
79

THE BOLniAN AND1':S
former, a horse trained at Valparaiso is found to be
unable to win a race at Santiago against an equally-
good horse trained there. On the other hand, a horse
trained at Santiago and brought down to Valparaiso
is in perfect condition for racing there. Again, tlie
L'ugths of races wliicli a horse can riui have to be re
duced as the altitude increases. At La Paz the great
est length that a horse can gallop is about 500 metres,
and that is a severe strain upon any animal that has
not lived at La Paz for months before the race. While
I was there a vcr\^ line horse was brought up from
Chile and was allowed to race w ithin a week or two
after his arrival. The horse was iierfcctly sound, but
the strain was too much for him and he died the day
after the race. It may be said that horses are more
sensitive than men to differences in atmospheric press
ure, and doubtless a man can climb many thousand
feet higher than he can take a horse. I have not ni>-
self seen horse or mule capable of carrying a man
over easy ground at a higher altitude than about
16,500 feet, where they almost uniforml\' break down.
This was certainly true in South America, and, if 1
remember rightly, at about that altitude, travellers
crossing the Karakoram Pass between Yarkand and
Kashmir are obliged to dismount from their ponies,
and, if they ride at all, transfer themselves to yaks,
though I have been told that in Sikkim horses carry
travellers to an altitude of 18,000 feet. The facts,
however, which seem to be proved by the exjiericncc
of South American racing men, are that some diminu
tion in physical vigor is produced in a horse at even
so low an elevation as 2000 feet above sea -level;
80

LA PAZ
that this loss becomes more apparent at 4000 or 5000
feet, and that at 12,000 it is very marked indeed. What
is true even of a horse in a high state of training is,
in my opinion, likewise true of all men, though perhaps
to a less degree. From sea-level upward, as the air
becomes rarer and the supply of oxygen less, the
strength of man diminishes. Though this diminu
tion may not be perceived, except as the result of minute
and careful experiment, and the man himself may be
unconscious of it, it none the less occurs.
This diminution of strength is quite apart from
the disease which we call mountain-sickness, and the
South Americans sorocche or puna. That seems to
me to be an illness corresponding in kind to sea-sick
ness, to which some persons are more prone than
others, and most people can get over. It is caused
by a nervous derangement. It comes on suddenly,
accompanied by headache, vomiting, or other well-
marked symptoms; it does not necessarily overtake
the patient at the moment of his arrival at a high
altitude, but may assail him even as much as a week
after he has begun living high above sea-level ; it may
pass away in a few hours, or it may last for many
days, but ultimately it goes, in the case of normally
healthy persons. Having once disappeared, it does
not return unless the patient has in the mean time
descended to a low level and spent some considerable
time down there. If my surmise is correct, we must
conclude that mountain-sickness is not in itself a bar
to high mountain climbing, and that time cures it.
But the steady diminution in strength which accom
panies increasing elevation is a permanent disability.
F 81

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
It naturally affects strong men less than weak ones,
seeing that they have the larger reserve of power to
draw upon, but it abstracts from the strength of the
strongest just as it does from the strength of a weaker
man. One who can climb 5000 feet in a day without
special fatigue, starting, say, from 8000 feet, will
experience greater fatigue in climbing the same num
ber of feet if he starts at 12,000 feet, and still greater
if he starts at 14,000 feet; so that in making a high
mountain ascent, requiring several days, if we assume
the work each day to be of equal difficulty, the stage
of ascent will have to be made shorter and shorter.
This diminution of daily range will prove to be
one of the most serious impediments, perhaps the
most serious, to the attainment of the highest alti
tudes on the surface of the earth. Unfortunately
for adventurous mountain explorers, the higher they
rise the greater are many other factors of difficulty
with which they have to contend. The cold at night
increases very rapidly above 20,000 feet, and at any
thing like 24,000 feet it becomes a very serious matter
indeed. Almost equally wearing to the system is
the power of the sun by day, which, shining through
the thin air, scorches the life out of a man in an ap
palling fashion. The difficulty of transport is another
increasing impediment, for the higher you climb the
less easy it is to find porters who can go with you, and
the smaller are the loads they are able to bear. LastlJ^
the danger arising from bad weather is multiplied
in almost geometrical progression the higher you go.
These points will receive illustration in the course of
my narrative. 82

LA PAZ
Sorocche thus deprived me of my first day at La
Paz, though not so suddenly as to prevent me from
setting inquiries on foot for mules and other essentials
for the formation of a caravan. The remaining three
days of my stay were fully occupied. The baggage
had to be unpacked and repacked, a store-room hired
for it, various calls paid, and letters of introduction
presented. Don Manuel Vicente Ballivdin, Presi
dent of the Geographical Society of La Paz and an
honorary member of our own Geographical Society,
was able and generous to serve me in every way, and
was a cyclopaedia of information as to all matters
connected with his country. By him I was taken
to the Meteorological Observatory of the Jesuits,
where I compared my barometer with their standard,
and found the two to be in close agreement one with
another. The Fathers kindly undertook to read their
instrument at frequent stated intervals during the
days of my absence on mountain expeditions, and this
agreement was faithfully carried out. The prefect
of the department offered to place an officer of the
gendarmerie at my disposal to look after my caravan
and smooth down difficulties for me in out-of-the-
way places. From a contractor, Coro by name, I
hired the necessary mules. He likewise supplied me
with one Avelino Villanova for arriero, a quaint in
dividual, who would have been a mine of "copy"
for this book if I could have understood the tenth part
of what he said. He was a Sancho Panza come again
— " paunch - bellied, short of stature, and spindle-
shanked" — of honest, rather stupid, but right merry
countenance, who took the troubles of life with grin-
83

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ning resignation, and bombarded adversity with
proverbs. Like Sancho, he could neither read nor
write. He rode a beast, to all appearance an ass,
though he swore it was a little mule. His weak legs
flapped against its flanks as though they had been
pendulous from the beginning. His knees had been
stretched into the same plane as his body by the wide
saddles on which he had passed his days, pursuing
errant mules from year's end to year's end, and trying
to keep them in the way they should go. Every five
minutes he dismounted to rearrange a load, thus aban
doning his mule, and often forced to pursue it long
before a recapture was accomplished — verily a soul-
torturing existence; yet he had preserved an equal
mind throughout it all and remained content with his
lot, and even proud of it. If he retained any ambition,
it was not to rule an island, but to become the owner
of a few more mules beyond the two which represented
the savings of a lifetime.
The first work we had to undertake was the ascent
of Illimani. The mountain stared us in the face,
when the weather was clear, down every main street
in the town. Indeed, it is more closely associated
with La Paz than is any other great mountain known
to me with any considerable citj^. I can only com
pare it with Mont Blanc as seen from Geneva; but
Illimani is nearer, and imposes itself upon La Paz
far more emphatically than does Mont Blanc upon
the Swiss city. Generally speaking, it is found that
mountains attract little attention from the people
who live within sight of them. But the Indians of
Bolivia, long before the coming of the Spaniards,
84

LA PAZ
seem to have paid much attention to the great peaks
of the Cordillera Real. To begin with, they are all
named, not with general names applying to the range
merely, but with individual names belonging to the
single peaks. A stranger, unacquainted with the
Aymara tongue, finds it impossible to discover these
names and to identify the peaks to which they belong,
while to the Bolivians the nomenclature is uninterest
ing. It is only the Indians who care about the moun
tains. In the Alps, before the days of mountaineer
ing, there were hardly any named peaks. The
whole range of Zermatt Mountains was simply
called Gletscher Mons, or, in the local patois, Monte
Roese, now corrupted into Monte Rosa. A Latin
ized form of the same designation, Mons Silvius,
was locally corrupted into Cervin. It was only
much later that these general names were respec
tively attached by travellers to the particular peaks
now known as Monte Rosa and Mont Cervin or
the Matterhorn.
In Bolivia, in the days of the Incas, as I have said,
and perhaps much earlier, the individual peaks had
attracted the attention of the natives and figured in
their legends as the abode of divinities. Illimani, it
appears, was honored either as a god or the abode
of a god by the people dwelling in the La Paz valley
and on the flanks of the mountain. This traditional
respect for the peak survives to the present day,
though with diminished force. One of the principal
streets of La Paz is named Illimani Street. An easily
recognizable picture of the mountain forms the sign-
85

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
board of an establishment for the sale of alcoholic
drinks, which seemed to be well patronized; and the
people in general manifest in many other small ways
their interest and pride in the mountain. Whoever
should prove to them that it is higher than Acon
cagua would earn their hearty gratitude. It was
elicited, in response to diligent inquiry of those best
calculated to form an opinion, that the remoter side
of the peak was that by which an attack would most
likely be successful.
I was by no means the first to attempt the ascent.
Pentland and Gibbon tried it, but did not get ver}'
far up the actual mountain, though they crossed high
passes both north and south of it. Mr. J. B. Min-
chin, whose acquaintance I afterwards made at Oruro,
climbed to the edge of one of the glaciers on the west
side, but, being alone, wisely declined to venture up
the ice-fall. General Pando, now (1900) President of
Bolivia, likewise once made a plucky assault on the
great mountain and reached a high elevation. Mon
sieur Wiener, at the time French Representative in
Bolivia, made an ascent from Cotaiia Farm of a peak
to which he gave the name Pic de Paris. Unfortu
nately, I was not able to identify it conclusiveh'. What
was more to the point for us than this ancient history
was the information that Mr. Bandolier, of whom I
shall have more to say hereafter, was actually at that
moment encamped on the side of the mountain and
contemplated attempting the ascent. If we had been
inclined to delay, this news would have hastened our
proceedings; but the shortness of the climbing season
urged us to the utmost rapidity of movement.
86

LA PAZ
In the afternoon, when we were in the midst of pack
ing, there rolled into the room a small and self-impor
tant personage in uniform, who gave his name as
Jose S. Espinosa. He was apparently in a high
state of satisfaction, for he clapped me on the back,
sat down on the best chair in the room, helped him
self to cigars, and proceeded to harangue me at some
length in Spanish. I had not the least idea what
he said, my Spanish being in the most rudimentary
condition, and I was well pleased to see him presently
depart. Unfortunately, as will appear, that was
not the last of him. Next morning he turned up at the
hour of starting and asked for money. I then dis
covered that he was the gendarmerie officer who was
to be my companion, and I at once detected trouble
ahead. The mules arrived not more than an hour
late, and a number of persons came to see our cara
van start and wish us luck on the way.
The Bolivian mule-saddle is a wonderful affair; it
appeared to consist, on an average, of some dozen
sheepskins in various stages of dilapidation, among
which a wooden frame was buried. There were no
convenient angles, as in the Californian saddle, for
the attachment of cords, and, indeed, baggage was
only held in place by a convolution of ropes which
injuriously constricted the beast. But what the sys
tem of loading lacked in wisdom was to some extent
made up for by the skill of our arriero, who had a
way of tossing over his ropes in peculiar loops and
knotting them with great cleverness. It was always
amusing to watch him load one of his unwilling ani
mals. He would cozen it into the delusion of capture
87

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
by throwing a mere rope's-end over its neck; then
he would wrap his head up in a shawl and proceed
to pile on his collection of sheepskins. The next step
was to hitch two heavy pieces of baggage, looped
together like panniers, across its back. With these
for foundation, other goods were piled on, and then
the whole was roped up. At each pull of the cord
the man grunted, and so did the beast, in apparent
sympathy, while every action was accompanied by
some more or less humorous comment, addressed
either to the mule or the by-standers. My guides
justly considered themselves to know something
about loading mules, for each was a mule-owner,
accustomed to drive his beast of burden down from
his village home with a load to the railway station at
Chatillon and to bring it up again, such being the
daily work, except in the climbing and harvest sea
sons, of the peasants of Val Tournanche. They
therefore had many criticisms to make upon the mules,
their loading and their treatment ; and I have no doubt,
now that they are at home again, they have more to
say about the mules of Bolivia and Chile than about
the people, or even the mountains.

CHAPTER VIII
LA PAZ TO COTANA.
A T last all was ready. Bidding farewell to my
ZA agent, Sefior Granier, a Bolivian of French extrac
tion, whose assistance was most useful to me, I
gave the word to start, whereupon one of the baggage
mules began violently bucking, mixed his load up with
the others, kicked Pelhssier's beast, and set up a little
pandemonium. Simultaneously the gendarmerie officer
began demanding an advance of money, and a quarter
of an hour was spent in quieting men and beasts before
we fairly got under way. By ten o'clock order was
temporarily restored and we were filing down the street
in sight of a crowd of on-lookers. I never commenced
an expedition with less sanguine expectations; I had
no confidence in my native companions ; I had not the
ghost of an idea of the geography of the complicated
valley system that lay between La Paz and our moun
tain ; I could not speak the language ; I was ignorant
as to the character of the supplies that might be avail
able, or where and how it would be possible to enlist
porters for carrying our baggage up the slopes of the
mountain. Thus it was with not a few forebodings
that I rode along the cobble-stoned street in the cold
morning air. In a few minutes the town was left
behind, and the road passed through a short, deep
89

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
cutting, which had doubtless been worn down into the
dr}' alluvial liill by ages of traffic. On suddenly
emerging from it, Illimani stood up before us in clear
ness and splendor. The sun was shining on its white
crest and on the group of parallel glaciers that drain
down its western slope. ^Maquignaz rode up beside
me and seemed for the moment as hopefid of success
as he was always determined to succeed. "What a
splendid mountain ! " he cried.
" Do you see a route up it from this side? " I asked.
"Who can tell?" he answered. "But let us come
near the snow, and, one way or another, we shall
assuredly get up."
In the course of my wanderings I have driven cara
vans of horses, ponies, donkeys, of camels, and of
heathen cooUes of different races, but it so chanced
that this was m}' first experience of mules in quantity'.
It is generally understood that mules are not urged
to continuous exertion by blows, but b^' strong lan
guage, towards which their understanding is as alert
as their experience of it is profound. Strong lan
guage brings back the wanderer and urges on the
faint; so I was informed. I approached my mules
remembering the storj' of Bdh' the Pike in Clarence
Iving's Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada, one
of the finest books on moimtain-travel ever written.
Bilh' had been congratulated on his powers of lan
guage. " 'Swear?' repeated the Pike, in a tone of
incredulous questioning. '^le swear?' as if the com
pliment were greater than his modest desert. 'No
I can't blaspheme worth a cuss. You'd jest orter hear
Pete Green. He can exhort the impenitent mule. I've
90

THE GUIDES LADING A MULE

AN INDIAN WEAVING

LA PAZ TO COTANA
known a ten-mule team to renounce the flesh and haul
thirt3'-one thousand through a foot of claj' mud under
one of his outpourings.' " I had swallowed this story
whole with relish in London; I chewed the cud of it in
Bolivia. The exit from the great basin of La Paz is b}' the
narrow valle}^ of the La Paz River ; this, like the basin
itself, is delved out of the deep alluvial deposit, whose
gray and brown substance, cut up into queer shapes
and continually eaten into bj' the torrents of the rainy
season, forms the barren sides of the gorge. The
section reveals horizontal beds of shingle, sand, and
clay, with a few laj'ers of fine volcanic tufa, which
may have come from the Western Cordillera. Now
and again, where some stray leakage from an irriga
tion canal damps the soil, a tiny oasis of fertilitj-
springs up. One such spot close beside the road
was rich with ferns and multitudinous flowers just
beginning to show blossom; but for the most part
the surroundings in the bright sunlight were prac
tically bare of vegetation. So much the more did
the}' throw into bright relief the groups of Indians
in their colored attire who came in quick succession
along the road, carr3'ing towards La Paz the prod
ucts of the fertile lower regions. ]\Iam' of them
tins daj' were carrjang rose-bushes, planted in old
petroleum tins, to the La Paz flower-market; for the
people of La Paz are ver^' fond of flowers and pay
much attention to their gardens. I noticed that the
Indians who came up the valley were of a different
type from those we had passed on the Puna, and that
they wore a somewhat different costume.
91

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
A mile or two below the town comes the village
or suburb named Obrajes, where many of the inhab
itants of La Paz have villas; for Obrajes is not only
lower and more sheltered, and thus has a less rigor
ous chmate than La Paz, but is well supplied with
water, and has some flat and very fertile ground suit
able for gardens. Here were peach-trees in blos
som, and cactus hedges, which a few weeks later
were covered with beautiful wax-like flowers of the
most deUcate hues; and there were graceful willow-
trees to give shade, and quantities of lupines growing
vnld on ground that is flooded in the rainy season.
The gardens were full of fruit trees, and though the
houses were merely built of mud, and looked dl-cared
for and devoid of comfort, 5'et the place had an at
tractive air, and the affection of the inhabitants tow
ards it was easdy understood.
Crossing the mouth of the Calocota Valley, which
will be described hereafter, and then crossing the al
most dry bed of La Paz River itself, we passed along
the right bank and entered a narrow defile, where
the traces of the powerful denuding action of the rainy
season became very apparent. There were the dried-
up remains of great land-slips and mud avalanches
which had fallen in previous rainy seasons. Higher
up the scooped-out hollows could be identified, from
which had descended the rounded heaps of debris
now resting on the bottom of the gorge. A little lower
down on our right hand came a great cliff of alluvial
deposit, cut up all over its face and at its top into spires
of the kind known as "earth pyramids." These were
by no means the first earth pyramids we had come
92

LA PAZ TO COTANA
across, for the edge of the La Paz basin is freely deco
rated with them, and the}' are common, as might be
expected, wherever the great alluvial deposit is cut
away into cliffs and subjected to the action of heavy
rains. Alpine travellers are acquainted with earth
p}Tamids in the Val de Bagnes and in the neighbor
hood of Meran. I had seen them on a large scale near
Lamayuru, in Western Tibet, but I never saw or heard
of such a remarkable development of this formation
as is shown in the La Paz Valley. Luckily our path
led by steep zigzags straight up the cliff, and I was
thus enabled to investigate the pyramids in detail.
I found on arriving at the top that the whole surface
of the groimd for a great distance was cut up in this
fashion, so that the path wound about among strange
spires of earth in the most devious fashion, almost
like the track of climbers traversing a complicated
ice-fall. There were, in fact, deep crevasses cut far
down into the muddy substance, and shafts like gla
cier moulins, and scooped-out caves, and great hol
lows with narrow necks like bottles — all the work
of torrential rain-storms during four months in the
year. A more weird region it would scarcely be pos
sible to conceive, though, of course, the cut-up surface
was of no great ^vidth — a hundred yards or so — merely
fringing the top edge of the cliff.
I presently discovered that the portion of the allu
vium we were now traversing had a different origin
from that of the great mass out of which the La Paz
basin has been scooped. The facts appear to be as
follow : At a remote epoch the whole area of country
lying between the two Cordilleras, from latitude 14°
93

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
S. southward for about 13''', was a groat inland sea.
It is probable that tiiis region was not then elevated
so high above tiic level of the surface of the ocean
as it now is. This inland -sca had no exit castw.ird
corresponding to the present La Paz Valley. Its
basin was gradually filled up with debris i)rodiRC(l
by the disintegration of the surrounding mountains,
the whole area being meantime clcvaled and gradu
ally dried, so that the inland sea shrank to its present
dimensions. Later on, b}' a process to which 1 shall
have occasion to refer hereafter, the La Paz River
cut, appro.ximately to its present dimensions, the deep
trench in which I had just been travelling, and down
which my wa}' was to go to the foot of Illimani.
Then a relatively small lake, which may have been
formed by a land-slip damming up the valley, as the
great Gohna Lake was formed not long ago in the
Himalayas, bursting through its dam, carried down,
in the form of a mud-avalanche, an immense mass of
debris, which filled uf) the bottom of the La Paz Val
ley from the neighborhood of Obrajes downward,
a distance of about eight miles, to a depth gradually
diminishing from two hundred feet to not more than
forty, where it ended. This mud-avalanche, wlien it
freshly came to rest, resembled a glacier l}i ng in a
valley-bottom. The La Paz River in process of time
cut a canyon through the mud-avalanche, ,so that to
day only portions of it are left. The earth ])vrainids
I have been describing are on the face and along the
edge of this canyon.
For a mile or two our way lay along the top of the
old mud-avalanche, evidently a very fertile jiiece of
94

LA PAZ TO COTAf^A
land; the road was lined on both sides by a close hedge
of cactus, and there was a prosperous little agricult
ural village where I noticed some orchards of prickly-
pear. In due season we descended by another steep
set of zigzags to the river-bank, where a halt was
made to water the mules, three and a half hours from
La Paz. We now returned to the left bank and mounted
high up the steep slope. The valley was no longer
cut in alluvial deposits, but in the rocky substance
of the hills, against which bits of the mud-avalanche
were plastered here and there. For half a mile or so
the path was of a rather giddy description, cut into
the precipitous slope. We kept encountering donkey-
caravans coming up, driven by Indians, and there
was always a struggle as to who should get the inside ;
for though, after the manner of mules and donkeys,
the beasts preferred the outside edge, their drivers
were in no case indifferent to the advantage of yielding
that situation to the other party. At last we came out
on another large flat area of mud-avalanche and had
no more precipices to negotiate. It was evident that
we were descending to a substantially lower level.
The air felt oppressively dense ; the heat, falling directly
from the sun or reflected from the bright slopes around,
was most oppressive, and neither the guides nor I were
yet in hard condition. We saw a big country-house
or hacienda not very far ahead, surrounded by fields
and fruit-gardens, and we nourished hopes that this
might be the place for lunch; but there was still an
hour or more to go, and our only consolation was that
for some distance the road was good enough for a
canter, as up to then it had not been. Putting spurs
95

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
to the mules, we raced gayly to the little tambo of
Carrera. Thus far our officer had only been objectionable
in a mild fashion. He annoyed me, indeed, in the
very outskirts of La Paz, by stopping a countryman
bringing oranges to the market, and, as far as I could
make out, though he denied it, robbing him; he also
endeavored to force upon me his undesired conversa
tion, and then sang at the top of his lungs the most
cacophonous ditties.
"You don't sing?" he said to me.
"No." I replied, "I don't."
"I do," he said, "all the time— like this," and off
he went. But arrived at the tambo he was in great
form. He routed out the old lady who kept the store
and gave his orders like a king; uncorked the beer,
and divided the sausages and other simple foods
that the little hut afforded, offering what he pleased
to any one who came to look on, and helping himself
before me or anybody else. Evidently, in his opinion,
the whole expedition existed for his enjoyment, and
he proposed to plunder it at his leisure. For the mo
ment, owing to my small command of Spanish, I
was obliged to let the matter pass and await devel
opments. The arriero came up with the baggage-
mules and proceeded to feed them. On preparing
to leave I was charged for the mules' fodder, though
it had been an item in the contract between me and
the mule-owner that he should pay for their food. I
therefore resisted the charge, and informed the ar
riero that he must pay, not knowing that his master
had carefully sent him off without a coin in his pocket
96

A DONKEY CARAVAN IN THE LA PAZ VALLEY

THE LA PAZ VALLEY

LA PAZ TO COTANA
Accordingly, I rode away, and so, presently, did he,
driving off the mules and leaving the good woman
to whistle for her money. Later on, of course, I saw
that she received her due at the mule-owner's expense.
During the remainder of the day we continued
the descent of the valley, soon leaving the last rem
nants of the mud-avalanche behind. We passed one
or two oases, where side streams, distributed by irriga
tion canals, brought fertility to the arid soil; but for
the most part our way lay down the barren trough,
with great bare slopes, fantastically denuded, rising
steeply on either hand and shutting out all distant
view. The road was usually bad, lying in fact among
the actual bowlders of the now dry river-bed, but oc
casionally there came smooth fans of hard -baked
mud, like an adobe floor, at the mouth of side val
leys, and here it was possible to advance more rapid
ly. Our plan was to spend the night at a hacienda
called Millocato, but the hours passed by one after
another, the evening came on, and Millocato did not
appear. Just at dusk, indeed, we reached a build
ing which proved to be the tambo of Huaricana,
but I had been especially warned not to stop there,
for it is infested by tertian-fever. On we pushed ac
cordingly, as quickly as the tired beasts could go, but
black night overtook us, and still there was no house
in sight. To make matters worse, it now appeared
that neither our officers nor the arriero had ever been
down the valley before. At last I saw the glimmer
ings of a light in the distance, and, riding towards
it, found Indians, who directed us to the desired goal.
A number of barking dogs and inquisitive Indians
G 97

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
surrounded us at the door, where the major-domo of
the place received us, and gave a somewhat grudg
ing permission to enter.
We found ourselves in a large court -yard sur
rounded by a series of one-storied mud buildings,
whereof the one next to the gate was assigned to us.
They were all of the same kind, some used for store
rooms, others for abodes, very dirty and unattrac
tive to a person newly come from Europe. The cham
ber we were to occupy was swept out (it had previously
been occupied by the cattle), and we were allowed to
ensconce ourselves and our baggage there. The
officer put his things down in one corner and asked
what we were going to give him to eat and drink. I
showed him our teapot and condensed meats and
biscuits, whereupon he snorted and disappeared.
That was practically the last we saw of him that night,
but presently we heard him shouting and singing in
the major-domo's establishment over the way, and an
hour or two later, when he made a sudden inroad upon
us to carry off his baggage, I observed that he was
in a highly festive condition. His songs grew louder,
and other noises came from his neighborhood, as
though he were knocking things about and advancing
through various stages of intoxication. Whenever
I woke up during the night he was still at it, and I
was informed next day that he had consumed no
less than five bottles of the cheap spirits of the country.
Anxious to be early on the road and take advantage
of the cool of the morning as long as possible, I was
up betimes. Then the trouble began.
First the arriero came for money, stating that he
98

LA PAZ TO COTAi^A
must have six dollars for the night's entertainment.
Two would have been too much. Then the drunk
en officer, whose debauch was not yet concluded,
came with the major-domo to demand more dollars
to pay for what he had consumed. He addressed
us truculently, and then wandered away, rolling
about the court-yard in a condition of great excite
ment and haranguing all and sundry. Needless to
say he was not too firm upon his feet, and in the midst
of his eloquence he frequently collapsed upon the
ground. He had been sent to see that we were not
cheated, but he took this first opportunity of threat
ening the major-domo with his everlasting displeas
ure if he allowed us to go unless we paid him a con
siderable sum — a large percentage, doubtless, for his
own pocket. The poor major-domo came to me and
explained that he was in terror of all gendarmerie offi
cers, as they had it in their power to do him a great
deal of harm. There were one or two other Bolivians
in the place, but they all cowered away in dread of
the drunken official. Presently the court-yard be
gan to fill with Indian farm-laborers coming to their
day's work. The officer turned his attention to them,
and proceeded to make a pretence of drilling them.
They had to shoulder mattocks, present, etc., to his
word of command. It was one of the funniest things
I ever saw — this small, strutting personage, with his
flushed face, thick utterance, and uncertain drunken
paces, rollicking about in front of the dismayed Ind
ians, explaining to them how they must stand and
what they must do, and falling over from time to time
in the midst of his eloquence. To make matters
99

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
worse, he was armed with a carbine and kept threat
ening to shoot. After much trouble I succeeded in
getting the mules loaded up behind a corner, where
they were not in view, and sent them away with the
arriero. I also sent off an Indian to La Paz with a letter
explaining the situation. On myself endeavoring to
start, the officer and the people of the place, whom he
overawed, opposed my departure, and the officer, in
order to establish his position, made bold to declare
that, so far from being under my orders, I was under
his ; that he had been sent to watch me and interfere
with my movements, and that he called upon the
Bolivians to support him and prevent me from going
farther. With the inconsistency of a drunkard, how
ever, he forgot this a few minutes later; so, watching
my opportunity, I jumped on my mule and rode away,
whereupon, I am informed, he mounted his animal
and started off in pursuit, but he hadn't gone a hun
dred yards before he fell off. He smashed his carbine,
cut his forehead, and hurt himself in other ways.
The people of the farm found him in this plight and
put him back to bed, where he remained for the best
part of the next two days, and thus relieved us of
his unwelcome company. On our return to La Paz
his superiors offered me every satisfaction for the
misbehavior of this fellow.
When it became clear that we were free of our trouble
some companion, the pleasures of the day began.
The air was soft, the bright sunshine gilded the crest
of the mountains, and the grandeur of the scenery
could scarcely be surpassed. We trotted gayly along
the valley bottom, over a mud flat whitened with a
100

nil: LA I'AZ VALLKV KOAD

Jlf^.ji^^f^fffj •

.\LAK jiijai<ii:a.\a

LA PAZ TO COTANA
saline efflorescence ; then came again into stony ways,
where our pace was necessarily slow. At Esquina
de Pongo we passed the mouth of a deep side valley,
leading straight towards lUimam, up which, as we
afterwards discovered, lies a better route towards
the mountain than the one we took. It was, in fact,
by this valley that we descended. Blissfully ignorant
of all such geographical details, for our arriero had
not the dimmest idea of where we ought to go, we
pushed on down the valley, and in a couple of hours
came to the richly cultivated oasis named Tirata,
where the track passed along the edge of a large sugar
plantation. The contrast was striking between the
tropical luxuriance of the foreground and the barren
hill-sides rising all round.
Below Tirata the valley narrowed to a gorge and
the scenery waxed more wild. Steep cliffs approached
one another from both sides, and the bottom was re
duced to a narrow stretch, covered with rounded,
water-worn bowlders difficult to travel over. Once
or twice we had momentary glimpses, up some side
gap, of the snows of Illimani enveloped in cloud,
but overhead the sky was clear and the sun shone
down into our trough with scorching power. The
heat was, in fact, overwhelming, and the very rocks
seemed to be ablaze. Conversation ceased ; we pushed
along, each in the solitude of his own suffering. At
noon there came a deeply shadowed cave, wherein
we sheltered awhile to lunch. It was a hollow ex
cavated by water, for during the rainy season the
whole width of the gorge down which we had come
is flooded with a great torrent and rendered inacces-
lOI

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
sible to man. Caravans descending from La Paz
must then take a different route, circulating round
the slopes of the mountain by devious and difficult
tracks instead of following the valley itself. Here
I found it easy to imagine myself back again in the
barren gorges of the Kashmir Himalayas, and even
the few Indians who came by were not unlike the
natives of those Asiatic fastnesses. But the travelling
population was small, and we did not encounter more
than half a dozen persons during the day. The losels
and scatterlings who people the tracks of Asia, going
long foot-journeys on business or pilgrimages, or
merely drifting from place to place, find no parallel
in South America. I missed the nomad's greeting
and the traces of his tent or camp-fire. The orbit
of an Aymara Indian is small, and the men one meets
by the way are evidently not going far. It is other
wise in Asia, where countless wanderers link together
the remotest parts of the great continent.
Two hours lower down our troubles came to an
end at the beautiful farm of Lurata, w^here we could
quit the deep hot hollow' and turn up towards the
cool heights. The desert bottom was exchanged
for a zigzag track among beautiful vineyards, and
soon for a gently sloping pathway along the edge
of an ancient canal, conducting the waters of Illi
mani to the roots of the vines. We afterwards made
the acquaintance of the wines of Lurata, and found
them highly meritorious, strong red wines of much
body, somewhat resembling port in character. Great
bushes of cane grew beside the watercourse, and many
trees, as yet bare of leaves, for springtime was only
102

LA PAZ TO COTANA
just at hand. Gaunt cactuses covered the unculti
vated slopes above the farm. The heat diminished
as we rose; the sun, drawing to the westw^ard, cast
shade upon the path. The view widened, and soon
there came in sight a large area of orchards ahead,
surrounding houses and a church. Birds chirped
and fluttered about, flocks of green paroquets of the
kind called Lobitos screamed among the trees, and
multitudes of pigeons flew about. The track widened
into something like a road, which ended in a beautiful
avenue of eucalyptus -trees, leading to the hacienda
•of Cotafia. On dismounting at the gate I found to
my surprise that we were expected. Sefior Guillen,
the manager of the estate, came down through a cack
ling flock of white turkeys to greet us, and, carrying
me immediately into the house, introduced me to his
family and the friends he was at the time entertaining,
the nephew and grandson of the prefect of La Paz.
Luckily for me, Sefior Guillen's son and the prefect's
grandson could both speak English. The ground
floor of the house consisted of store-rooms and offices
for the servants. The first floor contained all the
dwelling-rooms, and was approached by a wide brick
staircase which gave access to a broad arcaded ve
randa. The double row of well-proportioned columns
gave a stately appearance to the fagade, and the whole
house, standing in the midst of tall eucalyptus-trees,
had quite a fine appearance. The rooms were large,
though rather out of repair, the walls covered (as
commonly in Bolivian country houses and inns) with
prints cut from English illustrated papers, mostly
about twenty years old. 103

CHAPTER IX
THE FERTILE SLOPES OF ILLIMANI
THE next day was spent in this charming place.
Cotafia may be taken as an example of what in
Bolivia is called a finca — that is to say, an or
ganized country estate, which may be compared with
a mediaeval English manor. A finca is a social unit,
and, as far as I could learn, its organization mainly
descends from pre-Spanish days. The land belongs
to a proprietor, and so, in a sense, do the Indians
dwelling upon it; but the proprietor's ownership is
subject to a multitude of rights possessed by the Ind
ians. They cultivate the owner's land, he provid
ing the necessary seed; each Indian, in return for
his labor, yearly receives a certain amount of land
for his own use. A finca Indian will do things for
his proprietor or his proprietor's representative which
he will do for no one else. It would have been im
possible for a stranger like myself to have hired Indian
porters for such unusual employment as I proposed
to them. Only through a finca proprietor could that
be done, and then with difficulty. He could not com
pel them to go with me, but he could use his influence
to persuade them to do so.
Of course, without land, an Indian must practically
starve, so that he is to that extent at the mercy of the
104

ooH>>

THE FERTILE SLOPES OF ILLIMANI
finca proprietors. On the other hand, the owner of
a finca depends on his Indians for labor; if they
were to desert in any numbers, his property would
become valueless. The only system of agriculture
the Indians understand is the prehistoric system of
their forefathers, and I believe it is practically im
possible to introduce improved methods, for the na
tives are intensely conservative, and become difficult
to manage if any of their customs are interfered with.
Physical force is not available to keep the Indians
in order. They are controlled by tradition, the au
thority of the priests, their own absolute ignorance,
and their poverty. As Maquignaz said; "The white
folks give employment, and so are the masters. It is
the same here as it is everywhere. Poor folks must
find some one to pay them for working. The whites
are the only people who can do that." In the Bo
livian towns there are resident police, and a small
body of gendarmerie is maintained, which can be
sent to refractory villages if necessary; but in a poor
country like Bolivia it is impossible, under present
circumstances, to police the scattered Indian popula
tion. They must be kept in order by moral suasion,
and can only be coerced on rare occasions. When
a local disturbance arises a special force is drafted
in to deal with the refractory village. It seemed to
me that the white people live in some fear of the Ind
ians. When the enormous predominance of the
native element is considered, such an attitude is by
no means unnatural; in fact, a traveller can only
regard with astonishment and admiration the manner
in which the millions of Indians are actually kept in
105

Til 10 BOLn'l.AN AN Dies
order by the small while population. It is .souieliines
as.serted that the Holivian liuliims are, to all intents
and iturpo.ses, slaves. That nia}' he true, but if tlie}-
are slaves the\- are cerlaiul}- not enslaved by force,
nor are tlie\- kept to their work by physical compul
sion. No attempt seems to he made lo rai.se Ihem
in the .social .scale. 'Plie present generation is doubt
less as ignorant as an}- under the dominion of the
Incas. Hut in a cpiiet wa}' lime passes and men live
their lives not unhappil}', though with occasional
intervals of anxiet}'. Of course, the immense pos
sible produclivit}' of the sod is maini}- wasleil under
this .s}stem. In some parts of the countr}- a Held
is onl}' cultivated once in four }eais and lies fallow
for the oilier three, while in other parts a turn comes
even less frequeull}'. Seeing Ihe farms, as 1 did,
before the commencement of spring, the}' appeared
to he of immense si/.e, for there was nothing to slunv
which [ields had been cultivated last }ear and which
had lain fallow; but, as a mailer of fact, Ihe eilicient
si'/,e of a farm, in an}' single }ear, leaving the orchards
out of count, is from one-third to one-eighth of its
apiiareut size, onl}' a small fiaclioii being al an}' one
time under culllvalion.
1 was informed that Colafia was once the properly
of an Iri.sh lady. When I was there il belonged to
Don Lisimaco Gulierre/,, al Ihal lime Minister of
I'^inance. His deputy was Sefior (Juillen, ui}' host,
whose son, Sefior ICzekiel duillen, agreed lo acconi-
])any me with the Indians, at all events np the lower
.slopes of Illimani. This was vei}' good hu'l<. Woi'd
was sent up to a higher village thai suitable men
Kit)

THE FERTILE SLOPES OF ILLIMANI
should be sought. As nothing is done in a hurry
in these parts, there was time to spare. In the morn
ing I was taken over the orchards of C<»tana and shown
the great [)lantations of i)each-trees, all then in blos
som, and the orchards of custard-apples, granadillas,
oranges, lemons, and vines. The whole place had
been laid out \\ith an e}e to landscape-gardening.
Charming arbors were erected at pretty points of view.
flndei- the shadow of splendid trees we found a brick-
lined swimming bath, excavated in the ground, with
a little bathing-hoiuse built beside it and a streamlet
flowing through, an ideal place for a plunge. I after
wards learned that such a swimming-bath is a common
adjunct to the fruil-growing finca.s of Bolivia. Most of
the fruits are allowed to grow as the}- please, with little
cultivation, the peaches, for instance, not being grafted ;
il is only the custard-apples and the granadillas that
are sent ti) the La Pa/, market for sale Peaches and
grapes are the chief iiroduct of the estate The latter
are made into wine and the former into a vei}- low
class of spirit, largel}- consumed by the Indians.
Machiner}- worked by water-power for crushing the
peaches occupies a large shed; the still is erected in
another close by.
In the afternoon we went out sluxiting and made
a mixed bag of pigeons and partridges : but when
the hea\-}- clouds, which had been covering Illimani
and had pre\-ented us from even discussing a route
up the mountain, began to break awa}-, all other
interesls faded before the glorious vision that was
slowl}- unrolled. .\t last the great clifi's, sharp ridges,
and snow-^.rest stood forth clear beyond the foreground
107

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
of blossoming peach-trees. I thought I had never
beheld a more beautiful sight; but it was far from
reassuring to a mountaineer, for the whole south
west side of the mountain here disclosed was frankly
unclimbable. The upper snow-field is entirely cut
off from the lower slopes by a great cliff, quite vertical
all round the top edge, where the glacier-cap breaks
away and discharges itself in avalanches at all points.
The northwest side of the mountain, visible from
La Paz, though not easy, was certainly possible of
ascent; this side seemed impossible. However, Sefior
Guillen, who had lived all his life at the mountain's
foot, encouraged me by declaring that round the corner
of the mountain, to the right, I should find a very
different aspect of affairs. There was a valley there,
he said, which seemed to lead very high, and by it
he conceived the snow-field might be attained.
Illimani, as we now came to know it, is a very broad
mountain mass with many summits, each of which in
the Alps would be considered a different peak. As
seen from Cotafia, the highest point is at the extreme
left end. It was already evident that any gully there
might be round the corner to the right would only
lead up to some point on the upper snow-field two
or three miles away from the true summit. I pointed
this out to Guillen, and he acknowledged that it was
true; but, in his view, as long as one got on to any
part of the top, what more could one want? — right-
hand end or left-hand end, it was all one — nor did
he at first grasp the idea that there was anything
to be gained by reaching the mountain's very top.
I foresaw that, however easy the gully might be, this
io8

THE FERTILE SLOPES OF ILLIMANI
question of distance would be the great difficulty of
the climb; but there was now no option, as the whole
intervening face was frankly inaccessible. If the as
cent was to be made from Cotafia at all it must be
made by the hidden gully. Failing that, we must
climb by one of the northwest glaciers visible from La
Paz. It was not reassuring to observe that much new
snow had recently fallen, and that the winter snow
still lay down to a low level. From a climbing point
of view the mountain was only just beginning to come
into condition. What I had yet to learn, however,
was that in the high regions of Bolivia winter snow
is brought, in the long dry months of July and June,
to a degree of hardness seldom paralleled in other
mountain ranges, while in summer all the snow that
falls remains soft and rotten. The clouds, having
once departed, returned no more that day. A night
of bright moonlight followed, in which the mountain
shone like silver, with every detail almost as clearly
visible as in sunshine.
On the 4th of September young Sefior Guillen es
corted his guests and us to the higher farm of Caim-
baya (11,800 feet). It was a delightful ride up a good
path, which now crept beneath overarching shrubs,
now plunged into delicious dells, now boldly circled
round broad open slopes, or mounted steeper inclines
by rapid zigzags. The scenery of the green alp,
sloping up to rocky walls and ridges with high snows
beyond, had quite a Swiss character. The farm
house of Caimbaya was a very simple two-roomed
affair, standing beside a walled court-yard with four
eucalyptus-trees growing in the midst, the highest
109

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
trees of any size on the mountain. The Indian village
was picturesquely grouped round a church on a
knoll, backed by lUimani's splendid cirque. Paro
quets flew about in chattering flocks, and so did the
beautiful little pigeons which exist in such multi
tudes in this neighborhood. The manager of the
farm, Jos6 Amestoy by name, was a most intelli
gent and kindly fellow. Guillen said that he was
of Indian blood; if so, he is proof of the capabilities
of Aymara Indians for civilization. He was a skilful
mechanic, a good sportsman, and had a better under
standing of the geography of the country than almost
any one else I met. He was well read, considering
his opportunities, and knew the legends of his own
people. He had practical knowledge of the mineral
ogy of the neighborhood. He could understand a
map, had a good general idea of the different countries
of the world, and was so far acquainted with modern
inventions as, for instance, to have heard of photog
raphy in natural colors, and to be capable of under
standing the process by means of glass screens of
three primary colors.
Desirous of not wasting time, I immediately sent
the two guides off towards the precipitous face of
the mountain to see whether they could find any direct
way up, while I climbed a detached hill, named the
Place of Flies, from the summit of which a good general
view might be expected. The ascent was made in a
couple of hours, and well repaid the trouble. It led me
through the village and the higher fields, and then up
grazing lands all scored with ancient tracks. Obvi
ously this was land that had been trodden by human
no

THE FERTILE SLOPES OF ILLIMANI
feet for generations and centuries. There were traces
of old irrigation aqueducts no longer used, and count
less ancient terraces, while on the actual summit
of my hill were the foundations of ruined buildings
and numerous graves, some recently excavated.
From this commanding eminence the whole basin
of Cotafia was in full view, and the hollow of the
long La Paz Valley sweeping in a great curve round
the mountain's foot; beyond arose the barren slopes
stretching up and up to the desert hills fringing the
high Bolivian plateau. Southward stretched away
the lower continuation of the great Cordillera, which
rises beyond Illimani to one more snow peak, the
"Three Crosses,"* and then stretches away in steeply
foreshortened perspective as a range of bare rocky
peaks, with slopes of barren debris reaching nearly
up to their summits. Between the top of Illimani
and the bottom of the La Paz Valley the long slopes
were divided into two great grassy basins, like the
upper parts of funnels, each narrowing below into
a gorge. I stood between these two great basins on
the hill-top, so that when I faced the mountain one
of them was on my right hand and the other was on
my left. The basin of Cotafia was the one to the
right, and by that we had come up; to the left was
the basin and valley of Salapampa, by which we after
wards commenced our descent. The little depression
between my hill and Illimani was the pass we rode
over when returning to La Paz.
As to the route up Illimani, nothing was to be learned
*0r " Five Crosses." I heard both names used.
Ill

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
from this point of view. I was merely confirmed
in the conclusion come to at Cotafia, that there was
no probabdity of success in an attempt to ascend by
the cliff, a confirmation which the guides enforced
when they came back to me late at night. Their
story was that they had crossed the little pass I have
just referred to, and had traversed up towards a gap
in one of the side ribs, which they had reached with
some difficulty. Passing round this rib they came,
to their astonishment, on the ruins of an ancient village,
with burial places and some abandoned terraced fields
and broken aqueducts. They said the only way to
reach this village was by a quite difficult scramble.
Higher up, they said, the rocks were cut away into a
cliff which was overhung at the top by the perpen
dicular edge of the upper snow-field, and even if the
rocks could be climbed it would be impossible to sur
mount the last ice-wall.

CHAPTER X
ILLIMANI: THE LOWER SLOPES
NEXT morning (September 5th) all was ready for
our final start. Only four Indians could be per
suaded to come with us ; but they sufficed, and
we rode away in good spirits. For an hour or two the
ascent led up old, well-trodden paths, among shrubs,
and then over a tawny green alp. The mules soon gave
evidence of suffering from the thinness of the air ; they
halted at frequent intervals, and all behaved alike,
taking several short, quick breaths in rapid succession,
then three or four slow, deep ones, after which they
were ready to go on again. Exactly such I have
found to be the manner in which a man recovers him
self from special exertion at high levels. If at any
moment one has put forth an unusual effort, an over
mastering giddiness attacks the head; one is com
pelled to halt and take a series of very quick breaths.
The giddiness passes, and with three or four long
breaths a normal speed of respiration is arrived at.
The paroxysm of discomfort being removed, one can
then go forward leisurely on one's way.
The topography of Illimani is so complicated that,
at the risk of repetition, I must describe more par
ticularly the route which we were taking. When
we were on the summit of the Place of Flies the pre-
H 113

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
vious day, the mass of the mountain rose before us
in a wide cliff; the right-hand end of the mass was
in the nature of a great buttress of rock culminating
in a rocky peak which hid the rest of the ridge abutting
on the mountain itself. The highest point of this
ridge is the snow-peak I afterwards climbed and named
the "Pico del Indio." Behind this buttress — that
is to say, farther on round it to my right — lay the
gully so often referred to and up which our route ulti
mately went. The proper right or southwestern
side of this gully was formed by the buttress I have
just mentioned; its left or northeastern side consisted
of a great wall of rock, some two or three miles in
length, above which were visible the siracs or broken
icy edge of a glacier, which I called the Caimbaya
Glacier. It stretched to the crest of the Cordillera
south of the high peaks of Illimani, and was separated
from all those peaks, and the snow-field supported
by them, by the Pico del Indio. At its lower end the
Caimbaya Glacier is discharged by ice-avalanches
over the wall of rocks into the gully, and these ava
lanches reform below into a relatively small snout,
actually situated in the gully. Formerly the glacier
descended to a much lower level, and its ancient mo
raines may still be traced almost down to the village
of Caimbaya. It retreated stage by stage, and left
a series of other terminal moraines at different alti
tudes, many still quite distinct.
The grassy slopes up which we rode were the slopes
at the foot of the great buttress, and I was informed
by the intelligent manager of Caimbaya that this
was the way taken by M. Wiener on the occasion
114

ILLIMANI: THE LOWER SLOPES
of his attempt on the 19th of May, 1877; he likewise
informed me that M. Wiener and his Indians climbed
the actual rocks of the buttress, and that some of them
reached the rocky peak which was visible from all parts
of the Cotafia Valley. If this account is correct, that
rocky peak must be the Pic de Paris, but M. Wiener's
published description, though I am unable to under
stand the whole of it, seems to me to imply that he went
up the gully rather than the ridge, and climbed the
rock-wall pretty much where we climbed it; but what
he did, having arrived at the snow-field above, what
peak he chose and how he got up it, I am altogether
unable to ascertain. It seems certain that a high
elevation was arrived at, and I hope that at some
future time it will be possible to say exactly where
that elevation was situated.
In various places the dry grass showed signs of
having been burned. I afterwards discovered that
the habit of the Bolivian highlanders is to burn por
tions of the upper alp every year on St. John's Day,
an occasion of great festivity, when all the villagers
turn out and fire the grass in mutual emulation. An
hour and a half's slow riding brought us to a flat
plateau, where the Indians suggested that we might
camp. In fact, an hour and a half's work was about
their idea of the amount we could reasonably expect
them to do in a day. The proposal not being favorably
entertained, we went on, and were driven by the form
of the hill-side to swerve to the right, where the only
possible line of advance was by a narrow foot-path
along the side of an acequia or irrigation canal,
doubtless of very ancient date but still kept in good
115

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
repair. On the water brought by this canal the farm
of Caimbaya entirely depends. The canal was some
eighteen inches wide by perhaps a foot deep, so that
the volume conveyed by it was not very great. Imag
ine, therefore, our surprise when we discovered that
it practically conveyed the whole of the drainage of
the great Caimbaya glacier. We afterwards found by
observation, all along the Cordillera from Illimani
away to Sorata, that the amount of water yielded
by the Andean glaciers is extremely small, the very
largest of them never yielding during the months
I was in the country a drainage stream of anything
but the most exiguous dimensions. The fewness
of ice-avalanches that fall from the s^roc-edged cliffs
of Illimani and the other mountains is likewise prob
ably due to the same cause, the fact being that here,
as on Mount Kenya, in Equatorial Africa, the melting
snow and ice of the glaciers is absorbed into the air
by evaporation instead of flowing away in the form of
water. During the rainy season, the real summer
of Bolivia, avalanches may be more frequent, and the
snow may melt with more rapidity; but in the spring
months — August, September, and October — very little
melting seems to take place.
A brief inspection sufficed to show that it would
be quite impossible for the mules to accompany us
farther. Argentine mules, driven by such an arriero
as we had on Aconcagua, might have been brought
along, but Bolivian mules are far less skilful and their
arrieros are less daring. Here, accordingly, the loads
were deposited on the ground and the beasts of burden
sent away. ii6

THE GLACIERS OI' ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE LOWER SLOPES
Trouble with the Indian porters now began. There
were four of them, and there were eight loads; it was
necessary, therefore, to make double journeys. They
were slower even than Baltic coolies in loading up,
and they were equally anxious to halt every few yards
of the way; while, as they cared nothing about us
and were comparatively indifferent to money, our
means of urging them on were restricted. At any
moment they might have thrown down the loads and
left us in the lurch. It was only the presence of Guillen,
who could speak their abominable language, that
enabled us to persuade them to advance at all. The
canal proved to be boldly engineered across what
was in places a sheer cliff ; the path beside it was often
completely encumbered with shrublike growths just
coming into leaf. It led for about a mile round the
remainder of the buttress, and so conducted us to the
foot of our gully. Here a broad slope, perhaps a
couple of miles wide, stretched steeply up into the
heart of the mountain, narrowing as it rose. We
mounted it some 500 feet, already, in our untrained
condition, conscious of the enervating effect of the
diminished atmospheric pressure. Unfortunately, the
Indians refused this last ascent, and we were obliged
to return and camp at the level of the head of the
canal, on a soft patch of grass among a picturesque
group of bowlders, the altitude being about 14,000 feet.
Next day we only succeeded in pushing camp 2000
feet higher, such was the dilatoriness of the porters.
The way led up slopes of tussocky grass and then
up the crest of an old lateral moraine. All suffered
greatly from the altitude, much more indeed than two
117

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
or three days later we suffered upon liigher levels.
Lack of condition had something to do with this, but
stdl more I tliink the fact that we were in one of those
enclosed positions which seem alwaj's to be more
tr}'ing at high levels than are open snow-fields or
even broad walls of rocks. Some excitement was
caused by the sight of eight mountain-deer, to which
we gave pursuit, armed with a shotgun and a re
volver. They headed up the gidly on one side of
the moraine; we stalked them by slowly scrambling
up the other side. Finding that the}' were pursued,
instead of taking to the rocks and going upward,
as chamois would have done, they turned back near
the top of the glen. One of them passing us at close
range was easdy laid low. With a rifle we might
have secured two or three others, for their pace was
slow and they seemed bewildered at being caught
in the upper part of the gully. Evidently they are
not to be regarded as good climbing animals. The
Indians, who were too lazy to hurry -^vith the loads,
were glad enough to w^atch us stalk; they left the
luggage scattered about on the lull-side and hurried
up to see the sport. Many hours afterwards they
brought our goods together, just in time for camp
to be pitched beside the moraine a little before sunset.
On the 7th the ascent of the gully was continued
by mounting along the crest of the moraine beside
the glacier's snout. The splendid rocks, furrowed
by ice couloirs and crested with glittering s6racs, were
on our right hand and the ridge of the Pic de Paris
on our left. The -^iew was thus very restricted in
width, but baclavard, from the elevation now attained,
118

THE FLANK OF ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE LOWER SLOPES
we overlooked a great area wherein, all day long,
we watched a sea of clouds that swept up the La Paz
Valley from the hot eastern regions, hiding the lower
levels from our sight and almost but never quite en
veloping us. Such cloud effects, of which during
the next three days we beheld many examples, were
magnificent. Out of the white sea there mounted,
under the uplift of hot air currents, great towers of
cloud, which rose, like the smoke-discharge of vol
canoes, high into the air, then nodded forward and
overhung as the upper winds took them. Huge caves
and cloud avenues were thus formed, wherein dark-
blue shadows gathered, and here and there in their
deep recesses some high mountain-top would per
haps peep forth, a mere foundation-stone to a gigantic
mist castle.
During the day the Indians were more trouble
some than ever; they refused to carry any but the
lightest loads, so that three journeys were necessary
instead of two. It was only by descending and re-
ascending with them that we were able to get them
to work at all. Ultimately they raised our things,
not more than 600 or 700 feet, to a point close to the
foot of that part of the wall of rocks on our right where
a practicable line of ascent seemed to be situated, and
where, against the sky-line, was no longer a line of
impending seracs but only a snow-slope, safe and
apparently easy to mount. The camping-place was
within 300 or 400 feet of the top of the gully's debris
slope, in a situation dangerously liable to be swept
by falling stones. I undertook to dig out a tent plat
form under the shelter of a huge lump of rock stuck
119

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
in the slope, to set up the tents and prepare food, while
the Alpine guides, each carrying a heavy sack, climbed
the rock wall to the snow above. They returned
with the assurance that the rocks could be climbed
without great difficulty. They had experienced much
fatigue in climbing, as I had in digging out the tent
platform, but their energies had been well invested,
while, in Maquignaz's opinion, mine had been wasted.
"You have dug out the tent platform," he said, "in
exactly the wrong place. As you have put it, the
tent will not be protected from falling stones, but
rather more exposed to them than if it were out in the
middle of the couloir. We must begin all over again
and make a new platform, closer beneath the big
rock." We accordingly set to work once more ex
cavating with the ice-axes and building a wall of
support -with the larger fragments loosened. It was
a todsome business. All work this day was todsome,
and even the smallest exertion necessitated an interval
of repose. Pellissier, who was physically the strongest
of us, when sent off to fill a small bucket with water
from a rivulet a hundred yards away, found it neces
sary to rest four or five times in that little distance.
Yet our altitude was only about 16,500 feet above
sea-level. As bad luck would have it, the next day (Septem
ber 8th) was to be a f^te at the village of Ussi near
Caimbaya. The Indians, all agog to be present on
that occasion, left us as soon as they had brought
the baggage up to the tent ; but they promised to send
up others to take their place. Late in the evening
there did arrive an old man and a boy, who stated
120

INDIAN PORTERS

FROM THE TOP OF THE ROCKS, ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE LOWER SLOPES
that others had agreed to follow them on the following-
morning. The boy, a round-faced, laughter-loving
fellow, was more like a Burmese than an Aymara
Indian; and the old man had a long, tragic face,
strangely like the late Robert Louis Stevenson. They
had never slept in a tent in their lives, and both were
delighted with the experience. The boy laid himself
down under his poncho and a mackintosh sheet, with
his head sticking out of the tent door, and giggled
with delight for hours.

CIL\PTER XI
ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
THUS far there had been no real climbing to do,
but only grass, moraine, and fatiguing debris
slopes to ascend, nor would it have been difficult
with good porters to reach this point in one day from
the farm. Now, however, more serious work w^as at
hand, so that the question of weather became aU-
absorbing. At La Paz I had been told that the month
of September was usually a month of continuous fine
weather, wliich might even last on far into Novem
ber. But experience has taught me that few people
dwelling in a mountain country pay any attention to
the weather on the mountains. E they have clear skies
and absence of rain at the place of their abode, it does
not occur to them, even when they see clouds on the
mountains, that the weather may be very bad there.
So I was disappointed but not surprised to find that
though La Paz enjoyed a large measure of fine weather
in September and October, it was very different at
levels where a mountaineer works. The weather
on Illimani had been unsettled all the time I was in
the country tdl the day we left Cotafia; then it had
grown fine, and though there had been plenty of clouds
sweeping over dady from the hot east, the days we
had spent in the gully w^ould have been favorable for
122

ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
climbing. Now^, however, a change seemed to be
at hand. Clouds gathered earlier each day and the
upper level of the great cloud-bed had a tendency to
rise. It was, therefore, essential to prepare for spend
ing several days, if need be, on the snow-field above
the rock-wall, so that a considerable amount of pro-
¦visions had to be carried up.
With the dawn came no porters. We packed up
camp, dividing the baggage into two parts, one to
be left beliind on the platform, the other to come with
us. The latter contained two tents, warm fur sleep
ing-bags of reindeer-skin, cooking apparatus, pro
visions, and instruments. We waited, but not a
human being hove in sight. At nine o'clock we
decided to proceed with only the man and boy who
had spent the night with us. All, therefore, had to
carry a more or less heavy load, and our progress
was correspondingly slow^ Sefior Guillen faithfully
adhered to us and shouldered his burden like a man.
Tw^enty minutes were spent in crossing the gully
diagonally over the loose stones and reaching the
foot of the rocks. The Indians regarded the cliff
with dismay, for it was undoubtedly steep, and soon
proved to be far from easy. The w^hole of this part
of the ascent is about equal in difficulty to that of
the ordinary routes up any of the harder Zermatt
mountains, such as the Matterhorn, Gabelhorn, or
Dent Blanche. Zigzag we went, following conven
ient ledges. Every few yards the Indians were for
turning back, but the rope w^as put on and they were
included in the string. This gave them some little
confidence till a more difficult scramble came, when,
123

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
with one consent, they cast themselves loose and
sat down. I leaned forward from the top of the diffi
culty and held forth small silver coins to them, to
come up and possess. The bait was taken, and things
were easier for a few yards above; then another diffi
culty came, and was surmounted by the same rudi
mentary expedient. Thus, by the attraction of money
and by hauling on the rope, we engineered our timid
porters slowly upward. Far below, the four Indians
could now be seen coming up, who were to have been
our porters. But when they perceived where we were
they shouted something to our men, turned tail, and
disappeared. After about two-thirds of the wall had
been surmounted there came yet another steep, indeed,
almost perpendicular, chimney, such as we had al
ready negotiated ; but this one was thickly embellished
with ice. It proved to be the last hard place, but noth
ing would induce the Indians to attempt it. Their
cup of dread had been steadily filling; here it over
flowed. They dropped their loads, cast off the rope,
and fled. Two hours later the screams of joy which
announced their arrival at our deserted platform came
wafted up to us, along with the booming of the guns
fired off for the fete at Ussi.
The morning had been fine, but clouds now en
veloped us, and glad we were of it, for the heat of
the sun was most debilitating. By hauling the loads
up with ropes in difficult places, and by carrying them
in easy ones, we came out at last on the snow near the
proper right margin of the Caimbaya glacier, with a
low rock-wall close on our left hand. On the snow
beside these rocks, at a height of about 18,500 feet,
124

A HEAVY LOAD

ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
we pitched the tents with solid satisfaction. The
outworks of the mountain fortress were now passed;
it only remained to deliver the assault on the final
peak. Noon came when we reached the camping-
place, and the sea of cloud lay far below us. For out
look our camp was admirably planted near the edge
of a lofty mountain-shelf, with a short snow-slope in
front, and then the sudden plunge of the cliff. We
overlooked the low range of mountains that divides
the La Paz Valley from the high Bolivian plateau,
and saw the great desert, ruddy, sunny, and arid,
stretching away to an immense distance, with the
faint cones of the volcanoes of the Western Cordillera
(among which Sajama was easily identifiable) rising
beyond it. There was a marvellous play of color
upon the desert, which seemed almost afire with sun
light, glimmering through the dusty atmosphere.
The great depression of the La Paz Valley swept round
to the left under its flood of cloud, dividing us alike
from the desert and from the continuation of the Cor
dillera. Once, no doubt, the Cordillera was continuous
from Illimani southward. By some means an im
mense gap, which sinks to a level of 3000 or 4000
feet above the sea, has been cut through it, so that
the La Paz River, which rises near the base of Ca
caaca, on the west slope of the range, and flows down
through the town of La Paz and by the way we had
come, receiving all the tributary streams from the
west slope of the mountains as far as Illimani, ulti
mately passes right across the Cordillera by this im
mense gap, and, flowing away eastward, drains into
125

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
a tributary of the Amazon, and thus empties into
the Atlantic. How was this gap produced? How
were the waters that ought to have gone, and once
went, to the Pacific, captured for the Amazon and the
Atlantic? Three answers to this question have been
suggested. According to one, the great inland sea,
whereof Titicaca remains a shrunken remnant, at
some moment of unusual fulness burst its way through
the range by some convulsion of nature whose char
acter is not further particularized. This explanation
is unsatisfactory, for there is no way by which a lake
can burst through a mountain range or any great
obstacle except by overflowing the lip of the cup and
cutting down a channel through the obstruction as
it overflows. For this to have happened there must
have existed between Illimani and the mountain of
the Three Crosses a low depression no higher than
the possible former level of the waters. Here a water
fall or cataract must have been formed, which poured
over the main watershed of the continent, and, grad
ually cutting it down, worked its way backward to
the present edge of the La Paz basin. It is scarcely
possible to invent a less probable explanation.
Another suggestion is that, before the Andes were
crinkled up from the flat earth, there already existed
a river, occupying approximately the track of the
present La Paz River, which, as the range was slow
ly elevated, continued to flow in its old bed, and kept
cutting that bed down and so maintaining its ex
istence, while the range continued to rise on either
hand. It is said that there is geological proof in
the Alps of the persistence of pre-existing rivers flow-
126

PREPARING TO CAMP ON ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
ing across the range, which maintained themselves
throughout the whole period of its elevation. How
this can have been I am at a loss to understand, for
an examination of the rivers in Patagonia and
the conterminous portion of Chile, where earth-
movements are now taking place, shows that a very
slight earth-movement is sufficient to break a river
in half and cause the waters of its upper part to flow
in the opposite direction to that previously fol
lowed by them Such an explanation seems most
inappropriate to this trans-Andean gorge, for the
upper part of it is cut out of the great allu-vial de
posit, evidently fallen into the lake from the slopes
of the range itself, which could not have been de
posited if the lake were at that time being drained
away to the eastward. It is obvious that the river
gorge had only invaded this alluvial deposit since
the drying up of the lake ; that is to say, that the gorge
has eaten its way backward from many miles below
La Paz almost to the foot of Cacaaca in quite recent
times. If we presuppose the existence of an ancient
river that crossed what is now the Andes before the
range was elevated, it must have been a very short
torrent, whose head was somewhere about the village
of Huarikana, and it is impossible to believe that a
little stream not more than thirty miles in length
should have been strong enough to keep open a de
pression right across that gigantic range during the
period of its elevation from an altitude of 3000 to over
20,000 feet above the sea.
The true explanation, as I think every person much
acquainted with mountain gorges will agree, is that
127

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the mountain range was once continuous right across
from Illimani to the Three Crosses, and that the normal
processes of denudation acted upon it as they have acted
upon the Himalayas and all other mountain ranges.
The east side of the range was always more precipit
ous than the west, for the simple reason that the great
damp area of the Amazonian forest stretches away
from its foot and pours moisture against the mountain-
wall on that side. The vapors condense into clouds,
clouds fall in rain and snow, and the eastern face of
the Andes is thus very rapidly denuded. On the west
the amount of precipitation is, and probably for a
very long period has been, much less than on the
east; while the form of the country, with its succes
sion of ranges of hills, which have risen from the
sea with the rising of the land, or been generated
by volcanic ejection, has hindered the denuding proc
esses, so that the Cordillera Real throughout its whole
length has been more vigorously broken down on
the east side than it has been on the west. In con
sequence of the long action of these forces the eastern
slope is almost a cliff, while the western, from snow-
level down to the plateau, consists of long, gentle
slopes thickly covered with debris.
A river whose upper waters are supplied by a steep
mountain must continually eat its way back into the
mountain. If the mountain rises to the level of per
petual snow the action of eating back proceeds still
more rapidly, for the rocks are disintegrated by frost,
cast down by avalanches, and if they fall onto the
surface of the glacier are carried forward by it and
dumped down at its lower end, where, tumbling into
128

^

ON THE TOP OF ILLIMANI

i^^

^
L

¦k

HIGHEST CAMP ON ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
the river, they are rolled about and gradually reduced
into a form transportable by water. Rivers and
glaciers thus eat their way backward, not to any ap
preciable extent by grinding down their beds, but
by merely transporting the materials which fall into
or onto them from steep places. It follows that, other
things being equal, this eating-back action will be
more \igorous where precipitation is greatest. In
the case of a big mountain range, precipitation will
tend to be greatest in the neighborhood of the highest
peaks. It may incidentally happen that in the same
neighborhood, owing to the greater vigor of earth-
movements, rocks may be more faulted or liable to
fracture. Thus it is near the largest peaks that the
most -vigorous eating-back action of rivers or gla
ciers is to be expected. Allowing the process of
eating back to operate on a mountain-range for a
sufficient length of time, if it is more -vigorous on
one side of a mountain range than it is on the other,
it is a mathematical certainty that one of the streams
will sooner or later eat its way right through the range,
just as the La Paz River has done. Having done
so, it will extend its conquest and will capture the
waters from the other side one after another and bring
them down to add to its own volume.
This the La Paz River has done; it has cut its
way right across the Cordillera Real near one of its
highest peaks, and, continuing then more slowly,
yet with considerable vigor during the rainy season,
it has eaten its way back and back, and has captured
one stream after another that formerly went into
the great iidand sea. Every year the upper edge
I 129

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
of its basin is visibly eaten away farther and farther,
and if no earth-movement occurs to disturb the proc
ess, the day is in sight when it must reach as
far back as the position of the waters of Lake Titi
caca. A similar process, as we shall hereafter see,
is going forward at the north end of the snowy range
near Mount Sorata, where the Mapiri River is like
wise engaged in cutting its way back through the
range, only in this case the process is not so far ad
vanced and the great alluvial deposit has not yet been
reached. In the Karakoram Himalayas, as I have
already more than once pointed out, an exactly similar
action has taken place, the successive ranges being
there cut through by the Indus and its tributaries,
in each case close to the highest elevation of the par
ticular range. Here, again, it has been suggested
that the river system existed before the mountains
were elevated.
Throughout the whole area of the Asiatic moun
tains as yet surveyed — through Tibet, along its
southern edge, throughout the kingdom of Kash
mir, and along the great earth fold of the Hindu Kush
— the phenomena of capture can be shown to have
determined the course of almost all the rivers, great
and small.
Such were the reflections that occupied my mind
as I surveyed the view from our lofty perch while
the guides slept in their tents after preparing and
consuming our mid-day meal. Sefior Guillen, how
ever, finding himself in the great snow world at whose
feet he had been born and brought up, could scarcely
contain his impatience long enough to halt and drinl^
130

ILLIMANI: THE ROCK-WALL
a bowl of soup. Bred at 12,000 feet, he felt the effect
of diminished atmospheric pressure less than we did,
while his healthy farming-life no doubt kept him
in good condition. He seemed absolutely to revel in
the newly opened world of snow; he ran about like
a chamois on glacier and rocks, seemed anxious to
plant his foot on every surrounding eminence, and
gazed about in every direction. Dangers did not
exist for him; he smiled at our admonitions, and
mocked at the mention of hidden crevasses. After
lunch we saw him no more for hours, until, towards
sunset, yells from the guides called me forth, and I
beheld our companion calmly descending the glacier
from far above, straight towards a perfect labyrinth
of crevasses, open and closed They hurriedly put
on the rope and went forth to save him from what
they considered certain destruction, but he bore a
charmed life and came back in safety, wondering
what all the fuss was about.

CHAPTER XII
ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLIMB
BEFORE two o'clock the next morning we had left
camp and were winding our way up in the dark
ness among great yawning crevasses. A single
candle in a pocket-lantern was our only light in the
great solitude of the abode of snow. Ffteen miles away,
across the valley of the La Paz River, another tw ink
ling light was visible, shining through the window
of a remote farm-house. That was our sole link
with the world of men. The night was not cold (onlj-
21° Fahr.), but the snow was hard as rock, and we
made rapid progress. Once Guillen fell into a cre
vasse, but being roped, we pulled him out unhurt.
The stars were shining in the clear sky and there
was no trace of cloud to be seen, yet at frequent inter
vals weird flashes of electricity broke around us, un
accompanied by any sound, as though a search-light
had been flickered over us from some distant light
house. Whence these flashes came and whither
they went I could not perceive. They resembled
rather an emanation from the snow-field, or a phos
phorescence glimmering along its surface, come and
gone in the twinkling of an eye. The old moon rising
over the snow-field at length rendered the lantern
superfluous. Mounting steadily upward we ap-
132

ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLIMB
proached the water-shed ridge, and two and a half
hours from camp stood upon it, the very crest of the
Corddlera Real, and looked down an appalling preci
pice of at least 14,000 feet into the black depths of
some valley of fertile Yungas. It was still night.
Gloom enveloped us. Blanched snow and black
crags appeared dim and ghostly near at hand, but
the dim and vague horror of that almost fathomless
plunge into the dark gulf at our feet was one of the
experiences that it has been worth living to know.
During all this part of our ascent there had been
on our left a great mountain exactly between us and
Illimani; I called it the Pico del Indio, for a reason
to be presently explained. We knew that a snow-
plateau lay between it and Illimani, and we had
hoped to gain this plateau by passing round the
back of the Pico del Indio. Now, however, we learned
to our regret that the tremendous Yungas cliff ren
dered any such circumvention impossible, while the
corresponding cliff on the Cotafia side equally pro
hibited a turning movement. The intervening peak
must be climbed over, and we must begin by going
up the steep and narrow ridge on which we were
then standing — no easy matter, as we could see even
through the gloom of the night.
A boss of hard, transparent ice, the size and shape
of a walrus, stuck out of the ridge and had first to
be surmounted. Steps were cut in it with much de
liberation, and we raised ourselves to the crest above,
one foot over the fathomless precipice, the other on a
steep slope with a gaping crevasse a few yards down.
Slip which way we might it would be sudden destruc-
133

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
tion, and to shp was easy in this darkness and cold.
The last stride was about as theatrical a perform
ance as I can remember, for the ice even in the steps
was as slippery as a frozen pond. Here Guillen de
cided to turn back. He said his curiosity was satisfied,
and he had a pain in his foot. It turned out to arise
from frost-bite, for the cold up here was intense, prob
ably twenty degrees lower than it had been dowTi
at camp. How Gudlen got down alone I don't know,
but he went; and he arrived the same day in safety
at Caimbaya, to our no small rehef, and advantage
too, as will appear Above the boss of ice were steep
rocks, up which we felt our way in the darkness, for
the moon was now gone behind clouds. Farther up
the ridge an enormous ice cornice barred the way,
and could neither be circumvented nor climbed over,
as dawn enabled us to ascertain. There was no alter
native but to cross the whole steep south face of the
Pico del Indio to a gap in the ridge on the other side,
by which, as we knew, access to the high snow-plateau
could be attained. The face was a great slope of
ice, fortunately covered by a thin layer of well-frozen
snow^ that adhered firmly to it, and into which steps
could be cut. But for this film of snow the traverse,
wlrich occupied over two hours, would have taken
four or five hours, and been infinitely dangerous into
the bargain.
The day was at hand. All along the crest of the
motmtains and clouds in the east flamed the crim
son glory of the coming sun. The brighter illmni-
nation only served to make more plain the solem
nity and splendor of our surroundings. The ice
134

V3 o
S

ILLIMANI: TIM': IMNAL CLIMI5
slope itself was one of Ihe sli-epesl I have ever stood
on. A few hundred |"e<-l below il was eul off into
!i vertical (liff, overhanging in places, and by its
leet lay the piU-d riiiiis of Ihe ice avalanches which
often fall from if. Tln'ie must be no slip|)ing here.
The day increased, Ihe sun (.-uiie, and we slowly -''d-
vanci-d; bnl how slowl}' the dislanct- diminished be-
twei-n ns and Ihe wt'slern ridgi' I (annot desiribe.
Click, (lick, (lick, went Ihe axe, hewing out a step
with painslaking care Ivicli had lo be large and
well-shapi"d. II was liai'd work, llall-wa}' across,
IVla(inigna/, fell behind, and Pellissier look his pk-ue.
Lillle was said. The sle|)S were made as far apart
as was sale, and the stride from one to another was
an eiforl. At last Ihe desired saddle was gained,
and we (-oiild throw ourselves down and rest awhile,
more than jo.ooo feel above Ihe sea, with Ihe culnii-
naling peaks of Illimani now full in sight, rising be-
}'ond Ihe snow jilaleau, of whos(" exisleuce we had
been assured but which we nov,' lirst saw — a vast,
unbrolcen, undulaling expanse, waving awa}' to four
snow while peaks and Ihe .saddles belwecn them.
The highesl peak w;is right opposite, and the way
to il was obvious; we must gain Ihe .saddle beside il,
and then follow a snow-ridge lo Ihe lop. Ihe .saddle
in (iiiestion being Ihe dei>ression visible from La I'a/,
imuu-dialely to the left of the highesl summit.
After .1 few ininntos' conlenled rest we descended
M gentle snow-slope of about .|00 leel to the level ol
the plateau. The Pico del Indio was behind us and
Illimani ahe.-id. \W rare luck Ihe snow was in good
condition, so th;il we .scarcel}- .sank into it al all. Over

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
large areas it was hard as a wooden floor. Now',
of course, we felt, as any man must feel at such
an elevation, the weakening effect of diminished
atmospheric pressure. We had no headaches, nau
sea, rimning of blood from nose and ears, or other
violent symptoms, but all were greatly reduced in
strength. When the long, slow ascent beyond the
level of the plateau began, the light load that strong
Pellissier had to carry was almost too much for him.
The remainder of the ascent was a featureless grind,
and all suffered severely. Puffs of wind brought
occasional rehef There was not a crevasse, scarcely
an inequaUty of surface to vary the way. The rounded
snow summits shut off distant -views, and were not
interesting objects to look at in themselves. After
three hours of slow, continuous plodding, the inclina
tion ceased, and we stood upon a flat, wide saddle,
from which there fell away at our feet the steep de
scent facing La Paz We threw ourselves down for
a few moments to rest and eat. We were nearly 21,000
feet above the sea. For -view there was behind us
the great plateau, with snow-ridges to left and right,
leading up to white peaks; ahead, a tumbled cataract
of ice seen through gaps of changeful clouds, with
now and then a glimpse over the wide Bolivian desert
far away to north and west.
The ascent recommenced. Slowly, very slowly,
we mounted the -wide and easy snow-ridge, conscious
only of heart-breaking toil and entirely possessed
by a fixed determination to get the work done. The
lifting of each foot in its tirm was a tragic effort.
Presently everything became unreal and dreamlike.
136

ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLIMB
I fell into a semi-comatose condition, but plodded on
all the same. Twice I came to myself with a start;
I had been walking in something very like sleep. One
apparent summit was succeeded by another, but the
true one came at last. "Monsieur, k vous la gloire,"
said Maquignaz, as he moved aside for me to stand
first upon the highest point of snow. The altitude
was 21,200 feet.* It was half an hour before noon.
The moment was one of satisfaction, in that our toil
ceased ; but we had no sense of triumph, nor was there
breath enough left in any of us for an exclamation
of joy in the hour of victory. Nothing was said or
done for several minutes ; we just sat down and rested.
But five minutes later we had recovered, and were as
comfortable as at sea-level, so long as we neither moved
nor attempted to do anything, though I had lost my
voice and the others were quite hoarse. The cane flag
staff we had brought up in sections was planted in
the snow and a little Union Jack set waving; but,
alas! none but ourselves could see it, for most of the
lower regions were buried in a sea of clouds, and La
Paz in particular was hidden. A flag-staff erected
in snow will not stand many hours. This one fell
* The measurements of the highest point of Illimani are as follows r

FEET

Pentland  21,181
Pissis  21,355
Reiss  21,040
Minchin  21,224
Reck  21,339
Conway  21,015
Mean  21,192
137

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
before clear weather returned, and never showed it
self through the telescope of the Jesuit Fathers at
La Paz, who looked out for it at the first oppor
tunity. Notwithstanding the fog below, the view was im
pressive, for we stood out in clear air and brilliant
sunshine, with towering clouds and snowy peaks
near at hand. The peaks, draped in broken ice,
were magnificent. The southward continuation of
the Cordillera likewise lifted itself into sight, but of
Mount Sorata and the northern range we saw noth
ing, while only patches of the Bolivian plain were
seen through gaps in its nebulous covering. The
descent was easy enough till we came to the foot of
the Pico de Indio and had to reascend. There I
thought my heart would burst, so excessive was the
toil. Twelve short steps and a halt, twelve more
and another halt, and so on, with deep breathing
betweenwhiles to recover the power of motion. It
was a dreadful hour, but it came to an end, and we
could throw ourselves down at last on the mound
of rock by the little snow-saddle and cast a last look
back upon our conquered giant.
My hand touched something soft and clammy
lying on the rock beside me. What could there be
of that sort in such a place? I picked it up. It was
a rotten piece of Indian woollen cord, swollen to the
thickness of one's wrist. Maquignaz, to whom I
gave it, unfortunately lost it on the way down. Tra
dition at Caimbaya asserts that many years ago an
Indian desperately dared to invade the secret places
of the great god Illimani. He was last seen from
138

ILLIMAM FROM 'JKE COHO;.'I ROAD

ILLJ'-IA^.I AMj 'IHE PICO DEL 1>L/I0 FROM ABOVE THE HIGHEST CAMP

ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLIMB
below, seated on this point where nowr we sat. He
never came back to the abodes of men, for the god
turned him into stone. That there is some founda
tion for the tale is proved by our discovery of the piece
of rope; so I named the peak beside this place Pico del
Indio. We decided to complete the descent by another
and more direct route, going straight down the long
slope at our feet instead of crossing over the face
and doubling back down below. The slope, which
was of ice, covered with good snow, was steep, but less
steep than the one we had crossed, and the snow was
fairly thick and firm We went straight down, one
only mo-sing at a time, an axe always firml}- planted
into the slope and the rope p-)aid out round it. It seemed
as though the bottom w'ould never come, so long and
featureless was the sloping way. The snow became
softer, and we began to fear that it might bodily slide
off the ice and take us down in an avalanche; but
it held. Another trouble ahead was the great berg-
schrund, or crevasse, at the foot of the slope. We could
see that there w^as one, but of its size or w here to cross
it we could see nothing, for the upper edge hid the
lower. B}' good luck we struck it at a point — and,
as it turned out, almost the only point — where it could
be jumped. Then we were on leveller snow, strewn
with ruins of ice avalanches. We picked a way
through them and in and out of larger crevasses than
I have elsewdiere seen. The bridges over them were
great hill-sides in themselves. By winding about,
the labyrinth was at last threaded, though not with
out many errors and returns. ^lore than once I feared
130

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
that the night would overtake us before we had found
a way through. Clouds, like mountains upon moun
tains, were gathering about us, casting gloom upon
the tortured ice-torrent in whose thralls we were en
meshed. Thunder pealed forth to right and left, and
the echoes rolled about in the deep solitude of the
hollow places of the hills At length all difficulties
were left behind, the main glacier was reached, and
the morning's upward tracks rejoined. At half-past
five we were in camp, and at six, it being already
night, I was fast asleep in the sack of reindeer-skin
which had so often sheltered me in Spitsbergen against
Arctic cold.
Next morning (September loth) found us hungry,
for we had eaten little on the previous day, but other
wise well content with the world and with ourselves.
It is true we were painfully sunburned; even Pelhs
sier's seasoned hide, proof against reflected sunlight
from European snows, had not been able to resist
the tropical sunshine. All of us were, moreover,
almost rent asunder by a violent whooping-cough.
It proved to be a mere symptom of altitude, for we
lost it on descending to Caimbaya. It returned again
whenever we approached the 20,000 feet line, whether
on Sorata or afterwards on Aconcagua. None of
my party experienced it in the Himalayas, nor have
I ever read or heard of it as experienced by other climb
ers at high altitudes.
The sun rose in great splendor over a calm, level
sea of cloud, stretching away from our feet like a
shining silver pavement. Snow had fallen on the
tents in the night, but there had only been eleven
140

ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLI.MB
degrees of frost and no wind. The group of the Three
Crosses stood out like a \iolet island from the brilliant
sea of clouds. There were no Indian porters to help
us with the baggage, but we had found a fragment of
paper in the tent, containing the information that
Guillen had passed the evening before, on his way
down to the farm, and that men would be sent up to
meet us next morning. We knew that they would
never climb the wall of rocks, so there was nothing
for it but to pack up the baggage and get it down as
best we could. We bundled as many things as possible
into one of the big reindeer sleeping-bags, and wTap-
ping the others around, corded it up ^vith a mountain
rope and wheeled it like a barrel to the edge of the
cliff. We chucked it over just where an ice couloir
stretched do^vn to a snow-slope that almost reached
the level of the next tent platform. The bundle began
to roU, and then to take longer leaps, tdl about half-wa}'
down it burst open like a rocket and scattered our
possessions in every direction. The sections of tent-
poles flew about in wild confusion, and so did the
c(X)ldng apparatus and ever}' other small object;
but they got down hill, all the same, and came to
rest scattered about upon the snow -slope, where we
ultimately recovered them. Little permanent injury
had been done; only the fur sleeping-bag was rent
open, and would require to be well clouted before it
could be used again.
Arrived at the tent platform, we were glad to find
that all the baggage we had left upon it had been
carried down. Here again was a note from the ad
mirable Guillen, stating that we might be sure of
141

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Indians coming to this point, though he anticipated
trouble in persuading them, as the great f^te con
tinued. We lay for a long time in the sunshine, en
joying the pleasant breeze and lunching on the con
tents of some self-cooking tins — that is to say, tins
containing Irish stew, with a little spirit-lamp so
attached that all you have to do is to cut the tin open,
tear off the soldered ribbon, apply a match to the wick,
and wait ten minutes for your hot lunch. Ultimately,
leaving the rest of our baggage on this tent platform,
we ran down to the foot of the gully, where v/e met
two Indians coming up, and saw two others farther
down on the way. Traversing the path by the canal,
we came out on the little flat meadow and found our
mules awaiting us.
Before half-past two in the afternoon we reached
Caimbaya, and met the Indian manager in the haci
enda yard among his mules and horses, sheep, pigs,
poultry, dogs, and wondrously tame birds. He rushed
up to greet me, but suddenly halted, crying out with
amazement, "Cristo della Madonna! what boots!"
a remark generally made to me in one form or another
by every new acquaintance on the mountain-side.
In truth, the boots I was wearing were boots indeed.
The German captain of the ship by which I voyaged
down Smyth Channel was never tired of looking at
them; and when I left the ship at Sandy Point he
shouted after me that, as he would arrive in London
before I did, he would see that a dry-dock should be
ready for their reception. Mountaineering readers
may remember that our greatest difficulty in the high
ascents we made in the Himalayas was the inten-
142

K

- ~V >. -iC' - - v'^ ¦'-~'
¦.'NX- ¦--*. ;^^x:--'v '1

^

THE DUSCE.NT OF ILLIMANI

ILLIMANI: THE FINAL CLIMB
sity of the cold before sunrise, which took all sensa
tion from our feet and brought us to the verge of frost
bite; so that we found it necessary to give up all at
tempts at climbing at high levels before the break of
dawn. Even then, on Pioneer Peak, every member
of our party came so near to being frost-bitten that we
were obliged to stop, take off our boots, and rub one
another's feet for half an hour to avoid that calamity.
A similar difficulty was experienced by Mr. Vines
on the upper slopes of Aconcagua. I was therefore
determined to avoid, if possible, this particular trouble,
for to be reduced to wait till the coming of the sun be
fore commencing to ascend is, especially in the tropics,
to reduce the climbing-day to very brief dimensions.
I was fortunate enough to find in Norway a pair of
goat-hair stockings of immense thickness, almost as
thick as one's little finger, such as are worn by ski
runners in the cold winter of the North. These
stockings, with a leather covering, suffice to keep
the feet warm in very great cold; but at high alti
tudes, owing to the diminished vitality from which
all men must suffer, the body is far less able to resist
cold than it is at sea-level in Arctic winters. Not
satisfied, therefore, with these stockings, I wore within
them a pair of Shetland wool stockings and a thin
pair of socks besides. It is not, therefore, surprising
that enormous boots were necessary to cover feet thus
enveloped. The boots I used were of the kind de
scribed in my Himalaya book, made at Zermatt, with
very thick soles, three thicknesses of leather over the
toes, two over the body of the foot, and one over the
ankle. Such foot-gear was, of course, very weighty ;
143

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
but I became accustomed to it, and never regretted it,
for in the result I was the only one of the party that
entirely escaped frost-bite. It is scarcely necessary
to remark that every one of us had been severely sun
burned on Illimani, though much of the ascent had
been made when the sun was hidden in clouds. If we
had not noticed the fact ourselves, the extraordinary
eagerness of everybody at Caimbaya to show us our
faces in the looking-glass woidd have conveyed the
information.

CHAPTER XIII
RETURN TO LA PAZ
IN descending the La Paz Valley on our way to Co-
tana we had passed, an hour or so below Millocato,
the point of junction (named Esquina de Pongo) with
the important side valley that drains the great Palca
basin, intervening between Illimani and the basin of
La Paz. To this Palca Valley we shall hereafter re
turn Our descent from Caimbaya was made by cross
ing below the face of Illimani and going down direct to
Esquina de Pongo, instead of returning by Cotafia and
the route of our ascent. Starting about 8:30 A. M.,
after a good breakfast, we mounted through the village
of Caimbaya to the low grass pass already referred
to. It was a glorious day; Illimani, absolutely clear
from base to summit, stood up before us, a splendid
mountain. Below its cliff lay in green fertility the
wide cirque that forms the head of the Salapampa
Valley. Our way was to lead us a little distance
down to the farm of Atahuaillani, and then, by a
wide descending circuit, round under the face of Il
limani and down the opposite side of the Salapampa
Valley. If we had been better informed we might
indeed have ascended the opposite slope of the valley,
and so, passing the farm of Tanimpata, have gained
a second grass pass immediately at the foot of the
K 145

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
great south areta of lUimani's highest peak. Cross
ing one or more grassy ribs of the mountain, we should
have descended in a couple of days into the Palca
Valley, and so by the Alto de Animas have gained
La Paz by a very interesting route. In fact, this line
of travel is one that any future visitor to these moun
tains should by no means fail to traverse. Half an
hour from Caimbaya we stood at the door of the little
farm-house named Atahuaillani. We knew that J\lr.
Bandolier, whom I may best describe as the Flinders
Petrie of prehistoric Peru and Bolivia, was making
this farm his temporary abode, while excavating
ancient villages and burying-places on the flanks
of lUimani for the New York Museum. During the
course of our preliminary explorations we had come
across several such burying-places on the actual
summits of the lower hills, and had found two ruined
villages and their abandoned but still recognizable
terraced fields in a position most difficult of access,
just at the foot of a glacier, proof of the pressure of
population in pre-Columbian days, rendering neces
sary the cultivation of every yard of land that could
be reclaimed and watered. Even the position of the
canals that brought glacier-water to the fields could
be traced.
As we entered the court-yard of the farm J\Irs. Ban
dolier was upon the steps. She greeted us heartdy
and went to call up her husband, for it was still very
early. Both united to insist that we should spend a
few hours with them, and I was nothing loath. Seldom
in my experience has time passed more delightfully.
I wish I could make this excellent couple visible to the
146

RETURN TO LA PAZ
reader. The Museum for which they work, and have
worked for many years, may well be proud of them.
Their lives are absolutely devoted to the science they
pursue. Cut off from the world, without servant or
companion of any sort, isolated in the midst of super
stitious Indians, who regard their work as dangerous
to the peace of the neighborhood, and expect daily
vengeance to descend upon their villages from the
ghosts of outraged ancestors, they pursue, neverthe
less, the even tenor of their research, helping one
another in every detail, each the other's only friend.
To converse -with such brave, alert, intelligent friends
about their work, about the country, the natives,
the mountains they know and love so well, was a
rare privilege.
Mrs. Bandolier cooked our breakfast on a petroleum
stove (and an excellent breakfast it was) while her
husband answered my volley of questions. " Were the
ancient dwellers on Illimani Incas?" I ignorantly
asked. " I don't know. I have no theories. I know
nothing about Incas. All I know is that throughout
Peru and Boli-via there were ancient inhabitants, for
whom I have no name — prehistoric Peru-vians, if you
like. These people left remains which exist, and de
scendants — the Indians we see about us. The remains
show that there were great varieties of local habit
and custom — whether the result of racial variety or
merely of different conditions of life, I don't know.
What we do is to investigate the remains and dis
cover facts; we record the facts and leave inferences
and generalizations to other people. There are not
facts enough discovered yet to warrant very general
147

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
inferences. Some day there may be, but it will need
much more excavation first. Our investigation is
two-fold. We dig into the ground, and we dig into
the minds of the living people. The Indian to-day
is very little altered by European influence. He
carries a thin varnish of Christianity, but below it
are all the pre-Columbian beliefs and superstitions
practically entire. The difficulty is to get the people
to talk. For example, the Indians here worship
Illimani as a god ; but they would not acknowledge to
you that they did so." Thus he talked for four hours,
from the wealth of his experience, and if he slackened
for a moment, another question would release a new
fund of reminiscence and laboriously acquired knowl
edge. I was surprised to find him full of admiration
for the ancient Spanish laws dealing with the treat
ment of Indians. I gathered that the failure was in
administration, not in legislation. "Anyway," he
said, "the general ignorance about Spain and her
colonies in the old days is colossal."
Bidding farewell to our kind hosts, we followed
one of the grandest view-commanding mule-tracks I
ever saw. It descended amid an ever - increasing
wealth of vegetation, circling round a vast basin in
the hills, just below lUimani's southern cliff. Our
peak was always visible far aloft, for the day was
perfectly fine. It juts up like a tower from this side,
apparently inaccessible save by wings. Shrubs just
bursting into flower, and some of most fragrant scent,
over-arched the track, and the high snows glimmered
through them. Water tumbled and sang dow^n the
gullies between the arms of the mountains. We
148

RETURN TO LA PAZ
crossed the tracks of one or two mud avalanches.
The swing round of the cirqu£ carried us farther and
farther out from the bosom of Illimani. On a little
bare field, beaten flat like some dancing-floor in a
Himalayan village, a party of natives in gay attire
danced round and round in a circle to the simple
music of pipe and drum — a little air endlessly re
peated : ¦ 11^— C^ I 11

A gentle breeze hummed in the tall dry tussocks
of grass. Thus at the end of our encircling traverse
we gained a promontory at the mouth of the cirque
and had one look back from the top of a granite mound,
that seems as though it had been placed where it is
in order to command the most majestic view possible
of the great mountain. So the heathen inhabitants
thought, for on it are ruins of what may have been
an open-air temple, and there are graves in and about
the sacred enclosure. After a brief halt we turned
the corner, and our mountain was hidden from view.
It is probably this last view of it that I shall longest
remember — the Pic de Paris on our right, the summit
on the left, and the great curving chff between, reach
ing up at one point almost to the top of the Pico del
Indio. I have aheady mentioned that the upper snow-field
is mainly drained away by avalanches that fall over
this cliff. Most of them descend to a low level, where
they rapidly melt away, but the avalanches that fall
149

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
from between the Pico del Indio and the Pic de Paris re
form below into a small glacier which there fills a moun
tain cirque. The great crevasses which we found so
difficult to thread on oru- descent from the Pico del Indio
were situated just above this cirque and were formed by
the ice giving way and preparing to faU over the cUff.
It was easy to see from the point where now we stood
that the cHff above the little glacier was being rapidly
eaten away into the mountain. Not only does frost
constantly peel off the face of the rock, but the enormous
avalanches that faU do-vvn it smash and abrade the
surface, so that the face of the cHff is continually planed
away. The debris that fall from it would pde them
selves up at its foot were it not for the Httle glacier below,
which receives them on its surface or into its mass, and
gradually carries them down and dumps them over
its foot in the form of terminal moraine. The glacier,
small though it be, thus becomes a potent agent in
breaking do-mi the hdl-side, for by preventing the for
mation of a debris slope, which would protect and ulti
mately cover up the cliff, it enables frost and avalanche
to continuaUy eat away the cliff itseff and so to carry
it back and back, just as the cHff over which Niagara
falls is continually cut back by action of the water. It
is easy to see that the process has been going on for a
long time and that to it the formation of the great cliff
of Illimani is due, for not so long ago a glacier occupied
the whole of the basin round whose sides we had been
riding, the path being carried entirely over moraines or
ice -worn rocks. By this means the ridge that joined
the Pic de Paris to the Pico del Indio has been broken
tlirough, so that now a part of the snow-field, which
150

RETURN TO LA PAZ
once drained down the Caimbaya glacier, is drained
by avalanches into the Salapampa basin.'''
From the mountain-temple a long, dull descent fol
lowed, with nothing in sight but low desert-hills to
the west, furrowed by torrents descending in the rainy
season into the La Paz Valley. It was a view of the
unclothed world. Just at sunset we turned a corner
and looked down upon the strangely picturesque Indian
town of Cohoni — a large and tightly packed assemblage
of mud-houses roofed with thatch, planted one above
another on the steep hill-side. The streets proved to
be narrow, precipitous, and intricate. It was hard to
find the way through, and we were in a hurry, for
night was at hand and we still had far to go. Beyond
the town came apparently endless steep zigzags, deep
ly worn into the hill-side by the tread of countless
generations, Thousands of feet below we saw, by
the last gleam of daylight, the fields of the farm where
the night was to be spent. Darkness rapidly came on.
The crest of Illimani, again in view, palely glimmered
after all else was shrouded from sight. We had to dis
mount from our mules and feel for the way. There
was no moon. The bright evening star alone gave
light. The air grew sensibly warmer and thicker as
we descended. Dense vegetation flanked and roofed
the way. A tall broom with a large blossom, common
in South America, filled the air with rich perfume. It
gave place to high canes, and I know not what other trop-
* Tlii.s is il concrete in.st.-ince of the invasion of a longitudinal by a
side nl.icicr in the manner explained in my paper "On an Explora-
liiiii, in 1897, of Some of the Glaciers in Spitsbergen," Geographical
Journal, vol. .\ii., p. 144. Augii.sl, 1898.

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ical vegetation. The night grew blacker and blacker.
We could not even see our hands before us. There was
a sound of water below. By grovelling on the ground
and feeling we discovered that the path was again
following the edge of an abyss. I walked along it,
tapping with a stick as a blind man taps the edge of a
curbstone. Presently I felt wood and found a bridge,
and beyond it the continuing path. At last we came
among barking dogs, and lights of a hacienda glim
mering through trees. The name of the place was
Taguapalca. Its owners extended to us a kind hospi
tality. Before pursuing our way next morning we were
conducted over the orchards, where coffee grows and
fruits of every sort for the La Paz markets — figs, grapes,
oranges, olives, custard - apples, granadillas, lemons,
peaches, bananas, chestnuts, and many other kinds
which the reader might not recognize by name. They
grew in rich profusion, but are cultivated with little art,
nor was there any of the tidiness we are accustomed to
associate with good gardening. The effect, however, was
most picturesque, thanks to nature's profusion, and to
the splendid hills, peeping in through every gap in foli
age and flowers. In a corner of the garden was a grove
of giant olive-trees, the largest I ever saw, casting so
dense a shade that the group of seats beneath them form
a cool retreat in the hottest weather. Near at hand is
the usual swimming-bath, filled by a stream of ruddy
water. A pretty summer-house stands on a jutting
promontory with vertical sides, pushing forth from the
trees. It commands a strange view of the desert hills
and valleys by which this oasis is surrounded. Filling
152

RETURN TO LA PAZ
our saddle-bags with fruit for the way, we bade adieu
to our kind hosts and set forth before the sun was high.
Descending over the debris of many mud avalanches,
we soon entered the La Paz Valley at Esquina de Pongo,
and thence rode back to the city by the way we had
come.

CHAPTER XIV
PREPARING TO ASCEND SORATA
THE ascent of Illimani fortunately accompHshed,
there was in our minds but one idea — to attack the
other and probably higher great mountain of the
Bolivian Cordillera Real, Mount Sorata. I call it Mount
Sorata because that, among other names, is sometimes
applied to it, and is the most convenient designation.
Sorata, as we shall see, is the name of a town at its
foot, and the whole mountain mass at that end of the
Cordillera may be well enough thought of as the moun
tain of Sorata. Regarded from a European Alpine point
of -view. Mount Sorata is a group of peaks, hke the
Mont Blanc group, each of which, if much attention
were given to the group, would equire a name of its
own. The natives in pre-Columbian days had already
distinguished two of these peaks by name and legend.
One was the actually culminating-point, a noble crest of
snow. They call it Ancohuma, I am told; the word as
pronounced to me sounded more like " Hankuma, " but
I adhere to the received spelling. Mr. Bandolier tells
me it should be written Hankouma, and that it means
"white water." The other and more remarkable peak
is a great buttress of the former, not, in fact, quite so
lofty, but, when seen from Lake Titicaca or from the
Sorata Valley, far more imposing — a majestic rock
154

PREPARING TO ASCEND SORATA
tower, not imlike the Matterhorn, although vastly
greater, budt up of precipitous dark cliffs and ridges,
-vvhereon the clouds drift and play in wonderful com
plexity. I never saw a peak more gloriously decked
with clouds than was this one. The Incas, I believe,
worshipped it as a god, and named it Illampu. For
this name many derivations have been suggested.
Mr. Bandoher says that the name should be written
Hilampi, and that it means "w^ith his brother," im
plying, quite correctly, that it is the lesser of a pair of
peaks. Padre Baltasar de Salas, writing in 1618-1625,
spells the name, "Inti-llampu," which means I know
not what, but Inti is the word from which the name
Andes is supposed by some to be corrupted. Mount
Sorata is popularly called Illampu in Boli-via nowa
days, and Ancohuma is called the south peak of
Illampu. I prefer to restore to the individual peaks
their proper designations, and to apply to the whole
mountain the designation Mount Sorata.
When driving from Lake Titicaca to La Paz over
the high Bolivian plateau we had noticed that the most
promising way to attack the peak was by a glacier that
descends southward from Ancohuma, which I after
wards named the Ancohuma glacier. The lower part
of it was apparently much crevassed, but there seemed
to be a high snowy plateau above, leading to the
foot of the final peak. The peak itself was evidently
precipitous, but we hoped it might improve on ac
quaintance; at all events, this was the route we de
cided to attempt. Such a decision is in Bolivia the
smallest part of a climber's trouble. The mountainous
parts of the country, which are almost exclusively in-
155

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
habited by Indians, cannot be traversed in the free
fashion possible in most mountain regions. The trav
eller who went with two or three companions, and set
up his tent wherever seemed most convenient to pass
the night, would be liable to find himself raided by
Indians, whose suspicions, and perhaps terrors, are
aroused by any action on the part of white men to
which they are not accustomed. To roll up a tent and
leave it with other baggage indifferently protected on a
hill-side, as in mountaineering must sooner or later be
done with a hea-vy camp, would merely invite theft.
Wherever a mountaineer goes in the Bolivian moun
tains his movements are sure to be carefully watched,
and there is no chance of his hiding his property where
Indians will not find it. The only way, therefore, to
approach any of the great mountains is to do so w ith
the assistance of some considerable body of the natives
themselves. All the Puna Indians belong to one of
two categories : either they inhabit a finca or they are
what is called pueblo or village Indians. A finca, as I
have already explained, belongs to a proprietor, but the
pueblos are Comunidades — -village communities be
longing to the inhabitants themselves. A finca is
governed and administered by the major-domo rep
resenting the proprietor; a pueblo is administered by
an official named the corregidor, who represents the
government and is under the sub-prefect of the district.
Pueblo Indians pay tribute for their lands and work in
common; they appoint their own alcalde, who regu
lates the partition of crops and other domestic questions.
It appears that the Pueblo Indians are less under control
than the finca Indians; at all events, the traveller is
156

PREPARING TO ASCEND SORATA
more likely to be well received if he goes to a finca armed
with a letter of recommendation from its proprietor than
if he goes to a pueblo with merely an official letter to
the corregidor.
Thus, having determined in a general way upon
the route I desired to follow, it was necessary to find
some one who could tell me what finca was best situated
for a base, and then to procure an introduction to its
owner, and get from him a letter instructing his major-
domo to supply me with Indian porters, and give me
whatever assistance I might require. If there had been
in existence even a moderately good map of the moun
tains, this would have been no very difficult matter ; but
as no such map existed, it was by no means easy for
me, with my limited command of Spanish, to explain
what I wanted in La Paz, without either the mountain
or a map to point to. Here Sefior Granier, with his
knowledge of European languages and rare geographi
cal instinct, came to my assistance; he instantly per
ceived that a place called Umapusa was the right start
ing-point, and he made every arrangement to that end.
On Illimani we had been able to take Indian porters to
within a very short distance below our highest camp.
We realized that Mount Sorata w^ould not lend itself to
so convenient an arrangement, for the mountain has
a much wider spread, a large gathering - ground for
snow on its upper part, and a more continuous southern
slope, so that the glaciers descend in great volume to a
lower level than on Illimani, and the highest point that
can be reached without entering upon them is more re
mote from the top. It followed that, as the Umapusa
Indians were no more likely than those of Caimbaya
157

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
to be willing to enter the world of snow, we should be
obliged to transport our camp and provisions without
their assistance for at least one day, and possibly for
more. As this work would have to be done from 17,000
feet upward, where loads in any case must be small,
it seemed that repeated journeys would be necessar}'
and the time consumed correspondingly great. Here,
however, the preliminary observations we had made
from the road came to our help ; for we had noticed that
the very broken parts of the. glacier were the lower
parts, and that above these ice-falls there were long
slopes of snow, broken here and there, but not for any
great distance.
I therefore conceived that we might be able to em
ploy a sledge for dragging our baggage over this part of
the ascent. The suggestion fortimately met with
^Maquignaz's approval, for it did not come upon him
as entirely novel. In the previous year, while accom
panying the Duke of the Abruzzi to the summit of
]\Iount St. Elias, he and his companions had dragged
sledges over ice for six or seven weeks. He was there
fore famihar with both the nature of a sledge and the
possibdities of using it even on crevassed glaciers, while
I, of course, had had plenty of experience with sledges
during two summers spent exploring the interior of
Spitsbergen. The first thing I had to do, therefore, at
La Paz, was to find a carpenter, and make him under
stand the nature of the machine he was to fashion — no
very easy matter ; but idtimately the man seemed to get
a glimmering idea of what was wanted, and set to work
upon it, with the two guides to watch and assist. Prog
ress was unfortunately ver}'^ slow — first, because everv'-

PREPARING TO ASCEND SORATA
thing is done slowly in this country; and, secondly,.
because a saint's day, that is a holiday, intervened,
and the work had to stop while the carpenter enjoyed
himself, and for the best part of the following day
while he was recovering.
My own time was sufficiently occupied with the neces
sary packing of collections and repacking of baggage
for the new trip, while there were numbers of people to
be seen at all hours of the day. One evening I attended
a special meeting of the Geographical Society of La Paz,
and gave some account of the ascent of Illimani. In the
discussion that followed, the question of the derivation
of the mountain's name was considered, and the gen
eral impression seemed to be that the ancient form of
the word was Illi Mamani, which being translated
means "bright condor." But Mr. Bandolier told me
that, in his opinion, the true derivation is Hila-uma-
ni, meaning "with much water" (much-water-with).
I think it was Sefior M. V. Ballivian who told me that
the earliest recorded form of the name is Inti-llimani,
though what that may mean I know not.

CHAPTER XV
THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
THE sledge and other preparations I have de
scribed occupied our time for four days. On the
morning of the fifth after our return from Illimani
(September 17th), we set forth for Mount Sorata. This
time no swfft tilbury carried us over the Puna, but a
caravan of mules. Very different was the slow plodding
with which we rode up the long zigzags to the Alto from
the wild excitement of our descent down them on the day
of our arrival, for now there was no surprise in store.
Having reached the edge of the cliff at the point kno-wn
as the Alto de Lima,* where an old Spanish tower or pi-
lastron stands, we did not follow the carriage-road, but
struck across the high plateau by one of its many paths.
From this point, indeed, the radiation of the foot-paths
in all directions is very remarkable. They must diverge
almost in hundreds from the common centre. Not, of
course, that they radiate in hundreds of different direc
tions, but they sunder in groups of parallel tracks,
w^hich rapidly multiply as they diverge. It is only
wheeled vehicles that make broad roads ; South America
was innocent of wheels before the coming of the Span-
* Another mule-track leads to a point farther south, named the
Alto de Potosi. The carriage alto lies about half-way between the
two. 160

THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
iards. The native highway in all parts of South Amer
ica is the foot-path. Where traffic increases, the nmn-
ber of parallel foot-paths multiplies. It was only when,
under Inca government, a \vide pavement was laid, as
was the case along the main north and south highway,
and the old route over the Huallata Pass to Illabaj^a,
whereof traces still exist, that these parallel tracks
were supplanted. The Puna, at all events, except for
the modern carriage-road, is only traversed by infinite
numbers of these foot-paths, along which men, donkeys,
and llamas are continuously passing in their ceaseless
movement towcuds La Paz or back to their scattered
farms and -villages. So featureless is the wide, undu
lating plain, which, near the Alto, at any rate, is not cul
tivated at all nor inhabited, that it is easy to mistake
the particular track diverging towards the point one
wishes to attain. The carriage-road, in order to avoid
the deeply excavated stream hollows in the lower slopes
— hollows some hundred feet deep and several hundred
yards -wide — is forced to make a divergence from the
direct route. The ordinary donkey-track to ChiUlaya
or to Achacache goes more directly, crossing many of
these undulations low do-wn near the flat, but the
ancient route, which passes directly through the -village
of Umapusa on its way to the town of Sorata, goes right
over the undulating feet of the mountains, ascending
and descending continuously. This route is never fol
lowed nowadays except by llama caravans.
We were destined to traverse the Puna, for one reason
or another, no less than nine times, and thus came to
loiow it with some intimacy. This time it was prac
tically new to us, for in dri-ving over a cotrntrj' one learns
L i6i

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
little about it. As the baggage mules and arriero lagged
behind, we three were alone on the wild expanse. By
good luck we took a wrong track, and so found our
selves presently in the carriage - road, to which we
thought it wisest afterwards to adhere. Thus we
reached the tambo of Okomisto, which we should other
wise have missed, where tilburies and post-wagons
change horses, and where we found Mr. N. E. Bieber,
of the Yani Mine, halting for refreshment on his way
to La Paz. I was delighted to discover him, for there
were many matters about which he could instruct me
better than any one else in the country. He asked
where I was going to sleep. I said, " At Machaca-Marca, "
the other principal post-house on the Chililaya road.
" Well, " he said, " it's a good thing you met me, for the
man would have refused to put you up. Both Ma
chaca-Marca* and Okomisto are merely post stations
for the use of passengers by the postal service, and
the managers are not allowed by the company to ac
commodate passing caravans. When I was new to
this country I arrived late one night at Machaca-Marca,
expecting to stop there, but the manager sent me on,
and I had to flounder over the Puna in the dark, hunting
about for a finca that would take me in. Since then I
have made an arrangement with the company, and
now I have the right to put up at both places, on con
dition of my keeping my own store of cebada for my
mules. I will, therefore, give you a note to the man
ager, so that you may use my cebada and be put up
whenever you pass."

* The name means " new building.''
162

THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
I then told him that my next halting-place would be
Achacache, and asked information about that, it like
wise being situated on the route constantly taken by
Bieber between Yani and La Paz. He said there was an
inn there kept by a rather suspicious old gentleman,
who turned away most people he didn't know, so he
gave me a letter to him also, and thus materially as
sisted me on the way.
If the Puna was monotonous to drive over behind a
cantering team of ponies, it was still more monotonous
to traverse at the tail of a crawling caravan of mules.
Early in the morning and late in the evening, when the
sun is below the horizon, the cold, even at this time of
year, is liable to be intense, and one suffers from almost
frozen feet. In the winter, when the winds blow and the
frosts are yet more severe, the dry cold is so trying that
even the natives cover up their faces in thick woollen
masks, and wrap shawls about their heads and ponchos
over their bodies. But as soon as the sun is a little way
above the horizon, its direct rays scorch the traveller with
their great heat, so that he soon begins to pray for the
night, as the lesser evil of the two. For at night, when the
stars shine brightly and a great silence descends upon
the land, and the Indians, in fear of one another, quit the
roads, which are then none too safe, there is a romance
about this wide, wild, lonely expanse. By day the burn
ing sunshine so envelopes all the brown, dry, dusty
ground that everything in view seems to vanish in
brightness ; and the eye, unprotected by dark glass, can
not gaze steadily in any direction. However unpleasant
to the senses the heat and glaring light may be, this
blaze of briUiancy, as foreground to the long snowy wall
163

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
that frets the margin of the east, remains as a grand
thing in the memory. But the Puna, in the months
I knew it, is a place of many moods. When the sun
is hottest, little cyclones raise dust-whirlwinds, which
dance along often by scores at a time; now and again
a giant tower of dust, far larger than the ordinary,
reaches from the ground high into the heavens. One
such whirlwind I saw, a black, curving column, which
seemed to descend from a thunder-cloud like the trunk
of some gigantic elephant searching the ground. In
the hot hours mirages flood the plain and make the
Indians' huts dance like boats bobbing on water. It
is a strange sight to see a caravan of donkeys or llamas
emerging from one of these fictitious lakes.
Almost daily, a w^hite cloud-bank gathered behind the
Cordillera to the east. When the sun rose the range was
usually clear; but an hour or two later the crest of the
cloud-bank would be seen over the lower passes, and
the white flood would presently pour round the north
end of Mount Sorata, and then creep along the western
face towards the south, joining other mist cataracts de
scending from the great gaps in the range, just as the
clouds crept round the south end of Illimani and up the
valley of La Paz. By degrees eruptions of cloud would
rise at different points behind the Cordillera and, bent
over by the wind like some huge breaking wave, would
impend upon the Puna. Detached fragments of these
would drift away westward, with thunder in their bosoms
and trailing skirts of hail or rain beneath them. Trav
elling on and on, they would meet other clouds formed
upon the western Cordillera, so that, when night came,
hghtning flashes often illumined the sky from half
164

THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
a dozen places at once, and the far-away thunder boomed
almost without intermission. But, till the approach of
the rainy season, these storms would cease and the
clouds fade in the early night, and the bright stars
would soon be shining in unveiled splendor from zenith
to horizon.
Though, at the time of our visit, the Puna had all
the aspect of a desert, large parts of it produce fairly
good crops in the rainy season. The lower slopes of
the mountains, where they rise from the plain, are
covered with tufts of a species of Deyeuxia, which is
frozen to a golden-brown tint in the winter. Here, too,
and lower down are plentifully distributed, like so
many mole-hills, domed growths of the resinous balsam-
bock named Yareta {Bolax glebaria), one of the best
local forms of fuel, a use Ukewise served by the hardy
tola shrub. Yareta and Deyeuxia are almost the sole
products of the first part of the Puna traversed by the
tracks proceeding northward from the Alto of La Paz ;
a mile or two farther on scattered fields are passed,
formed by removing immense quantities of water-worn
stones from the ground, and piling them up in heaps,
the area occupied by the heaps being as great as that
of the cultivable ground between them. Westward — that
is to say, lower down on the level ground, farther from
the foot of the Cordillera — the amount of soil is great
er in proportion to the stones, and the fields are larger.
Farms become more numerous, and so do villages, and
even towns of considerable size, such as Laja or Puca
rani. These fields produce barley (cebada), potatoes of
different sorts. Ocas (Oxalis tuberosa) and other tubers,
Ouinoa [Chenopodium quinoa), and a few other prod-
165

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
acts. The methods of cultivation are those already
described. More than once, especially in the later weeks of our
stay in Bolivia, we rode past a field that was being
ploughed. On such occasions, instead of a few plough
men, the whole village was apparently at work. The
ploughs used are the roughest wooden forks imagin
able, seldom shod with iron. They are dragged by a
yoke of bulls. A great noise arises from the field, for
all the folks at work seem to shout at one another and
exchange jokes. When they saw me preparing to
take a photograph, many of the men posed themselves
in positions meant to be funny, and one man rode
his plough, balancing himself wonderfidly. He came
near, to be assured that he was included in my view.
Such rare incidents were welcome breaks in the monot
ony of our ride. Of course, we met the usual Indian
caravans on the trail, but, save for the slowly changing
distant view of the mountains, one mile of Puna is
much like another. Except in the vicinity of Lake
Titicaca, birds were few. Near swamps we used some
times to see the small gull, named Gabiotto, but the
commonest birds were the brown Macata and the black
Alcamario, both scavengers. They were not shy, but
would let us approach near enough to pot them with
our revolvers had we been better shots. Another com
mon bird, especially on the lower slopes of the Cordil
lera, was the Sintenella, whose cry was one of the ear
liest sounds heralding the dawn.
By 6 o'clock we reached the post-house of Machaca-
Marca, presented our credentials, and were allowed
to enter. The place consists of a row of mud cham-
i66

THE OUTSKIRTS OF ACHACACHE

AN INDIAN FUNERAL

TIliC AIM'ROACII 'IX) MOUNT SORATA
bers built round a courtyard, with a couple of large
corrals or walled enclosures for mules in the rear. Like
Okomisto, it was distinguished from the farms in the
neighborhood by the many great stacks of cebada
that stood about it, though in 1900 these were absent.
The manager was in a very happy state of into.\ica-
tion, and entirely pleased with himself. " 1 am drunk
to-day," he .said — "a little drunk — but I shall be all
right to-morrow. ExcUvSe nie, excu.se me," he said.
" You will excuse mc — a little drunk — all right to-mor
row." lie came out and stood beside me on a dii.st
heap by the road, looking out for our baggage mules,
which were somewhat behind. Once or twice he fell off
the dust Ilea]), but that only added to his happiness.
lie borrowed my field-glasses, tried to look through
them at the wrong end, and returned them lo me with
the remark that to-morrow he would be better able to
u.se them. Some animals a])peared in the distance on
the road, and I thought they might be ours.
"No," he .said, "that's not Coro's arriero; I know
him; he's drunk; he's sine to be drunk. Those are
Indian.s — my Indians. All the Indians about here
are my Indians. They all work for me — four hundred
Indians. Bad fellows! 1 have this revolver for them,
and the}' know me. If one tries to come it over me —
bang! he goes to the j)antheon. Very useful, this
revolver," he said. "Vei}' useful for the Indians;
the}' know me. I'm drunk to-day, but I'll be all right
to-morrow." After which he lapsed into the Aymara
tongue, and I could understand him no more.
Making our bed on the table in tbe room where tbe
jiost travellers get their mid-da}' meal, we passed a
i()7

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
good enough night, and were on the road again early
next morning. For an hour or two we followed the road
back towards Chililaya, till we came to a great mud
mile-stone, or pilastron, such as in former days they
were wont to build for marking the route. These
pilastrons are rather confusing, because some merely
stand at prominent points, while others are league-
posts, marking distances. At this particular pilastron,
the Achacache road turned off to the right. This, in
fact, was the ancient high-road, for Chililaya is quite
a modern port; the old port of Lake Titicaca in Inca
days was Achacache, which then stood on the margin of
the lake, though it is now cut off from the waters by
a mud flat. The main route to the north went from
Achacache over the Cordillera to the town of Illabaya,
and thence to the gold region east of the Andes. There
appears also to have been another route, traces of which
are still clearly marked, and are known as the Incas'
Way. This led towards the Cordillera at a point south
of Mount Sorata, but whether it crossed the range by a
snow -pass or whether it merely led to some ancient
mining settlement on the mountain slopes I have been
unable to discover. In the opposite direction it was said
to lead to Tiahuanaco.
In the middle of the morning we reached the large
Indian village of Huarina, on the margin of the inner
bay of Titicaca, which is called Lake Vinamarca. It
is just like some Irish villages, with whitewashed, mud-
walled, thatched cabins, and pigs and fowls running
about. There were plenty of cattle on the margin of
the water, eating weeds that the Indians were dragging
out of the lake. Low, rounded hills with bare slopes
i68

ACHACACHE CHURCH

¦K-:^

INDIAN CHILDREN

THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
rose on our right hand from the level ground and shut
out the view of the snow-mountains. This hne of low
hdls is continuous as far as Achacache. We had al
ready passed two corresponding patches of similar
hdls between Okomisto and this poiat. This series of
low hiUs consists of red sandstones and conglomerates,
ascribed by Forbes to the Permian series. The re
mainder of our way led beside or among these hiUs,
witli now and again a glimpse of the blue waters of
the great lake.
Reaching the summit of a httle rise with a mud pdas-
tron on the top, there suddenly appeared before us
the surprisingly large Indian town of Achacache, with
a bay of Titicaca -visible beyond it and a great stretch
of plain around. The main street of the town led
straight down among the houses, towards the great
domed church, -with its fantastic towers, occup}'ing
the whole of one side of the large plaza. There were
signs of an abundant Indian population, aU appar-
ently poor. On the main street stood two or three
houses of some importance, and a pubhc school, in a
budding labelled "Teatro. " It was just a mud stage,
roofed over and open to a court-yard. The chddren,
forty or fifty perhaps in number, were shouting out
their lessons in chorus, in two divisions, the master
on the stage, the pupds in the pit. ^Miat surprised
me perhaps more than an^-fhing was the exceeding
cleanliness of the streets ; no exceptional condition, as I
found during my many visits to the town. All tlie
streets appeared to be carefully swept every day.
The inn-keeper received us willingly, thanks to
Bieber's letter, and placed at our disposal quite a decent
169

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
room, opening on the courtyard, with a smaUer room
within it, which was actually furnished with a bed.
I immediately sallied forth to inspect the plaza while
dinner was preparing. It is a big square, surrounded
by the church, the sub-prefect's house, one or two low
communal buildings, and half a dozen native shops,
gay with the bright-colored stuffs which alone take
the fancy of the Indians. The colors were surpris
ingly good and very un-European, yet on inspection
it appeared that most of them were cheap goods made
in Germany to match samples of the old local products.
An Indian woman always wears a short gown of bright-
colored, fluffy-textured material ; the colors they affect
are crimson or orange, and, less frequently, blue or
green. The sub-prefect was, unfortunately, absent,
so I sought to communicate with the corregidor, a
person of somewhat indifferent reputation in this place.
He, however, was also away, and his wife was reigning
in his stead. The letter from the prefect of La Paz
was annexed by her, but nothing further happened;
and when I sent to know what arrangements she might
be making to supply the guides we wanted to take
us next day to Umapusa, the answer was that she was
doing nothing. I then sent to get my letter back, but
they refused to give that up unless they were paid some
money. Accordingly, I went back myself, walked into
the room, found the letter, and took it away.
Our dinner was a complicated kind of soup, named
chairo, served in a massive silver bowl, of simple, undec-
orated form, evidently very old. It contained fragments
of meat and a quantity of potatoes of different sorts,
hotly flavored with picantes. Bolivia is a great country
170

THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SORATA
for potatoes; they are one of the chief articles of food
that the Puna produces. Many varieties are cultivated
and prepared for food in many ways. I have been told
that over a hundred different kinds of potatoes bless
Bolivia. Some (called chuno) are put out at rught to
freeze and taken in before the morning sun brings
on a thaw; some, on the other hand, are dried in the
sun and taken in at night to be sheltered from the frost ;
some are wetted and frozen, and some are dried and
frozen, and there are many other ways of preparing
them. In our soup were both black and white sorts,
besides tubers which were not potatoes at aU.

CHAPTER XVI
OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
ON the morning of September 19th we rode away
to find the farm of Umapusa, whence our ascent
of Mount Sorata was to commence. Passing
through a few by-streets, bordered by huts for the most
part in ruins, we climbed over the end of the last of the
low line of Permian hills, following a track worn deeply
into the rock by centuries of traffic. On the top a won
derful view burst upon us, for at our feet was a very large,
flat basin, which in the rainy season becomes an arm of
the lake; beyond arose long, gentle slopes, some ten
miles of ascent, and then, to crown all, the briUiant mass
of our mountain, wreathed in shining clouds. Halt
ing to gaze upon this entrancing vision, I observed
an old Indian woman, clothed in rags, who was busy
about some religious action. She was arranging loose
stones together and apparently muttering prayers.
When she had gone, I went to see what she had
made, and found a little edifice like a prehistoric dol
men, with three stones set up on edge for walls and a
fourth on the top for a roof. Later on, whenever we
visited any of the sacred high places of the Indians,
we always found them occupied by a multitude of
these little models. Sometimes they might be num
bered by hundreds, as, for instance, on the top of
172

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
Pefias Hill. It seems probable enough that the custom
of building these little edifices is a survival from pre-
Christian days. On inquiry, however, I was told that
the Indians have been taught to call these things
"Holy Sepulchres," and to associate them with Chris
tianity. We descended to the flat, crossed the little Acha
cache brook, now quite shallow, and, taking a wide cir
cuit to avoid the swamp, gained the foot of the long
slope, and so mounted to the finca of Umapusa.''' It
was a short ride, and might easily have been added
to the previous day's march, had we known where
to look for the place. The major-domo was out, so
we had to wait an hour or two. When he came in, he
received our letters, promised to give us all assistance,
and led us about a mile farther up to a smaller estab
lishment, a mud hut, over whose door was painted in
crooked letters the word "Posada." This simple build
ing is, in fact, an inn, situated on the ancient direct
llama-track leading from Pefias over the Cordillera to
the town of Sorata. From the fi?ica to the posada, and
some distance farther up, the whole slope was covered
with the fields and mud huts of a large Indian settle
ment, while yet higher, bearing somewhat the relation
to Umapusa that Caimbaya does to Cotana, was a
village named Fraskiya. The altitude of the posada is
about 13,000 feet above sea-level; yet even here, and to
some distance above Fraskiya, that is to say, well over
14,000 feet, crops are grown — cebada near the finca, and
* Uma-pusa means, "where water gushes out." The name is ap
propriate because of the numerous springs of water which rise near
it in the damp season. 173

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
potatoes higher up. They had not yet begun to break
the ground for this year's sowing, but during the
course of the following six weeks ploughing and sowing-
were actively carried on, as I had occasion to observe.
The long day that was still before us was chiefly
spent in making arrangements for an early start on
the morrow. The manager of the finca, Miguel Tarifa,
placed his son Caesar at our disposal to accompany
us, and sent up word to Fraskiya that Indians should
be enlisted to go along with us next day. The guides
employed their time in making collections for me,
Maquignaz shooting birds, Pellissier quite as keenly
hunting after insects, with satisfactory result. I
worked at bird-skinning, and so the day passed. Un
fortunately, the weather was none too good, for a strong
wind blew, bringing over heavy clouds from the north
west. But the following morning promised better,
when we set forth to ride up to Fraskiya. The enor
mous area and spread of Mount Sorata became ap
parent the nearer we approached. The summit was now
no more than fifteen miles away as the crow flies, and
we were directly advancing towards it ; but in so doing
we interposed the rounded lower slopes between our sight
and all except the tips ofthe great peaks. Thus we
gained no further information of the work that lay
before us than what we had acquired from the carriage-
road. The slope itself, from the swamp below to the foot
of the final rocks above, consisted entirely of alluvial
deposits — that is to say, of rounded, water-worn stones
and earth. Now and again large bowlders occurred,
apparently too heavy to have been transported by
water, but they were water-worn. Their presence
174

MOUN r .SOKAPA

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
seemed to suggest that they had been carried by ice
and afterwards water-worn; in fact, all the material
forming the slopes resembled a moraine which had been
rearranged by water after the retreat of the ice. This
was true not merely of the slope above Umapusa, but
of all the corresponding slopes leading up from the
Puna to the rocky crest of the Cordillera. Following
a little stream gully among the fields, and turning an
abrupt corner, we put up four or five wild ducks, which
hurried away down to the lake.
Arrived at Fraskiya, we rode into the court-yard
of the finca, which serves also as burying-ground. To
the amusement of the natives, I sat down on the edge
of a newly dug grave, with my legs hanging over the
side, quite unconscious of what the hole was intended
for. All the inhabitants were gathered together, and
an immense clatter of tongues arose ; but Caesar proved
to be a man of influence, and, after no more than half
an hour's delay, five Indians agreed to accompany us.
Their names were Ilario Huanca, Jose and Manuel
Mamani, Jeronimo Carbrera, and Manuel Lucan. The
best of them all was Jose, a very wiry old man -with
a deeply furrowed, humorous countenance and an
immense deal to say for himself, not a word of which,
unfortunately, could I understand. He was the first
to grasp the novel idea that we actually meant to climb
the great snow-peak, and he had intelligent sugges
tions to make as to the best route of approach. Though
quite an old man, he was eager to go with us, and
was included in the party at his own earnest desire.
As far as mules could climb there was no occasion for
the porters to carry anything except their own. pro-
175

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
visions, the chief item of which was a supply of coca
leaves for chewing. Caesar brought dried mutton,
of the kind caUed chalonas, a verj' useful provision
for traveUers in BoHvia. He also had a store of baked
grains of sweet maize, which we found to be a good
substitute for bread and easdy portable. BoUvian
Indians are traditionaUy supposed to be almost magi
cally supported by coca. You hear stories of the long
marches they make without food or rest, tmder the
stimulus of coca. The fact, however, appears to be
that the amount of food eaten by a BoKvian Indian
in the course of a week is neither more nor less than
the amount eaten by natives in other parts of the world.
It is only that they have contracted a habit, doubtless
by the assistance of coca, of postponing their meals for
a very long time and making up afterwards for the
fast. They are good, strong men, and excellent march
ers, but they are in no wise better or hardier than the
cooUes whom I employed in various parts of the Kash
mir Mountains.
The ascent was continued above the fields up a gently
sloping moor, covered with tussocky grass. The -view
developed behind, over the two branches of the blue
lake in the embrace of low golden hdls. Clouds were
pouring over the Huadlata Pass, which leads to the
town of Sorata, and were creeping along the flank of
the mountain towards us. A flock of alpacas were
grazing at this level of the sloi)e; llamas were met higher
up. The alpacas resembled llamas, but their long
fleeces were in a very untidy, tattered condition. The
llamas were mostly females, for female llamas do not
carry loads, but remain in the mountains while the

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
males go off with caravans. The males, after a long
journey, require some months of rest in the hiUs be
fore they undertake another expedition. The first
llamas I ever saw impressed me as of ungainly and
even uncanny appearance; but it is impossible to be
come familiar with their splendid, intelligent heads,
their beautiful, soft, large eyes, and fine, almost eagle
like expression, the noble outlines of the nostril, and
poise of the whole head, without becoming attracted
to these animals. On the hill-side they scatter about ;
but, once on the road, they travel together in a closely
packed flock, and are difficult to divert from the direction
along which they are travelling. They are timid, and
their timidity drives them to huddle together. When
annoyed, they spit at the object of their hostiUty -with
fatal accuracy and dangerous length of range. But
they are perfectly docile in the hands of a driver they
know. In size they are about equal to a donkey;
their bodies and legs are like those of sheep, but taller ;
while they have a neck and head roughly resembling
a camel's, but more beautiful, and expressive of a totally
different kind of character. No man can ever be fond
of a camel unless to the manner born ; but it would be
easy, I imagine, to make a pet of a llama.
After mounting steadily for three hours, it seemed
that we were approaching the actual foot of the glacier,
till, rounding over a httle to the right, we suddenly
found ourselves looking down upon a deep valley. It
was once fiUed with a glacier, and is now in part occu
pied by a lake, held in by an ancient moraine dam,
and caUed the lake of Saint Francis. The sharply out
lined lateral moraines of the same departed glacier re-
M 177

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
main high above its waters on both sides. The valley
is cut deeply into the great alluvial slope, and stretches
back to the heart of the mountains. We saw its main
branch going straight up towards the Cordillera, filled
at the head by a considerable glacier, which drains the
southeast basin of Mount Sorata. The three glaciers
draining the south slope of the mountain, divided from
one another below by rocky hills, likewise descend
towards this valley and empty their waters into its
main stream, and so into the lake of Saint Francis.
The nearest to us of these side valleys swept round be
hind the slope on the crest of which we stood, and alto
gether cut us off from the great mountain; so that,
though we were now at about 17,000 feet, it would be
necessary for us to descend into this valley before we
could attain the glacier and begin the real ascent.
This was a disappointment. Two days' work were
required to reattain, on the mountain itself, the altitude
to which we had thus ridden on one of its outworks.
Ob-viously, the place for our camp would be in the
nearest side valley, at the foot of its glacier. The
sooner we got there the better, for hea-vy clouds had
now gathered behind us and were pouring rain upon
the slopes up which we had come and upon the village
below, though the mountain still continued clear.
Rounding the corner to the left, and losing the view
of the lake, there burst upon me as I commenced the
descent into the side valley a glorious view of the snow^
peaks. At my feet was the valley into which we were
to descend. The retreat of the glacier, which for
merly filled it and joined the other glaciers I have
mentioned, uncovered a series of small lake-basins at
178

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
different levels. All of these have since been filled up
by the mud deposits of the glacier-torrent. They are
now represented by level grassy plateaus, fair to look
upon. Above the highest of these plateaus rests the
present snout of the glacier, which descends in fine ice-
falls from the crevassed flank of a snowy peak. For the
moment I fancied this to be the highest peak of Mount
Sorata. It was, however, only an out-lier, the Hau-
kafia peak. The opposite side of the small valley was
formed by a rugged range of bare hills, the extremity
of a ridge coming from the same peak. Between these
rugged hills and the peak there was visible a depression
or col, over which, as soon as I had identified the posi
tion of Ancohuma, it became obvious that our route to
the foot of the highest peak must lie. Thus, it was
abundantly clear that our base camp must be planted
on the highest dry lake-basin at the foot of the glacier.
From thence our next day's route would lie up the
moraine and rocky slopes, along the left bank of the
Haukafia glacier, to the col, where our second camp
must be placed. The remainder of the way would lie
up the snow-field beyond the col — that is to say, the
snow-field draining directly southward from the high
plateau and feeding the glacier which flowed down the
next side valley beyond that one into which I was
looking. These two glaciers have need to be named
for the purposes of my narrative, and I called the
nearer one, that by whose moraine we must first as
cend, the Haukafia Glacier ; and the next one, beyond
the col, the Ancohuma Glacier. To the snowy peak
straight ahead I gave the name Haukafia Peak.
A good path was unexpectedly revealed by the Ind-
179

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ians, leading down to the Haukafia Valley. It soon
became obvious that, at some time, not perhaps very
recently, there had been much traffic into this remote
recess, for a number of tracks zigzagged down or trav
ersed round the slope, all obviously made by men and
not merely by grazing animals. Inquiry elicited the
information that a gold-mine had been worked by an
English company in the immediate neighborhood of
the point where I had determined to camp. The name
of this mine was Hiska Haukafia, which means " little
stroke." A rapid descent landed us on the second and
largest of the old lake-basins. It was being grazed
by a flock of llamas, who, as I thought, were attended
by a Scotchman in a tam-o'-shanter hat ; but he turned
out to be merely the deceptive shadow of a rock. In
such deceptive shadows, mimicking human or fanciful
forms, it is probable that the traditions of mountain
dragons and other strange beasts have their origin.
The old lake-basin was about half a mile long, and
afforded admirable grazing - ground for our mules.
Some parts of it were swampy. In one corner there still
remained a small shallow pool. The multitude of
birds that presently revealed themselves in this retired
locality was remarkable; it was also one of the most
favored places for plant life that we discovered at any
high level. A whole flock of green-headed humming
birds fluttered about a bush; two geese and half a dozen
wild ducks were feeding on the pool. A pair of gulls
took fright when they saw us, and, slowly circling
round and round, rose gradually two or three thousand
feet into the air, till they surpassed the height of the
surrounding hills and could fly straight away to Lake

ROCKTOOTH CAMP (sECONd) ON MOUNT SORATA

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
Titicaca ; but, even at their highest, they were far below
two condors soaring incredibly high aloft. Some snipe
were also put up on the flat, and there were other small
birds, which I was unfortunately prevented from coUect-
ing by lack of suitably loaded cartridges. The opposite
slope was formed of debris and broken rocks, among
which great numbers of bizcachas, little rabbit-like
beasts, were skipping about.
From the head of this boggy meadow, a path known
to the Indians still led on, even when the mules could
go no farther, up rocks rounded by the rasping of ice,
to a higher and very small lake-basin where the path
ceased. Close to the abandoned gold-mine we pitched
our main camp in the evening of September 20th. The
position was excellent, for the ground was level, soft,
sheltered, and dry. Near at hand was the foot of the
glacier up which our farther advance must be made.
While the tents were pitching, I went forth and shot
the toughest goose that ever dismayed human teeth.
He took a deal of shooting with the No. 6 shot, which
was the largest I had in my cartridges. Winged at
the first discharge, he waddled off up-hill at a smart pace,
along a llama-track. I puffed and blew, and yet could
not gain on him. A pursuit at 16,000 feet soon ex
hausts any man. I became almost comatose, but held
on. At last the path ended, and he got among broken
rocks. I still had better ground, and so overtook him.
More dead than alive, I stumbled down -hill with my
burdensome trophy. A couple of bizcachas got up,
and I knocked them over. Next minute I wished I had
not, for gun and game were together so hea-vy that I
could hardly drag them and myself along. Night came
181

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
on, and I was stiU a long way from camp, toding hideous
ly. But something moved in the darkness ; it turned out
to be the arriero looking after the mules. He shouldered
part of my load, and I reached the tents just in time for
supper. The skin of that remorseless goose now rests
in the British Museum. Near the edge of the grazing-
ground the arriero showed me his bed, a pile of sheep
skins from the pack-saddles, with a heap of harness
close by in a corner of rocks. It looked a chilly place,
though he seemed pleased with it ; he exchanged it readily
enough, however, for a small tent which I had brought
for him. He was really a most adaptable fellow, and
would have been content at any time to take up his lodg
ing between a couple of asses. No persuasion would
separate him from the pack-saddles, on which he always
lay, fearing lest they should be stolen, a fate he appre
hended for every loose object.
Behind our four tents rose an amphitheatral slope,
strewn with huge rocks fallen from the hid. Dry grass
in tussocks, one to three feet high, grew among the
rocks. The Indians lit this in the darkness. At first
it made a fire, pleasant to warm one's seff at; but a rising
wind drove it up the slope. The flames leaped in sheets
from patch to patch, encircling the rocks and spreading
wider and deeper every instant. It was as though aU
the gold had come glowing forth from its hiding-places
to mock us. The smoke shone like flame in the general
glare, and eddied round and up till it caught the moon
light, high aloft, and turned to silver. The cirque of
mountains around were illuminated to their highest crest.
Presently the fire disappeared from view behind a bend
in the ground, and only the glare from it could be seen
182

OBSTACLES TO ASCENT OF SORATA
on slopes and smoke. We might have been on the flank
of an erupting volcano. The Indians, flitting about Hke
demons, spreading the fire, added to the weirdness of the
scene. It was hard to beheve they were men. Not till
the conflagration died down did I find it possible to tear
myseff away from the splendid sight and close out the
world behind the thin curtain of my tiny tent.

CHAPTER XVII
FIRST ATTEMPT ON MOUNT SORATA
NEXT morning I sent off the guides and Indians to
carry up a relay of baggage and fix on the posi
tion for a higher camp. Two of the Indians caused
trouble, whether through fear or mere idleness it was im
possible to discover. They were -with difficulty restrained
from throwing down their loads and bolting then and
there. They shpped away in the night. So, with only
four Indians, we made our final start on the cold, bright
morning of September 22d. The way, though steep and
fatiguing, was easy from a mountaineering point of -view-.
Sometimes the stones were loose. Now and again w^e had
to tum up the hdl-side, by some grdly or other favorable
gap, to rormd an obstacle. But advance was regular,
and we were soon above the level where the surface of
the Haukafia Glacier w^as covered -with stones. We
could not take to the ice, for it was too much crevassed.
I now noticed what I afterwards had occasion frequently
to observe in aU the glaciers of Mount Sorata — the curi
ously dry, stony appearance of the ice, which looked more
like granite than compacted snow. This dryness, as
already explained, is due to the rapidity of evapora
tion over high tropical glaciers. With every aspect
of insecurity in the form of overhanging soracs and in
credibly steep ice-slopes, there was yet an xmbroken
184

HAUKANA PEAK .\ND GLACIER

FIRST ATTEMPT ON MOUNT SORATA
stillness, indicating that falling ice and other violent
movements were of rare occurrence. There was no sing
ing of the running waters, no slipping about of stones,
no cracking in the substance of the glacier ; in fact, no
sign or sound of movement, such as the glaciers of the
Alps are always emitting. In aU the days we spent
among the great ice-falls of Mount Sorata I never saw or
heard the fall of the least fragment of ice. At times
stones fell down the dry debris slopes near us, and theti
the Indians would cower with terror, saying that the
devil was walking across the slope and that the stones
were disturbed by the tread of his feet. The guides roared
with laughter at this explanation, and their amusement
presently affected the Indians, who for the rest of the
day ceased to manifest signs of fear.
We thus rose to the point where the edge of the hill-side
on our right came down to the level of the ice, and where
the glacier surged up against it in splintered and broken
masses hke the turmod of a tumbling wave. There
was just a crack between the overhanging ice and the
rocks, and along this we crept, thus gaining access to the
other side of the dividing ridge, and reaching the edge
of the Ancohuma Glacier by a short, steep, rock descent.
A climb of twenty minutes led to a small tooth of rock,
a continuation of the dividing ridge. Here we found a
Httle hollow, where tents could be pitched in excellent
shelter. The luggage and the sledge being thus transport
ed to an ahitude of nearly 18,000 feet, the work of the
Indians was done, and they returned to the base-camp.
No sooner were the tents pitched than the first of a
series of snow -showers fell. The temperature kept
rising and falHng. When the sun shone it was over-
185

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
poweringly hot; and when a snow-shower passed over,
the cold was suddenly intense. Heavy clouds were
hanging on the hills. They presently flocked together
into a gloomy roof, depressing to the spirits and auguring
ill for the morrow. As I sat watching the changes of
the scene, I asked myself more than once whether the
game was worth the candle, for there was something
so cold and unsympathetic about the gloom and the
ice and the bare rocks that for a time it weighed like
a nightmare upon my spirits. But when the clouds
broke a little, revealing the ocherous plain with its
ever-varying colors and the constant movement of
clouds and cloud shadows upon it, depression passed
away, and I lay motionless and happy on the tip of the
rock tooth, enjoying the play of nature's mood. There
was no sound save the pricking of the snow as it fell
on the roof of the tents.
As far as the effects of altitude were concerned, I
was comfortable enough; yet it cannot be said that
we were in no sense incommoded by it. All three were
disproportionately fatigued by the ascent, and were
disinclined for any activity. Lying on the ground
I counted my breaths — twenty-one and a half to the
minute — breaths deep and audible as of a man asleep.
The guides were breathing in the same manner. Be
fore haff the afternoon was over we were rested, and
the men set out, as guides always will in strange places,
to hunt for gold. Nor did they have far to go, for all
that glittered was gold in their eyes, and they were soon
the glad possessors of a number of specimens full of
mica spangles. On the rocks round camp was no vege
tation. The last plants we had passed were two or
i86

\. i

rHE COL NEAR ROCKTOOIH CAMP

i^^

H.AUKANA PEAK

FIRST ATTEMPT ON MOUNT SORATA
three hundred feet below the col. The only specimens
of life we beheld were a few tiny midges, which tickled
our faces and drowned themselves in the marmalade
pot at tea. After sunset, when the tents were closed,
we heard the cry of a bird fluttering around.
Little did we suspect, as we lay that night in our warm
reindeer-skin sleeping-bags, what was going on below
at the base-camp. Thus far our relations with the
Indians had been pleasant enough. Though we had
heard many stories about their unreliability, and had
noticed that all travellers on the Puna went about
armed to the teeth, we had seen nothing to suggest
any necessity for precautions. This night, however,
a party of superstitious natives crept up in the dark,
intending to murder us in our sleep. They came from
the village of Chiara-huyo, the hostile neighbor of
Umapusa. The men believed that we had come to
profane the sanctuaries of the mountain gods. If, as
they had heard, it was our intention to climb to the
summit of Illampu, they had no doubt at all but that
we intended to carry away the great cross of gold and
bull of gold which tradition asserts to have been planted
there. Fortunately for all parties, we were not to be
found, so the visit passed off peacefully ; for, of course,
to come up after us into the snowy regions was an ad
venture they never dreamed of attempting.
Next morning the weather was bad, a northwesterly
gale blowing high aloft and the clouds eddying about
on the mountain-side in bewildering fashion. But by
noon a temporary clearance took place, so we loaded
up the sledge and started out. Before we had gone far
the storm settled down again even worse than before.
187

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
The four hours that followed were a time of violent and
distressing labor both for the guides and me; for the
glacier, which below had looked so sm()oth and gentle,
proved to be neither. The slopes from the very start
were so steep that it was all we could do to raise the
sledge little by little. To begin with, we attached our
selves together by a climbing - rope in the orthodox
fashion, so that if one fell into a crevasse the others
might be able to pud him out, but the roi)e incommoded
our efforts in dragging the sledge, and was very soon
cast off. After trying a variety of adjustments, the
guides found it best to walk side by side, each with a
drag-rope over his shoulder and their arms linked
together like affectionate brothers, while I pushed be
hind and was ready to stop the sledge from slipping
back at our frequent halts.
Curiously enough, none of us this day felt so much
oppression from the altitude as we had felt the day
before; and the same was the case a fortnight later,
when we returned up these slopes. Alike on Illimani,
and both limes on Sorata, we suffered more in the first
struggle up to about 18,000 feet than we suffered
from there to 20,000, though above 20,000 the labor
became yet more severe. The reason I imagine to
have been the .same in both cases — namely, that up to
18,000 feet the line of ascent was in an enclosed valley,
where the air had the character described by old moun
taineers as "stagnant." All too soon there came cre
vasses involving devious zigzags and painful search
for snow bridges. Then followed a snow slope where
different tactics were adopted. The whole length of
rope in our possession was stretched out, one end at-
188

i.

<>

FIRST ATTEMPT ON MOUNT SORATA
tached to the sledge, the other carried up by us to its
full stretch. Then, standing together, we hauled the
sledge up, and by repetitions of the process attained
the next level of crevasses. A more serious impediment
had now to be overcome, for these crevasses were of
enormous width and stretched from the precipitous
face of the Haukafia Peak, on our left, right across to
an impassable strip of ice-fall on our right. Fortu
nately, we always found a snow-bridge of some kind,
though in the case of four big crevasses that foUowed
one another in quick succession, the only bridges were
flung across from one side to the other as an irregular
floor from ten to twenty feet down below the lip of the
crevasse. The sledge had thus to be let down to this
crazy platform, dragged across the irregular and treach
erous surface below^, and then hauled up again with in
credible toil on the far side. Such work soon tires a
man at over 19,000 feet.
The only explanation I can offer for this series of
depressed bridges is the following : Assume that at the
close of a dry season one of the crevasses is open, and
that during the next wet season it is plugged with a
wedge-shaped snow-bridge, represented by the shaded
area in Fig. i on next page. In the following dry
season, as the glacier advances over a convex bed of
rock, the crevasse wiU \viden, and the wedge-shaped
plug may thus descend ten or fifteen feet into the
crevasse (Fig. 2). Such, at any rate, was the character
of the bridges we had to cross.
Arrived at a point a Httle short of 20,000 feet, we had
done all we could. There, in the midst of the snow-
field, under shelter of a blue w^aU of ice, we set up our
189

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
tent and arranged to pass the night. With the petro
leum stove snow was melted and boiled, and a light
meal prepared. As night came on the storm continued
to blow, clouds and darkness gathered, and snow began
to fall. But we crept into our sleeping-bags and grew

Fig. I Fig. 2
warm and oblivious to the bitter cold without. I at
once dropped off to sleep. Not so the others, whose con
fidence in the firmness of the tent was less well-founded
on experience than mine. The wind rose to a gale, the
tent-ropes sang like harp-strings, the sides of the tent
bulged and strained, and the men thought that they were
every moment going to be blown away. Not till early
in the morning did the force of the tempest somewhat
abate. When day broke we looked forth to find our
shelter almost snowed under. A dense fog hung over us,
and snow was still falling. Now and then the clouds
broke and showed that fresh snow was lying even down
on the Puna. Under such conditions our chances of
making a successful ascent this day were gone, for
the final peak was too steep to be trifled with.
As the morning advanced the weather seemed to be
settling; the sun shone fitfully forth, and presently a
view was obtained of the turquoise expanse of Lake
190

•i

FIRST ATTEMPT ON MOUNT SORATA
Titicaca beyond the white snow-field and the snow-
speckled outer bastion of our mountain. As the sky
cleared, the bright, new-fallen snow all round shone
brilHantly beneath it. All traces of the discomfort we
had suffered the previous evening from the altitude had
passed away in the long rest of the night ; we were ready
and eager to be at work. Though it was too late and
the snow was too fresh for our ascent, we stid deter
mined to make a reconnaissance. One more big and
several smaller crevasses were passed above the camp
before we gained the edge of the gently sloping plateau
that stretched away at the foot of our peak ; the snow
upon it was deep and soft and the distance to the foot
of the final wall proved to be far greater than we had
imagined. Unfortunately, clouds still masked the cul
minating slope, but they were clouds that formed and
faded, bending this way and that and crawling about
on the snowy face, so that, as we sat and watched for
an hour or two, we obtained a sight of almost all the
details, and Maquignaz was hopeful that he had traced
a practicable route to the very summit. I did not suc
ceed in so doing, but put trust in his forecast, and en
tertained the hope of completing the ascent on the fol
lowing day. While we were sitting on our axe-heads,
planted in the snow, a faint mist came over, and imme
diately we were in a burning, fiery furnace. Instinc
tively, we covered our faces in our coats and pressed our
hands to our eyes. It was a scalding moment. The
mist was very transparent, and we could see the hills
through it. It passed in a few minutes, and the cool air
returned. Having no more observations to make, we
ran quickly back to camp. 191

CHAPTER XVIII
VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
BAD weather now rapidly set in. Clouds regathered,
snow began to fall, and wind to blow; so at four
in the afternoon, leaving the sledge, the tent, the
sleeping-bags, and all the food, we set forth to run down
and await better conditions at a more comfortable level.
After only twenty minutes of very quick running, w^e
reached the middle camp, from which the ascent had
occupied over four hours. Leaving the guides there to
pack what was not reqmred, I ran on and entered camp
by 6.30 P.M. The Indians rushed up to me, kissed my
hands, and hurried off with great wiUingness to meet the
guides and relieve them of their loads. The bad weather
had frightened them for our safety, and the arriero was
loud in explanation of the horrors of the previous night
from Indians and snow. "The whole Puna this morn
ing," he said, displaying a very dirty shirt-sleeve, "w£is
as white as this."
Next night the storm w^as worse than ever. Obvi
ously, the weather was fairly broken. With this quan
tity of new snow the mountain would not be in condition
for an ascent for some days. It was snowing when
we awoke on the 25th of September, and stones were
falling down the debris slopes in such numbers that
many devils would have been required to account for
192

VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
them. To-day we learned that the arriero shared the
superstition of the Indians. He declared that on lUi-
mani he had actuaUy seen two de-vils kicking the stones
do-wn, and that they had long horns like a deer; but
Maquignaz told him that that was nothing, for up at the
top camp he had seen a black de-vd of extraordinar}-
dimensions, which he proceeded to describe, whereupon
the arriero said he would Hke to make haste down to
a level inhabited by more respectable persons.
Lea-ving the camping-ground carpeted with snow, we
marched away, preceded bj^ one of the Indians playing
on his pipe. We missed the path we came by, and struck
another which led us out on to so steep a face of the hill
that my stirrup as I rode actuaUy scraped against the
rock. Our descent was without incident tdl we ap
proached the fields of Fraskiya, w- here a man was plough
ing a field with a couple of bulls. At this moment
Maqmgnaz fired at a bird, and so frightened the buds
that they took fHght, and scoured the country with the
plough flying loose behind them and the ploughman in
wdd pursuit, to the immense deHght of our arriero, who
shouted at the top of his lungs, "Arunca toro! arunca
toro!" At Umapusa the hea-vy clouds were tearing
overhead in the embrace of contending winds, and fog
w^as drifting about on the hdl-side. We were informed
that morning that at Umapusa itseff snow had been
lying a span deep, to the astonishment of the inhabi
tants. Such weather in September is almost unknown
on the Puna. What could be the reason? The Indians
were in no doubt. It was because the gringos had pro
faned the abode of the gods on Illampu, and were being
driven out by supernatural intervention.
N 193

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Two 3'ouths, dressed in brand-new cowboy attire,
wearing leather breeches, fringed all down the sides
with Httle leather ribbons, and bristhng with revolvers,
cartridge-belts, and rifles, were halting awhde at the
posada. They greeted me with a welcome bottle of
beer. I thought highly of them in consequence, but
the arriero woidd have it that tliey were men of no ac
count. "For," he said, in his proud fashion, "I saw
them eat, and they fed Hke dogs." It was by no means
easy to win approval from our mideteer. Notwithstand
ing his humble station and rough mode of Hfe, he was a
man of no Httle dignity of character and a fine manner.
He struck up a warm friendship with, polite Louis PelHs-
sier. Though neither of them knew the other's lan
guage, they contrived to understand each other re
markably weU, but their intercourse was of a very formal
kind. " Sefior Don Luisi have the kindness to support
this box on your head," was the request I overheard
the arriero make when he needed assistance in loading
a mule. It was only in moments of great intimacy, or
on the occasion of a sudden need, that he would call
him Lmsi mthout prefix. During the course of the
afternoon he described to me the coming of the Indians
to their camp, and how they disappeared when they
found that we were aw^ay. "Caesar," he said, "was aU
of a tremble with fright, but not I, for I have been a
soldier and know no fear."
The bad weather continuing, I decided to fill the time
by crossing the pass north of JMount Sorata and \isiting
the other side of the range. Accordingly, next dav
we left our mountaineering kit behind in the posada
and set forth with our caravan. The road took us close
194

VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
by the viUage of the hostile Indians, but they were all
out working in the fields and did not observe us. At
Huarisata, a few miles on, we struck into the main high
way from Achacache to the Huallata Pass. From this
-village to the top the road ascended a vaUey along the
west foot of a series of mounded hills, on whose summits
a number of huge ice-borne bowlders were observed.
Where the naked rock was uncovered it had evidently
been rounded by ice, a proof that the glaciers of Mount
Sorata once extended as far as these hills. The road,
with its many furrows deeply worn into the hill-side, was
apparently an ancient track. Indeed, if one were to
seek for the position most probably followed by a pre
historic trade-route across the Andes, it is exactly here
that one would naturally expect to find it, for the vaUeys
to the eastward of Mount Sorata, especially the Tipuani
Valley, are rich in gold, and have evidently been worked
for gold from the most ancient days We know that
in the time of the Inca civilization gold-mining was ac
tively carried on. Bearing in mind the fomier large
population of the Titicaca neighborhood, and the an
cient tradition which points to the basin of the lake as
an important old centre of ci-vdization, it is easy to be
lieve that the Tipuani gravels supplied no small fraction
of the gold that made the precious imitation plants of
the gardens of the Incas. At that time the important
town on the eastward side of the pass was doubtless
lUabaya. Sorata town may have been a later founda
tion. The road ascends slowly, and is as uninteresting a
route as can be imagined, for the low hills to the right
shut out all view of the high mountains, while to the left
195

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
another range of hills hides the waters of the great lake.
We did not then know that on the other side of the line
of mounded hills there runs a paradel track commanding
some of the most magnificent mountain scenery in the
world. This day, however, was no day for views ; long
before we reached the top of the pass, clouds had come
down upon us and snow was gently falling. Under
such chilly circumstances, it was strange to meet an
almost continuous procession of natives coming over
from the tropical east, bearing canes in leaf and other
arboreal decorations wherewith to embellish the f^te that
was due in a day or two. By the road-side, sheltering
from cold under the lee of little walls of stones, were
parties of Indians engaged in making cane pipes for
sale. These Indians, I thought, regarded us resent
fully ; never a salutation came from them nor a glance
of human recognition.
Though the attitude of the Indians to the whites differs
rather markedly in outward expression in different
localities, a deep-rooted hostility appears to exist be
tween the races. Those who know the Indians best
love them least. "There is no gratitude in an Indian,"
they say. "You may love a dog, or even a donkey,
but a mule or an Indian, never." In the year 1866 the
Indians were attacked and decimated by an epidemic
fever, from which the whites were exempt. It is on
record that the Indians made persevering efforts on
this occasion to infect the superior race. Whenever
Indian risings have taken place they have been accom
panied by atrocities committed on the whites too appall
ing to be written down. Not unnaturally their suppres
sion has likewise been sanguinary. After I left Bolivia
196

VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
in 1898 some sporadic Indian risings took place and
frightful atrt)cities were perpetrated, the victims being
for the most part half-breeds. Such incidents are,
however, relatively rare. As long as the white popu
lation stands together the}- can easily control the
Indians. It is only in times of revolution that the
lower race gets a chance of revolting. This well rec
ognized fact is the great preventive of serious revolu
tions in Bolivia.
The highest level of the road passes two or three pools
of water, or swamps, representing wet-season ponds, and
so leads up to the Huallata Pass (14,110 feet, Pentland).
The descent begins with a long circling track that keeps
near ihe top of an unimportant ridge, dividing the basin
of Illaba}'a from that of Sorata towai. The sudden
change, alike in the character of the sparse vegetation
and in the quality of the air, was more convincing proof
that we had crossed the watershed than any immediately
perceptible downward sloping of the way. But very
soon we passed beneath the level of the clouds, and
looked along their flat underside as under a ceiling.
The pictnresciiie town of Illabaya came in view, and the
slopes t)f the valley, rich in forest, appearing astonish-
ingl}' fertile to onr eyes, so long accustomed to the bare
ness of deserts. All the way down to Illaba}'a, and some
distance below it, the forms of the rock surfaces showed
strongly marked glaciation. Here, in former days.
an immense ice-fall niiisi have poured down, while the
neighboring vallc}' of Sorata likewise was occupied,
at the same time, b}' a glacier of enormous dimen
sions. .A. romantic feeling ahvays accoiniianies the descent
197

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
from a high mountain region to hot and fertile valleys.
It is the charm that every one knows who has exchanged
the Alps in a period of storm for the Italian lakes.
Through such a transition, though with more marked ex
tension of bareness above and richer fertdity below, did
we descend this day. Here and there we encountered rem
nants of the old paved and staircased road of pre-Span
ish days. The little Carapata Pass (10,790 feet, Pentland)
carried us over the intervening rib and gave access to
the Sorata basin. Then there was only a long, zigzag
descent down a straight hiU-side to the bed of the vaUey
below. We passed houses of more comfortable char
acter than those of the high plateau, and gardens bright
with geraniums and all manner of flowers. Thus we
came to a pretty old stone bridge spanning the torrent,
with a picturesque mill beside it, reminiscent of Italy
or Spain. A short, steep ascent on the other side led
in half an hour to the beautifully placed town of Sorata,
which sits, as it were, at the very hem of the skirt of Ill
ampu, on a jutting point of land close above the junc
tion of two of the principal torrents that drain its
glaciers. Few towns in the world enjoy a more magnificent
position. On either side are beautiful slopes, reaching
aloft to fine crests of hills; straight in front there
stretches away the purple hollow of the deep Mapiri
Valley; while behind, the mighty precipices of Mount
Sorata fling themselves aloft a sheer 14,000 feet to their
crown of ice, and the protruding buttress named Illampu
almost seems to overhang. The climate is as near per
fection as climate can be, with never any great heat or
biting cold, but generally so caressing a mildness in the
198

VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
air that the defence of window-glass is dispensed with
in many of the houses.* The mountain torrents yield
a constant supply of excellent water, which irrigates
the fertile soil; gardens produce almost every fruit that
is asked of them, and a succession of the brightest flow
ers. If nature were better seconded by man at this chosen
spot, there is hardly a limit to the beautiful results that
might be attained. Even as it is, the little town, with
its gay square and comfortable houses, is an unusually
pleasant place of abode. Such was the opinion of sev
eral Europeans who make it their home; for Sorata is
an important centre of trade, and is destined one day to
become much more important. The tracks leading
eastward from it over the next rib that descends from
Illampu are the necessary lines of approach both to the
gold-bearing valleys and the wonderful india-rubber
forests of the Tipuani Mapiri, and Kaka districts. It
was for the purpose of making inquiries into the com
mercial prospects of this region that I had come to the
place. As if to prove that Sorata was a centre of civilization,
I was greeted on my arrival by a newspaper reporter,
demanding an interview. Pending the pubHcation of
the weekly paper, the reporter's remarks were wo-itten
out in a clerkly hand and posted up on the saloon wall!
He was succeeded by a large and friendly dog, who ex
tended his patronage to me during the time of my stay,
and with whom I took many a pleasant stroll. He
seemed to be nobody's dog in particular, but enjoyed
a large circle of acquaintances, and was familiar with
* Weddell, however, records having found the place cold and damp
in the month of August. 199

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the principal men of the town, while ignoring all com
moner folk. I spent a pleasant evening in his company,
seated in the pubHc garden, by the plashing leaden
fountain, decorated with carved swans supporting the
basin, and the statue of a local celebrity crowning the
whole. Bananas, cabbages, and vines, roses, gerani
ums, and arum lilies shared the impartial beds, and all
manner of wild flowers grew between the cobble-stones
of the paths. The whole town is rich in eucalyptus-
trees, which distinguish it even when seen from a dis
tance. The Indian streets were choked with pigs, and
every other house was a shop for the sale of chicha, bad
spirits, and coca, a small centre of nightly intoxication ;
for, no matter what other trade a man may have, he is
sure to add to it the sale of chicha. In the neighborhood
of the square were several large European stores, offering
chiefly German goods for sale, while the commonest
notice stuck up in the windows was " Here we buy india-
rubber." A German merchant, Herr Gunther, kindly
took me under his wing and made me his guest during
the time of my stay. He owns an india-rubber forest
in the Mapiri district. I likewise made the acquaint
ance of most of the representatives in Sorata of the
other forest proprietors of Mapiri.
In the billiard-room of the inn that night I met a curi
ous assemblage of persons, including several old in
habitants of the town, and an Irishman, who had spent
fourteen years as manager of a rubber forest, and had
come over for a week's holiday in this wild centre of
civilized dissipation. Many were the stories they told
me about the old days, vague traditions even stretching
back to the last century, when the great Indian rising
200

VISIT TO SORATA TOWN
took place and Sorata was besieged by thousands of
these revolted savages. The small number of Spanish
inhabitants defended themselves bravely for a long
time against overwhelming numbers, till the Indians,
with malicious ingenuity, formed an artificial lake in
the slope above the town, gathering into it an immense
body of water. Suddenly breaking down the dam,
they let the water rush upon the town, carrying down
with it a mass of mud and rocks. The mud-avalanche
thus formed burst upon the place, breaking through
the defences and sweeping away all the houses in its
path. The Indians poured in through the breach and
massacred every individual in the place, man, woman,
and child.
We talked of Illampu and of the chances of ascending
it. Thus far clouds had not permitted me to behold it
from this point.
"You have come at the wrong time for that," they
said. " In the dry weather, in June and July, there is
never a cloud upon the mountain, and we see it clear
from base to summit, day after day; and a splendid
sight it is. At sunset it grows red and shines out
against the sky."
"I remember," said one man, "late at night, thirty
years ago, long after the sun had set and darkness
had come on, Illampu glowed red like fire, and all the
people in the town saw it. Such a sight none had
ever beheld. In great terror they ran to the church and
the bells were rung. They thought the end of the world
was come. Presently lightning and storm burst upon
us, and the lightning flashed without cessation, so that
it was like day, and we could see everything upon all the
20 T

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
hills around. That was the most frightful storm that
any man remembers. It was a famous event, and the
news of it went all over South America, so that you will
find accounts of it in the newspapers of the time."

CHAPTER XIX
THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
MY position in Bolivia as a scientific explorer com
mended to the consideration of the government,
placed me in an exceptionally good position for
obtaining information about the undeveloped resources
of the country and the attitude of the leading men tow
ards foreigners and foreign enterprise. I soon learned
that it was the desire of men of all poHtical parties to
attract foreign, and particularly English and United
States, capital, in order to open up the great mineral
and other wealth of the country, wliich local capital
does not avail to exploit. The mines, forests, and com
munications of Boli-via are mainly undeveloped. Gold,
silver, copper, tin, antimony, and other metals exist in
profusion in its valle}'s and mountains. There is a
large Indian population existing on the verge of penury,
and working for a very low^ and uncertain daily wage.
Security for property is good. Thus, large silver-mines
at Huanchaca, Potosi, and Oruro have been worked for
many j^ears by English and other companies most prof
itably, without impediment from the government, w^hich
has never manifested any inclination to confiscate by
fiscal injustice the results of commercial enterprise.
Some trouble has at times been experienced in re
spect of the titles to property. This is not owing to
20;

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the law, but to actual doubts about who the owner
of the title may be. Different i)iospectors, or their heirs,
possess, or think themselves to possess, overlapping
claims, especially to mining properties in uninhabited
regions, and the disputes thence arising lead to inter
minable lawsuits, which paralyze industry. Thu.s,
in practice, the establishment of a good title may often
prove costly. Lands or claims in old occiii)ation, but
now unworked, or little worked, are liable to have doubt
ful titles, which, however, it is no one's interest to dis
pute till some wealthy individual or cor])oratioii buys
them from the apparent owner and spends money on
their development. But lands such as the rubber
forests, to which I shall presently refer at length, which
have never passed out of the i)ublic domain into private
ownership at all till quite recently, and under the pro
visions of acts of the legislature, are now owned by an
indefeasible title which no one attempts to dispute.
It is only since 1878 or thereabouts that the existence
of rubber in the eastern forest region has been known.
Legislation was passed, in consequence of the discovery,
defining the manner in which these lands may be ac
quired. A small annual rent per estrada must be paid
to the government, and the lands taken up must be
registered, with a map of the area. The annual rent
may at any time be commuted at a fixed rate, after which
commutation the land becomes the freehold property
of the purchaser. If the annual instalments are not
paid, the land lapses to the government. Thus the
Mollendo rubber forests ought now to be owned on an
indefeasible title, and many of them are so owned. The
titles of others are defective, either because there has
204

'I'lll'; UMIJiUIOK' lISlDllSTin'
lu-cn irrcgnlaril}' in llie p;i\'iiiciil, of ri-iii, or from mis
(Icscriplion in the docd'; of regislialion. The iiiaj) ac-
(-oiiipaii}'iiig tlu- regislcr ofiiMi iiulii(k-s a veiy niiicli
larger iiiiiiibcr of c.^lrdild.s lli.in llu' (laiinani lijis .sched
uled or paid lor; and this of iiei'i'.s.sil}', foi no one can
connl or (•oii-e(-ll\' e.sliiiiaU' Ihe number of i:slr(i<l<i.s in
an area wliieli has nol JH-en cwplored in del.ul. Again,
Ihe iiiap.s IhiMiisi'lvt's an- inaecnralel}' siirve}'i'd. Thus
a niiillilnde ol (pu'siions iii.i\' be made snbjcel of dispute.
In ol her eases, 1 am I old, men liaM-oblaiiied k-g.il posses
sion of a niiinbi-r of c.shiiiln.s, p.iUhed about, and now
eljiilii loown all Ihe Kind inehided bi'lween I host." cv/ /¦</</(;, v.
The (jiieslion of title is, Iherefoi't-, one lli.il in an}' pai-
lieiilar ease lu'eds elosi' in\ esligaiion on Ihe spot. Up
lo llu> pri'senl liiiu", howe\er, none of these lilies have
been eonlesliul, and il does nol appear lo be Ihe inleiesi
of ail}' indi\ idiuil lo i-onlesi them, whiK- the chief in-
lerest of Ihe go\eriimonl is lo indiiee men of capital lo
work the fon-sls, inlrodiiee iiiiuugranls, develoi) lines
of eoiiiinnnieation, and so inei'i-ase Ihe giMieial trade
and prospi'iity of Ihe t-oiinir}'. II is nol like!}-, Ihere-
k>ri', Ihal the governnieni will atleinpl lo iipsel titles,
even if llu\\' are nol ab.soliilel}' .satisfaeloi}', pioN ided
Ihal Ihe forests in (piestion are properly worked.
The enoiinoiisand e\iM iiuie.ising demand for rubber,
made b}' modern electrical ;ind other industries, renders
the devi-lopuienl t>f ineiea.sed .sonrees ol .suiiply a vev}-
important mailer. Vnw\ a reeenll}' i.ssiiinl United Stales
l.\>nsnlar K'eporl on the K'e.soiiues and Trade Oppor-
Innilics of Ihe ,\ina/on N'alk-} , 1 quote the following ini-
porlanl passage:
"1 have leanunl Ihal .some aecoiinis which ha\e bivii

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
written concerning rubber, although not entirely mis
leading, have not been quite accurate. The impression
created by the narratives of previous traveUers who have
been up the Amazon is that the rubber production is on a
constant and endless increase. It is not generaUy be
lieved, but it is nevertheless a fact, that the output is
not likely to increase to any marked degree unless a
much larger force of rubber-gatherers is sent into the for
ests than has been employed during the past year or two.
This is the opinion of the best-informed rubber-plantation
owners. Reports that the supply of rubber-trees is inex
haustible are largely overdrawn. It is true that there
is no fear of immediate scarcity of rubber, and perhaps
there will not be for the next fifty years. It is believed
in weU-informed circles that hereafter there wdl be a grad
ual but steady shrinkage in the rubber product unless the
present force of rubber - gatherers is largely increased,
because, in the first place, the trees conveniently located
near the banks of the rivers are naturally the first to be
worked, and in consequence are becoming exhausted
from constant tapping, the milk extracted being weaker
each year; hence the shrinkage in such rubber is very
great. In the second place, the rivers have all been
worked inland for a distance of about three mdes from
their banks, and, in order to reach the so-called unex
plored rubber forests still farther inland, it will require
much more time and necessitate three times as strong
a force. Owners of rubber farms inform me that
milk draum from rubber -trees five years ago possessed
twice the strength contained in that extracted from
the same tree to - day. The islands near Para are all
overworked. Good judges can easily recognize rub-
206

THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
ber drawn from overworked trees by its peculiar
color." If, therefore, the supply of Para rubber does not show
signs of increase, the importance of developing other
sources of supply becomes ob-vious. The following ob
servations upon the forests of so-called ^loUendo rubber
are the residt of my own observations and inquiries,
in which I was much helped by 'Sh. M. Alartindale, an
EngHsh gentleman, whose acquaintance I made in La
Paz, and whose long experience of the country was
unreservedly placed at my disposal. L'nfortunately,
he was killed in the forest a year later by the fall of
a tree. In the European market a certain brand of india-
rubber is sold under the name of ]\Iollendo rubber. Of
course, no rubber-trees grow at or anywhere near the
Peru-vian port of ^Mollendo on the Pacific coast. The
name appUes merely to the rubber wliich is shipped
from that port. All the MoUendo rubber comes from
the Peruvian provinces of Carabaya and Sandia, or
the BoHvian pro-vinces of Caupohcan and Larecaja,
the forest-clad valleys of ^Mapiri, Tipuani, Coroico,
Challana, Zongo, etc.. which descend northeastward
from the CordiUera Real. The rubber is brought
over various passes to Lake Titicaca, shipped by
steamer to the Peruvian port Puno. and carried downi
by the Arequipa Railroad to :Mollendo. AU :\IoUendo
rubber comes from the re^on above mentioned, and
aU the rubber produced in that region is exported
through ]\IoUendo. The staustics of the rubber ex
ported from ]\Iollendo thus form an impartial record of
the production of the Cordillera valleys. The foUow-
207

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ing are the statistics of the MoUendo rubber export for
a series of years :
1893-94  37,587 lbs.
1894-95  80,734 lbs.
1895-96  251,341 lbs.
1896-97  292,121 lbs.
1897-98  491,087 lbs.
The statistics of the year 1898-99 have not come to
my hands, but the output was very much larger than in
the preceding year, and the industry is rapidly develop
ing. The quality of Mollendo rubber, as judged by its
price, is nearly equal to that of Para rubber, widch is
the best in the world. In the year 1898 Para rubber
in the English market varied in price per pound from
^s. 5%d. to 45. 4/4 d., while Mollendo rubber varied
from 35. 4d. to 4s. lYzd. These exceptionally high
prices, however, have not been maintained.
Considering the importance of india-rubber at the
present time, it appears likely that some account of
this little-known forest region may be of general in
terest. It must be borne in mind that the area under dis
cussion does not include the whole Rio Beni and the
region of the plains about it, but only the upper part
of that region in and about the foot-hills of the Cor
diUera. The rubber that comes from the low^er Beni
is carried away to the eastward, and emerges into
the light of commerce as Para rubber. It is only
the forests of the lowest eastward Cordillera slopes,
and the plain immediately at their foot, that are com
prised in the Mollendo district. The rubber-trees
there are Hevea lutea, a large forest tree, approxi-
208

TIliC RUB151':R INDUSTRY
mately as big as an average English elm. These
trees are self-planted. They grow in clumjjs, or eslra-
das, of from loo to 150 together, and the.se clumps
rise well above the other forest trees, and can be seen
from afar, so that the richness of any area can be
judged by a general oversight from a commanding
position. In most parts of the world rubber-i)roducing trees
grow in a swamp, a condition which renders rubber
forests tlirefully inimical to human habitation. In
this resi)ect the Mollendo rubber forest is a fortunate
exception, for by all accounts it is not nnhealthy; so,
at all events, I was informed by an Irishman and a
German, both of whom had spent the best j)art of from
ten to twenty years in the forest. Their information
was confirmed by many others. There are, of course,
unhealthy sjiots, but the forest is not generally un
healthy. The reason is that the trees do not grow on
level swamps, but on the slofiing sides of vaUeys.
For moisture they dei)end upon the almost constant
cloud that hangs over them, and is formed by the
cold air pouring continually down from the adjacent
snowy Cordillera. This cloud is a geographical feat
ure. The u[)per boundary of the rubber area is a
contour line at appro.ximately the 3000-foot level,
above which altitude the tree will not }'ield mdk in
paying quantities.
"The main valleys in the rubber zone are travensed by
navigable rivers. The difficulty of transport begins at
the ui)i)er limit of navigation, whence the rubber has to
be carried by toilsome tracks over the high [)asses of
the Cordillera. At i)resent there are no roads and no
0 2()()

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
mule - paths worth mention. There are a few tracks
traversable by mules with difficulty. The best are the
Mapiri and Tipuani trails, which converge on the town
of Sorata, after surmounting passes of 16,000 feet alti
tude. New and better mule-tracks are now being made.
The part of the forest which has thus far been best
opened out is the area worked by these trails. Up
to the present, therefore, Sorata has been the chief
centre of the industry. The Challana and Zongo
forests will not be properly worked till better tracks
have been made over the two passes north and south
of Mount Condoriri and down the respective valleys.
Such mule-tracks could be easily made at a relative
ly small cost. When that preliminary work is done,
the production of Mollendo rubber will rapidly in
crease. A great area in Caupolican is likewise as
yet unworked for lack of roads and capital.
At present the main impediment to the development
of the industry is not the difiiculty of carrying out the
rubber, but of carrying in the necessary supplies; for
it is important to remember that the forest region is
practically uninhabited, and the amount of cultivation
is very small. A tropical forest left to itself produces
little food for man. At one or two points by the river-
banks, where gold-washing is carried on, there are
small Indian villages; but the inhabitants are fully
occupied, and have no time to spare for collecting rub
ber. Both labor and food have, therefore, to be imported
from the high Boli-vian plateau by the same route that
the rubber retraces on its way to export. As develop
ment goes forward clearances will be made in the
forest and the necessary food raised on the spot, as
210

THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
is already being done in the Sandia Company's go-
males. We are thus brought to consider the important ques
tion of labor. In the department of La Paz there are
reckoned to be over 300,000 Indians, most of whom
inhabit the high plateau region. These people are
agricultural laborers, who work, under a kind of ma
norial system, for what corresponds to a very low rate of
pay — a starvation wage, in fact. They cannot be de
scribed as an industrious folk, but they are extravagant,
and their extravagance of expenditure on festivals, and
especially on festal raiment of a costly and gorgeous
character, leads them to temporary emigrations from
home, to which also they are frequently driven by dire
necessity. They are wont, under such circumstances,
to pledge their labor in advance, and their extraordinary
honesty makes the avoidance of their pledge an event
of extreme rarity. Employers needing labor secure the
services of agents, who visit Indian villages, and either
directly, or through the corregidors or presidents of the
villages, enlist the required workmen. Payment is
generaUy made in advance, for the Indian has to leave
money with his family and to provide himself with food
for the time of his absence in the forest. He trans
ports the food either on his own back or on that of bis
donkey, and sometimes he takes his wife and family
with him. He contracts either to work for so many
days, or to bring out of the forest so many pounds of
rubber. The time spent by him on the journey to and
fro is not paid for. In the case of a mine or other enter
prise that has been running for some time, a certain
number of Indians become habituated to working for
211

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
it, but they generaUy do so only for portions of the
year, returning at stated intervals to their homes for
the purpose of pursuing the cultivation of their lands.
All depends upon how the Indians are treated by their
employers. If they are well treated, they will return
and bring others with them, even without payment in
advance, if provisions are supplied to them at the place
of labor. The system is not a very satisfactory one,
and is not capable of indefinite extension; though un
doubtedly, if the forests were worked on a large scale,
and the Indians were well treated and punctually paid,
a change in their habits might be brought about. It is
not, however, probable that the forest region could ever
be colonized by plateau Indians, the difference of cHmate
and level between the two countries being so strongly
marked. Whenever an organized attempt is made to
exploit these splendid forests on a large scale, foreign
labor will have to be imported, and it will be necessary
to seek Chinese coolies in San Francisco, or Italians
from Buenos Ayres, or to fetch Hungarians from Europe
or negroes from the West Indies, as has in fact been
successfully done by the Chicago - Bolivian Rubber
Company in its Huanay forest. Japanese coolies
were also tried but did not give satisfaction. Such
colonists would live in the forest, and would cultivate
the ground as well as work the rubber-trees. Their
labor would be supplemented by that of Indians, but
a steadier industry would be the result.
The extraction of rubber is one of the simplest crafts
in the world, and can be learned quickly by the most
ignorant. The process is as follows: The workman,
starting out very early in the morning (for w'hen the
2T2

THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
sun is high the trees cease to bleed), carries with him a
niunber of little tin cups called tichelas. Arrived at a
tree, he makes one or more smaU incisions in the bark,
and attaches one of the tin cups below each incision, by
pressing it into the soft bark. The number of incisions
that can be made in a tree at one time is variously stated.
A strip of the bark all down the tree, one-third of the cir
cumference in width, must be left unbroken, or the tree
will be liable to bleed to death. The cup, of course, coUects
the drops of sap that bleed from the wound in the bark
above it. Ultimately, the wound in the bark is covered
by a film of dried sap, which also is afterwards collected.
The workman proceeds from tree to tree, attaching his
cups, till he has tapped from 75 to 150 trees in his estrada,
according to his industry and the nature of the ground.
After the hour when the sap ceases to run, the man goes
round again, carrying a tin vessel with a cover, into
which he pours the milk that has run into the tichelas.
When all the tichelas have been emptied, the man re
turns to his barraca. Some collectors tap the trees in
the morning and return to collect the milk in the even
ing, while others tap in the evening and coUect in
the morning. At the barraca the collector lights a
fire of palm wood, with which the nut of the Montacu
palm is mixed, if it can be obtained. He places a funnel
over it to coUect the smoke, and then, taking a kind of
small wooden paddle (something like a squash-racket
bat) in his hand, dips the broad end into the milk, which
covers it with a thin layer. He now holds the paddle
over the fire in the smoke, turning its faces alternately
to the heat. The layer of milk is thus rapidly smoked
and coagulated into hard cured rubber. The paddle is
213

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
then dipped into the milk again, and the process re
peated until a large cake has been formed. When the
cake has reached a convenient size, it is sHt down the
sides and stripped from the paddle. The figure-of-eight-
shaped lumps thus formed are ready for export. They
stiU contain about 7 per cent, of water, which gradually
dries out in the next few months, and for which allow
ance must be made in weighing. In the Mapiri district
it is usual to cure the production of each day separately,
so that each coUector's work can be controlled. More
over, rubber so cured can be easily tested for cleanness
and purity. Lower down the Amazon the custom is
to smoke one day's rubber on top of the previous day's,
making large bolachos, into which dishonest workmen
more easily introduce stones and other adultera
tions. The average amount of rubber which one collector
produces on one day is very variously stated. On the
Lower Amazon, seven pounds daily is the figure quoted ;
on the Upper Amazon, twenty-one pounds dady. In
the Mollendo district the lower of these figures does not
appear to be reached under present management. To
this cured rubber must be added the scraps and rem
nants called sernambi, which include the cicatrices of
the incisions in the bark, the cleanings of the tichelas,
etc. The amount of sernambi is equivalent to about 10
per cent, of the smoked rubber, and its price is from 15
to 20 per cent. less.
The pica, or rubber harvest, is collected twice a year
in the Mollendo forests, from April to July, and from
October to March. It appears that a single tree can only
be tapped during three months of one year, and then
214

THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
needs rune months' rest. If thus treated, and if a good
broad strip of bark is left untapped from bottom to top,
the health of the tree does not seem to be interfered with.
For how many years it is possible to go on tapping a
single tree, we do not yet know. There is a tree in
the barraca Christina, in Sefior Violand's San Antonio
estate, which was stripped of aU the bark on one side,
and yet has yielded milk from the remaining bark during
six picas in six successive years ; the tree still retains a
thoroughly healthy appearance. It is certain that the
life of a tree, though annually tapped, is a long one,
and exceeds the fifteen years which are required for the
growth of a tree from seed, so that the forest may be
perennially tapped and will give a fairly constant yield
when thoroughly opened up and worked. This, how
ever, impHes that the trees are carefully handled; the
yield of a mishandled tree falls off. The average yearly
output of a full-grown tree is variously stated. Some
put it as high as seven pounds ; no one puts it at less
than three pounds of cured rubber (after lo per cent.
has been deducted for drying).
The cost of production, in Bolivian dollars, of lOO
pounds of Mollendo rubber in the Mapiri forest is as
follows :
Paid to contractor, per loo lbs  7300
Loss in .weight, 10 per cent  7-30
Freight from the forest to Sorata town  5.00
Commissions and road tolls  6o
Cost of administration  lo.oo
Sacking, packing, commission, and freight to Chililaya, on Lake
Titicaca  2.20
Freight, insurance, and all incidental expenses to London  12.00
iio.io
215

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Or, reckoning the Bolivian dollar equal to i8d., the cost
of a pound of Mapiri rubber put in London is 19.82^.
From the books of two other forest-owners in the same
neighborhood I find a slightly higher cost, 20.i6rf. per
pound. The present price of this rubber in London is
about 4s. per pound.
Coming now to a consideration of the possible supply
of rubber to be drawn from the MoUendo forests, we
enter a region of conjecture, for, of course, the trees
have not been counted, nor even the number of estradas.
A part of one estate has been recently proven to con
tain 6410 estradas (961,500 trees), when, according to
the original estimate, the whole estate contained only
500,000 trees. Twenty million trees may be taken as the
lowest probable limit of the number of trees, while they
may not improbably turn out to reach fifty millions or
even more. Now, in the season 1897-8, the amount of
Mollendo rubber exported was 491,087 pounds, which,
at three pounds per tree, represents the yield of only
163,695 trees, and the same number of days' labor at
three pounds per man per day. If one Indian is taken
as working for three weeks, it represents the labor of
only 7795 Indians out of a population of 300,000 in
the Department of La Paz. The possible increase
of output is thus clearly enormous. How is it to be
brought about?
Without going into financial questions concerned with
any possible purchase of the estates and concentration
of them under single management, a few essential feat
ures of the problem may be pointed out. To begin with,
the first necessity is to make good mule-roads over the
high passes that lead from the town of Sorata and from
216

THE RUBBER INDUSTRY
the Bolivian plateau to the chief eastern vaUeys, and
down those valleys to the forests. These roads would,
of course, be very useful to the gold-miners, coffee-plant
ers, and others whose work leads them to the eastward.
They are, therefore, rather the work of the government
than of the rubber-forest proprietors; but the govern
ment is poor and can only afford to make them by
slow degrees. If made at all, in the immediate future,
the forest proprietors must make them. The main
roads having been made, it is necessary to cut forest-
tracks from one estrada to another, as only the es
tradas easily accessible have yet been touched. This
implies additional labor, wise oversight, and intelli
gent exploration.
At present all the food consumed by the rubber col
lectors has to be carried into the forest from Sorata or
the plateau — a great waste of labor. It would be per
fectly easy to raise any quantity of food in the hot vaUeys,
which are of the richest natural fertility ; but such cul
tivation implies preliminary colonization. As already
stated, it would be impossible to colonize these low, hot
valleys with Indians from the Tibet-like plateau. Chi
nese coolies are the class most suited for such work.
They could be obtained very easily from San Francisco.
A nucleus of such men, who would soon become expert
in working the rubber forests, would enable the industry
of rubber collection to be far better organized than it
is to-day, and opportunities of theft would be reduced.
Large areas in these vaUeys which do not carry rubber
are suitable for coffee plantations, and such planta
tions as do exist produce the finest coffee of South Amer
ica and some of the finest in the world, so that here^
217

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
also, important future developments may be expected.
What is true of coffee is true also of coca, for which a
large local market exists among the Indians of Bolivia.
Such developments of the rubber industry imply not
merely concentration or co-ordination of proprietorship,
but skilled administration and scientific experience,
which could only come in the wake of capital. At
present, everything is done experimentally or by rule of
thumb. The Bolivian government would certainly favor any
such enterprise, provided that road -making and col
onization were an essential feature of it. With their
help the business of recruiting Indian laborers would be
greatly facilitated, for the village corregidors have
much influence over the Indians, and can promote or
hinder their enlistment, or turn them in one direction
or another, very much as they please. Under any cir
cumstance, however, the future of this region of tropical
valleys descending from the eastern face of the snowy
Cordillera Real of BoHvia is certain to be prosperous,
and its development wiU soon attract much attention.

CHAPTER XX
THE EASTERN VALLEYS
I HAVE been tempted to write thus at length about
the india-rubber forests beyond Sorata because the
subject is one of general interest at the present
time. It is, however, as portal to a great gold region,
not improbably as rich and important as the Rand, that
Sorata is destined to attain world-renown sooner or
later. From the slopes of Mount Sorata and its neigh
bors there descend to the north and east four important
valleys — the Mapiri, Tipuani, Challana, and Coroico.
These four valleys have long been known to be very
rich in gold. At the head of the Tipuani Valley is
Yani, of which I shall have something to say here
after. These valleys are all relatively steep. They
are traversed by torrents, which rise very rapidly
in the rainy season and which carry along immense
bowlders. In the rains also great landslips fall down
the sides of the valleys. Between the landslips, the
floods, and the bowlders, gold-washing on a large
scale with the necessary machinery has never been
a great success in these valleys. Canals made to
carry a head of water to a point above a placer-mine
have been made more than once, but nature has de
stroyed them before they could be used. Bowlders
have been blasted and areas of gravel cleared for wash
ing, and then a flood has come and rolled in a new
219

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
lot of bowlders before the washing could be accom
plished. Machinery has been carried over the Cordil
lera and installed, and then some landslip has buried
it or flood overwhelmed it. Add to these difficulties
the fact that in a region where gold does in fact exist
in great richness, and where it has been known and
worked since prehistoric times, there exists no yard
of gravel that does not belong to some one. As there
does not exist any accurate detailed map, the claims
are all ill-defined and frequently overlap. Then many
claims have lapsed and new denouncements have been
made of the ground. As soon, however, as any one
tries to work such a new denouncement, the former
owner's representative arises with a law-suit and dis
putes the new-comer's title. Pending the suit, work
has to stop. For these and other reasons it seems
improbable that any foreign company is likely in
the near future to do much profitable gold-washing
on a large scale in any of these four valleys. The
gold that is produced from them will continue to be
produced by small groups of native workers, operating
without machinery in the crudest of old-fashioned
methods. The four valleys mentioned urute near Huanay
to form the relatively slow-flowing and navigable
Rio Kaka. The gravel and sand-banks that exist
along the margin of the Kaka have recently been
found to be immensely rich in gold. A company has
been formed, which has obtained possession of these
banks, and is now introducing machinery to work
them. There is no trouble about titles; there are no
bowlders and no serious floods. Much gold will prob-
220

THE EASTERN VALLEYS
ably be derived from these baijks during the next
few years. The gold in question is a flake gold, and
has evidently come from a secondary formation in
which it has been submitted to pressure. All the gold-
bearing rivers tributary to the Kaka flow across such
a formation, slate underlying conglomerate. Both
the slate and other conglomerate were picked at by the
Spaniards, and many small tunnels may be observed
cut into them. The probability seems to be that both
the slate and the conglomerate are auriferous, and
not unlike the Johannisberg Rand. The application of
modern methods of working is about to be applied
to these beds, and, if the present showing is confirmed,
the whole of the belt of foot-hills formed of them will
presently become the scene of a great mining indus
try. When that comes to pass Sorata -will wake up as
an important transit station. Puerto Ballivian, near
Huanay, will be the Bolivian Johannisberg, the Ama
zonian port of the Bolivian Rand.
In this same country, elevated about 2000 feet above
the rubber forests, there is a large area of fine grazing
land, ranged over by herds of cattle gone wild. These
cattle will attract the attention of stock-raisers when
the gold rush begins. The surrounding country con
tains any amount of land suitable for the produc
tion of all kinds of food for man and beast. All it
requires is population. When the people come, the
wealth that they may take out of the ground is almost
limitless. There hardly exists in the world an area
by nature richer, or more beautiful, or better adapted
for colonization by white men than this splendid belt
of the northeastern foot-hdls of the Cordillera Real.
221

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Having exhausted the time I could afford for Sorata
and its neighborhood, we set off to return over the pass
to Achacache. The bad weather still continued. As
we rose to the col, we entered the cloud, sweeping up, as
usual, from the Mapiri Valley and pouring over on to
the Puna, a part of that warm drift of damp air from the
eastward to which the bad weather owed its origin. AU
hopes of surveying the north face of the Sorata moun
tain group being thus postponed, there was nothing
to be done but to ride down to the town. Rain-storms
pursued us; the energies alike of man and beast were
devoted to making headway as fast as possible. The
mules, evidently well acquainted with the road, re
quired no urging ; as soon as the rugged portion of the
track was left behind, and the margin of the plain
reached, off they went at a gallop, devouring the way.
On arrival at Achacache bad news was encountered;
the Indians of Umapusa refused to return to the moun
tain without some escort that would secure them against
the vengeance of their hostile neighbors. It was uni
versally believed that we were responsible for the bad
weather, which, coming at this unseasonable time,
interfered with farming operations. The sub-prefect
was still absent from his post, so that a visit to La Paz
could not be avoided. As a matter of fact, the time
was not wasted, for the bad weather lasted on until
our return, and climbing would have been impossible
for that reason alone.
I decided to enlarge my knowledge of the Puna
by taking the northern and more direct track, which
goes from Achacache through the town of Pefias,
a place that derives its name from the crest of peaked
222

THE EASTERN VALLEYS
rocks intervening between it and the main high-road
from Chdilaya to La Paz. To the summit of these
rocks we afterwards ascended, as will be described
in its place.
The track we had to follow led between the hill of
Achacache and a neighboring sandstone and con
glomerate mound named from Abichaca, a village at
its base. This point was decided upon as one of the
principal stations for the triangulation which I was
to make after the climb of Mount Sorata had been ac
compHshed. Little, however, did we guess what com
plications this choice was destined to involve. Other
sandy and stony hills succeeded on both sides, and
for hours we wound about among them, along desert
valleys, with seldom any distant outlook towards the
Cordillera. The stones, plentifully strewn over these
hills and in the valley bottoms, were rounded and obvi
ously water-worn, but the majority of them, I believe,
¦have been weathered out from the conglomerate, and
not shaped by recent water action. The summit of
Abichaca Hill and of several other similar bids were
occupied by smaU buildings of the type caUed chulpas,
most of them being edifices of pre-Spanish erection, built,
as the natives say, in " the times of the Gentdes. " One
summit bore a much larger ruin, whereof a row of piers
of considerable size was visible from a great distance.
At the foot of the slope there now stands a large church,
which has supplanted its loftier predecessor in popular
veneration. The policy of the Spaniards appears to
have been to consecrate to Christian purposes the sites
of ancient superstition.
The corregidor of Pefias sheltered us for an hour or
223

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
two in the middle of the day, so that we avoided visiting
the inn, of whose existence, indeed, we were ignorant. I
afterwards learned that the place has a very bad reputa
tion, for the Pefias Indians are some of the worst on the
Puna, and the inn had been the scene of terrible trage
dies. It had been noticed that several travellers, known
to have passed along this road, were seen no more.
Inquiries were instituted, and suspicion fell upon the
innkeeper of Pefias, who was observed to be unusually
prosperous. The tambo was carefully examined. Ex
cavations were made in the floor of one of the rooms,
with the result that the bodies of a large number of
murdered men were found buried beneath it.
Pushing on, as soon as the mules had been fed, we
struck away along the foot of the precipitous face of
Penas Hill, with the long slopes leading up to the
clouded Cordillera on our left. Clouds and storm had
gathered over the mountains and swept down upon the
Puna ; black columns of tempest, stretching out from the
great mountains, reached over on to the plain, trailing
black veils of rain or gray skirts of hail. When Penas
Llill was passed we came out on the open Puna, and found
the dust whirlwinds dancing about it in countless mul
titudes. A violent and wide-spreading storm seemed
about to break, but, as no shelter was at hand, there
was nothing to be done but push forward on our way.
We passed the Tambo de Perez, an inn often mentioned
in descriptions of travel in Bolivia, and came to the
old tambo of Patamanta, just at the foot of the Villaque
Hill, which was destined to be our second principal sur
veying station. The mules were so fatigued that an
hour's halt had here to be made. Then forward again
224

THE EASTERN VALLEYS
in the growing night, along the foot of the hill, and
across the wide, almost dry channel of the Vilahaque
torrent, where black night overtook us.
Now the thunder-storms, through which we had
threaded our way as through the trees of a forest, were
raging in every quarter of the heavens. By good
fortune, they always passed over the road either before
our coming or after our passage. An almost unceasing
coruscation of electric flre was playing in the great
cloud that covered Illimani. Directly ahead was an
other storm behind Okomisto. Three more storms
flashed their great strokes of light, apparently on the
crests of the low hills bounding the Puna to the west.
Through a hollow in the overcast sky the moon came
out and shone upon the plain. Not a creature was
encountered, even after we had joined the carriage-
road and were approaching Okomisto ; not a light shone
in the scattered cottages of the Indians. Between the
booming of the thunder absolute silence reigned all
around. The tired beasts plodded slowly forward. At
last, still far ahead, the lightning showed the peaked
outline of the row of stacks that marked the post-house
at Okomisto. The cold was bitter, and we were all
suffering from an utter numbness, so that from time
to time each had to dismount and bring back feeling
into his limbs by tramping along the road.
At last the welcome sound of barking dogs showed
that the post-house was near; we began to promise our
selves supper and the reward of bottled beer to wash
it down. Without the barricaded gate I shouted for
admittance, but only the barking dogs replied. We
shouted and hammered away for ten minutes, with
P 225

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
sinking hearts, but still there was no voice, nor any
that replied. When at last we were on the margin of
despair, the gate gave way, and we could advance to
the door of the house. But that also was barred, and
the man within refused admittance. He said : " Let me
alone ; my children and I are in bed ; we cannot take you
in." Presently his heart melted, and he admitted us
to the mud hut where the post-travellers dine. " Here,"
he said, "you may pass the night, if you please." But
the beer was all exhausted, the food all eaten, and the
only condiment of any sort that remained was half a
bottle of that universal commodity of South America,
which no remotest hut seems ever to be without —
Worcestershire sauce. The crazy table still bore the rem
nants of the last traveUer's food, dirty plates, and crum
bled bread, but there was not so much as a biscuit to be
had. The filthy floor had not been swept since the place
was built, but on it we had to sleep as best we could.
Our host absolutely refused to receive the mules, but
he directed the arriero to an Indian's farm, haff a mile
away, where they could be fed. Such as the shelter was,
we were glad enough to reach it, for we had ridden more
than fifty miles since morning, and fffty mdes at a slow
jog-trot behind baggage -mules continuaUy straying
from the way and ha-ving to be brought back is a fa
tiguing day's work.
Next morning at peep of day we found great areas of
the Puna covered with fresh-fallen snow. Lea-ving the
baggage-mules to come on at their leisure, we cantered
off, and were in La Paz by nine o'clock. The bad
weather continued during the time of this -visit, and
great thunder-storms raged even over La Paz itseff,
226

THE EASTERN VALLEYS
so that when we returned to Achacache the mountains
and the upper slopes of the Puna were all alike whitened
with thick, new snow. It was, indeed, as though the
elements had combined against the possibility of any
high ascents. For years past no such weather was
remembered at this time of year.
Early in the morning of the 5th of October we were
again at Umapusa, hoping to go up that same day to
Hiska Haukafia camp, for means had been taken to quiet
the hostile Indians, and the way seemed again open
before us. But we had reckoned without knowledge
of the Indian calendar, for this day, as well as the mor
row and the day after, were f^tes, when every self-
respecting Indian at Fraskiya must be properly drunk.
The delay proved to be unimportant, for the weather
was worse than ever, and snow fell down to our level with
little cessation. I filled the time by shooting geese on
the swamp below the village and reading a two months'
collection of English newspapers backward, which is
a remarkably entertaining way to become acquaint
ed with reports of the doings of the world. On the
7th of October the bad weather culminated ; snow lay
thick down to the margin of Lake Titicaca. Then the
sky cleared and the sun shone out on a white earth,
in the midst of which glittered the fiery blue surface of
the lake. Our projected attack on Mount Sorata was
become a forlorn hope.

CHAPTER XXI
CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
ON a brilliantly fine morning we set forward. " In
nombre de Dios!" the arriero cried, "for we
Peruvians pray to God at the beginning of
every enterprise, since He has power in all things."
Sorry looking, indeed, were the Indians of Fraskiya,
who were gathered in a body to meet us in the court
yard of the farm. Most of them had broken heads, for
the entire vdlage had concluded its holiday with a free
fight, described by the combatants as having been per
fectly splendid. It had left behind it many apparently
unhealed quarrels, which Caesar was called upon to
settle. The women were the great talkers; one old
and toothless dame waxed eloquent, and harangued
him for nearly an hour, while the men stood sadly
round and occasionally protested against her words.
Ultimately, affairs were settled, and our old porters
agreed to come with us, though Jos6 for a while hung
back. He said that he had pains inside his head, as
well as the great visible gash that everybody could see
outside it. We told him there was no medicine for a
headache like a visit to higher altitudes. His old wife
went and fetched him a warm blanket, and he resigned
himself to his fate.
The ascent to the camp was diversified by the faU
228

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
of a baggage- mule, which unfortunately broke our
spirit-bottle into the salt and sugar, but, as a set-off,
I presently flushed a small covey of gray partridges.
Next morning we climbed early to the higher camp,
accompanied by three porters, the weather being stdl
fine. The same little bird that had fluttered around
our tents when we were there before was still flying
about, uttering a shrill cry ; I had no heart to shoot it.
The Indians went back, leaving us halted for lunch
by our baggage reserve. We then lay for an hour
asleep in the hot sunshine. Before sunset we had com
pleted the next stage of the ascent, and were standing
beside the tent, sledge, and baggage, which remained as
we had left them. The amount of new snow that had
fallen could easily be measured by the deep hollow
wherein the tent lay, while the sledge was so buried
that it had to be dug out. The minimum thermometer
inside the tent only registered I2^° Fahr., not a se
vere amount of cold for a fortnight's stormy weather
in early spring at nearly 20,000 feet above the sea.
The tent was soon set in order ; the petroleum stove
turned the melted snow into soup, coffee, and even
punch, with the needful ingredients. In the sleeping-
bags we were as warm and comfortable as in beds
at home; yet sleep would come to none of us, prob
ably because we had exchanged a moderate for a high
elevation so suddenly. When we were here before,
aU slept weU; but we had come up by 2000-feet stages;
this time we came up by one 4000-feet stage, and we
could not sleep. The secret of how to gain a very high
altitude is to ascend by short stages, and to stop a night
at each stage. Above 17,000 feet, 2000 feet a day is
229

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
enough. You can do more, but the loss in rest and re
habilitation outweighs the apparent gain in time. I
have slept for four nights at about 20,000 feet, and am
satisfied that this is by no means the limit of height
where a man can sleep. Probably 23,000 feet is not
an impossible camping altitude, if it is reached by
stages of 2000 feet or less.
The night was very cold. At one in the morning,
when we began preparations for the climb, there were
30° Fahr. of frost. In the polar regions this would be
a trifle, but polar explorers work at sea-level, and fill
their lungs, each breath, with a supply of oxygen suffi
cient to keep the fires warmly burning within them.
If their supply of oxygen were halved, they would find
Arctic cold insupportable. At 20,000 feet the air is so
thin that the supply of oxygen drawn in at a breath
is only about half the sea-level supply.
Before two o'clock in the moonless night, we quitted
the tent on our upward way. The glittering canopy
of stars was disfigured by patches of drifting cloud of
evil augury. A single candle was all the iUumination
to our dubious way over the hard-frozen snow-slope
between two ghostly rows of white mountains. There
were many crevasses, and large ones, too; by candle
light they looked gigantic, for we could not see to the
other side. All, of course, were profoundly deep, and some
were wide open. Others, like those we had dragged
the sledge over, were bridged across from ten to twenty
feet below the top. Of course, there were plenty of holes
and gaps in these bridges. To lean over the edge of a
great crevasse and peer down to see whether there were
a bridge below or not was a weird experience. Some-
230

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
times we were not sure, and had to let a man down to
ascertain. The sides were roughly vertical and diffi
cult to scramble down in day-time, when one could see
to cut steps and hand-holds; by night the dilliculties
were much increa.sed. We had to {)eer aboUt to find the
.solid parts of Ihe snow-bridges and to avoid the holes
going through into the bowels of the glacier. To
clamber np the far side of the creva.s.se afforded an
other troublesome problem. Notwithstanding these pet
ty miseries, the climb in the night up the glacier was
delightfully romantic. The darkness, the uncertain
dicker of our lire-IIy candle, the utter silence, tbe
angry clouds, the starry heaven, and the vaguely felt,
rather than ,seeii, e.\i)anse of snow and surrounding
peaks in the bonds of a frost like the grip of a demon's
hand, combined to produce on all of ns an immen.se
impression. None but ncces.sary words were spoken.
The silence was too awful to be lightly disrupted. We
advanced as rapidly as the altitude i)ermilted, though
our ])oweis were thus submitted to a severe and pain
ful strain, for the cold was now^ mnch more intense than
at camp, and was doubtless many degrees below zero.
Our breathing was hard and loud; our hearts beat
a.udibl}' ; we were working u[) to the verge of our pos
sible strength, all three being in the finest stale of
physical condition.
Half-way up the long last .sloi)e of Ihe glacier, the
basin-Uke slope that seems from below to be a plateau,
we beheld the waning crescent of Ihe moon just above
Ihe edge of Ihe eastern crest. For a moment of inde-
.scribahle beauty it bid behind a stately i)yramid that
looks down on hot Tipuani, and fliedeei), damp valleys,
-.51

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
whose streams roll over ungathered gold, and whose
banks bear countless rubber-trees of the finest quality
in the world. But the moon was not to help us; in a
few minutes it had passed behind thick clouds and all
its light was blotted out.
Thus about 4 A.M., in absolute night, we approached
the base of Ancohuma's final peak. We had arrived too
soon, for, in the enveloping night even the main feat
ures of the great face of snow, that rose above us with
an appalling and unanticipated steepness, could not
be distinguished. It was too cold for halt or hesitation.
All we could do was to make for the foot of what, if our
memory of the previous inspection were correct, should
be a long, unbroken strip of snow leading far up. In
what difficulties it might involve us above we had no
notion at all. During the last hour the condition of the
snow had altered for the worse. Near camp it had been
hard as rock. Higher up came a softer substance.
Here at the foot of the peak it was like flour, each gran
ule of ice so hard frozen that it "disdained its brother."
We recalled the upper levels of Illimani with regret.
The storms of the last fortnight had left traces not quick
ly to be obliterated. Quantities of new snow had fallen,
and, as mischanced, the form of Ancohuma had caused
it to drift round and accumulate with special thickness
exactly on the slope we were about to climb. Perhaps
that slope owes its existence to the fact that it is habit
ually renewed and increased by an eddied snow-drift.
The moment we started up the slope we realized that
the work we had done was child's play to what was to
come. No amount of treading would make the snow
bind. It poured over the feet and about the legs like
232

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
sand. 1 low it maintained its iH.silion at aU on the steep
incline was a myslery. A sinaU provocation would
evidently start the whole mass sliding in a mighty
avalanche, 'i'o avoid this danger it was essential to
mount in a directly upward line Any incline to right
or left would have drawn a furrow across the slope
and thus almost inevitably have .started an avalanche
Straight up, therefore, we went, no easing zigzags
piKssible. We .sank in at first to the knee, presently
to the waist. People often talk vaguely of walking
through snow waisl-deep. Of eour.sc, it is iiiijxjssible lo
advance al all if you .sink in u\) to the waist, for, thus
buried, the leg could not be withdrawn and advanced
for a step. The deepest snow you can walk through
on a level jilace or gentle wsIojjc is half-lhigb deep. Ik^
yond lhat}'oii must roll, as we discovered in Spitsbergen.
When I sa}' we .sank in as far as the waist, I am referring
to conditions on a slcc|) slope, where the broken edge
of the snow in front of each man came level wilh his
waist or even his chest; behind him, of coiir.se, the step
was open. To lake another step the snow in front had
to be bealen down, and then trodden and trodden and
trodden again before it was firm enough to bear. When
the next ni.in came to il, it was all .smothered in while
powder and had lo be hcaleii and trodden afresh. The
increasing clevalion, Ihe sleadil}' worsening .snow, and
steepening slope made the toil ever giealer. As we
were working up to the margin of our strength, the
pace consecinenlly diininisbed. We hrealhed violently
and .sonielimes in furious parox}'.sins. Already, on the
snow-lield below, the guides had bealen their feet with
icc-axcs to maintain circulation. Now the beating was

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
almost continuous. Both complained that they were
losing sensation in the extremities. I shouted up to
Maquignaz that Pellissier said his feet were being frost
bitten. "Let him beat them, then," was the answer.
"But he is beating them, and it's no good." "Then
he must beat them harder; there is no other way."
Both guides were frost-bitten on that dreadful slope.
I only escaped, thanks to my footgear. My feet were
not warm, of course, but they were never quite misera
bly cold.
As we rose the dawn broke, not rose-red nor fiery,
as in the Alps, but pale and thin. Yet when it comes,
in these equatorial latitudes, it comes quickly. The
Hght of it lay upon the level bed of clouds, floating over
aU the eastern region ; but the sun itseff we did not see,
for the mountain we were on hid it from us, and the cold
continued. Indeed, we thought the cold became more
intense. Daylight brought knowledge. We saw what
was above us, and the sight gave little satisfaction.
There was not a diminution, but an increase, of difficul
ties and dangers ahead. Huge masses of ice overhung
in cliffs one hundred feet high. Vast crevasses split the
face across. Everywhere the deep, soft, floury snow
mantled the slopes, up which the route, ff any were pos
sible, must lie. On the other hand, the summit was
now not far off. We had climbed more than haff the
height of the final peak. No more than six hundred
feet remained to mount. So we pushed on, slanting
now a very little to the right, of necessity, though any
departure whatever from the straight -up track was
fraught with some danger. We came at last to the edge
of a great crevasse, perhaps fifty feet wide, that split
234

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
the whole sloi)e across. It would have been po.ssible
to cross thi.s, but we didn't try, for the .sloi)e beyond
it, leading straight to the top, in, perhaixs, three hun
dred feel, was obviou.sly unsafe in present condition.s. It
was a little steeper than the slope we bad come up,
and it was covered wilh the .same powdery .snow; but,
wherea!^ thus far we had been able to climb straight
up, it would now be neces,sary to take a diagonal
course, for the summit was above on our left hand.
If we had fallen from any point on the hither side of the
great creva.sse, we should have come to rest .somewhere
on the level snow-field below. Even if involved in an
avalanche, we might have extricated ourselves safely,
as 1 have more than once done in similar circum.stances.
But in the tra vense above, on the far side of the creva.s,se,
we should have had it below us to tumble into, for the
lirst part of the way, and, farther on, an ice cliff of one
hundred feel to faU over. Moreover, the probabilities
were that we should start an avalanche, and, if we
did, it was certain we should all be killed. To have ac
cepted the ri.sk would have been the act of a fool.
A fortnight or three weeks earlier, before the series
of storms which piled on the new snow, we should not
have had too serious dinicnlt}' or danger to contend
against. There would have been much ste|)-cutting,
such as we had had on Illimani, but undoubtedly we
should have accompli.shed it successfully. Now the
fates were emphatically against us. With bitter re
gret I gave the word to return. Before actually starting
down il was necessary to set ui) and read the barom-
^>(^.,_„()t an aneroid, but a mercurial barometer of Ihe
Hoylean-Mariotii i)atlern. To fiddle wilh Ihe little ad-

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
justments of an instrument under such circumstances
of cold is misery. Hands must be withdrawn from
gloves; the body must be kept still, and, at the mo
ment of adjustment, the breath must be held, an act of
torture when the lungs are thirsting for oxygen, which
continuous breathing only gathers in quite insuffi
cient quantity. Constant practice, however, invests the
reading of instruments, for the scientific traveller, with
the character of a duty. The whole energy of the mind
is concentrated on the effort to obtain an accurate ob
servation. All else is for the moment forgotten. The
instrument was set up, hanging vertically from a tripod
of ice-axes. I grovelled in the soft snow to bring my
eye level with the top of the mercury. The vernier was
screwed down, and the reading taken. The whole opera
tion was then repeated, and the second reading agreed
absolutely with the first. The mercury stood at 12.42
inches. This reading, compared with an almost simul
taneous reading at La Paz, gave 24,255 feet for our
altitude above sea-level at that moment. Add 250 feet
for the remainder of the peak; the summit should thus
be at 24,500 feet above sea-level. This agrees well
enough with the altitude, 24,812 feet, of the Bolivian
government survey. I was not, however, satisfied with
this result, but later on devoted a fortnight to a care
ful triangulation with a 6-inch theodolite, as will pres
ently be described. From the mean of eleven differ
ent measurements, the height of Ancohuma* came out
* The best measurements of Ancohuma known to me are : Pentland,
21,286 feet; Minchin, 21,470 feet; Conway, 21,710 feet; mean, 21,490
feet. Other measurements are : Pentland, 25,250 feet; Bolivian gov
ernment survey, 24,812 feet ; Raimondi, 23,620 feet (probably meant
for Illampu). 236

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
21,700 feet. My corresponding figures for Illampu are
21,520 feet.
Before turning to descend I took a glance, but only a
glance, at the view. There was not light enough to
photograph it. Standing, as I did, backed against
the steep slope, within a corner of the face, the outlook
was over less than half the horizon. On either hand
there stretched out from the peak the ridges, or rather
snow^ ranges, that border the deep plateau by which
we had ascended. Both were almost wholly white.
That on the right was a knife-edged ice arete dipping
gradually to a snowy col overlooking the valley of
Sorata. This col might be easily reached, but the
arete thence to the summit of the peak is as long and
narrow as that of the Lyskamm. It would be danger
ous to ascend, because it is so exposed to wind, and if a
strong wind (such as almost daily blows there) were to
assail a party on that ar^te they would certainly be
blown off. Beyond the snowy col came a domed peak,
and then the Haukafia peak. We could see both over
the col and the ice arMe, but only clouds were visible
beyond. The series of peaks on the other side were
less remarkable for form. In the distance we saw the
wide area of the Puna and a large portion of Lake Titi
caca, with the Western Cordillera beyond, but there was
no overpowering effect of distance observable. Clouds
hid the view along the main Cordillera to the north.
The ascent of the slope we were on had taken three
hours; the descent was the work of a few minutes.
The whole day was still before us, and I was not without
hope of even yet gaining the summit by way of the
peak's south ridge. To the foot of this we, therefore,
237

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
turned with renewed expectation. But success was not
to be won that way either. For some distance the ridge
was practicable, but it only gave access to the foot of
the same slope which had turned us back, and did not
conduct to the summit. One might have turned from
it either to the right or to the left at the point where it
was cut away, but in either case a slope of the same im
possible character (under these present conditions) had to
be mounted. Again, therefore, we were driven to descend,
with regrets which time has done nothing to alleviate.
As our climb recedes into the past, the memory of
its dangers grows less, while the desire for complete
success abides unchanged. I ask myself whether that
slope might not have been crossed; whether a better
man would not have risked it and won. There come
hours when I stand condemned at the bar of my own
judgment. But in saner moments another conclusion
obtains the mastery, and I decide that, at the supreme
instant, I did right, not merely not to risk my own
life for what is, after all, a passing triumph, but not to
risk the lives of my two admirable guides. The tangible
results of a journey of exploration are not the mere
attainment of particular points, but the accumulated
group of observations and collections, whereby the sum
of human knowledge is, however little, increased. In
turning my back on the peak, I knew that I did so for
the last time. Maquignaz might come to it again
with another employer, but I should not return ; for that
year it was certain the mountain would not come again
into climbable condition before the beginning of the
rainy season (November to March), while future years
would bring me other duties. I leave, therefore, not the
238

CLIMBING ANCOHUMA
highest point, but one of the finest and most historic
peaks of the Andes untrodden. We overcame all its
permanent difficulties and found the right way up, but
a temporary impediment stopped us from actually
standing on the top. Whoever comes after us to reap
the reward of complete success must follow in our foot
steps, and will think of us kindly, I doubt not, when he
stands on the proud eminence, with Lake Titicaca
abroad at his feet. Him, whoever he may be, I con
gratulate upon the good-luck denied to us.
The plod back to camp down the plateau was a
depressing effort. I was surprised to find what a dis
tance we had come. Had I been in a happier mood,
it is probable that the white scenery would have pro
duced a different effect upon me; as things were, the
unpeopled solitude struck me as strangely mournful.
At camp we soon packed up our things and trundled
the sledge down in fine style. When the big crevasses
had been crossed, we simply let the sledge go of itself
down the snow-slopes. Arrived at the middle camp, Ma
quignaz went on at once to call the Indians up, while
Pellissier and I repacked the goods into loads before
leisurely following. We met the men about half-way,
and were pleased by the heartiness of their greeting.
They rushed up to kiss my hands, and begged me to
drink from their dirty spirit-bottles. An hour after I
arrived in camp the first of them appeared on the hill
side, almost running down, with two loads on his back,
and singing at the top of his voice. When aU had arrived
I paid them off and thanked them for their services.
Some thereupon hastened away to their homes; others
stayed to accompany us down next day.
239

CHAPTER XXII
SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
ON the nth of October we descended with all bag
gage from Hiska Haukafia to Achacache, leav
ing behind on the top meadow one of the mules
who had died from some internal complaint. He was
only ill for an hour or two, but by some curious intelli
gence the condors discovered it. When we departed
half a dozen of them were already circling overhead,
and no doubt descended for their feast as soon as
our backs were turned. Bad weather had again come
on; there was thunder in the bosom of Mount Sorata
as we descended the Umapusa slopes. At Umapusa,
Maquignaz borrowed my gun and struck straight
across the great swamp round the edge of which the
mule-track passes. He shot a goose, and then made
his way by the devious track, avoiding pools and
quagmires, and ultimately issuing through a little
village to the solid ground again. In the village he
was attacked by furious dogs, and was driven to
shoot one in self-defence, whereupon the Indians issued
forth in great rage and threatened him with knives
and stones. It was only by levelling his gun at them
that he succeeded in getting away.
The time was now come for commencing the triangu
lation of the Cordillera. By measuring the apparent
240

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
size of, or, in mathematical language, the angle sub
tended by, a rod of known length, held perpendicular to
the line of sight, the distance of the centre of the rod
from the observer can be easily deduced. Armed with
a suitable rod, say ten feet long, and with an instrument
for measuring the angle it subtends — in other words, a
theodolite — you can measure any reasonable length
by putting yourself at one end of it and setting up the
rod at the other. Having determined this distance,
ii you go to the point where the rod was and send it on
farther, and if you keep on repeating the process, you
can measure your way across a continent. Moreover,
the theodolite enables you to determine also the distance,
height, and position of any points that can be seen
from any two of the stations where it is set up. In this
way you can make a map of the country through which
you travel. It is called making a "bar-subtense sur
vey." The idea is simple enough, but it is one of those
apparently obvious notions which a genius is required
to originate. The practical originator of the method
was the late Colonel Tanner, of the Indian Survey,
a splendid surveyor, an admirable artist, and a first-
rate man in numerous respects.
To walk through a country, performing the simple
operation thus roughly described, would seem to be
an unprovocative operation enough; but, as a matter
of experience, I am enabled to state that, in those parts
of the high plateau of BoHvia which are inhabited and
cultivated by Indians, it is as perilous an occupation
as the most adventurous man need desire, unless the
surveyor and his assistants are accompanied by a mili
tary force. The theodoHte I employed was a six-inch
Q 241

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
instrument by Carey, kindly lent to me by Mr. E. A.
Fitzgerald. It was, in fact, one of the instruments
used by him in his survey of Aconcagua. The rod
scarcely requires description. At each end it carried a
square board, with a black cross painted on a white
ground. From the centre of one cross to the centre
of the other was exactly ten feet. Half-way between
the two was attached a sight, by directing which on
to the theodolite the rod could be placed at right angles
to the line of coUimation. A level was used for making
the rod horizontal. The rod was generally supported
on a pair of ice-axes driven into the ground.
Calling each distance thus measured a range, it was
further necessary to measure the angle made by each
range with the next. Thus, at each station quitted by
the theodolite a man had to be left behind, with a flag,
to mark the exact position that had been occupied by
the instrument. Another man had to go ahead with
the rod, and the observer had to accompany the the
odolite. Hence our party of three was always split
up, each of us being sundered from the other by the
length of a range, a distance of perhaps half a mile.
The arriero accompanied the observer with a baggage
mule for carrying the theodolite. With less than four
persons it was impossible to undertake work of this
kind. In order to carry the levels from a known alti
tude we had to make our first station on the margin
of Lake Titicaca, whose height above sea-level has been
taken very accurately by the Mollendo railway sur
veyors. One fine morning we rode away from Achacache,
over the wide pampa to the edge of the lake, coming
242

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
ultimately into a hybrid region where the land is en
croaching upon the water, and where banks jut out into
the lake and lagoons penetrate the land. Here the
multitude of birds was greater than I found anywhere
else in Bolivia. Ducks were feeding along the margin
of the water, and there were herons and coots and a
great variety of small birds whose names I did not know,
and which we could not shoot with a theodolite, the
only weapon we were carrying. The whole range of
the Cordillera was magnificently clear, and the peaks
shone forth in their new white raiment as though
clothed in silver. A couple of bulls seemed inclined
to dispute with us the site of our first station, but were
presently persuaded to evacuate it. For two or three
hours the work went forward easily enough, but then
we touched cultivated land and the first signs of trouble
arose. One or two Indians came from their huts to
watch us, and concluded that we were up to no good.
They saw the strange instrument, the waving of flags,
and galloping to and fro. One of them, more intelligent
than the rest, concluded that we were making prepara
tions for either a road or a railway, innovations equally
distasteful to him. He said that we were going to
interfere with his lands, and no protests of ours availed
to quiet his fears. "We want no roads," he said,
" and we want no railways ; we want nothing but to be
let alone as we are."
The next station was close to a little hamlet where
the dogs were turned out on us and much abuse was
shouted forth by the inhabitants. But after that we
could follow the road, and so approached Achacache
without further trouble. The golden evening drew
243

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
on, and the sun sank into the lake. A great shadow
swept across the plain and up the foothdls, making
them purple and the snow pink, with shadows of a vivid
green such as I never saw before. It was a swiftly
transient effect, followed by no afterglow. In a few
moments the pallid night sw'allowed all. This was the
first finel}' colored sunset I had seen in Boli-via, for in
these mountains the sun rises and sets with more rapid
ity and far less splendor of tint than one is accus
tomed to in the Alps. Once or twice from La Paz I saw
Illimani shining pink at the moment of the sun's de
parture, but there again the effect came and went in
a few moments.
Next day our work was continued, the weather being
stdl perfectly clear. We advanced along the Umapusa
track and so reached the base of Abichaca Hdl, which,
as I before said, was chosen for one of our principal
points of observation. Maquignaz went to the top
and set up the rod ; I was at the station below ; Pellissier
held the flag at the preceding station. I noticed that
Maquignaz was presently joined by two or three Ind
ians, but thought little of it, for the hdl was, of course,
uncultivated. Where I stood I was surrounded by
protesting Indians from the very -vdlage in which Ma
quignaz had unfortunately been obliged to shoot a dog.
My work finished, I rode on to the foot of the hdl and
slowly scrambled up it, first by a path; afterwards,
dismounting, I had to drag the mule almost straight up
the steep final slope of loose stones. The top was a
small plateau with a chulpa at one corner and several
ruined walls about. A little w^ay down on one side was
a great hole, dug some years before by a party of native
244

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
gold prospectors. As soon as I arrived Maquignaz
started away to make another station. While he was
on the road I had time to examine my surroundings.
About a dozen Indians were already collected on the
summit; they watched my proceedings with scowling
interest. The chulpa proved to be a little budding about
six feet square with a thatched roof supported by walls
on three sides and by a round arched doorway on the
fourth which faced the east. There was a step or altar
within along the west side. On this, and in two niches
in the side walls, were collected a few saucers of common
pottery containing one or two pieces of incense or a
little grain, and there were bunches of dried pinks and
a few other simple offerings. The round arched door
suffices to prove that this particular chulpa has been
built, or, at all events, rebuilt, since " the times of the
Gentdes." No doubt it occupies the position of a pre
historic budding. There is no sign of Christianity about
it, though probably enough the Indians would now con
sider it a chapel.
During my examination of the chulpa, more Indians
had gathered on the top of the hill. As soon as I began
to set up the theodolite, they rushed with one accord
to the corner of the chulpa and shouted down excitedly
to the -village of Abichaca, five or six hundred feet be
low. I commenced my observations and paid no at
tention to these men, signalling to Pellissier to come
and join me as soon as I was able to release him. Pres
ently a great number of Indians arrived on the top,
led by an old fellow with as e-vil a face as ever I saw.
He walked truculently up to me and seized my hand in
anything but a friendly manner, while holding his
245

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
other hand beldnd liis back under his ponclio, e^idently
grasping a weapon. He could talk a little Spanish,
and demanded what I was doing on their hill. I did
my best to palaver \vith liim widle continuing my work,
for the mountain range was tantalizingly clear, and
who could say when it would be so again? The old
feUow slirank with horror from my instrument, and
evidently thought there was sometliing uncanii}' about
the whole performance, for the theodolite was just then
pointed at their sacred Illampu, and they probably
conceived that I was in some way engaged in drawing
magic from the mountain. Once again the}' cried aloud
with united shouts, and more Indians came rushing
up in response, converging from all sides. Then the
whole of them collected in a w^alled enclosure near
the top, where a noisy debate was carried on.
The arriero signified to me that it w^ould be better to
pack up the theodoHte at once, unless I was willing it
shotdd be destroyed. We accordingly packed it, and
were loading the mule when the whole crowd of Indians,
now some two hundred or more in number, rushed forth
and surroimded us, yeUing, "Gringo! Gringo!" I felt
Hke a single llama spitting at a pack of curs. They
seized the arriero' s and the baggage mule, and tried to
seize mine, but I retained possession of it. The upper
part of the liill being too steep for riding, I led my beast
down the slope of loose stones which, fortunatelj^, as it
turned out, were sharp-edged and not of the rounded
pebble character so common on these smaller hills. By
luck rather than design I diverged gradual^ away from
the little track that comes up from the village, while the
naked-footed Indians were obliged to keep on it. Thus
246

SURVEYING UNDI'iR D 1 F IM C U LTl i: S
1 became separated from them by a few yards. Per
ceiving this and realizing thecause, I cho.se the nastiest
way I could find, but the stubborn mule refused to follow.
The Indians now began to throw stones at me, luckily
only hitting the mule, and so urging him forward.
Thus I was enabled to descend at a good pace and to
reach the .somewhat gentler slopes, while the crowd
were still forced to stick to the path. When they
observed that I was escaping, half a dozen of the
better -class villagers, who wore leather sandals, ran
after me and snatched at the mule, but I drew my
revolver and frightened them off. They called out,
" To the finca I to the fmca !" To gain time I re-echoed
their words and made signs asking which was the
way. I laving thus reached the path below at a ridable
place, I jumped on to the beast, and ostentatiously rode
towards the fmca, gradually increasing the pace to a
quiet trot as the path improved, and keeping my guards
a little way behind.
I noticed that the arriero was not being troubled by
the crowd, who regarded him as one of themselves,
and, content with holding the mules, allowed him to
go where he pleased. With only myself, therefore, to
shift for, and being now down close to the village,
where the fields were fairly flat, I suddenly switched
my mule off the path, clapped spurs to him, and made
the best of my way towards the well-known track
leading from Umapusa to Achacache. This neces
sitated my passing through the end of the village
among a number of huts. Out of every hut came one
or more natives, who set their dogs upon me, heaved
stones at me, and sometimes rushed at the mule to
247

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
try and collar it; but I kept them off also with my re
volver, taking care, of course, not to hit any one, for
that would have made matters infinitely worse and would
have put an end to the possibiHty of completing my
survey. Once out on the open plain, I galloped off, still
hotly pursued by fleet-footed Indians, who never dropped
far behind, and only gave up the chase when I entered
the edge of Achacache, a place whose inhabitants, ii
not hostile to those of Abichaca, would certainly not
make common cause with them.
Meanwhile Maquignaz and Pellissier were being
independently pursued by other groups of Indians.
Maquignaz, indeed, was driven away before he had
even set up the rod. He arrived at Achacache by a
circuitous route. Pellissier was headed off in another
direction, and reached the inn a very short time after I
did. My escape was a lucky one; for the population
of this part of the Puna was thoroughly enraged with
me, believing that I had violated their sacred places
and that I had brought on the bad weather of the pre
ceding weeks. When the Indians do run amuck with
a gringo they are not content merely with murdering
him : they torture him first with great ingenuity. Find
ing that we had escaped into Achacache, the rioters of
Abichaca began to think of the consequences that
might follow. Being also very frightened at the the
odolite, on which they dared not lay a finger, they called
for the arriero and begged him to remove it ; thus about
sunset he also arrived at the inn with mules and the
instrument uninjured.
The worst part of the business was that my work on
Abichaca Hill was not finished, and that it was neces-
248

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
sary for me to return tliere and spend at least two more
hours on the top. I therefore caUed on tlie sub-prefect,
who had now returned to his post, and applied for liis
assistance. He was willing to do aU he could, but he said
tliat tliere were no poHce nearer than La Paz, and no
soldiers, and tliat it was only by moral suasion that
tlie Indians could be controlled. He said tliey were
frightened, and tliat ii some man in whom they had
confidence would explain the matter to them and would
accompany me up tlie hiU, aU woidd go well. The
manager of tlie finca, who Hved in Achacache, came to
apologize and promised to ride out to the place next
day and lecture tlie villagers. I was ad\ised to wait a
day or two before attempting to repeat my \isit to the
troublesome neighborhood, the reputation of Abichaca,
as I now learned, being durably bad.
We fiUed up the intervening time by carrying a plane-
table sur\-e}' up to tlie Huallata Pass, but ill-luck again
pursued us. The north face of Mount Sorata was cov
ered witli clouds on this occasion also, so that I could
not obtain a near \iew of it. Endeavoring to solve
the somewhat tangled topography of the HuaUata
region of rounded lulls and labyrinthine dells, all deeply
scraped by ancient glaciers, I gained tlie neighboring
pass to the east and discovered tliat tliis is the true
geograpliical saddle at tlie head of tlie IMapiri Valley.
The direct track for llama-cara\'ans from Sorata tow n
crosses tlie watershed here and descends to tlie AiUage
of Umapusa, whence it skirts the lower slopes of the
Corddlera to La Paz, witliout toucliing Achacache or
Pefias, or any of tlie places we l-niew. From tliis east-
em HuaUata Pass the -^iew of Mount Sorata, whereof
^9

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
I only saw glimpses, must be splendid. I do not believe
that it would be possible to find in the world any grand
er near view of a great mountain. On our return we
joined the main track at a point where the decaying
carcass of a donkey disfigured the way-side. This was
the donkey that Bieber had found turned out to die,
and in the last stages of suffering. He drew his revolver
and mercifully shot it, whereupon the entire population
of a neighboring hamlet rushed forth upon him and made
him pay fifteen dollars for killing their beast.
In response to an invitation from the sub-prefect,
I went one morning to his house and met an assemblage
of notabilities. AU were armed to the teeth with rifles
and Mauser pistols or revolvers. There was the owner
of Abichaca in attendance; there was also his son, and
the manager of the finca, and there were some other
persons believed to have influence with the Indians.
Every one was well mounted, so that our cavalcade
made some show as it filed out of the town. An Indian
funeral was encountered coming in from the country,
for every native prefers to be buried in the great cem
etery rather than on the unconsecrated hill-side, if he
can afford it. The body, wrapped in a poncho, was car
ried on a stretcher, and the funeral party were running
along at a spanking pace. That same afternoon we
met them again scattered along the track, at intervals of
a hundred yards or so, where they had fallen on their
way home in a state of the most com[)lete intoxication
it is possible to conceive.
One of my companions related to me how, a year or
two before, at the end of June or beginning of July,
he had crossed the Cordillera by the third main de-
250

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
pression south of Mount Sorata. He said that the snow-
field above the glacier w^as as hard as rock, so that he
could ride over it without dismounting, and that the
weather was perfect. In his opinion, June and July
would be the best months for mountain cHmbing, unless
the cold should prove to be too great ; but he said that
at that time of year, even on the Puna, the cold was of
the most bitter kind. The sub-prefect told me that he
had seen me and my guide near the top of Ancohuma.
He said he watched us for a long time, but that we did
not move, and he pointed out to me the place where
we had been. On looking" through a telescope, I saw
three rocks emerging through the snow at the point in
question. Word had been sent ahead that the Indians were to
coUect at the finca to meet their proprietor, who, after aU,
did not come with us, but sent his son in his place. I
was informed that he did not dare venture among his
people. The plan was that aU the Indians were to be
gathered into the court-yard of the finca, where the
sub-prefect was to address them whde I cHmbed the
hdl. Once in the court-yard the doors were to be locked
on them, and they were to be detained imtd my work
was done. Unfortunately, the event did not tum out
so simply, for the Indians refused to come together,
and ordy a few (and those the least truculent) entered
the court-yard at aU. The others scattered themselves
about in smaU groups in the fields, and would not
come even when men went to fetch them.
Without wasting a moment, I rode straight up the
hdl in company with the major-domo and foUowed by
two natives. The major-domo, riding an active pony,
251

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
of which he was very proud, rushed at the steep upper
slope without dismounting ; but he paid for his temerity
by a bad fall, the pony rolled over him, cutting open his
head, and, as afterwards appeared, dislocating his -wrist.
He said it was a matter of no account, and walked on
to the top, where he sat down and discoursed with the
Indians in Aymara, describing to them, as weU as he
could, the nature of the work in which I was engaged.
It soon became e-vident that all the Indians were coming
up, as they had done before, so I went ahead with my
work as quickly as possible, in the midst of a very
troublesome crowd. To avoid lea-ving a man behind
with the flag, I built a cairn of stones before descending.
By this time the patience of the Indians was exhausted,
and once more they began to throw stones and shout
"Gringo! Gringo!" But nothing serious happened,
and we were able to ride away without molestation.
Before we had reached the next station, however, we
saw all the Indians return to the top of the hdl and
throw down our stone-man, a serious matter for us.
Fortunately the next station was planted in the midst
of an uncultivated area where no one came to trouble
us, so we spent a couple of hours there, lunching and
resting; by that time the hill was deserted. I sent
Maquignaz and PeUissier to ride back together as
quickly as possible to the bottom of the hid on the side
remote from the viUage, where one of them was to hold
the mules while the other ran up with a flag and held
it for a moment at the spot on which the cairn had been
built. I was to wave a flag to him as soon as the ob
servation had been made, and he was then to run down
and escape. Unfortunately, they forgot to carry away
252

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
the field-glasses, so that, having arrived at the top of
the hill and planted the flag, Maquignaz could not see
my signal. He stood waiting and waiting and peer
ing about, twenty-five minutes longer than was neces
sary. By that time all the Indians had gathered once
again, and the whole country-side was loud with the
cries of men. Perceiving that it was necessary to re
treat, Maquignaz made the best of his way down and
just reached the mules in time; but he said that they
had difficulty in evading pursuit, for the enemy was
arranged in groups all round the hill. There was also
a man on the top, who, indeed, had been there at the
moment of their arrival, and whose business it was to
shout down the direction which they were taking, so
that those below might concentrate towards the point
whither they were descending. Watching them with
a field-glass, I saw that they got away in safety, and
then I rode off and returned to Achacache by another
route. Having thus passed what we believed to be the great
obstruction of Abichaca Hill, we hoped that it would
be possible to continue our work without further in
terference on the plain by following along the Pefias
road. Next day we returned to our last station by a
very devious route from Achacache, keeping at first
on the other side of a low line of hills and crossing a
pass right on to the station. In this way we thought
we should arrive without the Abichaca people knowing
anything about it. But we had no sooner reached
the pass than cries were heard, which were taken up
and repeated farther and farther off and in all direc
tions, so that it became evident that we were awaited,
253

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
and that preparations had been made and men stationed
on the lookout in all the villages around. Neverthe
less we set to work. Maquignaz went away with his rod,
I set up the theodolite, and the observations began.
But I had no sooner limbered up to move on than I saw
Maquignaz riding away with the rod on his shoulder.
I joined him quickly and asked why he was thus hasty.
He replied: "Well, come back and see for yourself."
So we rode back to the top of the little knoll where he
had been standing, and there met half a dozen enraged
Indians, and saw, two or three fields off, another twenty
or thirty converging upon them, and half a mile away
yet others, while through the glass we could see, from
every village, people streaming forth and all gathering
towards the same centre.
Under such conditions it was impossible for three
men, all necessarily separated from one another by
long distances and unable to offer mutual support,
to continue the bar-subtense survey. There was only
one thing to be done: to change our method of opera
tions and to substitute a triangulation for the bar-
subtense method, treating the total distance thus far
measured from the margin of Lake Titicaca as the base
for the triangulation. It involved making two more
principal stations on the summits of the Pefias and
Villaque hills, each of which bore to the neighboring
village or town the same relation that the hill of our
troubles bore to the viUage of Abichaca. We realized
at once that unless protection could be obtained it would
not be possible to spend a long time on such sacred
high places. The sub-prefect strongly advised us to
go back to La Paz and obtain the help of a small body
254

"^^

MR. N. E. BIEBER AT THE TOP OF THE ALTO DE ANIM.\S

SURVEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES
of gendarmerie. Without them, he said, we could not
work at leisure, and we might find it necessary to pa}'
several hurried \isits to each station before our obser
vations could be completed. In liis opinion, we should
save time by settiing the matter once for all on a sound
basis. Till the small hours of the morning Achacache was
noisy witli tiie beating of drums and tiie cries of festiv
ity, for tliere was a great fete in the town, and a fete
among tlie Indians is another name for a drinking-
bout. At tliree o'clock, when we started for La Paz, tiie
orgies were stiU in progress ; but the only persons in the
street were h-ing about overcome witii alcohol, so that
our departure attracted no attention. It was a warm
night, and lightiiing flashed beliind tiie Cordillera Hke
tiie sword of a god gHttering on the battiements of the
world. Otherwise the darkness was profound, and even
tiie road was scarcely \isible beneath our feet. Before
dawn came frost, and tiie earth was wliitened as with
salt on the level plain. "\Mieii tiie asses began to bray,
and the sintinellas to utter their plover-like cry, we knew
tiiat the dawn was at hand. Light, creeping over the
slc^', manifested Indians e^idently posted for observa
tion on the lull-tops commanding a ^iew of the Hne we
should have foUowed in our fartiier survey, wlide two or
tiiree men dogged our steps, running when we tiotted
and always keeping close belund. It was not tdl we had
passed Huarina and joined the carriage-road to La Paz
that tiiey dropped beliind and left us to proceed im-
observed. Once again, therefore, we had to traverse the weary
Pmia, whose monotony began to oppress us. ^lachaca-

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
marca was gained before noon, and a long halt made
there to bait the mules, while a violent thunder-storm
burst over the place. In the afternoon we started on
again, and, if our animals had been better beasts, we
should have ridden through to La Paz, but on arrival
at Okomisto they broke down and another night had
to be passed on the floor of that wretched hostelry in
similar circumstances to those described before. We
reached La Paz early next morning, and made applica
tion for the assistance of a small body of gendarmerie.
The application was readily granted by the authorities,
but they said it would be some days before the men
would be at liberty. So, to fill up the interval, I arranged
to accompany Bieber on a visit to the newly opened
gold-mine of Cusanaco.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE GOLD-MINE OF CUSANACO
BIEBER and I, without the guides, or any other
companions except a baggage mule, rode out
together one bright morning by the route that
goes down the valley, the same that leads to Illi
mani. I could not fail to observe, on passing Obrajes,
how rapidly vegetation had advanced since I was there
before. Every bush was in flower in the gardens, and
the profusion of roses was a joy to behold. Each cactus
plant bore a delicate waxen blossom, and all the trees
were decked in young green leaves. Just below Obrajes
came the opening of the Calacoto Valley, up which we
turned. Narrow below, and spreading back fanlike to a
cirque of mountains once very much loftier than they are
now, it offers some of the strangest scenery that can be
imagined. The valley, or rather the cirque, is cut into
the thick alluvium, whose excavated walls and towers
stand round it as high hills, and divide from one another
the several deep-cut gorges, which might be likened in
arrangement to the ribs of a fan. Extremely well-de
veloped earth-pyramids are found in clusters in several
directions. The gorges are utterly desert, like the nalas
of Western Tibet. But on the slopes between them, and
below, near the mouth of the valley, there are large and
fertile fincas, depending chiefly upon artificial irrigation.
R 257

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
With little delay we pushed forward in an easterly
direction, mounting to one of the two principal de
pressions along the left watershed of the basin. The
depression we arrived at is called the Alto de Animas.
Over it passes the mule-track to Palca, another im
portant mining centre, and then on, still easterly,
to the Pacuani Pass (15,226 feet, Pentland), which
crosses the Cordillera between Illimani and Mururata
and is one of the main ways from La Paz to the fertile
province of Las Yungas. I always intended to devote
a week to visiting Yungas, which can be reached by
a yet directer route going northeastward from La Paz
over an easy col. Leaving La Paz in the morning on
a good mule, you can sleep the same night far down
the other side of the Cordillera in orange gardens and
the luxury of semi-tropical vegetation, while another
day will take you to the plantations where coca is
grown and the best coffee in South America, and, in
deed, some of the best in the world. Yungas can like
wise be reached more laboriously by descending di
rectly down the La Paz Valley and traversing by its
gorge the deep gap in the Cordillera.
Arrived on the Alto de Animas, an indescribable
view of Illimani burst upon our gaze, practically the
same view that one beholds from La Paz, except that
the mountain is nearer and more imposing, rising as it
does above the intricate multitude of ribs and green
hills that cluster at its foot. A little lake, almost on
the crest of the pass, mirrored the peak in its calm
waters, while the sharp earth-pyramids close at hand
contrasted well with the suave forms of the wide Palca
basin that spread before us. If we had crossed the
258

THE GOLD-MINE OF CUSANACO
neighboring pass to the south, it would have taken
us into a remote valley belonging to the village of Col-
lana, a remarkable Indian community, which manages
rigidly to exclude all white people from dwelling among
them. If a white man comes that way (as in the rainy
season is not uncommon, seeing that the La Paz Valley
road is then impassable, and this hill route is the only
one that can be taken by travellers who have to go in
that direction), the -villagers will put him up for the
night in the rest-house and will sell him necessary
food, but the next day he must go on. No exception
is made, even in the case of a government official.
As the -villagers are always well behaved, the govern
ment wisely respects their prejudices and leaves them
alone. They collect the taxes themselves and pay
them with due regularity. They seem to live the Iffe
of ancient days almost unchanged.
Either pass would have led to the mines, which lie
far down in the main gorge that collects the drainage
from Mururata and the northwest side of Illimani and
empties it out into the La Paz River at Esquino de
Pongo, near Taguapalca. Riding along a good path
among cultivated fields, we presently bent away to our
right from the Palca road, and descended into the bowels
of a deep gorge. Its walls, cut out of thick sandstone
and conglomerate deposits, for some distance were
vertical, and there was one splendid tower of rock stand
ing out in the very midst of the gorge like a great
monument. From this point we had to follow the very
bed of the now almost dry torrent. There was no path ;
the mules had to pick their difficult way among great
bowlders and most irregular ground. When it was
259

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
exjilained to me that every piece of machinery for the
mine, and all the large pipes required for it, had to be
transported on the backs of mules b}' this route, I easil}-
understood bow much cx])cnse, and, still more, how much
organizing energ}', were necessary to open up profit
able mining in such a countr}-. All along the bed of
this valley, and more especial 1}- after the junction has
been reached with the main stream from the glaciers
of Mururata, gold is found in the gravel, and the natives
have been accustomed for centuries to wash it out in an
inefficient manner. The main deposit is found against
the bed-rock under the gravel, and more elaborate means
than they possess are necessar}' before that can be
worked in any quantity. We passed one small mining
station, worked on behalf of a La Paz gentleman b}- a
few laborers. I was informed that the area of valley
claimed by him is undoubtedly rich in gold.
Below this point the gorge again narrows to a width
of a few yards and is encumbered by enormous bowlders,
cast about in utter confusion, over which the mules
have to scramble as best they may. One or two of the
larger masses, which quite barred the route, have been
blasted; but, even so, the passage of this and similar
narrow places remains a slow and difficult i)rocess.
Before the blasting, the only way of arriving at a lower
point in the valley was by mounting the hdl-side on the
left to a considerable height, traversing a giddy path
along it for some miles, and then descending steep
zigzags, which I afterwards saw. Bieber related to me
how, the last time he came that way on a visit to the
Cusanaco Mine, he brought a friend and some newly
purchased mules, which were the pride of his heart.
260

THE GOLD-MINE OF CUSANACO
Reaching the corner where the descending zigzags
commenced, he dismounted from his own mule. At
that moment the narrow path gave way under the lead
ing baggage-mule ; he slithered down a few feet of slope
and then fell in two or three bounds to the bottom of
the gorge below, where he was utterly smashed up.
The second mule blindly followed and was overtaken
by a similar fate. The third likewise began to slip
down, but caught in some extraordinary fashion on a
shrub growing out of the slope, and Bieber was able to
rescue him and drag him back on to the path. The
skeletons of the unfortunate beasts were still, at the
time of my visit, lying on the spot to which they fell.
The narrows were succeeded by an open basin, and
that by more narrows and another basin, and so on,
each of the basins being occupied by the flood-bed of
the torrent, and of course littered all over with bowlders,
large and small, which are compacted together below
the surface with other bowlders and smaller gravel and
sand. It is these basins that were about to be worked by
the company whose installation we were going to visit.
The first sign that we were approaching the end of our
march was the appearance of a big, newly made canal-
bed, carried away from the bottom of the stream along
the hill-side on our right. It was about fifteen feet wide
and very carefully levelled. Being itself almost hori
zontal, and the valley steadily and sometimes steeply
inclined, the canal soon diverged from the torrent-bed,
and thus, at the end of about a mile, was some 500 feet
above the level of the bottom of the valley. Thus, in the
rainy season, a great head of water would be obtained,
for it is only in the rainy season that there is water
261

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
enough to reach the canal at all. When we were there,
the torrent was quite small and coidd easdy be forded at
any point ; but when the rains come down, the stream
rises in the narrow gorges to a great height and over
flows aU the basins. Then, of course, the canal would
be fdled, and the head of water become a powerful
source of energy. The canal was stiU in process of
being made, though it was approaching completion. It
was an astonishing sight to behold in so wild and
remote a solitude the signs of such elaborate human
contrivance, e-vidently the work of a large body of or
ganized men. Its after history was less noble than its
promise. When the rains came the hill-side began to
move, and feU in great land-slips on the canal, obliter
ating most of it in a very short time. Such are some
of the disappointments of gold-miners in these difficult
and remote countries.
As yet there were no men in sight, but, on rounding
a comer, the Httle habitations of the mine came in
-view on the hill-side above. Turning another comer,
we emerged upon the basin which was to be the scene
of the first great gold-washing. Hundreds of Indians
were at work, most of them busily engaged either in
driUing the bowlders for blasting or in remo-ving the
shattered fragments of the pre-vious day's explosions.
The broken rocks had been carefidly and elaborately
built together down the middle of the basin into a long
wall, about as wide as a road, which I w^as told was not
planted merely on the surface of the alluvial debris,
but had been bmlt dowm in an excavation to bed-rock
below. The object of this waU w^as so to divide the
basin that, when the rainy season came and the flood
262

THE GOLD-MINE OF CUSANACO
descended, the whole of it might be diverted to one
side of the wall, leaving the gravel on the other side
dry and able to be washed through the sluices. Every
bowlder, therefore, and rock too big to be passed through
the sluices had to be removed, not merely from the sur
face of the side first to be worked, but right down to bed
rock — an immense labor. This work, and the building
of the wall, were likewise approaching completion. At
the moment of our arrival the ground may be said to
have been almost prepared for the commencement of
operations. There still remained the machinery to
be installed. That had arrived in La Paz, but had
not yet been brought up. An important part of it con
sisted of a great pipe, into which the water in the canal
was to be turned, as I shall presently describe in con
nection with another mine.
We were kindly received by the director of the works,
Professor A. A. Hard, of the United States. He took
us to his cottage on a shelf of the hill, half-way between
the canal above and the gravel-basin below. It looked
none too secure in position, and I was not surprised to
hear that, a short time before, a great bowlder, rushing
down the hill, had crashed into it on one side and
out the other, carrying clean away the bedroom walls,
roof, furniture, and everything. Fortunately no one
was within at the time. In the rainy season, when the
hill-side is on the move and mud-avalanches are not
rarities, I should imagine that a hut thus situated
would be far from a restful place of abode. The pro
fessor was one of the quietest-mannered men you can
imagine. Nothing seemed to disturb his perfect equa
nimity. His benevolent face looked forth beneath its
263

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
covering of white hair with equal composure upon
whatever might happen. He had come a year or two
before merely to give an opinion upon the prospects of
the deposit, having then been, as he imagined, about
to start for Java; but he had stayed on from month
to month in response to the urgent requests of his
employers, with few comforts beyond the commodities
of his portmanteau; but he took things as they came,
with no trace of irritation. He knew neither Span
ish nor, of course, the Indian dialects, and he made
no attempt to learn any of them, for, he said, "I just
speak to them all in English, slowly, quietly, and dis
tinctly, and they understand." He said: "When I
take you down among the men, you will see they all
know enough English for our purposes; I find they
rather prefer to be spoken to by me like that than to be
worried in their own tongue by other people."
His experience with Indians, the majority of whom
came from the neighborhood of the exclusive CoUana
village above described, was very interesting. He said
that if well treated, and prevented from obtaining
intoxicating drinks, they were easy to live with. But
he said, "If I find a bottle of spirits in the possession
of any of them, it is immediately confiscated and broken
over the hdl-side." He found them honest, and, to my
surprise, described them as good-tempered; and I am
bound to say that when I accompanied him among the
workmen and saw the smiles with which they greeted
him, I felt that he had justified his claim on their behaff .
He said that the trouble with Indians was that they had
been so often swindled by white men; but that when
they found that they got their money in return for their
264

ALTO DE ANIMAS

THE PALCA VALLEY ROAD

THE GOLD-MINE OF CUSANACO
work, and their prejudices were not interfered with
and they were kindly treated, they were very easily
managed, like children. Their delight in explosions,
he said, was very great. Every evening the last thing
done was to fire all the cartridges that had been placed
in position during the afternoon; this was a great event,
and was looked forward to not only by the workmen,
but by all their wives in the village of little arbors that
had sprung up around the workings. I perfectly sym
pathized with this attitude of mind, and thoroughly
enjoyed the blast myself when it took place; but the
way the stones shot up into the air, one of them flying
even over our heads, though we stood at a great dis
tance, was somewhat terrifying.
A delightful evening was spent with our hospitable
entertainers. On such occasions, when men meet from
various parts of the world in the rough accommodation
of a camp, knowing that on the morrow they will prob
ably separate forever, there springs up without delay
an easy kindliness of mutual relation that closely re
sembles established friendship. Adventures are related,
and an almost intimate exchange of personal experi
ences takes place. We talked of Indians and of sport,
of the gold deposits of Bolivia, of our various difficulties,
our various failures and successes. I examined the
professor on the immediate geography of the neighbor
hood, which he had to some extent explored, and I in
duced him to describe to me the condition of affairs in
the rainy season, which appears to resemble in all
material respects the monsoon in India. To give an
idea of the force of the torrent when in high flood, he
showed me enormous bowlders, which I should never
265

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
have imagined that water could possibly move, and
related how one of them had been brought down a
distance of about fifty yards in a single night. He
described the thunderous rumbling of these great rocks
as they pounded against one another and rolled on
and on in the cataract.
Next day we returned by the way we had come,
accompanied for a mile or two by the professor. Near
the finca of Calacoto my good friend Don Federico
Graruer rode up, horse and man larger than one often
sees in Bolivia, and took us into the beautiful garden of
the finca, where we sat for a while in the summer-house
and refreshed ourselves with wine and fruit before rid
ing back together to La Paz. Alas! when I revisited
Bolivia in 1900 and asked after him, I learned that he
too had joined the majority

CHAPTER XXIV
THE YANI MINE
THE Yani Mine, of which my friend Mr. Bieber was
managing director, was the only other Boli-vian
gold-mine I had an opportunity of describing.
Bieber was a young Englishman, of a type resembling
that of our subalterns on the Indian frontier, rather than
the ordinary man of business. He was full of Iffe, energy,
sport, and delight in adventure. His superabundant
activity led him to master the practical part of whatever
work came under his hand. If he had a few months' holi
day, he would rush off to some big Argentine ranch, learn
the craft of the gaucho, and return with new skill in the
managing of mules and horses, the loading of caravans,
and the dri-ving of them in difficult places. He was de
voted to his mule-train and equipments, which, in fact,
were the best I saw in Bolivia. The mules had been
carefully selected during a period of two or three years.
Their saddles, instead of being the clumsy and heavy
native articles, were of the light and well-designed Cali
fornian pattern. Bieber could load, shoe, doctor, and
drive his animals. The saddle was his true home;
he was forever dashing from La Paz to Yam, from
Yani to Chililaya. Even when business did not propel
him, he found pleasure in opportunities of further ex
ertion. He was the reorganizer of the races at La Paz —
267

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
a man never at rest, the very life of the whole country
side. He had had pre-vious experience in gold-mining in
the Araca Valley, and I dare say elsewhere, but the
Yani Mine was his creation, and his whole existence
was bound up in its success. It is situated in a high
valley on the northern spur of Illampu, just at the head
of the famous Tipuani River. Here there was reported
to be — and careful experiments confirmed the report: —
a bank of auriferous gravel some hundred feet or more
thick, deposited along the side of the Challapampa
stream, a tributary of the Tipuani. To wash the gold
out of the gravel-bank water is needed, and this the river
ordy supplies during the rainy season, November or
December to April or May. In other months work has
to stop. At Yani, as at Cusanaco, a canal was cut
from a certain point in the stream and carried for a
mile or so, nearly level along one side of the valley,
till the end of it came to be 400 to 500 feet above the
valley bottom. Here the canal water was to be turned
into a great iron pipe that goes straight down-hdl. The
pipe is four feet in diameter at the upper end, and nar
rows down below to eighteen inches.
At the bottom is a kind of fire-hose nozzle arrange
ment, called a giant, through which the water, now
under enormous pressure, is issued and directed in a
stream, which may be as much as eight inches in
diameter. This huge water-jet w ill leap like a fountain
400 feet into the air, with a force measured by 2260
horse-power. The use of this mighty agent is to cut
down the gravel-bank; the jet is directed by a skdful
Califorruan piper against the foot of the bank, where it
268

THE YANI MINE
hollows out a cave and undercuts the hill-side. The
moment at last comes when the superincumbent gravel,
almost as hard as conglomerate, gives way, and 10,000
tons of the mountain fall in a man-made avalanche.
Skill is required so to direct the undercutting that this
huge mass may fall exactly in the right place, where it
can be dealt with easily afterwards ; for the whole of it
must be washed down a trough into and through the
sluices, which catch the heavy particles of gold and
allow the lighter rocks, pebbles, and sand to be swept
away by the rush of water over the dump at the end
of the sluice, and down into the natural torrent.
The gold found is for the most part relatively large
and angular, showing that it has not been carried far
from its ancient mother-lode or much rubbed by move
ment. The lower parts of the bank are, of course,
richer than the upper, for gold tends to sink as a balloon
to rise, but all levels of the bank were believed to contain
some gold, and all have to be washed through the six-
foot sluice. Some of the abundant water-power is em
ployed to produce electric light, whereby work can be
continued night and day during the rainy months. It
will thus be seen that 1400 feet of heavy iron piping,
the great giants, a quantity of lumber for sluices, the
dynamos, water-wheel, and other electric-light plant,
had to be installed before work could begin. All this
machinery had to be fetched from San Francisco, landed
in the open roadstead of Mollendo, where the surf always
furiously rages, hauled by train over a pass as high as
the summit of Mont Blanc, transshipped across Lake
Titicaca, and carried on the backs of mules to the mine.
Compared with the last stage all else was child's play.
269

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
The " road " from Chdilaya to the mine was a thing that
home-dweUing folk wiU find a difficulty in imagining.
It is nowhere a made road, but only a worn-down track,
littered over with loose round stones of all sizes, from
that of a bale of cotton to a pebble. It rises gently
enough from the lake to the Huallata Pass (14,110 feet),
then it plimges down in a few mdes, as already de
scribed, to the little towm of Sorata, at about 8000 feet.
That is the first day's journey. From Sorata the track
rises again to a pass about 16,000 feet high, and ordy
gets there by coasting frightful precipices and cHmb
ing hideous staircases, which most men would not care
to pass on foot. It reminded me of Kipling's fines on
the troubles of Tommy Atkins with mountain-guns :
"There's a wheel on the Horns o' the momin', an' a wheel on
the edge o' the Pit,
An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can
spit :
With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, an' the sun off
the snow in your face.
An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes to hold the old gun in 'er
place."
After a descent of 1 000 feet comes yet another
pass of over 16,000 feet, whence in two leagues you go
down to the mine, whose altitude above sea-level is
about 11,000 feet. To transport some hundreds of
loads of costly machinery over such a route was, in
deed, a difficult enterprise. It was carried out under the
personal super-vision of my friend in a most sporting
fashion. One or more of the loads could not be made
to weigh less than 600 poimds.* The average load
*The regulation load for an Indian-govemment-service mule is
100 pounds. 270

THE YANI MINE
was nearly 300 pounds. Time and again the heavy
loads had to be dismounted to relieve a fatigued mule.
In bad places a gang of men had to carry the larger
pieces. When night came on, all had to sleep where
they happened to be. In case of a fall, mule and bur
den would have gone perhaps 2000 feet, bounding over
a precipice, before aught would have stopped them.
Such a fate would have ended the utility of a big piece
of cast-iron, and the installation of the mine would have
been delayed perhaps over a whole rainy season. The
fact that no such accident happened on so appalling a
track speaks volumes for the energy of Bieber, who, I
am told, was ever in the thick of the struggle, loading
and leading the mules himself in the worst places, and
always directing his huge caravan of beasts and men.
He would have been a most useful transport-officer
on an Afghan frontier campaign. When, after re
peated journeys, all the plant had been brought to the
mine, the big pipe had to be riveted together and put in
place; the mile of canal had to be dug out; the sluices
had to be set up. They dug the first sod of the canal in
August. The machinery began to arrive in September.
By January they were washing gold. The following
dry season — that during which I was in Bolivia — was
devoted to the installation of the electric light. As soon
as the rains should really break, gold-washing was to
be seriously begun.
It must be remembered that all this work was ac
complished by native Indian labor, under the direction
of only five white men, none of whom knew the Aymara
tongue. My only experience of Indians has not been
pleasant, but it was my ill fortune to be engaged on
271

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
work which -violated their prejudices and excited their
suspicions. Mining and transport they understand,
and the manager of Yani told me that he had found
them good men to work with. The fact that they are
distrustful of white employers is a patent criticism
of the way they have been treated in the past. From
a man they do not know they insist on payment in ad
vance, partly as a guarantee, partly also because they
have to buy their own food and take it up to the mine
^vith them, besides providing for the needs of their wives
and families in their absence. These men have to be
enlisted from their -viUages, and most of them come
from the Puna, for the population in the eastern vaUeys
is very small, there being Httle or no food produced in
the forest region, fertile though it would be if any at
tempt were made to cultivate it. Some trouble is ex
perienced in enlisting the men, as the employer is liable
to be dependent upon the viUage corregidors, who are
not always wdhng to put themselves out for his con
venience. Recruiting agents are also employed, some
times with good enough results. In his first year
Bieber had to employ such agents, who went to Indian
\'dlages and paid out no less than 10,000 BoHvian dol
lars in advance to native laborers. At the end of the
season ordy forty-two of these doUars were not worked
off, and even for them security was given — a remarkable
proof of the honesty of these peculiar people. They
work hard for rather more than ten hours a day, for pay
var}-ing, in accordance with their skdl, from about eight
pence to about two shdHngs per da}'. The men come
in gangs of a dozen or so, and usually remain at work
for fourteen or twenty-one days ; then they go, and a new
272

THE YANI MINE
gang must be arranged for to take their places. This
year, however, men had undertaken to come and work
for the whole season without asking for their pay in
advance. Such is the result of a single season's good
treatment. The great trouble with the Indians is the intolerable
number of holidays and ffites they are accustomed to
observe. In an agricultural community the mischief
is not important, but in the case of a mine, in which
much capital has been sunk, and where climate pre
vents work during eight months of the year, every hour
of the remaining four months is, of course, important.
What the future of the Yani Mine may be I have no
means of knowing, nor can I state whether it is really
rich in gold. My interest in it was quickened, not by its
position as a commercial venture, but by the energy
with which it was worked, and the opportunity it gave
to a young fellow-countryman to display, on the mar
gins of South American civilization, the self -same quali
ties which have made the British Empire. It was with
great sorrow, therefore, that shortly after my return to
England I received the news of the sudden death at Yani
of Mr. N. E. Bieber. A big land-slip came and ruined
much of his work, and the shock was the cause of his
death. s

CHAPTER XXV
ASCENT OF PENAS HILL
IN response to my application to the authorities, and
after no undue delay, an officer of the gendarmerie,
with a dozen men, whom he described as " the force,"
marched away from La Paz to reach Machaca-marca in
two days. We followed and caught them up at the
post-house. All the men were apparently haff-breeds
or cholos, bright, merry fellows, with much vivacity
and physically strong, though short. In many respects
they reminded me of Ghurkas. Their officer was a
decent feUow and had the fear of the prefect before his
eyes, though there is no doubt that under any circum
stances he would have done his duty weU ; but the his
tory of my previous misadventure with his comrade,
who got drunk on the way to lUimam, ha-ving been re
lated to him, he felt that the credit of his branch of the
Bolivian forces was at stake.
On the foUowing morning we rode away over the
Puna towards the foot of the Vilahaque Hill. There
was no track in the direction we took, so we had to strike
across the newly ploughed fields. For the men march
ing on foot with hea-vy packs on their backs the way
was fatiguing enough, I have no doubt. But they
covered the ground as fast as we did, keeping up a
sort of trot and continually shouting as they went.
274

I in. I iiy.y.

'IHE CO.SANACO ¦;oi,i.i-Mi:.t

ASCICNT Of' n':NAS III LL
I'^or footgear tlicy wore leather .sjuidals, to all inteiils
and |)ur|io,ses liic .saiiie as the cli.(ij>l>lis worn by tlie na-
lives of Kashmir. I ob.scrved Ihal Ihe Indians held
tlie men in iiiikIi res|K'(-l and ran away in all direclions
when llicy ,saw llicm coming; but such Indians as they
did (-oiiie close to they hailed with jests aud laughler,
and Ihe whole aliiiospherc that surrounded theiii was
an alniosphere of nierriiiiciil and good-fellowship.
We had slarled al au early hour, and IIk- liclds were
])ra(tically ahaiidoned. Aboiil seven o'clock the agri
cultural lahorcrs (ame forth and began Iheir work.
Evidently tlu-y an- a la/y lol of men, for they do not
begin lowork heforefrom seven till nine in the morning,
and you ,see lliciii all li-aving off about live in the after
noon. My Alpine guides bad much to ,say ahout the
backward cliaracler of the .syslciu of agriculture. " If
this was our country," Ilicy said, "il would look very
dirferenl ; but Ihesi- people don'l know how lowork, and,
for that mailer, judging hy all these ruined farm-hou.ses
lli.'it vvi' sec, llu" coiiulry ajipi-ars lo be going haik-
ward lather than forward." Tlu' large niiiiihcr of
liclds l}ing fallow added, of coiinsc, lo the abandoned
a|tpeai-aiict" of a greal part of ihe land. Occasionally
one came ai-ross a group of liekls lar bcllcr culli\aled
than the rest, .ind well manured. Much land is wasted
1)\' the broad jiilcs of sloncs collected upon il ; Ihcy were
«|uile iinncccssaril}' expansive, and IVlli.ssicr .said that
in his coiinli}', inslead of piling Ihe stones on Ihe sur
face of Ihe ground, llu-}- would dig a dccj) Irciich and
bury tbeni. In .some parls .dniosl a (luarler of Ihe
cultivable area .seemed lo be wasted on stone- Ilea jt.s.
What I think struck my guides more than anylhing else
-7.S

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
was the appaUing waste on the part of nature in putting
so fine a range of mountains as this snowy Corddlera
in such an out-of-the-way country. " If we could have
these mountains, or even one of them," they said, "in
the Val Tournanche, it would be a fortune to our vil
lage; but here, what good are they to anybody?"
Thus about nine o'clock in the morning we reached
the foot of the broad Vilahaque Hdl, w^hich stretches in
a northwest - southeast direction, paraUel to the Cor
diUera and cut off by vaUeys on its east side from the
slopes that rise to the great range. In the middle of its
Puna face there is a great bay reaching into the hill ;
at the mouth of this bay is the finca of Santa Ana. The
Indians of the finca received us -with unusual respect
and hurried away to fetch the major-domo, who, in a
broad and general fashion, placed the whole country
side at our disposition. Had we not been accompanied
by "the force, " things would not have gone so smoothly,
for the Indians of Santa Ana have a bad reputation.
It was here that Mr. BandoHer, when he was excavat
ing for the remains of prehistoric Bolivia, suffered so
many tribulations at the hands of the natives, and
ultimately had to be protected by gendarmes before he
could finish his work.
After a brief meal we rode on up the corrie to ascend
the highest point of the hid behind, the soldiers foUow
ing a short time afterwards and covering our rear, but
not coming to the top. A rough track circled round
more or less in the direction we wanted to go, traversing
some smooth surfaces of red sandstone and beds of con
glomerate, the same formation we had struck at Abi
chaca and were presently to find forming the mass of
276

ASCENT OF PENAS HILL
the Penas HiU. Higher up came a regular alp. Thus,
by steepening slopes, we gained the final ridge, where
a number of teeth of red rock and curiously weathered
lumps of conglomerate stuck out like the edge of a saw.
Keeping along beneath these and then mounting a
final rounded divide, we attained the summit. We
arrived not a moment too soon, for a snow-storm was
gathering and presently burst upon us. These snow
storms are in the nature of showers, and pass away
almost as rapidly as they form. When the storm had
gone by, and the main range cleared once more, we
were surprised to find how much snow had fallen
along its track in a brief time.
A couple of natives joined us on the top, and we saw
a good many more collected down below watching us,
but frightened from approaching owing to the presence
of "the force." There was a ruined chulpa where we
set up the theodoHte, and e-vidently this also was a more
or less sacred place. Miniature pots, a tiny flag, a small
wooden cross, a new spindle, and a saucer with bits of
charcoal and incense in it were lying about. After
completing the observations on the highest point, I
built a stone-man. Then we -visited an outlying point,
with a jutting rock on its summit, whose position I
carefully fixed. The object of so doing was to have a
point to faU back upon in case my stone-man on the
higher point should be thrown down by the natives,
as that on Abichaca had been. It was weU that I took
this precaution, for, after we had quitted the neigh
borhood, the -viUage Indians came up and removed
every trace of the stone-man.
Descending rapidly by the way we had come, we
277

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
joined the troops and rode back to the finca. In dis
cussion with the officer, I learned that in his opinion
the uncertainty of the weather at this time was due to
the moon. He said that if the moon was unfavorable
you always had bad weather on the Puna, three days
before and three days after its change. This was the
view of almost every man in Bolivia with whom I spoke ;
for them the moon was the great agent in making good
or bad weather, though none of them agreed as to when
the bad weather came — whether it was, as the officer
said, on either side of the change, or whether it foUowed
or preceded the change; as Sir Thomas Roe observed
in India, "the moone is a great ladie of weather in
these parts and requires much obseruation. " The ex
traordinarily universal belief in the effect of changes of
the moon upon weather is one of the most remarkable
of modern superstitious survivals.
Lea-ving the gendarmes to spend the night at the
finca, we returned to our baggage at Machaca-marca,
it being arranged that the men should march across
on the following day to the Pariri finca at the foot
of the Penas Hill, where we were to join them in the
evening. The night spent at Machaca-marca was
far from a restful one. The manager of the place had
gone away, and there were only cholos in charge of
it. Having already spent several nights in this post-
house, its ways were well known to us. The room in
which we were wont to sleep was the chamber where
luncheon is served for travellers passing betw^een
Chililaya and La Paz. There was an inner room, which
could only be reached by passing through ours, and
this inner room used to be occupied by the women ser-
278

ASCENT OF PES^AS HILL
vants of the place. This night, however, a couple of
men were in occupation, and they evidently had some
thing on their minds. No sooner had we retired to
rest than one of them came out, fidgeted about, and
retreated. Presently he came out again, locked the
outer door leading from our room into the court-yard,
and was on the point of going off with the key. We
fortunately observed the action and deprived him of
the key, though not in the least understanding what
his idea was. During the next couple of hours he kept
coming out, borrowing the key, unlocking the door and
going away for a few minutes, after which he would
return and make another attempt to carry off the object
of his desires. Baffled in this plan he remained quiet
for a time.
I went to sleep, and so missed some of these manoeu
vres, but the guides, convinced that something was
wrong, remained awake and kept a light burning.
About midnight they roused me, and we heard just
outside the place a few notes blown softly on an Indian
pipe. Then several men, coming from a village on
the Puna, crept up to the window of the next room and
held a whispered conversation with the man within it.
It now became evident that his plan had been to give
them the key of the outer door, so that they might
obtain an entry to our room, when we were asleep, and
steal some of our goods. Not having the key, they,
nevertheless, crept round to the door, and we heard
them fumbling at it. Coming quietly up on our side
we unlocked it and ran forth, each armed with a revolver,
whereupon the Indians took to flight as fast as their
legs could carry them, some scouring away over the
279

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
plain, others hiding among the hay-stacks. We routed
them out from their concealments and drove them off.
Later on, I believe, one of the guides heard them return,
but they gave us no more trouble.
Riding away, with all our baggage, at an early hour
on the following morning, we struck over the fields in
the direction of the mountains, and so crossed the road
which the gendarmes would have to follow. An hour
later they came in sight, and we went on together to
the Pariri finca, a rather large establishment, with
a mud-built church of the usual pretentious and not
ineffective architecture of old Boli-via. Near to it was
the house of the proprietor, consisting of a plain outer
court, with a cloistered court farther in, and a corral
behind for cattle. The middle court was surrounded
by rooms, which were placed at our disposal. The
cloister consisted of a raised tiled pavement, carrying
octagonal columns made of mud, with tile capitals
supporting depressed arches. The rooms were in a state
of bad repair, as is usual in all these fincas. They had
tiled floors, and paper falling from the walls, the ceil
ings likewise falling in. There were no windows; all
the light came in at the doors.
Ample time remained to have ascended Penas Hill
and completed our work this day, but the weather
was atrocious; a gale of wind blew, and snow-storms
swept down from the Cordillera one after another.
The delay was annoying both to us and to "the force,"
for they were anxious to get away to another duty
that awaited them. It appears that an Indian vil
lage on the Puna, not far from the town of Pucarani,
was in a state of anarchy. It was divided into two
280

ASCENT OF PENAS HILL
parties, quarrelling with one another; and there had
been fights of a murderous kind. The corregidor
was powerless, and had been forced to send to La Paz
for assistance. I asked the officer what he would
have to do. He said that such Indian troubles were
always arising. As a rule it sufficed to call the peo
ple together, and discuss the matter with them; after
a long palaver, they generally settled down peaceful
ly enough. "But," he said, "sometimes they resist,
and then, of course, it comes to shooting." I could
see that the job was distasteful to him, and that he
was anxious to acquit himseff well in the matter. When
I met him afterwards, in La Paz, he told me how the
thing had gone. He said that the village was assembled,
and that he harangued them, and the corregidor ha
rangued them, and that they had a great deal to say
for themselves on both sides, but that ultimately they
forgave one another and promised to live thencefor
ward "like brothers," whereupon he took his departure
with joy and gladness. The Indians of Bolivia are a
noteworthy proof of how much can be accomplished
by management, and how seldom actual force is es
sential to the maintenance of peace.
The only hope of completing my observations in
the unsettled weather that now obtained was to gain
the summit of Pefias HiU at a very early hour in the
morning. Accordingly, we started forth in the night
and wound our way upward, first over fields, and then
across a slope difficult for mules. If we had known
better, we should have gone straight to the crest of
the ridge and foUowed that along the well-made path
by which we descended. As it was, we had to find
281

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
a way across a series of difficult guUeys. Dawn showed
the plain buried beneath a sheet of white fog, but, as
the sun rose, Illimani stood clearly up against a lemon
sky. The rest of the Cordillera was hidden from view
by the mass of the hill we were climbing. After scram
bling along with much difficulty, and being compelled
to lose half the height we had gained, an excellent
path was struck, and proved to be the direct track over
the hill from Penas to the Puna. FoUowing this, we
reached the final ridge, and were astonished at what
we there discovered.
Instead of being a mere abandoned hill-top, such
as hill-tops generally are, with hardly a trace of man,
it bore signs of much human activity. There were
tracks in all directions, bordered by countless numbers
of the little model dolmens I have previously referred
to, and by some few of a considerable size, two feet
high or thereabouts. These paths converged from
all directions on a large chapel, now disrooted. The
altar was placed against a wall of native rock, in which,
about thirty feet above the floor, was a natural hollow
or small cave. The mouth of this cave was decorated
with a withered wreath, and there was an artificial
star within it. On the floor of the chapel were some
seven-branched candlesticks, and numbers of withered
flowers and small offerings. Before entering the en
closure the soldiers took their hats off, evidently re
garding it as a sacred place. Numbers of small birds
were flying about. There were also two or three huts
close by, well roofed and securely locked up. Evi
dently this is a place of pdgrimage, sought not merely
from Pefias town, but from aU the country round,
282

RUINED CHAPEL ON THE TOP OF PENAS HILL

ASCENT OF PEffAS HILL
and there can be no doubt that the Christian chapel
on the top occupied the site of some religious edifice
of "the times of the Gentiles."
It is not so much the situation of the hiU that attracted
superstitious attention to it, but the strangely shaped
rocks (Penas means peaks), weathered masses of con
glomerate, which stand out along the crest of the ridge
and seem to cluster themselves together where the chapel
is built. In fact, the chapel may best be described as sur
rounded by these strangely shaped masses. Some of
them are mere cubical lumps, others are like baUoons on
a narrow stem, others again mimic the shape of birds and
beasts. On beholding them I was reminded of the holy
rocks of Alvernia, with their huge clefts and openings
(fabled to have been miraculously split up at the hour
of Christ's crucifixion), at which St. Francis of Assisi
wondered, and where he saw the vision of the seraph
and received the stigmata. At the moment of arrival
on the top there was no time for examining this curious
high place, for clouds were gathering behind the Cor
dillera, and a series of observations had to be made
with all possible speed. By good fortune the angles
of the last endangered peak had been observed just a
moment before the cloud came down upon it and finally
blotted out the whole range.
The descent was made by a pilgrimage-track along
the crest of the ridge, in and out among the conglom
erate teeth and over a succession of hill-tops. From
the last an easy slope led down to the finca. PeUissier,
who did not make the ascent with us on account of
illness, felt himself a little better and was eager to hasten
to La Paz and see a doctor; so, at noon, after a hasty
283

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
lunch, the baggage was packed on the mules and we
prepared to set forth. The soldiers were drawn up to
bid us good-bye. They said: "We are good soldiers,
aren't we? Tell us what you think of us." I told
them my opinion in the clinking silver tongue which
all the world understands. As we set forth on our
diverging ways, I heard the officer say to one of the
men : " Well, we've got through that job all right. I
hope we shall get as well through the next."
There was now before us the tedious Puna once more
to be crossed. We made a great vow that we would reach
La Paz that night by the Patamanta road. Hurrying
on we passed again through the fields of the Santa
Ana finca, which were being ploughed by bulls gayly
decorated with flags and ribbons. As night approach
ed we were abreast of the little Cucuta tambo, where
the arriero stopped with the tired baggage-mules. But
we rode on in the moonlight over the rolling desert
ground, by a path that rose and fell, crossing a se
ries of transverse undulating hills and valleys. Four
leagues before the Alto a polite Bolivian was overtaken,
driving three laden mules; he joined himself to us, and
we went on together in silence. The undulations be
came deeper than before, and we gradually stretched
out into a long line about shouting distance from one
another. Each crest, as it loomed ahead, seemed as
though it were the last. I kept imagining that I dis
tinguished the tower which marks the point where the
road dips down over the Alto ; but each feigned pilastron,
as it was approached, proved only to be some smaU rock
or heap of stones. Thunder-storms were flashing in
several remote quarters of the horizon, but between
284

SHRINE ON PENAS HILL

^'^ "*#<#^

¦-V..'>'

.1

HUT NEAR THE TOP OF PEN\S HILL

ASCENT 0 1' PIOf^AS HILL
them was a sky utterly serene. When the last daylight
had faded away the cold became inten.se, and the con
trast of temperature after the broiling afteinoon was
keenly felt. My legs ached from the long jog-trot ride;
my feet fairly froze; the hours {)assed painfully and
slowly. At last a final roll of the land displayed the Alto
close ahead. It is a known robbers' rendezvous. Our
Bolivian companion was a (juarler of a mile behind.
I le had been joined by an Indian on foot, but the Indian
had now dropi)ed back. As I a[)proached the pillar,
where the road enters a short, deep cutting, worn by
ages of travellers, I perceived a compact body of ap
proaching Indian.s. Generally the Indians you pass
on the road are bearing burdens or driving donkeys.
To see a dozen in company, unemployed and apparently
roving about, each armed with a stick, is an unusual
thing. The guides coming up, we rode through them,
while they halted and watched us in an unfriendly
manner. I thought no more about them, and on reach
ing the edge of the cliff dismounted to promote circula
tion by walking. Down the zigzag we went as fast as
we could, for a thunder-storm was now coming nearer,
and my one desire was to gain the inn before rain burst
upon ns. We just succeeded. Eariy next morning tbe
arriero arrived with our baggage and the news that he
had .seen the body of a murdered Indian at the Alto;
that the police had gone up in pursuit of the criminals,
and that the murderers were the grouj) of men we had
encountered, a gang who [)rey upon such soHtary and
defenceless travellers as the}' ina}' chance to meet. An
hour or two later a mule was led through the town, wilh
^8s

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
the body of the murdered man lying across its back,
a shocking sight. He proved to be a native of that
same village of Abichaca whose Indians had given me
so much trouble.
The remainder of my survey could be completed
from the edge of the Puna in the neighborhood of La
Paz, so that it was only necessary for us to ride out in
the morning and back in the afternoon. In this fashion
we worked all along the Alto around the margin of the
Achocalla Valley. One of these days was the eve of
All Saints' Day, pre-eminent among the ever-recurring
f^es of Bolivia, for it is observed almost universally.
For three days work ceases, not only in the country, but
in La Paz also. As we stood at the edge of the Alto
it was a wonderful sight to see the multitude of Indians,
in their bright-colored ponchos, streaming out of the
town, climbing the steep face of the Alto like so many
bright -colored beetles, and then threading their way
over the Puna in all directions towards their scattered
villages. Each man was driving his donkey or carry
ing his burden, and all alike had been attending the
market at La Paz and buying supplies for the f ^te. The
market, of course, had been unusually animated dur
ing the preceding days. It was always a wonderful
sight, especially on Sundays, the blaze of moving color
being its main characteristic.
On one of the fete days in La Paz the Alameda was
given up in the afternoon to a promenade of cholas,
the women turning out in their brilliantly new attire,
their short skirts made of bright plush or other hea-vy-
textured material, with a great quantity of lace pet
ticoat displayed beneath it. They are ugly women
286

ASCENT OF PENAS HILL
almost without exception, and their costumes by no
means add to their attractiveness, but the mass of color
thus brought together in the bright sunshine and among
the trees was undoubtedly striking and even beautiful.
A herd of children were rushing up and down with
loud shouts, dragging a stuffed lion around the place.
The usual peaceful inhabitants of the Alameda, a tame
emu and vicuna, were much disturbed by the noise
and the coming and going of people. In the middle
of the promenade is a small pond about fifteen yards
long, whereon are kept some ducks from Lake Titicaca ;
they share the pool with a rather large, flat-bottomed
boat, which on this f^te day was in continual occupa
tion. Though there was not room enough to row it,
it was pushed about from one bank to the other, ap
parently to the great satisfaction of the occupants.
On the third day of the f^te every one goes out to the
cemetery, carrying wreaths to deposit on the tombs.
The better class of ladies all wrap themselves up in
their black manteaux, but the cholas could not have
too many opportunities of displaying their new bright-
colored dresses. These cemetery visits are the oc
casion, later on in the day, of much intoxication among
the lower orders. Indeed, there is hardly any ceremony,
either civil or religious, which the common people do
not make an opportunity of drinking; and whenever
they drink they drink too much. It is this habit, no
doubt, that accounts for the multitude of small liquor-
shops where chicha and the cheap native spirits are
retailed. Chicha,which may be described as a kind of beer, made
in many varieties out of maize and other substances,
287

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
is not a bad drink. In some parts of the country it is
very much better made than in others ; a true Bolivian
wiU tell in a moment in what manner any chicha offered
to him may be made. Chicha does not last very long,
and has to be drunk within a few days of the brewing.
It is a drink that comes down from prehistoric days, and
is still made in the manner in which it was made in
the time of the Incas. Civilization, however, has not
failed to introduce beer into this remote centre. Not
so long ago all the beer there was had to be imported
at great cost from far away. Now, however, there are
two, if not three, breweries in La Paz, which brew an
excellent German beer and are driving a great trade.
In fact, it is impossible for them to supply the actual
demand. Many and many a time we hurried forward
on the Puna to one of the post-houses, hoping to slake
our thirst with a draught of good La Paz beer, only to
find that the stock was exhausted, and that, though
reinforcement had been sent for perhaps a week or two
before, the brewery had not yet been able to supply it.
On one of the mornings I spent in the town — a Sunday
morning, I think it was — word went round that an Indian
murderer was going to be executed on the open drill-
ground in front of the prison. The crime of which the
man had been convicted was no less than compassing
the death of his wife and family of children. Not ap
parently having the courage to kill them himself, he
hired a couple of bravos to do the work. All three had
been arrested and found guilty. This day the principal
was to pay the penalty with his life. The whole city
turned out on the great square, near the prison, to see
the execution. Military bands playing sad music con-
288

ASCENT OF PENAS HILL
centrated on the square, and a considerable body of
troops were drawn up to keep order, after they had
been employed skirmishing about the town to collect
together a number of Indians to witness the execution.
The Indians were driven on to the parade and drawn
up immediately in front of the place of execution, where
they sat down on the ground, with the soldiers surround
ing them outside and the general public farther out.
It was a bright morning with a clear sky, and the
brilliancy of the sun shining on this field of ponchoed
natives made them look from the far distance like a
bed of flowers. Punctually at the hour appointed the
prison doors opened and the three men were brought
out and placed some distance from one another in a
row, the principal malefactor, the only one who was
to be executed, being in the centre. He marched forth,
utterly unconcerned, and took his place without the
smallest sign of fear; but the other two, whose hour
had not yet come, were almost in a state of collapse
from terror. There was something in the brave bearing
of the murderer that won for him the respect of the crowd.
He was allowed to stand forth and make a speech, in
which I am told he expressed himself quite satisfied
with what he had done. "The woman," he said,
"merited the death brought upon her, and so did the
children." He in nowise regretted the action he had
taken. When he had finished he took his place on
a sort of little stool with a post for a back, while great
cries and shrieks arose from the assembled Indians.
The firing party did their work without delay, and the
culprit was killed instantaneously, among the lamen
tations of the people of his race. The body was left
T 289

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
for many hours where it feU, and the Indians were
encouraged to go forward and inspect it, the object of
the whole ghastly performance being to strike terror
into them. Thereupon the other two men were removed
back into the prison, one of them to be brought forth
and shot a month later I was told, the other, a young
man, to spend his life in penal ser-vitude. According to
a report which reached me, whether well grounded or
not I cannot say, there were at that time within the
prison walls over two hundred convicted Indian mur
derers, but capital punishment is seldom enforced except
in the case of parricides and murderers of a particular
ly atrocious kind.

CHAPTER XXVI
TIN -MINES OF HUAINA POTOSI
BEFORE starting to visit the volcanic ranges to the
west and south, I made yet one more expedition
to the Puna and towards the CordiUera, my ob
ject being to inspect a great vein of tin which had re
cently begun to be worked. It is situated on the very
flanks of that fine Mount Cacaaca* whose glorious
pyramid had so often attracted our gaze while trav
ersing the plateau or standing on the summits of the
Puna hills. Bolivia is one of the few countries in the
world that are rich in tin. No tin-mines are known to
exist in the Western or Coast CordiUera, and I beHeve
no tin has been discovered either in Peru or Chile. It
is ordy along the flank of the CordiUera Real and its
prolongation to the south that tin -mines have been
opened. Stream tin has been foimd by gold pros
pectors in one or two of the eastern valleys, Tipuani
for instance; but knowm veins are aU along the west-
em side of the range, near the junction of the Silurian
formation with the intruded igneous rocks. Some of
the best tin lodes are said to occur in the porphyry
* The name Caca-aca means " by broken rocks." The cJtitude of
this peak, according to my measurement, is 20,560 feet. Other meas
urements are : Minchin, 20,170 feet ; Reck, 20,292 feet ; Pentland,
20,650 feet ; Pinis, 19,961 feet ; mean, 20,250 feet.
291

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
or altered andesite, but in a few places lodes run
through slate and trachyte. According to Mr. C. C.
Pasley,* the veins in the porphyry are generaUy the
richest and of better quality, the other being mixed with
antimony, iron, and copper pyrites, zinc blende, and
sometimes with bismuth and woffram. The tin usually
contains traces of silver, and the lodes frequently have
a capping of iron. The chief tin-producing districts
are four: Oruro in the centre. La Paz in the north,
Chorolque in the south, and Potosi farther to the east
ward. The most important of these districts is Oruro.
Tin is also found in the Quimsa Cruz Mountain.
My visit to the mines was made in company with
my friend Mr. M. Martindale, an English engineer
who had lived for many years in South America, and
was familiar with the mines of many of its countries.
Leaving La Paz early one morning, we rode straight
up the main valley, instead of turning sharply to the
left and climbing to the Alto of Lima, as I had always
hitherto done on my Puna expeditions. We noticed
that the La Paz River was much fuller of water than it
had been, for the frequent snow-storms upon the moun
tains and the thunder-storms lower down, forerunners of
the rainy season, were beginning to produce an effect.
There were blossoming apple-trees in the cottage gar
dens, and many cactuses bearing bright flowers by the
side of the mule-path. In fact, the spring, which we had
found two months before at Cotana, had now climbed
even beyond La Paz. In two or three hours we had
passed round the bend of the valley, and lost sight of
* "The Tin-Mines of Bolivia," a paper read before the Institution
of Mining and Metallurgy, December 21, 1898.
292

TIN-MINES OF HUAINA POTOSI
the town and abnost aU traces of habitation. A steep
rise, which took us near two or three pools of water,
finaUy landed us on the Puna, perhaps five mdes to
the north of the point where we usuaUy stmck it. Our
position might be better described as on the lowest
slopes of the CordiUera rather than on the Puna at aU,
though the slopes here sink down to the plain with so
gradual a slope that the transition from slope to plain
can scarcely be marked.
Thus far the weather had been cloudy, and the -view
restricted, but now the sun burst forth and the sky
was blue among dissolving clouds. The distant plain
was smoking with dust whirlpools Hke the smoke of
bonfires. We soon came on the traces of old moraines.
Continuing our northward way, over a rounded hog's-
back, and circling somewhat about the end of a great
outHer of the main CordiUera, we entered a surprisingly
large vaUey that penetrates to the crest of the CordiUera
and gives access to an important mule-pass leading
over to Zongo. Moimt Cacaaca, glorious with its wide-
spreading base and bladed icy tower, was revealed in
all its splendor standing north of the pass, whde to
our right hand were cHffs and ridges of purple rock
forming part of the next snow-mountain to the soutL
FoUowing the left bank of the vaUey and graduaUy
descending towards the stream and lake at the head of
it, we came presently on the buddings and workings
of the Mdluni ;Mine, situated 15,100 feet above sea-
level. At present the mine is only being worked on a small
scale, and the bmldings are of a simple character.
The engineer's house had been placed at our disposal
293

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
by Sefior Farf an, the owner, who Hved in La Paz ; but,
agreeable as it was to have a roof over our heads when
the bleak night came on, we could have wished that the
room had been less draughty, or the gale of wind that
arose at sunset less severe. The people told us that
such a gale springs up daily, and is one of the chief
annoyances to their life in this dreary solitude. Clouds
were trying to pour over the pass from Zongo, but
they faded away on the col. For a brief moment the
sunset coloring played upon Mount Cacaaca so that
it shone like a spear-tip newly withdrawn from the
furnace, but the ice-slopes grew steel-gray as the paUid
night came swiftly on.
Some hours of the next morning were devoted to
an inspection of the mine, which is tentatively worked
at several different levels by tunnels running into the
mountain. I am informed that, since my visit in 1898,
great developments have been accomplished, and that
I should hardly recognize the works in their present
condition. The property has passed into the hands
of a wealthy French syndicate. Standing at the foot
of one of the tunnels and gazing abroad over the
vaUey, it was plain to see how great a glacial exten
sion there had formerly been in this place. Now the
actual crest of the range can be reached at the col
without touching glaciers at all; only a few snow-
beds have to be crossed. Of course, Cacaaca, and
the peak opposite to it, are draped with beautiful
glaciers, but the ice does not descend to the bottom
of the principal valley. Once it filled that valley
and stretched down towards the Puna, a distance of
several miles. On its retreat it left exposed a series
294

TIN-MINES OF HUAINA POTOSI
of lake basins, since filled up, with the exception of
the two highest. The tin lode, averaging about five
yards in thickness, comes to the surface, and can be
traced right up the hill-side, running approximately
in a northwest-southeast direction, and at a very high
angle of dip. It abnost looks as though some mighty
power, wielding a gigantic sword, had cloven the hill
and fiUed the gap it left with this great lode. There
are also several other parallel lodes. The ore is in
some places very rich indeed, while in other places the
tin contains a large admixture of antimony.
Later on in the day we rode off to cross the main
southwestward buttress ridge of Mount Cacaaca by a
pass 17,100 feet in height. Descending to the bottom
of MiUuni Valley, and traversing a wide swcunp, we
gained the foot of the opposite slope, and mounted it
by a faintly marked track, which leads over shales
and grits to a desolate rounded region of debris, among
which the pass is situated. The ridge rising thence
towards Mount Cacaaca, soon becomes sharp and bold
in form, breaking into needles of rock and ice aretes
of exceeding narrowness. It leads to a minor summit,
beyond which comes a deep-lying saddle of ice, and
then a long and most difficult arete, with a precipice on
either hand rising to the summit of the peak. By
this route it was plain that no ascent could be made,
nor, I think, will the mountain be climbed from the
east or directly from the Zongo Pass. On all sides
that I saw, Mount Cacaaca presents quite unusual
difficulties to a climber, but I am told that on the other
side of the range there is a slope by which the moun
tain might be attacked with some chance of success.
295

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
When standing on the col, and facing towards the snow}'
peak, there was beliind us a radiating group of rounded
hdls spreading widely and sloping steaddy towards
the Puna. To this mass properly belongs the name
Huaina Potosi by w^hich Cacaaca is now popularly
kno^vn. Sdver ha-\ing been found hereabouts, hope
arose in the minds of the finders that great wealth
woidd ensue. They therefore named the hill (but not
the snow}' peak) after the famous Potosi calHng it
Huaina, which means "younger." As far as silver is
concerned, the hdl has not justified its name.
Instead of descending at once to the vaUey, I wandered
round along the crest of the hill outw^ards to a stone
man, which commanded a ver}' magnificent -view aHke
over the plain and towards the mountain. Hence
one could look into the next deep valley that leads to
the southwestern foot of Cacaaca, where a beautfful
glacier, broken into blue ice-falls and backed by splendid
ice -slopes and precipices, empties its waters into an
emerald green tam. And now^ we could see, nearer
at hand than I had yet beheld them, the continuation
of the main ridge to the north, where the momitains
are for a certain distance more splintered and needle-
like than at any other part of the CordiUera. The fine
peak, named Condoriri (19,950 feet, according to my
measurement), marks the neighborhood of anotiier im
portant pass that like-wise leads to Zongo. From this
peak several lofty and broken buttress ranges stretch
ing towards the Puna hid the further view along
the range in the direction of Mount Sorata. Farther
around came the distant Lake Titicaca glittering in the
sunshine, and then the broad plateau, always impres-
296

TIN-MINES OF HUAINA POTOSI
sive as a contrast with the rugged peaks. On the very
crest of the Huaina Potosi Hill was a huge block of
granite, which must have been brought there by ice
from Mount Cacaaca, a great part of whose mass con
sists of granite. At that time the deep valley which now
lies between the point where the bowlder stands and
the mountain itseff must have been entirely fiUed with
ice, an accumulation which would have involved a flow
of many miles in length before it could have melted
away, for the bowlder stands at least 17,500 feet above
the sea, while the intervening valley bottom is less
than 15,000 feet. There are plenty of similar bowlders
to be found on the southwestern slope of Huaina Potosi,
but lower down most of them are water-worn; those
that have maintained themselves on the crest or upper
part of the slope alone retain the sharpness of their
original angles.
The tin-mine is situated on the northern slope of the
hill, while the Ingenio, where the ores are sorted and
some of them reduced, was planted close to the glacier-
lake, which supplied the water-power for the work.
The valley from this point down to the Puna is of very
gentle slope, so that carts can be drawn right up to the
workings. The lode is the same as that of the Mdluni
Mine, continued in this direction, and is from two to ten
metres wide, and very rich in tin. There is almost
an exhaustless quantity of it, so that when the ma
chinery, which we were informed was on its way, is
instaUed, no doubt very good results wdl be yielded.*
The same engineer manages both this and the Mdluni
* I hear that this -was accomplished in 1900, and that work on a
large scale has begun. 297

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Mine. He rides over the intervening 17,000-foot pass
twice a week or oftener, and thinks nothing of it. He
had been down to La Paz, and now arrived in company
with a Belgian friend, so that we formed a pleasant
party in a far more comfortable house than that we
had occupied the previous night. Its situation at
the foot of the splendid cliffs of Cacaaca, and near the
lake in whose waters that mountain is reflected, is
one of the most wildly beautiful that we saw in Bolivia.
We sat on late after the evening meal, talking of
the mine and its prospects, of the mineral wealth of
this side of the Cordillera all along, of the need for
prospecting, and the comparatively little good work
of that kind that had been done. The mules in the
court-yard, just outside the door, were champing
their fodder with great content; they seemed more
inclined to eat than to sleep. Maquignaz, speaking
from experience, asserted that properly fed mules
never sleep for more than two minutes at a time. In
his own farm at home, he said, the mule-stable was
in close proximity to his bed. Wake at what hour of
the night he might, he never failed to hear his mules
feeding; they might stop for a minute or two, but
that was all; yet when the morning came they were
ready for a long day's work.
"How much food do you give them?" I asked.
"The rule with us," he said, "is to give them all
they can eat. They work at it from the moment they
come into the stable in the evening till the moment
they start again the following morning. So it goes
on day after day and week after week, with only
Sundays off." 298

TIN-MINES OF HUAINA POTOSI
Next morning we were taken to see the shed where
the big machinery was to be installed when it came.
At present they had only a thirty horse-power water-
wheel, worked by the overflow of the glacier-lake,
and much of the ore was pounded up by human labor.
In this case the ore, broken small by hammering,
was spread out on a flat stone, and a big rounded
bowlder was rocked about upon it by means of a sta
ging fastened across the top of the bowlder, on which a
man stood, with legs well apart, throwing his weight
alternately on one foot and the other. This, no doubt,
is the ancient native method of working. The ores are
of various degrees of richness, and the work-people
(mostly women) who break them into small fragments
attain great skill in sorting them into different heaps,
according to their fineness. Ores of low grade are
pounded up, rolled, and washed on the spot, while
the richer ores are packed in bags and conveyed to the
coast for reduction. The engineer said that the Ind
ians are skilful in all mining operations, and can
easily be taught new processes. From the most an
cient times mining traditions have been handed down
among them, so that they approach all mining proc
esses with a ready intelligence. The work-people we
saw engaged came from the neighboring Puna. Some
merely stay for two or three weeks, then return to
their agricultural pursuits ; others remain for months,
and even years, in continual employment, making
good wages.

CHAPTER XXVII
LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
A BOUT the hour when we were ready to start away,
L\ half a dozen vicunas appeared, grazing high up
on the almost open hdl-side opposite to us — a
slope of the strangely regular sugar-loaf outlier of
Cacaaca, whose symmetrical, rounded top forms so re
markable a contrast with the bladed peak of its great
neighbor. Having no rifle with me, I was unable to
attempt a stalk, but our Belgian fellow-guest went off
in great haste, and began running up the hill. He
soon found that at this elevation such activity could
not long be maintained ; his trot became a walk, and
his walk a slow crawl, before any considerable frac
tion of the distance had been covered. Without taking
advantage of the inequalities of the ground, he made
straight for the vicunas, whose attention he soon at
tracted, whereupon they turned and fled. This was
the only group of vicunas I ever saw near the snow
line in the Cordillera. On the Puna, and especially
the southern part of it, in the direction of Sicasica,
we encountered several close to the high-road. There
they allowed us to approach within a distance of three
or four hundred yards, while they hardly took any
notice of a carriage or wagon passing along the road.
Our day's march led straight down the valley along
300

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
the left bank of the stream. Tbe direct trad to La
Paz hes right over the Huaina Potosi Hdl ; by it we
sent away the muleteer -nith the baggage. ^W object
tlus day was to investigate the group of vaUeys which
descend from between Cacaaca and Condoriri, con
verging one upon another, and finaUy issuing on to
the plain near the back of the Vdahaque HiU. The
existence of these valleys, and of others Hke them aU
along the range, is scarcely suspected by the traveUer
who has never been among them. The CordiUera, seen
from the Puna, appears to slope graduaUy down from
the foot of the snow to the plain by a series of imdu-
lating inclines, seamed here and there by valleys of
inconsiderable dimensions, eroded by mountain tor
rents. It is only on a closer inspection that the mag
nitude of these eroded vaUeys and the intricacv
of their upper extensions are discovered. They have
a tendency to throw off, just below the snow-level,
lateral vaUeys paraUel wdth the main ridge. Such
was the Haitkana VaUey on ]\Iount Sorata; such
also is this vaUey at the back of Huaina Potosi.
We were desirous, moreover, of finding out the direction
of another important pass, which crosses the range
south of Condoriri I even hoped to identdy the po
sition of a considerable lake, marked on a rough pub
lished map that professes to indicate a possible Hne
for a road leading from Penas by a pass over the
Corddlera to Challana. I was, however, unable
to see this lake; but there is Httle doubt that it is
a much smaUer sheet of water than the road-plan
made it appear. The road, however, is doubtiess
.^01

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
well designed, and should be made at an early date.
No important physical obstacles have to be overcome.
The Challana Valley is by nature very rich, and
would well repay settlement and development, but the
local Indians are troublesome. The road passing
through it would be the easiest and most direct route
from the Bolivian plateau to Puerto Ballivian, at the
junction of the Huanay and Coroico rivers, the Rio
Huanay being the stream that unites the waters of
the Mapiri, Tipuani, and Challana valleys. The
distance by this road from La Paz to Puerto Ballivian
would be three hundred and twenty-two kilometres.
The united river below Puerto Ballivian is named the
Rio Kaka. This, when united to the Rio de La Paz,
becomes the Rio Beni.
Riding along the easy floor of the wide and almost
level valley below the mine, we followed the trail marked
out for the cart-track, and thus presently reached
another important side vaUey, likewise filled at its
head with one of the glaciers of the Cacaaca massif.
A couple of high lakes below the glacier occupy hol
lows in the rock, once covered by ice, and form a beau
tifully picturesque foreground for the mountains be
hind. We presently approached yet a third side val
ley, at whose mouth are situated the ruins of a once
important Spanish silver-mining establishment. Its
corrals are still found useful for the caravans of beasts
of burden that come up to the Huaina Potosi Mine.
Formerly the three side valleys — that, namely, in
which the mine is now placed ; the second, which has
lakes in it; and the third, opening on the mine ruins
— discharged themselves directly and independently
302

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
down the main slope of the Cordillera to the plain.
But the two former have been beheaded, and their
waters turned into the third by means of this side val
ley, down which we had come, for it has eaten its way
back across them one after the other. The traces of
their older beds may still be observed on the lower
main slopes.
Thus far Condoriri had been a fine sight, with its
splendid precipices and bold summits. Indeed, seen
close at hand, it fully rivals Cacaaca in beauty, though
not quite equalling it in altitude. The southern face
is in part too precipitous for snow to rest upon, so that
the glaciers below are not now of great dimensions.
Formerly, however, they reached far down towards
the plain. The ice-worn valley, with its glacier-lake,
once the bed of this great ice-river, joins, below the
Indian village of Tuni, that down which we descend
ed. At present these valleys are sparsely peopled;
once they must have supported a larger population,
for many ruined huts and signs of abandoned culti
vation He scattered about. Below Tuni the snow-
mountains are gradually hidden from view by their
own shoulders, and the deep valley becomes barren
and desolate past description. It winds gently down
between bare slopes, with a stony and sometimes
boggy floor, including a wide stream-bed, which in
the rainy season is filled from side to side by a torrent,
but was now a mere waste of water-worn stones. For
eight or ten miles we rode down this depressing hollow,
with the clouds gathering heavier and heavier over
head, till rain pattered about us.
I insisted upon continuing the direct descent, being
303

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
determined to discover which of the streams, known
to us on the Puna, was the one that derived itself from
this source. In the rainy season it might, no doubt,
be easy enough to identify from the Puna the places
where the various streams, whose beds are crossed by
the highway, issue from the mountains ; but when, as
during the time of my visit, these streams are almost
without exception dried up, it is impossible to trace
their beds far back. Even from commanding positions
like the summit of Penas and Vilahaque hills, it is diffi
cult to be certain of the course followed by the streams
down the plain. Coming at last to where the valley
opened, the mystery was solved, and the Rio Sehuenca,
whose bed crosses the road just west of Machaca-
marca, proved to be the one derived from this valley.
This river empties into Lake Titicaca near Aigachi
A remarkable feature now revealed to us was the
great artificial and ancient canal, which here taps
the stream and carries off almost the whole of the
dry season supply of water. This beautifully engi
neered canal sweeps around the slope of the hill and
irrigates the fields between Vilahaque and Machaca-
marca, an admirable piece of native work.
Satisfied thus as to the main object of the day's
march, we mounted the great brown moorland close
by, following a track till we lost it among the grass
tussocks of the hill. A snow-storm now burst upon
us, and blotted out all distant view, so that for a time
we wandered rather vaguely, not quite knowing the
direction which should be taken. In the interval
of a brief clearance the plane-table was set up and
the correct bearing of the Alto de Lima observed, so
304

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
that thenceforward we were able to steer by compass
in whatever fogs or storms might overtake us. A
-wide prospect of apparently featureless slope stretched
ahead, and it seemed as though the route should prac
tically be level. But appearances were deceptive;
the slope, far from being continuous, was seamed
by an almost countless number of ravines, separated
from one another by round-topped ridges, between
every pair of which was a deep and often, in its low^er
part, very steep -sided gully. From gully to ridge
the ascent might be two hundred to three hundred feet.
The moment you reached the top of a ridge you com
menced the descent into a new gully, the distance
from crest to crest being anything from a quarter of
a rrdle to nearly a mile. This undulating character
of the country is not visible to a person gazing across
the undulations in the direction of his way; he may see
signs of a depression ahead of lum, but there appears
to be nothing beyond but an unbroken slope. This
deceptive appearance is so constant that, even after
a dozen such ribs and valleys have been laboriously
crossed, it stiU seems as though the next rib should be
the last. Of course, such ascents and descents, con
tinuaUy repeated, are both fatiguuig and monotonous,
and the fourteen or fifteen mUes of this kind of ground
over which we had to travel before reaching the Alto
were wearisome alike to man and beast. Once or twice
we came upon secluded vUlages hidden in these valley
bottoms, but they were small and wretched centres
of population. Below, to our right, a wide, inhabited
area of the Puna was always visible; it was only when
we approached the Alto that the cultivated land was
U 305

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
left behind, and the last open mile or two traversed
almost on the level of the high-road. Shortly before
sunset we dipped over the edge of the Alto and left
the Puna for the last time. We had traversed it in
one direction or another no fewer than nine times,
and were heartily sick of its dreary, bare ex
panse. Of course, there was much more work that I might
have undertaken in the northern part of the Cordil
lera had weather permitted, but clear days, and even
clear mornings, were now so few, and tbe storms of
rain and snow, blotting out all views, were of such
every-day occurrence, that any hope I might have
entertained of being able profitably to explore the high
valleys intervening between Mount Sorata and Con
doriri had to be abandoned. A couple of months
might well have been spent penetrating their fast
nesses and visiting the different passes by which
access may be obtained to the other side of the range ;
but in the rainy season that kind of work cannot be
pursued, and the fact that the rainy season was ap
proaching could no longer be doubted. In the pre
vious year the rains had held off till the month of
January, and all of November bad been fine; but the
penalty was now being paid by the unusually early
on-coming of the rains this year, to my no small mis
fortune. I stdl hoped to devote a few days to the ex
amination of the volcanic mountains (whereof Sajama
is the highest) on my southward way, but I found
it impossible to hire mules for the expedition, for the
people in La Paz were just then in a state of no little
excitement, and the first signs were perceptible of a
306

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
poHtical movement, which presently culminated in a
smaU revolution.
According to the then existing constitution of Bo
Hvia, one after another of the principal towns had the
right to take its tum as the capital. Sucre, Cocha-
bamba. La Paz, and, I beHeve, Oruro, have aU been
the capital at one time or another. La Paz, as by far
the largest to-wn and greatest commercial centre in
the country, not imnaturaUy felt that its business
received less attention from a legislature residing in
Sucre, which was at that time the capital, than it
would receive ff the legislature were at La Paz itseff.
It must be remembered that BoHvia is by no means a
homogeneous countr}' ; it is formed by the union of
provinces differing from one another to the most marked
extent. Some consist chiefly of tropical forests; oth
ers of almost Arctic table-lands. Some are agricidt-
ural ; the wealth of others is entirely mineral. Some
contain lands as rich as any in the world ; others are
mere deserts. It follows that the interests of such
different locaHties are widely divergent from one an
other, and the xjroblem of harmonizing those differ
ences is by no means easy. Again, there are few
lands in which the problems of locomotion are harder
of solution, for, under present circumstances, radways
cannot be carried to some of the richest areas of the
country, owing to great natural obstacles. Other
parts might easdy enough be suppHed with radways
but for the not unnatural jealousy of richer places
which cannot be so suppHed. It foUows that to pass
legislation in BoH-via for the development of any iso
lated part of the country is difficult, and the influence
307

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
of the place where the legislature meets is necessarily
an important factor.
La Paz for several years had been deprived (and
in the opinion of its citizens unjustly deprived) of
its right to receive the government and legislature.
Its inhabitants now began to clamor for their city to
take its tum as capital. Urffortunately, La Paz is
difficult of access, and Hes quite out of the way of aU
the southern and southeastern part of Boli-via. The
representatives of the parts of the country which are
not in easy communication with La Paz formed the
majority in the legislature. After a period of temporiz
ing, they finally passed a measure by which it was
decreed that for the future Sucre, and Sucre ordy,
should be BoHvia's capital. Now Sucre is a place
of very Httle importance in itseff, and would have
no claim to be capital were it not for the big govern
ment buddings that have been raised there, and the
fact that a number of influential persons have budt
themselves houses and settled down there. Sucre
is not a centre of agriculture, manufacture, or com
merce. The diplomatic representatives of foreign
countries make La Paz their home, and only pay
Sucre occasional -visits. Not unnaturaUy, therefore,
the people of La Paz felt that by this measure their
interests were seriously compromised. Enthusiastic
meetings were held during the last days of my stay
in the town, and it became evident that resistance
would be made.
A provisional government was formed in La Paz
and a proclamation issued to the effect that, ii Sucre
was to be the capital of Boli-via, the constitution
308

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
should be altered to a federal form, so that the De
partment of La Paz should become a self-governing
state in a Bolivian union. Ultimately, the matter
was referred to the arbitrament of war. Government
troops from Sucre and the south generally occupied
Oruro, while the people of La Paz marshalled their
forces for their own defence. The attempt to besiege
La Paz and reduce it failed. At last a battle decided
the issue and La Paz won the day. It is now the cap
ital, while the former President, Alonzo, had to give
place to General Pando, the commander of the north
ern forces. His position having been legalized by an
overwhelming popular vote, he was duly installed
President, and has proved himself to be one of the
most capable and energetic Presidents the country
ever possessed.
As far as fighting was concerned, little blood was
shed; but during the disturbances the Indians tended
to lapse into an anarchical state, though the mischief
did not go far. One or two local Indian risings, I
believe, took place. In Zongo, for instance, the go-
males were raided by Indian workmen, who plun
dered them of whatever was of value, besides putting
some people to death. At Corocoro also, the great
copper-mining centre, there was an Indian rising,
and the white manager of one of the mines fled with
his wife and daughter. Some blundering official,
through whose district they were passing, turned
them back because they had no passport!— the result
being that they were overtaken by an Indian mob.
It is asserted that their lives were not in danger, but
at all events the man thought they were, and, mind-
309

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
ful of the past history of Indian uprisings, he shot
his wife and daughter and took his own life. But
these were sporadic cases of lawlessness. Order was
quickly restored. The fact that no general rising took
place serves to prove how well, on the whole, the Ind
ians are restrained by the small white population of
Bolivia, whom they outnumber by at least fifteen to
one. At such a time it was not, of course, easy to organize
a mountaineering expedition to Sajama. I was re
luctantly obliged to abandon the project and to con
tent myself with journeying down to the coast by the
ordinary high-road to Oruro, and the railway thence
to Antofagasta. The baggage was packed and de
livered over to the carriers, and the last morning of
my sojourn in La Paz arrived. It was a brilliant
day, and I was early afoot, when the Bolivian ladies,
in their black manteaux, were just returning from
mass. In the shade, under the blank pink wall over
against the church, sat a long row of women behind their
baskets of flowers — roses, pinks, verbenas, and many
garden blossoms unknown to me. The street was
flooded with sunshine, and the dark shadows hid them
selves under the wide eaves. The Alto wall around
the town, and Illimani in the far distance, were check
ered with blue shadows. White towers of cloud were
mounting behind the Cordillera into the blue sky.
Doctor Bridgeman, the able and kindly United States
Minister, was awaiting me at the door of the Legation,
with a big horse ready saddled for my use. We rode
away, noisily caracoling down the cobbled streets,
through the Alameda, and so out along the road bor-
310

LAST RIDE OVER THE PUNA
dered by suburban gardens, all a mass of blossom,
fragrantly scenting the air. The hedges of rose and
cactus foUowed, and the place where water drips
over and covers a cliff with moss and Httle starhke
white flowers. Once again I entered Obrajes, that
charming country resort of the gentry of La Paz.
We visited an old lady of courthest manners, who took
us into her garden, showed us aU its rich promises
of fruit, and would have burdened us down -with nose
gays of flowers had there been any means of carrying
them off. Before the heat of the day we trotted back
to La Paz to breakfast at the United States Legation.
The rest of the day was devoted to paying bdls and
calls, and making the last arrangements for depart
ure. The usual thunder-storm and downpour of rain
came in the afternoon, and not tmtd late at rught did
the stars look forth.

CHAPTER XXVIII
LA PAZ TO ORURO
THE heavy rains of November I2tli were succeeded
by a brilliant morning of hot sunshine, cool air,
and dust for once well laid. At an early hour
the guides and I sallied forth from our hotel, accom
panied by a party of our best friends, and proceeded
to the post-station, where the public coach that was to
carry us and two or three other passengers to Oruro was
drawn up, with the baggage-wagon behind it. Both
had a ramshackle appearance. The baggage-wagon
seemed, and was, too Hght for the unusually heavy load
that my luggage amounted to. At seven o'clock, after
many delays, all was ready. The horses were cast off ;
the driver stamped and whistled; we waved farewell
to our acquaintances, and, for the fourteenth time,
began traversing the zigzags that lead up to the Alto.
As we rose, the surrounding mountains disentangled
themselves from their lower slopes and mounted into the
air. Illimani, with a school of white clouds floating
around it, was almost like a thing transparent, seen
through some of the self-same veil of azure firmament
that bides the night of space behind the fiction of sky,
which to-day was pervaded by a fiery light unusually
fierce. Cacaaca, in another quarter of the horizon,
shone sharp and solid in its mantle of new-fallen snow,
312

iw\ r,\/ ro oiuiK'o
which trailed all around il far down on lo the jilain.
Tbe little liclds of llu- suburbs were all fresh wilh young
grei'ii shoots, and Indians were piping among them.
Driving with gn-al ciicrg}-, and helped by an extra
leain of mules hitched on in fronl, we made quick
jisceni, lopping Ihe ,\llo in ;iii hour and a half, and
gaining there our last gliiiip.se of Ihe hospitahle town
we had left.
We galloped olT al a splendid pace .icro.ss Ihe plain,
and saw its wide undulations stretching awa}- in
niMii}' directions, while with snow, Ihe pink bills lifting
Ihemselves lu-}ond il lo Ihe west in hot sunshine.
I'\)r .several miles our jehii drove with a fury Ihal e\-
prcs.sed il.self in Ihe agilalion of his voice and of all
his limbs .it oiue. He carried under his .seal a large
collection of rocks, which he violenti}' and skilfully
Ibrew, one b}- ttne, al the leaders, hilling them where
be pleased, ami sonieliiues making an intentional
cannon olT a wheeler on to a leader, or olT one leader
onto Ihe other. 1 le also carried an extra Iraci^bar,
lilted wilh loose rings al the ends and middle. With il
lie jabbed Ihe wheelers in Ihe rear, making a great
clatter with Ihe rings, or .sometimes merely knocked
the thing againsi the fool board lo make the rings
ratlle, an indication of readiness to act which his team
was quick lo niulcrsland. Thus stamping bis feet,
\elling, throwing stones, raltling his bar, or taking
a turn at the whip, ho slimulatcil the team lo great
exerlion, and covered Ihe ground al a wild speed, and
Ibis, iu>twitbslandiiig the roughness of Ihe road, the
short, steep ii.scents and descents. Ihe stones that lay
(ibout, and Ihe consciiiient leaping and jolting of the

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
vehicle, which made the passengers hang on to their
seats like grim death and rattled the teeth in their
heads. Such hysterical vigor could not be prolonged
all day. We soon found that it alternated with peri
ods in which our driver blissfully slept on his box, sit
ting upon the reins, while his mules or ponies crawled
along at a snail's pace. The duration of periods of
activity and repose seemed, however, to be well cal
culated, for, except in case of an accident, we never
failed to arrive at the different post-stages very near
ly at the prearranged time.
For some miles the way was well known to us, and
the scenery remained of the kind characteristic of
the Puna, save that the Cordillera was more and more
hidden from view by intervening low hills. We could
see the clouds piling themselves up behind it and
gradually nodding over, but Illimani remained clear
and grew to be almost insignificant beneath the mighty
mountain of white cloud that was elevated behind it.
The power of the sun soon made itself felt, and the
light dust began to fly, so that we breathed it in and
had our clothes saturated by it. Mirages, like broad
Titicaca itself, inundated the plain, and the western
hills rose out of them like islands, pink in sunshine,
purple in shadow. Vicunas were not infrequently
seen in different directions, and once a splendid condor
rose from the road just in front of the horses and soared
magnificently aloft.
Every two or three hours there was a halt to change
teams, and the humors of the different beasts formed
the chief interest of the way. They were generally
wild at starting, calling forth the reserve power of
314

LA PAZ TO ORURO
our driver, really a splendid whip. The way he dealt
with a couple of rearing leaders, who turned round
and looked him in the face, was a sight to see; he
appeared to assail them simultaneously with his whip
while jabbing at the wheelers and enveloping the
wdiole team in a shower of stones. Gradually the
wide plain we were traversing narrowed to a mere
valley as we passed, at no great distance, a small
square-topped hill with a broad ramp artdicially con
trived for its ascent. It had the appearance of some
staged Mexican temple in ruins, and was doubtless
another of the sacred high places of prehistoric Bo
livia. The population now^ became sparse, the vil
lages few and far betw^een; it w^as seldom that we
encountered any one upon the road. At nud-day,
under the glaring vertical sun, drowsiness invaded us
all, and we slept till suddenly awakened by the ap
proach of the mail-cart coming in the opposite direc
tion from Oruro, the first civilized vehicle we had en
countered. Both drivers stopped and gazed in sdence
at one another for some time, as though pleased to
meet, but having nothing whatever to say. At last one
inquired : " What news ?' '
"Nothing," replied the other.
"What did he say?" asked the first, continuing,
doubtless, a conversation a fortnight old.
"Nothing," was the answer.
"Good," said the first, and they drove on.
This was the longest conversation I heard our driver
take part in during the three days we were together.
The land about us was generally stony and un
cultivated, but once or twice we passed through green,
315

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
sweet-smelling areas where dwarf junipers were grow
ing. Sometimes we encountered caravans of llamas
travelling their slow way along the road, or again
we met them scattered abroad over the country, pick
ing up the nourishment they require from dried plants,
of whose existence the eye scarcely made one aware,
while their drivers were resting near the piled-up
loads. A mile or two before reaching the village of Ayoayo
the road began to be bordered at regular and frequent
intervals by tall mud-built piers of the time of the
Spaniards, each simple in form, but by their mere
multitude and regularity of alignment producing quite
a noble effect. They are the remnants of the long se
ries which, I am told, in ancient days marked out all
the route from Lima to the famous mines of Potosi.
As we approached the village where we were to spend .
the night, heavy clouds gathered overhead and began
to drop rain. There was every sign of an approach
ing thunder-storm, but no considerable amount of
rain fell. At sunset a stream of glowing color poured
forth through an opening in the heavens, framed
by the leaden earth below, the leaden clouds above,
and by pillars of thunder-storm on either hand — a
window to the west bordered and barred with gold.
The mellow light, caught by the mud walls of the
fields and houses of the village, transfigured them
into the likeness of palaces built of precious stones.
The general round of a day's experiences in travelling
over the high Bolivian plateau at this time of year
closely resembled the experiences of a traveller in
the desert mountain region within Kashmir. The
316

LA PAZ TO ORURO
early morning was always so brightly cold that one's
feet became numb, and the whole body suffered great
discomfort from chdl. Only by beating the arms
against the chest and stamping could a little sensa
tion be maintained in hands and feet. Sunrise brought
a blissful hour of thaw, in which sensation returned
to the body, whde the radiant heat of the sun was
tempered by cool air. All too quickly this pleasant
time passed, as the sun rose, raging, into the heavens,
flooded the wide, bare landscape w ith its glare of light,
too brilliant for the eye to rest upon, and poured its
torment of heat on the suffering wa}'farer. The
power of observation was quickly burned up, and the
traveller settled down to a dreamy condition of suf
fering, in which the hours dragged themselves slowly
along and the hoped-for evening loitered. Late in
the afternoon, perhaps, clouds which had long been
gathering around the horizon rose high enough aloft
to hide the sun, and a great relief and joy was im
mediately felt. The evening hour, whether cloudy or
not, brought a delicious return of comfort; the mind
resumed its control, observation awakened, the land
scape regained its beauty and grew even yet more
beautfful, until the sun set in momentary glory and
the night came on. Even then the cold hesitated to
return, for the hot earth kept it at bay for hours after
the stars had come out in all their splendor and the
evening clouds had faded away.
The second morning of our drive was cold and gray,
till the sun rose colorless in the midst of a white mist.
The road lay along a well-marked river valley, with
pilastrons beside it at frequent intervals. The most
317

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
interesting sight was an abandoned prehistoric village
of little rectangular mud huts roofed with mud, every
hut standing separate from its neighbor, most of them
arranged in a row in echelon, each so situated that
the side in the midst of which the door was cut faced
the east. The ancient inhabitants were buried be
neath the floors of these houses. The hideous pile
of human remains recently excavated, which lay
about the huts, witnessed the activity of the Bando
liers. A little way farther on came the village fes
tively named Patac-Amaya (Hundred Corpses), the
site, I suppose, of some ancient battle. Here occurred
a change in domestic architecture, the usual Indian
house now apparently consisting of a round building
and an oblong one in connection. Such round houses
I had not before seen in Bolivia.
As we halted to change horses, Mr. Bandolier and
his wife, who were on the lookout for us, walked up,
to my great delight. The top of Illimani was still
in sight in one direction, and Sajama would have been
visible in the other if the weather had been clear ; so,
at all events, they told me. I still had hopes of being
able to make up a caravan at Oruro to visit Sajama
and ascend the mountain from the tin-foundry Chang-
amoco. Mr. Bandelier promised to come with me.
He gave an account of his excavations, which had
been productive of very interesting results, enabling
him to reconstruct much of the ancient village-life of
tbe people in this neighborhood. A mile or two farther
on a wheel of the coach went wrong as we were passing
a rather large farm. The driver appealed to the farmer
for assistance, and the curious process of adjustment
318

LA PAZ TO ORURO
was begun. A rough kind of .screw-jack was pro
duced. Lifting the axle off the ground, the wheel
was taken off and the bub r)acked with a lot of old
sacking, richly greased and wedged in with a number
of bits of wood. Unsatisfactory though the mending
•seemed, it apparentiy sufficed, for after half an hour's
halt we were able to proceed, though only at a snad's
pace. The team was a wretched one. Every mule
had a sore back and shoulder, nor could the driver,
even by cruelly searching out the sores with his whip,
provoke the miserable beasts out of a walk.
The .scenery remained ever the same. On the left
was the long line of hdls which had begun in the neigh
borhood of La Paz, there forming the right bank of
the valley of the La Paz River and the eastern margin
of the Puna. On the right, isolated hills emerged
from the plain, which was covered here and there
with patches of the green junijjer, called guarda rosea.
There was hardly a house, or even a ruin or abandoned
field. A long, gentle a.scent led over a wide col to the
town of Sicasica, whence a broad sort of basin came
into view, with the next post-station. Aroma, visible
at the far side of it, and the long dip and rise of the
road clearly traceable between. With a new team we
made fine progress, and were just approaching Aroma
when news was brought, by a horseman galloping
after us, that the baggage-wagon had utterly broken
down a mile or two back, the wheel being smashed
past hope of repair. No such thing as a cart was to be
had nearer than Oruro in one direction, and La Paz
in the other, the place where the accident occurred
being practically half-way between the two. It was
319

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
decided, therefore, to telegraph from Sicasica to La
Paz for another wagon to be sent, involving a delay
of two days. The wagon ultimately arrived, after
the loss of one more day, loaded up the baggage, and
brought it on another quarter of the journey. Then
another smash, and consequent further delay, oc
curred. This time they rode into Oruro for assistance,
brought out yet a third wagon, and with that debvered
our goods safely, but nearly a week late, at the rad
way station. This loss of a week finally knocked
on the head any possibdity there might have been
of my -visiting Mount Sajama. Fortunately, I had
a few packages in our own vehicle, and so was not
entirely deprived of comforts in the interval, as were
most of my feUow-traveUers.
In the hot afternoon we ascended and descended
some valleys, trending in the same direction as the
road, and crossed two low passes. I slept most of the
time, holding on to the seat, till soft, hazy clouds cov
ered the sun at 4 P.^L, and a cool breeze sprang up.
In less than an hoiu" CarocoUo was reached, and the
days journey ended. CarocoUo is rather a large
Indian village or town, occupying the site of an an
cient settiement On the hdl, without the present
boundaries of the place, there He ruins of mud huts
like broken towers. I spent some time examining
theriL They were not square on plan, as from the
distance they appeared, but oblong and very narrow-
inside, the walls being thick, and the roofs formed
by a false arch held in place by the immense amount
of material pded up. The doors were small and low,
pointed at the top, with false arches. It was necessary

LA PAZ TO ORURO
to go down on one's knees to crawl in. There were
no windows, and the chambers were more like graves
than places for dwelling. Here also, with but few
exceptions, the doors opened towards the east, and the
houses were so planted that one should not interfere
with the eastward view from the door of another. In
Mr. Bandolier's opinion, this eastward position does
not necessarily imply any sun-worship, and may have
no religious significance, but merely be due to the de
sire of the people for warmth, the low sun striking
in from the east, bringing the morning warmth most
quickly into these cold shelters. I was interested by
his statement, but unconvinced.
Beyond CarocoUo we entered an immense flat, with
hills on the left, and others far away to the right.
Straight in front was a separate group, seen end on,
at the farther extremity of which, we were informed, was
the town of Oruro, nine leagues away. For traversing
these nine leagues a single team of mules was alone
supplied, there being no post-house between Carocol-
lo and Oruro. In three leagues came green, mossy,
boggy ground, whitened with a saline deposit as
with hoar frost. The road was heavy even now; in
the rainy season all this flat is a great swamp, over
which the coaches have to be dragged hub-deep in
slime. They are often stuck, and even broken up,
at that time; so that it is no matter for wonder if Bo
livians prefer to stay at home during the rainy months
and do their travelling in the dry time of year. The
endless row of pilastrons stretching across this great
flat, league after league, was really an imposing sight,
whde the road, wandering about to right and left to
X 321

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
avoid old ruts or specially noxious swamps, was of
very mediaeval appearance. Our team was soon tired,
and seldom quickened its pace beyond a walk. Once
or twice halts were made of half an hour's dura
tion to rest the beasts. Thus, in the cold morning
some of us preferred walking, and gained a consider
able advance upon the coach. Our Colombian fellow-
traveller was farthest ahead. I caught up with him
resting under the shadow of one of the pilastrons,
when the heat began to prevail. He called to know
ff I had any food. I said "No." "Yesterday," he
said, "breakfast little, bad, and dear; dinner little,
bad, and dear; this morning no breakfast. I am
hungry!" I fully sympathized with him, so we sat
down and hungered together.
I found by experiment that the distance between two
pilastrons was one hundred and forty paces. When
the coach caught us up, I climbed on board, and
asked the driver how many pilastrons go to a league.
" Segun," he replied, "according to circumstances."
Every one presently went to sleep, nor did I wake till
the Oruro Hill was at hand. Along its foot are the
clearly marked traces of a former lake that once sub
merged it to a depth of two hundred feet or more. The
whole of the plain that here surrounded us is the
bed of an ancient lake, whose margin can still be
traced afar. Mr. Minchin reckons that this inland
sea, now shrunk to the dimensions of Lake Poopo,
was formerly twenty thousand square miles in area.
Whether its waters were anywhere continuous with
those of the expanded Lake Titicaca, I do not know,
but such was probably the case.
322

LA PAZ TO ORURO
The fact that we were approaching Oruro was mani
fested by the signs of mining activity on the slopes of
the hill to our right. At last, from the summit of a
gentle slope, the town came into view; not a Span
ish-looking town like La Paz or Arequipa, but rather
an exaggerated Indian village of mud huts, crowded to
gether along cobbled road- ways. Only when the heart
of the town was reached did we come to streets of
civilized houses and to municipal buildings of some
dignity. It was a pleasure to find a reasonably good
hotel, and a still greater delight to be presently re
ceived into the comfortable house of Mr. Penny, pro
prietor of the famous San Jose silver -mine. His
home is the centre for all English visitors, and I was
made free of it with the kindest hospitality. There I
had the good fortune to meet Mr. Minchin, whose
knowledge of Bolivia is second to no man's. During
many years he surveyed important areas of the coun
try for the Bolivian government, and he has been
connected with most of the important mining centres.

CHAPTER XXIX
ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
OWING to our baggage troubles, I w^as delayed
several days in Oruro, where the guides had the
misfortune to fall foul of the local police. What
they did that offended against the laws they hardly
seemed to understand. At all events, one of them w^as
"run in," and the other went along with him. Ar
rived at the police station, a gendanne told him that
he must pay five dollars He refused. "Then," said
the gendarme, "you must stay in prison." Both
guides protested loudly, and demanded that I should
be sent for. This was refused.
"Ultimately," as Pellissier related, "I began to
think that in this country people generally asked more
than they intended to get, and that by bargaining
you could beat down the price of anything you wanted
to buy, so I thought I w^ould try and bargain with
them. I said, ' I have not got five dollars, but I have
got fifty cents, and that I will give you.' They said
no — four dollars would do. So then I appealed to
my comrade, who said he had ten cents more, so we
offered sixty cents." The police then lowered their
price, and ultimately terms were arranged on a com
promise of eighty cents. The relation of this story
to my friends brought out many more about the Oruro
324

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
police, who do not seem to enjoy a very favorable repu
tation among the foreign inhabitants of the town.
I suppose their main business is to keep order among
the Indians, and I judge by appearances that they
do that work well enough. It is more than possible
that between a set of ill-paid, uneducated men, en
dowed with the power of police, and a party of foreign
mining engineers, accustomed to the habits of Euro
pean countries, relations may sometimes be strained.
The substantial fact, however, must be borne in mind
that in this remote country order is preserved among
an overwhelming body of semi-savage Indians, so
that important commercial enterprises can be carried
on and substantial profits made.
In La Paz and its neighborhood I had only met
three Englishmen or Americans, the foreign colony
there being almost entirely composed of Germans
engaged in retail trade; but at Oruro there were over
forty English, all managing mines or machinery.
Speaking generally, this was characteristic of South
America: where work was to be done involving the
management of men in any numbers, or of machinery,
there was generally an English-speaking person in
control; whereas, where it was a question of selling
cheap goods to suit the local taste and requirements,
such trade was in the hands of Germans. Germany
has learned what England has not, the importance
and profitableness of exporting her shopkeepers. In
the great tide of English emigration, the shopkeeping
element has taken but a small part.
One day my kind hosts drove me out to visit the
mine. The well-appointed laudau and pair, with a
325

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
stylish coachman on the box, was rather a strange
sight in a street of Indian mud huts and on the desert
outside the town. The hill, in which the San Jos6 and
other mines are situated, lies immediately behind the
town, and is visible from all parts of it. It has been
known for its rich silver deposits since the days of the
Spaniards, and the gash made by the old Spanish
workings is a prominent feature on the hill-side. At
one time its wealth was believed to be exhausted, but
large veins of ore of great richness were afterwards
discovered, and it will be many years before they are
worked out. The hill is now tunnelled with many
galleries, while there is a shaft a thousand feet deep
descending into the very bowels of the earth. The
trouble here, as in so many other Bolivian mines, is
to keep the deep level workings free of water, for the
water that rushes in is strongly impregnated with
chemicals which eat up iron and render ordinary
pumping operations impossible. The water has to
be hoisted out of the mine by an endless chain of great
leather buckets, which alone can resist the chemical
action. For this and other purposes considerable
steam-power is required. Whatever coal is used has
to be brought up by the narrow-gauge railway from
sea-level to this high altitude, a distance of nine hun
dred and twenty-four kilometres. By the time it ar
rives, it is a very costly fuel. The only fuels produced
by the Bolivian plateau are the resinous balsam bark,
called yareta, the tola shrub, and the droppings of
Uamas. A large trade is done in the last mentioned,
which up tdl recently was the commonest fuel at Oruro,
though coal, I believe, is now beginning to displace it.
. 326

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
Not without astonishment, when I entered the pre
cincts of the San Jose Mine, did I observe the elaborate
and excellent machinery in operation, every piece of
which, brought at great expense to the town, had after
wards to be dragged up the hill through several hun
dred feet of altitude by human labor. The adventures
of a large boiler in this last part of its transit were
described to me as most exciting, but Indians have
the capacity of working well together in large bodies,
pulling at word of command; and it is found possible
to convey a machine of almost any weight to whatever
position may be needed by the labor of men and mules.
On a square space outside the entrance to the principal
gallery a great multitude of Indian women were gath
ered, breaking up and sorting the ore, putting the rich
pieces in one heap, the second quality in another, the
third in another, and so on. The best ores are sent to
Europe for reduction; the worst are treated in the
neighborhood. Much tin is found with the silver,
besides some copper and antimony, while there are,
unfortunately, many patches of pyrites. The whole
hill is permeated with metallic veins. In the im
mediate neighborhood of the mine are numbers of small
houses for the laborers, of whom an average of eight
hundred are kept at work. Some of these people stay
for life ; some only come between the sowing and reap
ing of the harvest or for the dead season.
The view from this point looking abroad on the
Pampa to the hills, over which runs the road to Cocha-
bamba and the fertde regions of the east, was wide,
barren, and rather monotonous ; but there were pointed
out to me in all directions the sites of mines or of min-
327

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
eral deposits of known wealth — difficulties of working,
lack of water, or impediments to easy access, and con
sequent costliness of fuel, alone preventing, under
present conditions of restricted capital, the whole area
from being the scene of a great activity. The range
of hills running northward from this point towards
La Paz is rich in minerals. About Sicasica several
mines are worked in a tentative fashion, and there
are large known deposits both of sdver and tin. In
order to exploit them properly, the radway would have
to be extended from Oruro, a matter of little difficulty ;
for it would be possible to lay down a line almost ex
actly along the route followed by the road, whose
gradients are usually quite gentle. Only one or two
cuttings of moderate size would be required, and no
tunnels whatever. The same railway might easdy be
prolonged to the great copper-mining centre of Coro
coro, and thence to the edge of the La Paz Valley.
Such a railway, of course, would not pay, unless it
were made in connection with some large mining
concessions; but railway and mines together would
undoubtedly produce a large profit, if the requisite
capital were brought together and directed honestly
and skilfully. From the mine we drove across the
Pampa to the pumping-station which supplies Ornro
with water. The furnaces of the big engine were
being fed with llama droppings, and, as usual, I found
an intelligent Scotch engineer in charge.
Throughout these days at Oruro my poor guides
were terribly bored. They lay on their beds most of
the time, yearning for the guides' room of a Swiss
hotel and utterly unable to take anv interest in their
328

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
surroundings. They did not even care to w'alk up
to the mine, though I procured for them an order to
view it and the kind promise of the foreman to show
them over. This lack of interest in anything outside
their profession is a normal characteristic of Alpine
guides. The only one I ever came across who was
always on the alert for new impressions and informa
tion of all sorts was my excellent companion in the
Himalaya, Zurbriggen. Wherever he w^ent he always
wanted to know everything there was to be known, and
the amount of miscellaneous information he used to
pick up in a day's journey was quite remarkable. His
note-book w^as his constant companion ; its pages were
filled with sketches and statistics of all sorts. Thus
time never hung heavily on his hands; he was as
happy in a new town as in a new range of snow moun
tains. Travelling guides of that calibre will, I sup
pose, always be few, but ultimately the future of moun
tain exploration will largely depend upon them. ]\Ia-
quignaz was as good a guide in the mountains as
one could wish to have, and a most cheerful and merry
companion in rough places, but in towns he became
perfectly miserable, and all my efforts to interest him
met with poor success.
With the assistance of Mrs. Penny, I was at last
successful in procuring a suit of Indian clothes. The
difficulty in getting them was that they are not sold
ready made, but are usually stitched together for a
man by the women of his household. One of Mrs.
Permy's native servants, however, knew of a local
tador, and went to order the things. He came back
to inquire when the person for whom they were in-
329

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
tended would go to be measured; he was sent back to
say that they were wanted to fit no particular person,
an answer which completely staggered him.
"But how can I make the clothes for nobody in
particular?" he said.
" They are for a gentleman who wants to take them
to Europe," was the answer.
"Then, I suppose, I must make them to fit him."
"No, that is not necessary; he does not want to
wear them."
"Then who is going to wear them? Is he big or
little?" It took two or three visits before the man could be
made to understand the situation, and, when the clothes
were finished, the tailor was still protesting that if they
didn't fit it was not his fault.
Mr. Minchin gave me a boxful of beautiful speci
mens of the ores in the neighboring hills, and also
presented me with a valuable series of tracings of his
surveys in the parts of Bolivia I had traversed. Thus
enriched, and with my baggage at last safely delivered,
I was ready to depart from Bolivia.
From Oruro to the port of Antofagasta, the journey
is made by a narrow-gauge railroad. There are three
trains each way every week, and each of them takes
three days to accomplish the distance. But the one
that starts on Saturday halts for Sunday at Uyuni,
while none of them move during the night. There
was a great assemblage of passengers and their
friends at the railway station, and the tame vicuna
of the town came down, as its habit is, to see the train
330

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
off. This vicuna lives a rather wforried life, for the
dogs of the tcAvn constantly chase it about, and it
has to fl}' for protection to its scattered human friends.
But at the railway station it received much attention,
and went about apparently taking notice of who was
going awa}', and levying contributions from such
persons as had food in their pockets. It happened
that the prefect and his staff were going to a place
about fifty miles olT. I was invited to share their
carriage. The railwa}' manager, Herr Kempf, was of
the part}', so I had the great advantage of conversing
with him for two or three hours as we went along.
There was no change in the character of the scenery,
which still resembled in all essentials that of the Puna.
Oruro is 12,200 feet above sea- level, approximately
the altitude of Lake Titicaca, and we were destined
to spend the best part of three more days in these high
desert regions. On one side of the line is the con
tinuation of the Cordillera; on the other, island hills
emerge from the alluvium, with the old water-line of
the lake traceable on their flanks. The talk in the train
was all about the mineral deposits in the surrounding
conutr}'. Here, they said, tin was to be found; there,
copper; there, silver. Great wealth was promised to
the man wiio properh' developed each of these mines.
As we advanced southward the sun rose higher in
Ihe heavens, and the day became hot. Once more
mirages invaded the plain, and the hills rose out of
them like islands, while the little mounds resembled
rowing-boats, and sometimes the tussocks of grass
close at hand were mistaken for the sads of ships in
the distance.

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
During several hours of the morning we must have
been in full view of Lake Poopo, for which I was con
stantly on the lookout, yet never once was I certainly
sure of beholding it, and my note-book bears evidence
of a strange perplexity. "Lake Poopo (?) in sight,
with hills on the far side of it prettily colored." Again,
"Fascinating view; dead flat desert, with meagre
yareta mounds and wire -grass, dotted with llamas;
shepherds' huts floating in mirage. Farther on,
whether mirage or lake I know not ; then pearly hills
and soft blue sky. But one should see such a view
as this from a camel's back; a train is an anomaly
here. After all, I conclude there is no lake in sight.
It is all mirage. . . . No, it is not mirage, it is
Lake Poopo, with mirage along its meagre shore."
This deceptive landscape lasted two or three hours,
till the mirages faded away and the clear desert emerged
once more — the beautiful, shining desert, with its
bright sand, gay or sad according to your humor,
the purple-pink hills beyond, the clear sky, and the
great sense of space, which even the hills neither limit
nor destroy, except when they come close and show the
barrenness of their unfurnished sides.
We sometimes came near enough to the foot of the
hills to see their naked rocks undercut by the long-
ago dried-up waves of the inland sea. Then we en
tered a more broken-up region, in which were winding
canyons, gay with all the tints of Colorado — strange
shapes of red earth, with mounds cut into queer forms ;
red hdls, horizontally stratified with interposed slabs
of harder rock, denuded into terraces and seamed up
and down by a multitude of parallel gullies. Swing-
332

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
ing round a corner, we burst suddenly upon the view
of a wide, dry river-bed, snow white, with the salt de
posit cutting across and strongly contrasting with a
series of steep-tilted slates, green, red, blue, purple in
color, and distant blue hills peeping over behind them.
All trace of human beings had now vanished; there
were not even the footprints of man, but only the tracks
of wild vicunas visible in sandy places. Presently,
as the sun was sinking, the desert widened out once
more, smoking with blown dust in the far distance,
where, out of it, as from a cloud, low blue hills undu
lated against a lemon sky. It seemed as though we
must be on the very margin of the world, the limit of
human habitation, when suddenly the train rattled
into the big railway station of Uyuni (12,010 feet),
an important centre of mineral traffic.
Having deposited the guides at a good French hotel
near the station, I proceeded to try and make arrange
ments for visiting the Pulacayo silver-mine, to which
a branch road goes up from Uyuni. I was amply sup
plied with efficient letters of introduction, and was at
once put in communication with the mine by tele
phone, but was rather puzzled to find that a visit would
not prove welcome to the people in authority. The
mystery was afterwards satisfactorily explained. The
mine, till a few years ago, was one of the richest silver-
mines in the world — so rich, in fact, that the amount
of traffic it was capable of supplying enabled the rad
way to be built from the sea up to Uyuni. Later on
the line was carried to Oruro to tap the mines there,
as no doubt in future it will be carried to Sicasica for
a similar reason. Unfortunately for the shareholders
333

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
of Pulacayo and of the neighboring reduction-works
at Huanchaca, which depend upon Pulacayo, the day
came when the mine was inundated with a great in-
flush of water, submerging five mdlion dollars' worth
of silver ore at that moment in sight. The mine being
situated in a hdl, and the bottom of it above the level
of the plain, this would not have mattered if in the
days of its prosperity some of its abundant profits
had been invested in boring a big drainage tunnel
from the bottom of the mine out to the open plain.
As it was, the inundation was fatal, and mining oper
ations were thenceforward much restricted. My pe
culiar misfortune was to arrive just when, through the
breaking down of some machinery, the water made
sudden headway and invaded the levels that were
still being worked, thereby threatening the very ex
istence of the industry. Not unnaturally, the moment
was regarded as inauspicious for a visit from a traveller
well known in the country to be taking notes. I am,
therefore, unable to describe one of the largest and
most elaborately organized of the mining enterprises
of Bolivia. Since 1898 the company has entered upon
a new period of great prosperity, fresh lodes of valu
able ores having been discovered above the water-
level. The whole of the following day (being Sunday)
was a time of very pleasant repose. Late in the after
noon I wandered forth from the little town on to the
great desert that surrounds it, a desert almost incredi
bly flat and uncompromisingly barren, covered over
large areas, at or close to the surface, with a cake of
rocklike solidity, beneath which was sand. Numerous
334

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
skeletons of mules were lying about near the tracks
radiating from the town. The gaunt bones, sticking
up through thin layers of mirage, looked like the ribs
of wrecked ships. The same atmospheric agency
distorted an approaching caravan of llamas into the
semblance of a forest. At sunset the desert became
black beneath a motionless canopy of high mist, barred
with blue. The remote hills, no longer vague in the
trembling heat, stood forth as clear-cut purple islands
against the light green western sky. There was no
flying dust nor flurrying wind, but all was calm, silent,
and reposeful.
In the clear, cool morning of the following day the
journey was resumed, still over the flat desert, whose
surface is red, incredibly smooth, and hard, like the
surface of a baked brick. The hills near and far were
again flooded about their base with mirage, from
which they were reflected as from the waters of a rip
pled lake. Even the blueness of the distant slopes
appeared in the reflection, contrasting with the brown
of those nearer at hand. Among my fellow-travellers
was a man, typical of many Europeans one meets
in South America — a hardened adventurer of twenty
to thirty years' experience, who had come out originally
on some particular job, full of energy and hope, and
meaning only to stay a year or two, but who had re
mained on, turning his hand to one thing and another,
never very successful, often almost ruined, till the
hopes of ever seeing home again had faded away
with the memory of the friends of his youth and the
habits and almost the language of the country of his
birth. South America had laid its hand upon him;
335

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
all his enthusiasms were gone, and even a temporary
success no longer sufficed to overcome the settled
sadness of his habit of mind. He had lost energy
and initiative, so he told me, and was content, whenever
possible (in the manner of the country), to put off till
to-morrow anything that he could avoid doing to
day. He had worked in the Argentine, in Chile, in
Bolivia, in Peru, and was a mine of reminiscence of
strange adventure. Withal, there had developed in
him that kindliness of heart and gentleness of de
meanor which is one of the charms of South America,
expressing itself in ready exchange of cocktails and in
other acts of hospitality.
The line crossed the salt, white-banked Rio Grande,
which creeps to its death in a saline swamp. Hour
after hour the sameness of the scenery continued,
yet without monotony to a new-comer. The rad-
road led on in long stretches, so that, looking forward
or back when the air was clear, the traveller saw it
disappear in the distance by the mere curvature of
the earth. More generally in the hot hours of mid
day it vanished into mirage. Out of the feigned water
there rose the smoke of the freight-train that was fol
lowing us, like the smoke of a steamer on the horizon.
The only thing that altered was the texture of the
desert surface, white or gray, rough or smooth, barren
or sprinkled with tussocks of grass. Not a bird
hovered over it, not a man stumbled along it, never
a house came in view, seldom a track, or even a vicuna.
At last we entered the volcanic mountain district of
the Western Cordillera, and, crossing the Chilean
¦ frontier, stopped for lunch at Ollague (12,126 feet).
336

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
A volcano, puffing white steam in small jets from its
lofty crater, rose above the station, with a small crater
at its foot, whereon was fashioned in enormous letters
the words " Viva Chile." All the hills and the ground
beneath them, utterly bare of vegetation, were red
or yellow in color, or of white ashes dotted over with
black cinders.
From this point on, for about two hundred kilo
metres, the journey was most exciting ; for the train
wandered in and out among volcanoes, streams of
lava, and large level sheets of saline deposit like frozen
lakes covered with snow. Most of the volcanoes were
extinct, but some, notably Carcote, retained the per
fection of their form — wide, infinitely graceful pyra
mids outlined with a pure unbroken curve against the
blue sky. The surface of the hills was often colored
in the most brilliant fashion imaginable ; and the con
trast of these rich colors and forms, rising beyond
and apparently out of the large, flat, grayish-white
surface of the saline deposits, was most beautiful.
One of the white lakes was framed in a margin of
black volcanic dust and cinders merging upward into
gray sand. White dust-whirlpools were dancing on
its white floor. A broken hill near by revealed
streaks of blood-red, chrome-yellow, and I know not
what other colors. Amid such surroundings the en
gine laboriously dragged us up to the station of As-
cotan (13,010 feet), the highest point on the line,
whence, running faster down-hill in many a sinuous
curve, it brought us round the base of the smoking
volcano San Pedro (17,170 feet).
At its foot was a smaller cone, named Porufia, from
Y 337

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
which tiiere stretched to a distance of two or three
miles an astonislung flow^ of lava, h'ing on the sandy
desert as though newly poured out, and looking for
all the world Hke a big glacier, -with steep sides and
snout, and the surface much crevassed, aU buried in
moraine. The radway is carried through this lava-
flow in a remarkable cutting. With this strange
product of volcanic convulsion for foreground, and
volcanoes smaU and great towering up behind, San
Pedro's crest smoking over aU, I thought I had never
beheld a more weird and uihuman scene. If a man
could be suddenly transported to the surface of the
moon, near Aristarcus or Gassendi, such, I imagine,
would be the landscape that woidd salute his eyes.
Over against these mountains there rose on the other
side of the vaUey a many-colored hdl, the Cerro Col
orado, covered, they say, with magnetic sand, which
leaps into the air and flies about in sheets and masses
when a thunder-storm passes over it, to the standing
horror of the local Indians. At such a moment, amid
the roar of thunder and the electric flashes, surrounded
by a desert shaken by earthquakes and dotted over
with cinders, with tliis dancing fiend of a hdl close at
hand, ignorant people must, indeed, imagine them
selves in the midst of a horde of combating fiends.
A little farther on we crossed the red canyon of the
Rio Loa, three hundred and sixty feet deep. I stood
at the edge of this deep meandering cut, when the low
sun struck full on one face of it and a dark shadow
f eU from the other, and looked across a great flat plain
towards countiess volcaruc hills, many of them per-
fectiv s-s'mmetrical in form and sliining in the meUow
338

I.AV.V STREAM ON THE P.VMPA

VOLCANO AND SALT-PLAIN NEAR UYUNI

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
evening light. The sunset hour is the time to enjoy
this clean landscape, as of the moon, enriched by the
world's fair atmosphere, when shadows steal across
the flat and climb the crimson hills, driving their color
up to the soft, still clouds till it fades in the purple pomp
of oncoming night.
That evening we put up at the Grand Central Hotel( !)
of Calama (7435 feet), kept by a Dalmatian from
Lissa, who was full of talk about Tegethof and the great
sea-fight. Calama is situated in the midst of a large
oasis, artificially irrigated with the waters of the Loa,
but it is wretchedly cultivated, and the main crop of
many of the fields was weeds. Next day we con
tinued our journey down to the sea. Already at Ca
lama we were conscious of being in a thicker atmos
phere, and the sensation of atmospheric weight grew
upon us from hour to hour. We traversed alternately
through hills and over plains, each flat being at a
lower level from the one before — steps of the great stair
case that goes down from the high plateau to the sea.
But the hdls were no longer all volcanic. An hour
or two beyond Calama the line was carried through
a cutting made in schists. During the morning we
crossed the southern tropic and entered the so-called
temperate regions; but the change, as far as we were
concerned, was only marked by an hourly increment
of heat, for our diminution of altitude far more than
compensated for our steaddy increasing distance from
the equator.
Ever since entering Chile, I had been struck by en
countering white laborers working on the line. With
Bolivia we had left behind the predominance of the
339

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
Indian. The visible evidence of the patriotism of
Chile, which the inscription, "Viva Chile," on the
frontier volcano had first proclaimed, was shown
from mile to mile by the numbers of Chilean badges
painted or scratched on every prominent rock. The
forms of the hills grew less remarkable and more worn
down and rounded as we advanced. There were no
longer the white saline flats; their place was taken
by nitrate fields, being actively worked, especially in
the neighborhood of the Salinas Station (4400 feet),
which stands by a big nitrate establishment. So
easy are the gradients of this line, and so little does
the type of scenery change, that it was only by the in
creasing heat (91° Fahr. at noon in the railway car
riage) and the heavier air that we felt we were descend
ing. The hills now became more and more like Dutch
dunes. A gale of wind sprang up, carrying the salt
dust hither and thither. At last we entered a dry,
winding river gorge, the scenery of which was some
times almost grand. At the ninth kilometre post a
little damp oozed through the bed of the valley, giving
life to vivid green weeds and moss. A little farther
on the ocean burst into view, dazzling bright, and
a few moments later we had rounded the corner and
were going along the shore of the Pacific, the sand-
slopes of the hdls merging without change into the
sandy beach and sinking beneath the waves, the whole
hdl-side, as it were, a sandy shore tipped up to the back
bone of the continent.
Wonderfully beautiful seemed the Antofagasta
Bay, curving round to a fine mountain promontory
like a mdd Gibraltar, girt with cloud and bathed in
340

ORURO TO THE PACIFIC
bright gray atinosphere. In the midst lay the large
town, with a vanguard of ships at anchor. Antofa
gasta is tiie prettiest town I had seen since we left
Panama : clean, wide-streeted, with houses suggestive
of India, and verandas furnished with long-anned
chau-s. The people, as I saw them, were frank and
hospitable. I was carried off to dinner at the club
and slio-wn tiie sights of the place. In the midst of the
pretty squai'e is a garden plentifull}' irrigated by some
of tiie admirable water brought to the town from a
distance of tliree hundred kilometres. Here, as at
UjTini, the church was a small edifice of no archi
tectural pretensions ; it would have looked mean beside
the Spanish grandeur of one of the mud-built churches
of a mere Boli\ian finca. I had not been an hour in
tiie place before I heard tiie clear note of Clidean
patriotism, sounding as plauily in the conversation
of men of English or Scotch descent as m that of the
Si>aiiish Chilean. The w^hole place had an air of
prosperity: good shops and fine houses of business,
mostly budt of wood and corrugated iron. The town-
clock receives the correct hour daily by cable, and the
general amenities of modern ci\ilizatioii are provided.
The hotel was properh' drained and fitted with excellent
batiis, tiie rooms were well furnished, and there was
real milk wherewith to civilize one's tea, not merely
tiie condensed nastuiess which serves the purpose of
mdk farther nortii. The steamer from Valparaiso
came in duruig tiie night. By noon of tiie foUow^ing
day we had saded away over a calm sea and beneath
a cloudy sky.
Of tiie remainder of my journey this is not the place
341

THE BOLIVIAN ANDES
to write. How^ we landed at Valparaiso and ascended to
the summit of Aconcagua, how^ we navigated Smyth's
Sound and the Strait of ^Magellan, how we climbed
in Tierra del Fuego and galloped over the plains of
Patagonia — the.se are other stories which I have re
lated elsewhere. The purpose of this book is to give
some description of the mountains and high plateaus
of BoHvia, the least known of all South American
countries to the remainder of the civdized world. That
purpose accomplished, I gladly lay down my pen.
At the moment of death it is said that the w'hole of
a man's past life leaps into view in his memor}'. So
now, at the final moment of writing, I .seem to behold,
in one panorama, those splendid mountains, those wide
plains and glorious .scenes on which my eye rested as
they pa.ssed in the long procession of travel; yet my
last thought is not so much of them as of the men of
many races who gave me their help and friendship
by the way. To them, there on the margin of the civ
ilized world, working out their share of the future
destinies of mankind, I wave a last adieu !

APPENDIX

A DESCRIPTION OF THE MINERAL SPECIMENS
BROUGHT FROM BOLIVIA BY SIR
W. MARTIN CONWAY
By L. j. Spencer, M.A., F.G.S.
The forty-six mineral specimens brought from BoHvia
by Sir W. Martin Conway were sent to the British Museum
for examination and determination; they are now pre
served in the collection of the Mineral Department.
Most of the specimens are from a tin and bismuth
mine on the mountain of Huaina Potosi near La Paz,
and from the silver and tin mines at Oruro. A few other
specimens are from the Pulacayo mine near Huanchaca and
from Carangas. In the following description the speci
mens from each of these localities will be taken in turn.
Of special interest are the complicated twin-crystals of
stannite; the occurrence of the rare minerals augelite and
woKsbergite at a new locality; the frequent occurrence
of andorite ; and the association of fluor-spar with Bolivian
tin-stone.
I. Specimens from Huaina Potosi, near La Paz
Native Bismuth and Bismuthite (Sulphide of bismuth,
Bi^Sg). These, showing large, bright cleavage surfaces, occur
associated together. On some of the specimens bismuthite
is associated with cassiterite and pyrites.
343

APPENDIX
Cassiterite (Oxide of tin, SnOj. Tetragonal).
The collection contains several specimens of much the
same character : two are labelled Chacaltaya, Huaina
Potosi ; the others are from the Huaina Potosi mine.
The specimens are compact to fine grained in texture,
and light to dark brown in color ; they are often iron-stain
ed. Except for the heaviness (specific gravity) of the
specimens there would be notliing to suggest on a casual
examination that the material was cassiterite. Cavities
are lined with minute, very indistinct crystals of cassiterite ;
these are light to dark brown and translucent to opaque.
Quartz, pyrites, and sometimes bismuthite are present in
small amounts, mixed with the massive cassiterite. In
one specimen the grains of cassiterite are embedded in a
dirty green chloritic substance. A thin section of this
specimen shows under the microscope an iron-stained
aggregate of cassiterite, chlorite, and quartz ; the cassiter
ite grains are frequently twinned.
The most coarsely crystallized specimen is labelled
Chacaltaya; it shows in the cavities dark crystals of cas
siterite I to 2 mm. across. These crystals interpenetrate
each other and are difficult to decipher; the faces are
very uneven and curved. Sometimes what are apparent
ly hexagonal pyramids can be distinguished. Measure
ments show that these are really groups of six crystals
twinned together in such a manner that the principal
crystallographic axes and the twin axes of all the individ
uals lie in the same plane. The form present is the deeply
striated prism m (iio), with very narrow planes of the
form a (lOO) on a few of the edges. In Fig. i, the six in
dividuals are marked Wj . . . m^; of these, mi is placed
in the normal position, with the prism edge and the stria-
tions vertical. The second and sixth crystals are twinned
on (loi) and (loi) respectively of the first crystal; the fifth
and sixth are in twin position with respect to the fourth
and first respectively, but not with respect to each other.
This type of repeated twinning with the twin axes all in
the same plane is frequent in ruble, but rare in cassiterite.
344

APPENDIX
Fluorite (Calcium fluoride, CaFg. Cubic).
On the most coarsely crystallized specimen of cassiterite,
from Chacaltaya, Huaina Potosi, mentioned above, are
fairly large crystals of quartz, with limonite, and a group,
about I cm. across, of corroded crystals of white fluor-spar.
The crystals appear to be octahedra, and they have a
perfect octahedral cleavage, the cleavage angle being
measured as 71° and 109/4 °. The specific gravity and
hardness are those of fluorite. The material is optically
isotropic, and the index of refraction was determined with
a cleavage prism to be approximately 1.44. When the
material was heated with sulphuric acid, the sides of a
glass tube were etched, and crystals of gypsum were ob
served under the microscope. These details of the de
termination are given since fluorite is of very rare occur
rence in Bolivia, and its association with the tin-stone
of this region has been doubted.

II. Specimens from Oruro
The matrix of one or two specimens is an altered vol
canic rock or ash with kaolinite and blebs of quartz. On
another specimen the matrix is slate, and on another blue
clay. Most of the specimens are from the San Jose mine;
from the Tetilla and Atocha mines there is one specimen
each. Augelite (Basic phosphate of aluminium, AIPO4, A1(0H)3.
Monoclinic). The massive mineral from Westana, Sweden, described
in 1868 under the name augelite, and found on analysis
to have the chemical composition AIPO4, A1(0H)3, was
not considered to be a well-established mineral species
until crystals from Boli-via were discovered in 1895.* These
crystals were from Machacamarca, near Potosi. More re-
* G. T. Prior and L. J. Spencer, "Augelite," Mineralogical Mag
azine, 1895, vol. xi., p. 16. 345

APPENDIX
cently* crystals of augelite have been found at a second
Bolivian locality, namely, in the mines between Tatasi
and Potugalete, Department Potosi. The present descrip
tion of crystals from Oruro adds another to the three local
ities at which augelite has hitherto been found.
The single specimen from Oruro on which crystals of
augelite have been found has the whole of the free sur
face, measuring about 28 X 23 cm., covered with crystals
of augelite, mispickel, quartz, pyrites, and stannite ; there
are also some kaolinite and minute yellow globules of
cervantite(?) incrusting most of the other minerals. It
was not possible to determine with certainty the order of
formation of these minerals : the quartz, however, clearly
belongs to two generations, there being small crystals
on the matrix, and very much smaller crystals incrusting
most of the other minerals. The matrix of the specimen
consists of massive quartz, pyrites, and tetrahedrite. Cavi
ties at the back of the specimen contain crystals of wolfs-
bergite, andorite, and stannite.
In themselves the crystals of augelite do not differ from
those previously described, but the associated minerals
are not the same. The well-developed crystals are 2 to 4
mm. across, and are present in large numbers, so that
this is by far the best specimen of augelite that has yet
been found. The crystals are colorless and transparent,
but usually appear to be yellow and opaque, owing to the
surface incrustation of cervantite(?). In habit they are
tabular parallel to the basal plane c (001) ; the forms m (no)
and X (loi) are also largely developed (Fig. 2, p. 351). Five
crystals were measured on the goniometer, but the only
other forms observed were n(ii2) and 0(112), which are
rarely present as narrow faces. The cleavages, angular
measurements, specific gravity, and optical characters of
the crystals are in agreement with previous descriptions,
and need not, therefore, be given in detail.
* L. J. Spencer, "Augelite from a New Locality in Bolivia," Mirf
eralogical Magazine, 1898, vol. xii., p. i.
346

APPENDIX
Stannite (A sulphur compound of copper, iron, and
tin, Cu2FeSnS4. Tetragonal).
This mineral has long been known from Cornwall, and
has been found at a few other localities, but until recently
distinct crystals which were certainly stannite have not
been described. At various times the crystalline system
has been considered to be orthorhombic, cubic, cubic-
tetrahedral, and tetragonal. Recently Prof. A. W. Stelz-
ner * has described crystals from Potosi, Bolivia, of which
the symmetry is given as cubic-tetrahedral. Blowpipe tests
made on these crystals showed them to consist of copi)er,
iron, tin, and sulphur, but a quantitative chemical anal
ysis was only made on the accompanying massive ma
terial. The crystals of stannite from Oruro now to be described
do not altogether agree with Stelzner's observations. They
are tetragonal, but by twinning they give rise to pseudo-
cubic crystals.t An analysis of these crystals has been
made by Mr. G. T. Prior; this analysis, which confirms
the usually accepted formula for stannite, is the first
that has been made on crystallized material. Crystallized
stannite from Oruro has been previously mentioned by
d'Orbigny,! but this has been doubted by Stelzner.§ The
numerous crystals which are present on at least four of
Sir Martin Conway's specimens would seem to indicate
that stannite is by no means a rare mineral at this locality.
A brief description is given below of each of these four
* " Die Silber-Zinnerzlagerstatten Bolivias," Zeitschr. deutschen geo-
logischen Gesellschaft, 1897, vol. xlix., pp. 97, 131.
•f Since the present account was written, in 1899, the crystals have
been further studied and found to possess scalenohedral-tetragonal
symmetry, with the angular element cd = 44° 30' ; twinning on the
first law gives rise to pseudo-tetrahedral-cubic symmetry. A detailed
account has been prepared for publication in the Mineralogical Maga
zine, 1901, vol. xiii., under the title " Crystallized Stannite from Bo
livia." % A. d'Orbigny, " Voyage dans I'Amerique meridionale, 1826-1833,"
vol. iii., part 3 (Geology), 1842, p. 129.
§ Loc. cit., p. 86. 347

APPENDIX
specimens, since the associated minerals are somewhat dif
ferent in each case.
I. The best specimen consists of radiated groups of
prismatic crystals of mispickel on which are a few crystals
of andorite and pyrites. Incrusting all three minerals
is the stannite, which occurs abundantly as crystalline
crusts and as isolated crystals. It is the crystals from
this specimen which were most completely examined and
analyzed, and on which the description given below is
based. 2. This is the augelite specimen described above. The
associated crystallized minerals are augelite, mispickel,
quartz, pyrites, andorite, and woffsbergite, and there are
also tetrahedrite, kaolinite, and cervantite(?). The stan
nite is one of the latest -formed minerals. On the front
of the specimen it occurs as black drusy crusts of minute
crystals, the form of which cannot be made out even under
the microscope. A qualitative chemical examination by
Mr. G. T. Prior, however, showed the presence of copper,
iron, tin, and sulphur, so that this material is without
doubt stannite. On parts of the specimen where the
material is more coarsely crystallized, the characteristic
twinning described below can sometimes be distinguished.
One good twin-crystal of stannite was found on a crystal
of andorite in a cavity at the back of the specimen.
3. This is a large piece of massive tetrahedrite, with
massive quartz and pyrites. In ca-rities are crystals of
stannite, wolfsbergite, andorite, quartz, and pyrites. One
cavity is almost completely lined with bronze - colored
crystals of stannite; these are about a miUimetre across,
and are confusedly grown together, f onning a crust. The
bronze color is only due to a superficial tarnish, the crystals
being black in the interior. The faces are bright, but the
crystals are so intergrown that it was not possible to com
pletely determine the crystalHne form; several cubic angles
were measured, and in general the appearance of the
crystals is the same as those on specimen No. i. A chemi
cal examination by Mr. G. T. Prior showed the presence
348

APPENDIX
of copper, iron, tin, and sulphur. In other cavities are a
few of the black crystals of stannite with the pseudo-cubic
forms figured below.
4. An aggregate of jamesonite needles, incrusted with
small crystals of pyrites and stannite. The stannite
crystals are black, and some of the larger ones show the
complex twinning.
The following description of the crystallographic, phys
ical, and chemical characters of the crystals of stannite
is based on an examination of the first specimen.
The numerous small crystals, averaging about i to 1.5
mm. across, are irregularly aggregated and intergrown
together, so that only portions of single crystals can be
observed. Of the ten crystals measured on the goniometer,
only one was apparently a simple crystal (Fig. 3), and
even this was afterwards found to show a twin lamella
with o(iii) as twin-plane; since this crystal was, as is
usually the case, partly embedded and intergrown with
other crystals, it was probably only a portion of a twin-
crystal. The approximate measurements of the angles
on this and other crystals agreed closely with those re
quired for a cubic crystal, while the striations and charac
ters of the faces agreed only with tetragonal symmetry.
The forms noticed on the crystals measured are, in order
of predominance :
c(ooi). Bright and smooth.
m(iio). Deeply striated horizontally. The striae reflect
light with the adjacent faces of o(iii).
d(ioi). Often bright and smooth, but also striated hori
zontally, especially when e (201) is present.
n(ll2). Bright; faintly striated parallel to its intersec
tion with c(ooi).
e(20i). Deeply striated horizontally. The striae reflect
light in the positions of d (loi) and a (100).
o(iil). Narrow; bright and smooth.
a (too). Only represented by striae on e (201).
ju(ii4). Narrow, deeply striated planes on the edge be
tween n and c. 349

APPENDIX
/> (423). Two minute bright faces in the zone [201, III,
021]. Measured to o 15° 9' and 15° (calculated for a cubic
crystal 15° I3/^')-
Of the tetragonal forms given above
d and m correspond to d(iio) of cubic crystals
c " a " " a (100)
and the others have the same indices as the corresponding
cubic forms.
The crystals are not suitable for accurate measurement,
and the angles obtained varied almost 30' on either side of
cubic angles. For example, for cd was measured 44°
34', 44° 59', 45° 2', 45° 9', etc., and for co 54° 16', 54° 34';
the corresponding cubic angles being 45° and 54° 44' respec
tively. On the whole these angles seem to be slightly
less than the corresponding cubic angles : the vertical
axis c would then be, as in copper-pyrites, slightly shorter
than the lateral axes a.
The most interesting feature of the stannite crystals
is the twinning, which takes place according to two laws :
(i.) Twin plane d(ioi).
(ii.) Twin plane o(ill).
The first law is illustrated by Figs. 4-6, p. 351. The sim
ple crystal (Fig. 4), when twinned on (on) or (oil), gives
the interpenetrating doublet shown in Fig. 5. When the
twinning also takes place on the homologous plane (lOl)
or (ioi), the three interpenetrating individuals produce
a figure (Fig. 6) closely resembling a regular rhombic
dodecahedron. In each octant three planes of the tetrag
onal pyramid o(ni) become almost co-planar, and cor
respond to the regular octahedron. These faces bound
the edges of deep triangular pits formed by the three faces
of the basal plane c(ooi), which in the twinned position
are approximately parallel to the three faces of the cube.
The prism faces mi (no) of the simple crystals form the
faces of the rhombic dodecahedron in the pseudo-cubic
crystal. The edges of this pseudo-dodecahedron are
replaced by V-shaped grooves formed by the faces of
d(JOi). Each dodecahedral face (m) is very nearly
350

BOLIVIAN MINERALS

FIG. I

•^

c

i

/

\5^

m Y

^ I

771

e <
J.
/^
FIG. 3
FIG. 4
FIG. 5
FIG. 6
L. J. Spencer <&/.
Explanation of Plate
Fig. I. Cassiterite from Chacaltaya, Huaina Potosi. Six crystals twinned, together pro
ducing a pseudo-hexagonal bipyramid. The only form present is m (no). (Page 344.)
Fig. 2, Augelite from Oruro. Forms: c {001], m (no), :tr (loi). (Page 346.)
Fig. 3. Stannite from San Jos6 Mine, Oruro. Simple tetragonal crystal with the forms
c (001), jn {no), d (ioi), 71 ^112), o{ii\),e {201). (Page 349.)
Fig. 4- Do. Simple tetragonal crystal with the forms c (ooi), m (no), d (loi), o (in).
Fig. 5. Do. Two interpenetrating crystals, like Fig. 4, twinned on (on).
Fig. 6. Do. Three interpenetrating crystals, like Fig. At twinned on (on) and (loi), pro
ducing a pseudo-cubic crystal. (Pages 350, 352, 353.)
351
APPENDIX
parallel to the faces {d) in the opposite sides of the four
grooves adjacent to it; but the striations on these plcines,
which are nearly parallel (and sometimes nearly co-planar),
are at right angles, as sho-nm in Fig. 6. The fact of these
striations being at right angles shows that the crystals
are not cubic. UsuaUy, owing to the presence of e(20i),
and its oscillation ^rith d (loi), the grooves gradually
^riden out towards the pseudo-tetrad axes.
Doublets as represented in Fig. 5 are rare, but crystals
like Fig. 6 are common, especially on specimen No. I.
The actual crj'stals are often almost as sjanmetrically
and regularly developed as sho^\^l in the figure, and in
some cases they are developed on nearly all sides; one
crystal showed six of the eight possible triangular pits.
These t^rirmed crystals bear the closest resemblance to
cubic crystals, but the directions of the striations noted
above show that they cannot be cubic. This is also sup
ported by the fact that the faces usually give double or
multiple images, indicating tbat the different portions are
not quite parallel ; the pseudo-octahedral faces, which, as
sho^vn in the figure, are represented by three separate
areas, sometimes give three very distinct images arranged
at the comers of an equilateral triangle.
The crystals are still further complicated by being fre
quently twinned according to the second law, viz., with
o (in) as twin-plane. This is often shown by the presence
of twin-lamellae running through the crystals, and by the
interpenetration of the pseudo-dodecahedra in the same
manner as pre\'iously described for stanniferous argy-
rodite.* This twinning gives rise to two sets of striae inter
secting at an angle of about 70° 32' on the pseudo-dode-
cahedral faces, while the twinning according to the first
law gives rise to two sets intersecting at about 90° These
striae intersecting at the angles of about 70° 32' and 90°
are to be observed on most crystals.
* G. T. Prior and L. J. Spencer, " Stanniferous Argyrodite from
Bolivia . . . ," Mineralogical Magazine, 1898, vol. xii., p. 7.
352

APPENDIX
It may be noted that these twin planes, (loi) and (ill),
are the same as those in copper-pyrites, with which stannite
appears crystallographically to be somewhat related. The
habit of the simple crystals of stannite is, however, more
like that of hauchecomite, this being another tetragonal
mineral with very nearly cubic angles.
The most striking analogy to these pseudo-cubic crystals
(Fig. 6) is given by the twins of phillipsite, the monocHnic
crystals of which build up the pseudo-dodecahedra de
scribed by Kohler- and others. The optical examination
of transparent minerals shows that such composite pseudo-
cubic crystals are of frequent occurrence : the rhombic
dodecahedra of boracite, garnet, etc., are, for instance,
found to be built up of twelve optically biaxial crystals.
Crystals with grooved edges, as in Fig. 6, are illustrated
by analcite,t diamond, and haiiyne : in the last two cases
the grooves are supposed to be due to twinning, while in
the first case they are supposed to be due merely to parallel
growth. As regards the physical characters of the crystallized
stannite, the following may be noted. The color is iron-
black, with a bright metalUc to sub-adamantine lustre,
somewhat resembling black blende. On one specimen
the crystals have a bronze-colored tarnish, which is, how
ever, ordy superficial. The mineral is opaque. The
streak is black and dull. The crystals are not very brittle ;
the fracture is sub-conchoidal to uneven. H^3 ^ . Specific
gravity=4. 45.!
The material collected for analysis consisted mainly
of well - developed crystals projecting from the surface
of the specimen, but some of the underlying crystalline
material was also collected in the belief that it was also
* Poggendorff's Annalen, 1836, xxxvii., 561 ; Dana's System of Min
eralogy, 1892, 6th ed., p. 579, figs. 3 and 4.
t Figures of these are given in Dana's System of Mineralogy and
Text-book of Mineralogy.
t Calculated from the specific gravity of the material analyzed (4.52),
after deducting 8.58 per cent, of andorite (sp. gr. 5.35).
Z 353

APPENDIX
stannite; the latter, however, contained some andorite,
as suggested by the results of the analysis, and as actually
seen to be the case upon a further and more careful ex
amination of the specimen. The results of Mr. G. T.
Prior's analyses are given below under columns I.— V.
Analysis I. was made on 0.3678 gram of material which
was decomposed with nitric acid; in II. , 0.4215 gram was
fused with sodium carbonate and sulphur, and the tin
obtained in solution as sodium sulpho-stannate ; for the
sulphur determination, IIL, 0.2233 gram was fused with
sodium carbonate and potassium nitrate. The mean of
these analyses is given under IV. Germanium was tested
for, but found to be absent.

Atomic
I.
II.
III.
IV. (Mean)
. ratios.
Cu
28.58
28.54
28.56
0.453
Fe
10.95
10.90
10.93
0.197
Sn
25.52
24.90
25.21
0.213
Sb
3-54
3.88
3-71
0.031
Pb
2.02
2.09
2.06
o.oio
Ag
0.94
0.82
0.88
0.008
S
27.83
2783
0.874
99.18
The atomic ratios of Sb, Pb, and Ag are approximately
those required by the andorite formula PbAgSbgSe ; and
the atomic ratios Cu:Fe:Sn: remaining S=.453: .197:
.213: .814, which agree approximately with the formula
CujFeSnSt for stannite; the copper, however, is rather
high. Under column V below is given the percentage
composition of the stannite after deducting all the anti
mony, lead, and silver, and the required amount of sulphur
for SbaSg, PbS, AgjS. Column VI. gives the calculated
percentage composition required by the formula CuaFeSnSi.
V. VI. (Cu.FeSnSJ.
Cu 31.52 29.54
Fe 12.06 13.01
Sn 27.83 27.65
S 28.59 29.80
100.00 100.00
354
APPENDIX
This analysis, which is the first that has been made on
crystaUized stannite. therefore supports tlie formula usual
ly given for tlie mineral, namely, CujFeSnS+^CuFeS, -|-
CuSnS;, or Fe^SuS^-t-CUiSuSi.
Andorite (Sidph - antimonite of lead and sdver,
PbAgSbjS,. Ortborhombic).
Tliis mineral has recently been described from Oruro
by Profs. Brogger cuid Stelzner under tlie names sund-
tite and webnerite respecUvely, but these were afterwards
sho\^-n* to be botli identical with the Hvmgarian mineral
andorite discovered by Prof. I-u-emier in 1892. Although
andorite is probably not a rare mineral in the Oruro mines,
it is as yet represented in oidy a few collections by one or
two smaU specimens. New material is, tlierefore, worthy
of detaded examination; and in tlie present case several
new crystal forms have been noted.
Crystals were found on four of tlie new specimens :
I. On tlie mispickel of die stannite specimen No. i,
from tlie San Jos6 Mine, described above, are a few bright
cri'stals of andorite resembbng those described and figiued
by Prof. Brogger. They are sometimes doubly terminated,
and the largest is about 4 mm. long. In habit they are
somewhat tabular parallel to the macropinacoid a (lOO).
Pyramids and domes are numerous . but are very irregularly
developed, so that the crystals are usually distorted and
unsymmetrical in appearance : in Figs. 7 and S the crystals
are ideabzed by dra\\ing all tbe faces of the same form
of the same size. A prominent feature of tlie crystals
is the marked striations on aU the faces, as illustrated in
Fig. 8 : in some zones the striations are often so deep and
numerous as to render the crystals scarcely suitable for
measurement. The pyramids, domes, the brachypinacoid
b (010), and tbe prisms m (130), g (250) . and k (120I . are all
striated horizontaUy : the macropinacoid a (100) and the
remaining prisms are striated verticallv, wilh a few hori-
• G. T. Prior and L. J. Spencer, " The Identity of Andorite. Sundtite,
and Webnerite," Mineralogical Magazine. 1S97 '¦ol. xi.. pp. 286-301.

APPENDIX
zontal striae, especially on a (lOO), giving ri.se to rectan
gular markings. On the goniometer these striated zones
give continuous bands of reflected images, limited, how
ever, between certain points : in the prism zone between
a (lOO) and I (230) ; in the macrodome zone between a (100)
and h (102) ; in the brachydome zone between b (010) and
a; (on) or w(035); and in the several pyramid zones [hko,
001] the bands are limited between the zones [001] and
[102, 010]. Near the summits of the cn.'stals the faces
are less striated and the bands of reflected light much
fainter. The pyramid zones showing such bands of light
are: [310, 001], [210, 001], 'no, 001], [230, 001], [120, 001],
and [130, 001] ; of these it may be remarked that no pyram
idal faces have yet been recorded in the zone [230, 001].
Three crystals were measured on the goniometer, and
the following thirty-five forms noted.
Pinacoids : a lOO, h 010, c 001.
Prisms : n 2X0, w no, Z 230, k 120, g 250, u 130.
Macrodomes: ^102, 0-203, /lOi, 6302.
Brachydomes : t€ 035, x on, 7 021, y 031, n 041.
Pyraunids: £312, s2ii, A 321, vii2 C243? w 1.32
X 223 c 364 i3 131
^in rl2l E261
q22i £362
P33I D241
(Figs. 7 and 8, p. 363.) B 441
The forms present on each crystal were :
No. I. ab, nmlkgu, xyy, s, qfjB, tl), ftE ; also deeply striated
indefinite macrodomes.
No. 2. abc, nmlu, wxyyx), s, vxpquB, It; also indefinite
macrodomes. No. 3. ahc, nmlku, hufe, xy, I, s. A, vxPqB, Cr, w/S.
(Fig. 7.)
The basal plauie, c (00 1), is present on crj-stal No. 2, as
a very small face truncating the brachydomes, and it is
faintly cur^'ed and striated parallel to the bra ch\' -axis
[100] ; on crystal No. 3, it trimcates the macrodomes and
is curved and striated parallel to [010].
356

APPENDIX
Of the forms given above, u (130) has not been before
observed on Bobvian crystals, and the following are new
for the mineral ;
-m;(035). Two narrow bright faces, faintly striated hor
izontally. V (041). Only as bright striae; observed twice.
£(312). Two small bright faces striated horizontallv;
m the zones [112, 100], [loi, no], [302, 010], and [310,001].*
A (321). Two narrow planes on the edges of the hori
zontal striae on a (100); in the zones [loi, no], [100, 021],
and [320, 001].*
B(44i). SmaU planes, sometimes rather -ndde; deeply
striated horizontally. On all three crystals.
C(243)? Two smad planes in the striated zones [120,
001]; the brightest portions of the bands fall just on either
side of the zone [203, 010].
D(24l). A fairly large plane, deeply striated horizon
tally; in the zones [120, ooi] and [211, 010].
E (261). A smaU plane deeply striated horizontally and
gi-ving no bright image in the reflected band of Hght; in
the zones [130, 001] and [211, 010].
The following are the angular measurements estabHsh-
ing the new forms :

Calculated.

Measured.

"'6=035 : 010 75°

lli'

74° 22-. 75°

1)6^041 : 010 29°

17'

30°, 29ji°

Ie=3l2 : 302 9°

o'A'

9°7'

?a^3i2 : 100 46°

3'

46°

312 : (310)* 44°

39'

44° 42'

Ao^32l : 100 34°

9'

34° I'

321 : (320)* 24°

46-

24°, 25"

Bm=44l:iio 17°

27'

17° 38', 17° 18', 18° 8', 17° 24

Difc^24l : 120 24°

17'

24°

241 : (201)* 47°

10'

47° i6-

261 : (201)* 58°

16^2'

58° 28'

2. The second specimen is also from the San JosI ^line
*The faces (310), (320), and (201) were not present on the crystals,
but their positions were fixed by means of graduations on the crystal
adjustment arcs of the goniometer. 357

APPENDIX
at Oruro. Here several small crystals of andorite incrust
the walls of cavities in massive tetrahedrite. It is possible
that some of the massive material is andorite, as it close
ly resembles the crystallized material in appearance; all
the fragments tested were, however, found to contain
copper, while in the crystals there was no indication
of the presence of copper when the material was treated
with nitric acid on a microscope sUde. The crystals are
I to 2 mm. in length, and are bright, but deeply striated in
the manner described above. On one crystal pyramidal
planes were noticed in each of the eight octants. The
forms determined by the goniometrical measurement of
one crystal were : abc, nml, hfe, 'r(032) yy, vpq.
3. In a cavity at the back of the augebte specimen de
scribed above are several crystals of wolfsbergite, but a
crj^stal fragment, closely resembling wolfsbergite in ap
pearance, from one carity, was found on measurement
to be andorite. The forms present are bmlkyp, and there
are other small pyramids. Resting on the andorite are
small twinned crystals of starmite.
4. SmaU bright crystals in a cavity of the stannite
specimen No. 3, described above, were found on measure
ment to be andorite with the forms nmlxyyqr, etc.
Wolfsbergite ( — Chalcostibite. Sulph - antimonite of
copper, CuSbSj. Orthorhombic).
Two specimens of this rare mineral have recently been
described from the Pulacaj^o Mine, Huanchaca, Boliria.*
The present description adds one more to the four locabties
from which this mineral has hitherto been described.
On two of the specimens from Oruro are bright tabular
or blade-shaped crystals of wolfsbergite in ca-vities in
* L. J. Spencer, " On Wolfsbergite from Bolivia, and the Probable
Identity of Wolfsbergite and Guejarite," Mineralogical Magazine,
1896, vol. xi., p. X. and p. 338.
S. L. Penfield and A. Frenzel, " On the Identity of Chalcostibite
(Wolfsbergite) and Guejarite, and on Chalcostibite from Huanchaca,
Bolivia," Amer. Jcnirn. Sci., 1897, vol. iv., p. 27, and Zeitschr. f. Kryst.
u. Min., 1897, xxviii., p. 598. 358

APPENDIX
ina.ssivc tctrabcclritc. The crystals are usually smaU
aud rarely roach i cm. in length and breadth; they arc
flattened parallel to tbe ha.sal plane, c (ooi), and arc deeply
striatcil in the directum of the macro-axis. They have a
steel-gray color with brilliant metallic lustre; and there
is the usual perfect clca\agc parallel to the basal plane.
A qualitative chemical examination of the crystals showed
the presence of copper, antimony-, and sulphur, and the
absence of sihcr aud lead. Terminal pyramidal planes
arc not iilways seen on the crystals ; they arc usually small
and dull aiul irregularly devek)pctl. Three crystals were
measured on tbe goniometer aiul gave angular values
clo.selv agreeing with those obtciined by Penfield. Tbe
[)yraiuidal planes, Iboiigh somewhat dull, gave good
images, and their indices arc high, as is often the case
with wolfsbergite. Individual crystals showed the forms:
No. 1. c(ooi), </(ioi), g(20i), q{^(\^), /'(6.12.7).
The planes p arc largely ile\eloped, and the crystal
closely resembles Penliekl's Fig. 2 (loc. cit.).
No. 2. c(ooi), ^2(103), (/(lOl), g(20l).
No. 3. c(ooi),d(ioi),g(2or),Mo-^i),-">(o65),<7(863).'-(26i);
and olher small i>yramids not determined, one being in
tbe zone ct and having the indices ((>.l8.i) or (7.21.1).
Measured (o c S(>^' and 8()^' 55'. Calculated c: (7.21.1)
==8()^' 2j,^2', c: (().uS.i) = S,s" 47'.>'
Jameson itc (Sulph -antimonite of lead, 3PbS.2Sb.:S,.*
Orthorhombic). I. Prom the .Atoeba Mine at Oruro comes a large aud
very friable mass consisting of numerous delicate acicu-
lar cryst;ds loosely aggregated together in radiated or plu-
nuKse groups, and also confusedly groiuied together. Tbe
color is iron-black, with a bright iiielallic lustie. The
needles are straight and brittle. They are not in the least
tlexible, but easily break acn^ss. showing a good bright
cleavage perpcndicidar to their length. They are deeply
? Compare Mincralogicti! Mtigti:i>n\ iSw. vol. xii., p. 58.
35')

APPENDIX
striated parallel to their length, and are much intergrown
with each other in the same direction, so that it is not easy
to select simple crystals suitable for measurement. Three
fragments were measured on the goniometer, and gave
79° as the approximate value for the prism angle. The
basal cleavage forms an angle of about 90° with the faces
of the prism.
2. Another small specimen is a firmer aggregate of
coarser needles with a bright steel-gray to lead-gray color.
The prism angle was measured as about 79°, and there
is a good cleavage perpendicular to the length of the needles.
Most of the needles are incrusted over with minute crystals,
which in places are large enough to be recognized as pyrites
and complex twins of stannite. A crystal of quartz is
present on the specimen.
3. A specimen from the San Jos6 Mine is an incoherent
black mass which soils everything tbat comes in contact
with it. Detached pieces are fluffy, and are seen under
the lens or microscope to consist of minute black fibres.
These are short and straight; they are easily broken,
and do not appear to be flexible. The material is therefore
more probably jamesonite than plumosite.* Imbedded in
the specimen are small octahedra of pyrites.
These three specimens of jamesonite have been examined
chemically by Mr. G. T. Prior, and each found to contain
lead, antimony, and sulphur.
Tetrahedrite (Sulph-antimonite of copper, silver, etc.,
3(Cu,Ag)2S.Sb2S3.t Cubic-tetrahedral).
Several specimens from the San Jos6 Mine consist largely
of a massive iron-black mineral with bright metaUic lustre
and smooth conchoidal or sub-conchoidal fracture. Quali
tative analysis of this material from several specimens
by Mr. G. T. Prior showed the presence of silver, copper,
* Jamesonite and plumosite are to be regarded as distinct mineral
species, although since i860 they have been united in the text-books.
t Compare Mineralogical Magazine, 1899, vol. xii., p. 202.
360

APPENDIX
antimony, and sulphur, and an absence of lead. Labels
sent with the specimens give the assay value at 10 to 12 per
cent of silver. The material, therefore, appears to be a
nchly argentiferous tetrahedrite. Cavities in this mas
sive mmeral contain crystals of mispickel, wolfsbergite,
andorite, stannite, etc., but no distinct crystals of tetra
hedrite were found.
Pyrites (Bisulphide of iron, FeSz. Cubic-dyakisdodec-
ahedral). Pyrites, either massive or as smaU crystals, is present
on most specimens. Three specimens consist almost en
tirely of good crystals of pyrites.
I. A fine group of numerous well -developed cubo-
octahedra, each about i cm. in diameter. SmaU planes of
the form e=T (210) are also present (Fig. 9, p. 363). The sur
faces of the crystals are coated with a thin drusy layer
of pyrites, which easily chips off from the cube and do
decahedral (e) planes, leaving the faces bright and smooth,
except for the faint striations parallel to their mutual
intersections. In attempting to detach the drusy layer
from the octahedral planes, only an irregular fractured
surface is obtained. The drusy layer reflects Ught to
gether with the cube planes of the main crystal. Im
planted on these crystals are a few groups of very indis
tinct crystals of tetrahedrite, and of stiU later formation
are a few small crystals of pyrites, of which the predominat
ing form is the cube.
2. Massive pyrites with the ca-vities at tbe back of the
specimen lined with small, sharply developed octahedra,
with very small a (lOO) and e^Tr (210). On the front of
the specimen are striated cubes with o (in) and e=7r (210).
The octahedral crystals are bright, while the cubes have a
reddish tarnish. This specimen is from the San Jos6
Mine at Oruro.
3. Massive pyrites with cavities at the back fined with
small and bright, sharply developed octahedra ; the front
of the specimen consists of larger curved octahedra with
361

APPENDIX
an iridescent tarnish. Small planes of the forms a (lOO)
and e=Tr (210) are present.
Mispickel (Sulph - arsenide of iron, FeAsS. Ortho
rhombic) .
Prismatic crystals of mispickel are present on several
specimens, and are usually associated with crystals of
stannite and massive tetrahedrite. The largest crystals,
about I cm. long, are those on the best stannite specimen
(No.i) mentioned above. They form more or less radiated
groups standing out from the surface. Each crystal is
seen to be built up of smaller crystals in not quite parallel
position. The prism ot (no) is terminated by horizontally
striated brachydomes (Fig. n, p. 363); of these q (on) is
small and fairly even ; the larger rough area gives a band
of reflected images between the positions of t (013) and
n (012), with the brightest part near the position of (025).
On the augelite specimen the crystals are smaller and
more acicular. These crystals (Fig. 10, p. 363) are of much
the same habit as those described above, but they have
only the forms m (no) and q (on); they are irregularly
grouped together on the specimen, and the prisms are
often terminated at both ends.
Galena (Sulphide of lead, PbS. Cubic).
One of the specimens is a large mass of galena, showing
large cleavage surfaces with a bluish tarnish; associated
with it are massive tetrahedrite and small amounts of
quartz, chalybite, and copper-pyrites.
Another specimen, from the Tetilla Mine, shows nu
merous small but well-developed cubo-octahedra of galena ;
yellow blende is also present.
Blende (Sulphide of zinc, ZnS. Cubic-tetrahedral).
Small indistinct crystals of yellow blende are present
on the galena specimen from the Tetilla Mine.
Copper-pyrites (A sulphur salt of copper and iron, CuFeSa.
Tetragonal-scalenohedral) . 362

BOLIVIAN MINERALS

FIG. 7

FIG, 8

/

FIG. 9

/

FIG. 10

L. J, Spencbk del.

Explanation of Plate
Fig. 7. Andorite from San Josd Mine, Oruro- Forms: a (loo), 71 (210), tn (no), « (130),
d (010), A (102), /(ioi), tf {30a), jr (on), 7 (021),^ (031), f (312), s (212), f (iia),/ (ni), y (221),
/J (131). (Page 355.)
Fig. 8. Do. Crystal showing striations; with some of the above forms. (Page 355.)
Fig. 9, Pyrites from Oruro. Forms: .z (100), <? (in), <r = tr (210). (Page36i.)
Fig. 10. Mispickel from Oruro. Forms: /« (no), ^ (on). (Page 362.)
Fig. n. Do. From San Jos^ Mine, Oruro. Forms: w (no), ^ (013I, (025)?, « (012), j
<oii). (Page 362.)
363

APPENDIX
A small amount of massive copper - pyrites is present
on one of the galena specimens mentioned above.
Quartz (Oxide of silicon, SiOj. Rhombohedral-trapezo-
hedral). Quartz is present on several specimens, either occurring
massive in the matrix or as small crystals on the surface.
Blebs of quartz are present in the altered volcanic rock
which carry the metaUiferous veins. Larger crystals of
quartz, up to 6 cm. in length, are represented by an isolated
group of crystals from the San Jos6 Mine; they enclose
a few black needles with the appearance of jamesonite.
Only the usual forms ni r z were noted.
Cassiterite (Oxide of tin, SnOj. Tetragonal).
The compact tin-stone from Oruro is of much the same
character as that from Huaina Potosi. The heavy, pale-
brown, compact masses contain numerous cavities which
are lined with minute crystals of cassiterite. In the cavi
ties of one specimen are pentagonal dodecahedra e=7r (210)
of pyrites, and in another the cavities are lined with small
quartz crystals. Massive pyrites and a black mineral
with metallic lustre occur in small quantities, intermixed
with the massive cassiterite. A thin section of a specimen
from the San Jose Mine shows under the microscope a
porous aggregate of small, interlocking, pale-yellow crys
tals of cassiterite. The index of refraction and the double
refraction are high. Twinning is frequent, and some
times often repeated; the line of junction between the in
dividuals of a twin is always sharp and straight.
Chalybite (Carbonate of iron, FeCOs. Rhombohedral).
Small indistinct crystals of chalybite are present on the
large galena specimen mentioned above. Tbe cleavage
angle was measured on the goniometer as 73° 0'.
Kaolinite (Hydrated silicate of aluminium, Al203.2Si02.
2H2O. Monoclinic). 364

APPENDIX
"\piite powdery kaolinite is sometimes present, filbng
ca-^-ities and dusted over tbe free surfaces of the specimens.
It has no doubt been derived by tlie alteration of the felspar
in the volcanic rocks wluch carry tlie imneral veins.
Al unite (Hydrated sulphate of aluminium and potas
sium, 3Al.:03.K.,0.4S03.bH.30. Rhombohedral).
The occurrence of alunite at Oruro has recentiy been
noticed in tlie Mineralogical Magazine (1897. vol. xi., p.
29S). It is present on one of Sir Martin Conway's speci
mens as wlute patches in massive tetrtdiedrite. It is
usuaUy incoherent, but in places is more compact. Under
tbe microscope it is seen to consist wholly of minute rhom
bohedral crystals, lla^'ing the appeai-ance, but not the
optical characters, of regular cubes.
III. Specimexs from the Pulacavo :Mixe, Huax-
CHACA
From tliis locality are four siiiaU specimens on wliich
are pyrites, copper-pA^rites. galena, blende, quartz, and
stibnite, botli massive and in crystals The crj'stals of
copper-pjTites . though sniaU, are fairly good. On one of
the specimens are minute black crystals with a briUiant
metallic lustre, from wliich severed good measurements
were obtained, but not sufficient for identif j-ing tlie crystals :
they appear to be orthorhombic, but the measurements do
not agree -^ritli wolfsbergite, bouniomte, andorite, or ste-
phaiiite.
IV. Specimexs from Caraxgas
Barytes (Barium sulphate, BaSO^. Ortliorhombic).
The specimens consist of an irregular cellular aggre
gate of large, thin-tabular crystals of barytes up to 10 cm.
in length. SmaU crystals, gro^\^l in nearly p^iraUel posi
tion on a main crystal, and smaU fragments are colorless
and tnuispiireut ; tlie mass of crystals as a whole is wliite.
As determined bv goniometric measurements, die tonus
365

APPENDIX
present are c (ooi), m (no), I (104), d (102), u (lOi) and
0 (on). Small crystals of pyrites are enclosed in, and in
crust the surface of, the barytes. Galena, kaolinite, and
quartz are also deposited on the barytes.

NOTES ON ROCKS COLLECTED BY SIR W. M.
CONWAY DURING HIS EXPEDITIONS IN
THE ANDES
By Professor T. G. BONNEY, D.Sc, LL.D., F.R.S.
The rock specimens collected by Sir Martin Conway dur
ing his travels in the Bolivian Andes have been intrusted to
me for examination. The ends which he had especiaUy
in view made it difficult to secure a large number of speci
mens, but some of them possess an exceptional interest
as representing localities previously untrodden, so far as
we know, by the foot of man. These enable us to deter
mine the nature of the rocks which constitute two of the
highest summits in the eastern and more elevated Cor
dillera of the Bolivian Andes, and to infer that its crest
in other parts is not volcanic. This fact, and the results
afforded by some other specimens, are valuable additions
to the mass of information on the geology of the BoUvian
Andes embodied by the late David Forbes in his classic
paper,* and of tbe predecessors to whom he refers. That
excellent petrologist, while showing that Palaeozoic and
later sedimentaries, together with igneous works of con
siderable antiquity, entered very largely into the com
position of these mountains, pointed out tbat volcanic
rocks of the ordinary Andean type also occurred, calling
especial attention to their similarity in Bolivia, Peru, and
Chile. Specimens brought by Sir Martin Conway from
three localities fully bear out his predecessor's observa
tion, though none of them happen to contain the crystab
* Quart. Jour. Geal. Soc, xvii. (1861), pp. 7-62
366

APPENDIX
lized quartz which he mentions, or, on the other hand,
to range themselves with the basaltic group. The rocks
also of Ecuador, as we learned from Mr. Whymper's
valuable collection, belong in tbe main to the same great
group, the andesites, though several of them contain
amblystegite, a variety of rhombic pyroxene, which I
have not noted in the specimens which I have examined
from Bolivia or Chile. That difference, however, is hard
ly of secondary importance. The specimens collected by
Sir Martin Conway during his ascent of Aconcagua con
firm the inferences to which I was led by examining those
obtained by Messrs. FitzGerald and Vines, while the few
from Mount Sarmiento in Tierra del Fuego show that
mountain to be composed, not of volcanic material, but of
crystalline rock, greatly modified by subsequent pressure.
(i) Illimani
From the upper part of this mountain Sir Martin Conway
brought back eleven specimens, some of them representing
the ridge of the Pic de Paris, from the last rocks which
he traversed. Grouping them for description according to
localities, we find: (i), "from the first camp on Illimani,"
resembles a hard dark mudstone, possibly with a rude
cleavage; (7) and (8) are from the "rock wall below the
fourth camp." The former is a dark, minutely granular
rock, the nature of which is doubtful; the latter is stained
a rusty brown outside, and is very decomposed. It is
apparently a holocrystalline rock, possibly once a fel-
spathic granite, but is not Ukely to repay microscopic
examination; (9), "behind camp four," is another puz
zling, dark, minutely granular rock, resembling (2) and
(7). " From the top of the shoulder of the Pico del Indio "
comes a crystaUine and subporphyritic rock (10). Of the
specimens from the ridge of the Pic de Paris, (2) is an
other of these minutely granular dark rocks, with a Uttle
cupriferous pyrites on a joint surface, and (3) , a simdar rock,
also with the same mineral, but more distinctly sedimentary
367

APPENDIX
in aspect. The beds are said to strike southwest and
northeast, and to be nearly vertical ; (4) is permeated \ridi
pyrite, and is possibly a fine-grained mudstone, gritty or
even pebbly in places, but is so affected by mineraUzation
that its origin is not easily determined ; (5) is deeply stained
wilh Umonite, and may only be a vein product; (6), wliich
shows sUckensides, is another of these puzzUng dark rocks,
but (11) appears to be crj-stalline, though fine grained, as if
possibly a darkish banded gneiss. Taking first die most
difficult group, from which I selected (2,) (6), (7), and (n)
for sUcing, a glance at the preparations dirough the micro
scope explained the uncertainty whether tiiey were igneous
or sedimentary. They were rather minutely crystaUine;
nevertheless diey belonged to the latter group; in other
words, they have been affected by contact metamorphism,
which, however, o-ning no doubt to tlie original constitu
tion of the material, has not developed some minerals which
usuaUy are conspicuous. They have much in common,
though exhibiting certain varietal differences . The ground-
mass chiefly consists of the foUowing minerals : brown
mica, a white mica, in extremelj- nunute flakes, aggregated
in Uttie patches, opacite, granules of quartz, and perhaps
of felspar. These constituents are unequally distributed,
the first and third showing a tendency to cluster. As to die
varietal differences, (2) exhibits a number of irregularly
outlined dusln' spots which, with crossed nicols, look Uke
cloudspots on a brighter field; (6) affords ratiier similar
but less duslvj- spots, which, however, often are darker
at the centre, while the brown mica tends to gather round
these in an irregular ring. In (7) the spots are yet darker
than in (2), and die dominant mineral in them acts rather
feebly on polarized light. There is not sufficient evidence
in any one of these specimens to show what this mineral
may be, but the rocks themselves maj- be reckoned among
the "spotted schists," the fruits of contact metamorphism.
hi (n) the process has gone further, and the rock is
practicaUy crystalUne, the cloudy spots have disappeared ;
the constituents are quartz (possiblv some felspar) brown
368

APPENDIX
mica, some iron oxides, and brownish - yellow grains re
sembling idocrase. The specimen .shows a banded struct
ure, parts beiu):? more micaceous than others.
The igneous rock (lo) is shown on microscopic examina
tion to have a microgranular groundmass composed mainly
of grains or imperfectly formed crystals of felspar, in which
are imbedded tbe following more conspicuous crystals:
(o) felspar, fairly idiomorphic, varying in amount of
decomposition: perhaps more than one species, but only
plagioclase recognized ; (6) quartz, occasionally retaining
traces of crystaUine outlines, but not seldom corroded by
groundmass; (c) biotite, more or less altered, and ti. little
chlorite ; (d) zircon ; (e) iron oxide — very little ; (/) a mineral
occurring in grains, in one or two cases showing crystalline
form, but more commonly irregular in outline, and once
in aggregated granules : rather strongly pleochroic, varying
from a greenish gray to a rather tawny red : polarization
tints generally rather low, extinction oblique but not at
high angles. The mineral has some resemblance to
piedmontite, and I think it probably a manganese silicate,
though it does not actually correspond with any known to
me. The crystalline condition of this rock is not such as to
suggest that it alone has been the agent of metamorphism
in the sedimentaries on the upper part of Illimani, but
(8) indicates more coarsely crystalline masses to be also
present. Thus the peak of Illimani is not volcanic, as
has been sometimes asserted; neither is it wholly gra
nitic, as affirmed by D'Orbigny, nor sedimentary Silurian,
as by D. Forbes,* each of them having seen only one side
of the shield.
(2) Sorata
first expedition
The specimens numbered from (17) to (28) were collected
by Sir Martin Conway during his first expedition to Il
lampu or Sorata, when he attained an elevation of 20,000
feet. * Ut supra, p. 53.
2A 369

APPENDIX
(17). One and a half hours northwest of Huarina ; "this
rock crosses the road and forms a mass of low hills to east,
the beds striking northwest and being nearly vertical."
It is a small piece of a hard brown mudstone, defined mostly
by bedding and joint faces, the former showing slight
variations in the texture of the material ; also, small flakes
of fragmental white mica are more thickly scattered on
some of them than on others. The rock has a Palaeozoic
aspect. (18). " A bed of this, horizontally stratified, just north of
where (17) crosses the road." A pale buff, compact rock,
crumbling and very decomposed, much resembling a do-
mite; possibly an indurated volcanic dust, but more prob
ably a rotten, compact andesite.
(19). " Near Achacache. This rock goes striking away
parallel to the Cordillera to south, forming skeleton of low
line of hdls." It is a piece of hard, fine-grained sand
stone or quartzite, containing some minute flakes of white
mica, and defined top and bottom by bedding planes.
It shows sharp, irregular jointing and external zones of a
ferruginous infiltration — -probably it is a Palaeozoic rock.
{22). "Specimens from the ridge of Hiska Haukafia
glacier, by which we ascended to Rocktooth Camp, An
cohuma." (See Mr. Spencer's report, page 343.)
{2Ti). Specimens from the Rocktooth Camp, Ancohuma.
(See Mr. Spencer's report, page 343.)
The next group of specimens come from localities high
up on Sorata, slightly to the east of a line drawn south from
the summit.
(20), (21) are labelled "just above north side of Hiska
Haukana lake -basin, Ancohuma. The red rock forms
bulk of hills on both sides of the basin and spreads away
to southeast; strikes north, dip 30° to west." The two
specimens appear to be identical : a hard, compact, gray
mudstone, probably with signs of a cleavage. As their
aspect under a lens was slightly abnormal, I had a slice
cut from (20). The larger portion is composed of a clear,
minute, micaceous mineral, exhibiting a somewhat foliated
370

APPENDIX
structure, in v.hich ^xjcur .small grains of a water -deaT
mmeral, x..Tobably quanz, and grarj uJes or clustered
grains, gerjerally railier tabular in form, of iron oxide
(hematite?) aLvj fairly abimdant films of brown mica,
rather nrt'dutar lyjth in di;-;jx.-r.-,ion and .size. In tins
grouridma.s.-; are fairly numerous patches, about .01 irjch
diameter, .some approximately circtdar, other:- prLsmatic,
but rounded at the comers. These enclose much of the
matrix, but when seen v. ith a low jxj ¦. er appear as brov. r.;sh
iq/Az. ()n oro.ssing the riicrAs thej- are found lo act feebly
on ix»]arized light, tho:-^ of the former shape remaining
almost dark as the stage is rotated, those of the latter
apparentlj- extinguishing jjarallel to their axes. The
data are in.sufficient for an accurate determination, but I
susyx^ct them to Ix; a mineral allied to dipjre. The rock
.sho'.v,5 the effect of jjressure ctnd of moderate contact action,
the second, 1 suspect, being the later in date.
(24). "From Hiska Haukafia." Two vein-s7x.-cimens :
one cf^nsisling of quartz, cujrjriferous pyrite, and a metaUic
mineral, v.ilh a hardnerss le;ss than 3, a lirown streak and
a disiinct clea-vage ; the other composed of granular
^.-rite, (25), "D^mmon among debris all over west slopes of
foot of An cobuma. " A compact, hard, black rock, sharply
jointed, afiparently a variety of siliceous argillite.
(26), (27j. " Fir>rm the rock over which lay aU our descent
to Sorata to-.'.rj— stnke parallel with the Corddlera, dip
ping al ver-.- varied angles. " The former is a smaU piece of
well -banded, rather gritty felspathic mudstone, contain-
in. 2^ .some fragmental mica. The latter is a more compact
but banded mudstone, with some mica on the bedding
plane. These perhaps belong to the .same .series as (17),
(19), (20), and (21).
(28). " Picked out of adobe waU of Tambfj de Patamanta.
A hard, brown, compact material, probably sdiceous,
showin;/ on it:-; surface imjiressions of cubes (probably
of pyrite) which have disappeared. No doubt a vein speci
men. 371

APPENDIX
secoxd expeditiox
From the last rocks on Sorata, wliich, however, were
nearh- 3000 feet below its snowy suumiit. Sir Martin Con
way brought a considerable number of specimens. But
as the majority are vein products, they are oidy indirecdy
iUustrative of the rocks which fonu this portion of tbe
massif. Of them a brief notice wiU suffice, and as any
interest which they possess is mineralogical, rather dian
geological, I have not had any of them sUced for microscopic
examination; (a) may be talveii as a tj-pe of a group. It
consists of felspcir, molded with a rather minute, dark green
mineral, probably a chlorite. The crystalUne grains of
the former are fairly coarse, cream wliite in color, more
or less decomposed, but retaining in places indications
of osciUatory twinning. AVith this specimen we may
place (6), (/), (;), (/), (0). (v), [w). and perhaps (i). In
(e), some smaU quartz crv'stals occur in carities; to (/)
a bit of rock, somewhat similar to, but coarser tiian. (k)
is attached; in (tc), tbe green mineral occurs in larger
ciy'stals, and resembles a hydrous biotite rather dian a
true chlorite. Among the remairung specimens, (p) con
sists of quartz and black touniiaUne, die latter occurring
in bunches of acicular crystals ; (q) is the same, but in one
part is a fair amount of felspar; (c), a lump about 5 inches
long, consists abnost entirely of radiating groups of acicu
lar black tourmaline, with some interstitial quartz, felspar,
and, occasionally, a Uttie ferruginous dust. Tounnaline
is present in (r), (s), (t), (2), but these are a Uttie more
varied in composition; they also contain a mineral, wliich,
though bearing some resemblance to toumiedine (gi\-ing
straight extinction, and not to be scratched with the Icnife),
is of a ratiier unusual color (browni, incUning to oUve in
smaU fragments), with weak pleocbroism, and fairly well-
marked transverse cleavage.
AVe infer from these specimens that the rocks of the
massif are crj'stalUne, and have undergone some sub
sequent changes. The next group shows tbe fomier sup-

APPENDIX
position to be correct. Of them, one, (g), is so much decom
posed that I have not thought il worth slicing. It is, how
ever, a moderately coarse holocrystalline rock, consisting of
a decomposed white felspar, a greenish pyroxenic mineral,
probably hornblende, and some rather irregularly distrib
uted quartz. Hence it is a quartziferous syenite or diorite,
probably the latter. The remaining specimens have been
examined under the microscope ; (d) is a moderately coarse
holocrystalline rock, consisting of quartz and felspar, the
latter decomposed and largely replaced by minute flakes
or fibres of a micaceous mineral, but in places showing
plagioclastic twinning, with a little altered biotite, one or
two zircons, and a fair number of small grains of a trans
lucent, rich sienna-brown mineral. The last show a slight
tendency to a prismatic habit, and appear once or twice
to assume a duU olive or bluish tint, or be connected with
a mineral of that color. As a rule, they resemble pseudo
brookite more than any other mineral known to me. Here
and there are small irregular veins of a mosaic of granules,
apparently quartz, probably indicative of some ancient
mechanical disturbance. Tbe rock may be named a granite,
but it belongs to tbe miarolite type; (m) is also a similar
holocrystalline rock, consisting of quartz, somewhat de
composed felspar, much of it certainly plagioclase, a fair
amount of biotite, and a little iron oxide and zircon. The
constituent crystalline grains vary a little in size, and
we find, as in the last, some indications, but less marked,
of mechanical disturbance. This rock also is a granite
(miarolite) ; (n) is generally similar to the last-named rock,
but with more signs of alteration, especially in the case
of the biotite. The quartz also more frequently shows a
mosaic structure; (n) is a fine-grained granite or aplite,
with only a little mica (both brown and white). Except for
the absence of the supposed pseudobrookite we might sup
pose it a comparatively compact variety of (d) ; (k) rep
resents a biotite granite (containing two or three zircons),
bearing a general resemblance to (ot) . This is cut by a micro-
granite, which here and there exhibits an approach to a
373

APPENDIX
graphic structure. It includes a few grains of iron oxide
and flakes of altered biotite, together with a few larger
grains of felspar and quartz, which may have been derived
from the other rock.
These specimens, taken as a whole, show that Sorata
in its higbest visible part is composed of holocrystalline
rocks,* and is not one of the volcanic peaks.
(3) Various Localities in Bolivia
(12). " Buttress at angle going to Cohoni. " Crystals of
white felspar (up to about .2 inch diameter), of biotite, and
a little pyroxene about half that size, are imbedded in
a rather speckled gray groundmass. The microscope
shows that the first mineral is plagioclastic; the second
is much affected by corrosion, and is sometimes reduced
to a mere framework of granular iron oxide, and the third
is a much-altered, light-colored augite (?). These minerals
are imbedded in a pale greenish or brownish glass, studded
with minute felspar microUths. The rock accordingly is
a mica-andesite, and no doubt belongs to the volcanic
group of the South American chain.
(13), (14). "Near Cohoni." Two specimens of very
minutely granular decomposed red rocks. Without micro
scopic examination (and they do not seem worth it) I cannot
determine whether they are compact andesites or indurated
volcanic dust. But they probably represent tbe same
group as the last-named specimen.
(15). "Southeast angle, Esquina de Pongo." Two
specimens of a rough gray mudstone (no effervescence
with hydrochloric acid), containing some minute parallel-
lying flakes of white mica.
(16). "Just north of Mellocato, on west side of La Paz
Valley (striking parallel with the Cordillera)." A very
* D. Forbes (ut supra, p. 53) says that Sorata is composed of Silurian
strata, " fossiliferous, as I have proved . . . up to its very summit."
Obviously this phrase must be employed with great laxity.
374

APPENDIX
fine-grained, reddish, felspatiiic grit, bearing some resem
blance to (13) and (14), but a Uttle coarser.
(29)-(3i). " Coumion in debris above Huarisata on pass
to Sorata (large mass of red rock seen at foot of Ancobuna) " ;
(29) is a red -colored grit, moderately coarse. A Uttie
felspai- may be present, but tbe grains are cldefly quartz,
some being weU rounded, others showing ciystal faces
due to secondary deposition : (30) is a buff-colored quartzo-
felspatiuc gnt, and (31) is a bolociystaUine rock, verj-
much decomposed, but felspar \ridi some biotite and a littie
interstitial quartz may be recognized in one or two places.
The rock probably was a imca-syemte or diorite.
(:^2). "Not far from Huaiina (see my note book, Oct.
I7di)." A very decomposed, compact, buff-colored rock,
contaiidng a few scattered ciystals ; die Ugbt-colored prob
ably decomposed felspar; tiie dark biotite. The rock
is probably a donute or ^-er^" decomposed andesite.
(33)-(3^d. "From Cusanaco placer mine, below Palea."
Of these (33) is a siiiaU piece of a verj- ferruginous (partiy
limonite) rock, probably sedimentary in origin. A Uttie
streak of gold may be detected in one place, but some one
iiiaj' have used tiie specimen as a test-stone ; (34) is a vers-
fine-gi-ained felspatiiic grit, stained with hematite; and
(3b), a speckled, gra,rish-colored rock, is extremely decom
posed, but is probably an andesite.
(40)-(46). "From Vilahaque HiU." Of tiiese (40), said
to be the "main material of the liiU,' is composed of more
or less subangular fragments, ranging up to over an inch
in diameter, apparently a compact quartzite, wliich are
cemented by a dark feiTuginous matrix ; (41) is a rather
fine-grained, soft. cnuiibUng, red, felspatiiic sandstone,*
and (42) is siimlar, but browner in color; (43) is more
variable in structure, contaiidng a few smaU pebbles,
and is intermediate in color. In all, some of tiie quartz

* The occiurence of red sandstones in Bolivia is noted by D. Forbes
[Quart.JfouT.Gtol.Soc.. 1861.P.3S), who assigns tliem to the Permian
Period. 375

APPENDIX
grains are fairly rounded; (44), "from loose stones on the
hill-side," is a finely speckled, rather dark, reddish rock,
probably igneous, but belonging, I think, to an older
group than the ordinary volcanics of the Andes; (45) is
reddish in color, iron stained, and probably a very fine
grained quartz-grit, while (46) is a vein specimen, chiefly
consisting of quartz.
(47). " A heap of this in Santa Ana Hacienda for budd
ing. " It is a dark, rather peaty-looking mud, in which are
traces of plants.
(48). "This and a conglomerate like (40) dip to the west-
em plain at 60° from Penas Hill." It is a fine-grained,
red, felspathic grit, like (41) and its associates.
(49). "Conformably underUes (48)." The rock appears
lo be a dark, gritty mudstone, in which is some minute
mica. Microscopic examination shows il lo be a fine
grained grit, rather iron-stained, in which quartz, felspar,
and white mica can be recognized, with a few granules of
zircon, one or two possibly of lourmaUne, and of pseudo
brookite (?).
(50)-(54). "On slope of hiU approaching MiUuni"; (50)
is gray, felspathic argilUte, possibly affected by cleavage ;
(51) is a gritty, gray-colored mudstone, in which are thin
micaceous layers. Tbe specimen is traversed by cracks
which are filled with quartz, etc. ; (52) is a dark mudstone,
rather hea-vy, jointed, and possibly cleaved; (53) is less
easily determined. It is gray in color and veined. Under
the microscope il is seen lo consist of grains of quartz,
wilh some felspar and flakelels of brown mica, a littie of
the translucent brown mineral (pseudobrookite?), and a
few small zircons, the interstices being fiUed by aggregated
minute granules which afford bright tints wilh crossed
nicols. The rock is sedimentary in origin, but apparentiy
is sUghtiy altered, possibly by contact metamorphism.
(54)-(59). From MiUuni mine; (54) is attached lo three
specimens, from veins, apparentiy in a mudstone. They
consist of quartz, pyrite, ordinary and cupriferous, etc. ;
(55) is part of an impure quartz vein, crystals of that
376

APPENDIX
mineral covering one surface; (56) is a dark mudstone,
containing minute flakes of white mica, and affording
a rough fracture. Il exhibits markings, probably vege
table, one of them resembling the impression of a stem of a
plant; (58), probably, is a fine-grained, felspathic grit; a
vein in one face contains many smaU crystals of quartz,
colored by hematite ; (59) is a hard, gray rock, with an ir
regular fracture, probably a fine-grained, rather felspathic
grit, but (57) presents some resemblance to a pale-colored
andesite. The structure, on microscopic examination, is
seen to be rather minute, but appears on the whole to be
related lo (53). Hence I am disposed to look upon it as
sedimentary, though possibly slightly affected by contact
metamorphism. (60), (61). "In situ on ascent of a spur of Cacaaca, crossing
from Mdluni." The first is a darkish gray, gritty mud
stone, felspathic and micaceous, wilh distinct indications
of bedding and jointing; the second, a gritty rock con
taining fossils.
(71). " Rock in which the lode is found, Huaina Potosi."
A fine-grained, dull-colored rock, containing several cubic
crystals of pyrite and traces of stibnite (?). The micro
scope proves il to be a grit, composed of quartz, felspar,
more or less decomposed, some biotite, chlorite, and while
mica, a few small zircons, and iron oxide, in which occur
larger crystals of pyrite. It has the aspect of a Palaeozoic
rock. (80), (81). "Pampa crust al Uyuni." In tbe former,
grains of quartz, mostiy subangular to subrotund, with
some rounded and larger (not exceeding a hemp seed in
size, and generaUy less than a mustard seed), are scattered
throughout a mass of rather compact tufa. The speci
men is nearly an inch thick, and its surface is irregular
and lumpy; (81) is more cavernous, gives a brisker ef
fervescence, and contains less grit. Some lichen is grow
ing on the surface.
(82), (83). Lava from Ascotan. The former exhibits
felspar crystals up lo about one-fifth of an inch in diameter,
377

APPENDIX
in a ratiier dark, compact matrix, which becomes redder on
weathering. ]\hcroscopic examination shows the more
conspicuous crj-stals to be plagioclaistic felspar, biotite, and
hornblende (the two being often blackened by iron oxide),
with a Uttie paler-colored augite. These are imbedded in
a dirty brown glass, studded with microUths of plagioclastic
felspar. The rock, accordingly, is a biotite -hornblende -
andesite. Tbe second specimen is generaUy simdar, but
its reddish matrix is more distinctij' molded with darker
tints. The more conspicuous mineral.^ are as before; tbe
biotite and hornblende are more easdj- recognized. The
microscope shows no material difference to exist, though
tbe biotite and hornblende are less affected, and the base
affords sUghl indications of a fluxional structure; (83),
also from Ascotan, is a pale, cream-colored granular rock,
either a decomposed trachj'te or fine trachytic ash, in
which a large quantitj" (perhaps nearly haU the mass)
of lemon-yeUow sulphur is interspersed. The exact nature
of the matrix cannot be determined microscopicaUj^, and
the specimen is heirdly worth microscopic examination,
which, indeed, might give no residt.
(85)-(89). Don Pedro Volcano ; (85) is duU-red scoriaceous
rock, -with a fair number of smaU spots ; some black, about
as large as pinheads, indicating a pyroxene; others Ught
colored, probably felspar; (86), a compact, pale-pirddsh
matrix, is studded with smaU crystals of a glassy felspar
and of biotite (often idiomorphic), in both cases not ex
ceeding I inch in diameter. Tbe rock under the microscope
has a general resemblance to the last described, but con
tains augiles slightiy larger in size, and has a rather clearer
base; (87) is a purpUsh black, minutely vesicidar rock,
containing some minute crystals of felspar. On micro
scopic examination it is found to be studded with pla
gioclastic felspar, ranging from microUths to about .03
inch in longest diameter, with grains and granules of iron
oxide, and the same (not very regular in outiine) of augite.
There is a Utile residual glass, but il is difficult to detect
among the crowd of smaU minerals. 378

APPENDIX
(90), (91). "Railway cutting west of Sal Gema." A
piece of rather hard, compact, gray shale, slightiy irreg
ular Ul shape, with joint surfaces, brown slams, and
dendritic markings; (91) is generaUy sinular in shape,
browner, and very rotten. The outside is shale, but a
layer, about half an inch thick, is probably a rotten feb
spathic grit. The specimen is hardly worth cutting lo
determine the nature of the latter.
(92). Near Sahnas railway station. This specimen has
a tufaceous aspect, and is harder than the finger-nail, but,
as it does not effervesce wilh acids, cannot be a carbonate;
possibly it is anhydrite.
(4) From the Western Face of the Peak of
Aconcagua
These specimens were coUected, not from rocks in situ,
but from the great slopes of debris which cover so much
of the mountain, and are traversed during the upper part
of the ascent. On this account, and as their general char
acter was readily ascertained by study with a lens, 1
have contented myself with an occasional examination of
the powder. While the varietal differences are numer
ous, as might be anticipated in samples from a number
of successive lava flows, they all represent one group,
the andesites, and it is interesting to observe the general
absence of scoriae and even of vesicles. 1 was struck
-with this fact in examining the specimens brought from
Aconcagua by Messrs. FitzGerald and Vines, and called
attention to il in the note contributed to their volume,*
because 1 had reason to think that their collection, though
a small one, was likely lo be representative. Tbe speci
mens also fully bear out an interesting observation made
by Sir Martin Conway, that the fragments in this debris
were often more or less subangular. This, no doubt, is
due to their rubbing, one against anoiher, in sliding
* The Highest Andes, p. 331.
379

APPENDIX
down tbe mountain-side. On a loftj' peak, such as Acon
cagua, subject to great variations of temperature, the
movement of loose debris probably is much increased bj'^
the action of snow, in the same waj- as was suggested by
Professors A. C. Ramsay and J. Gedde in the case of
certain breccias on the Rock of Gibraltar.*
The foUowing is a Ust of the specimens :
(i). Andesite, containing a Uttie brown hornblende. On
one face (doubtiess a joint) smaU crystals of idocrase are
rather numerous, some a yeUow-bro^\^l in color, others
more yeUow.
(2). A subangular piece of gjrpsimi with some superficial
red stains (hematite).
(3) . Small and rather flat fragments, cream white in color,
apparentiy representing a compact trachyte (probabh*
andesite), in a very decomposed stale.
(4), (5). SmaU and irregular-shaped fragments, of a
greenish color, probably due lo malachite ; one being com
pact, the olher porphjTitic. Two of the latter contain
crystals (up to about ^s inch diameter) of a blacldsb min
eral, which proves to be a very dark hornblende with a
rather smaU extinction angle; the szmie mineral, but of a
smaller size, occurs in others. They are ^•arieties, rather
decomposed, of andesites, mostiy bomblendic.
(6). Part of a rather smoothed subangular fragment of a
compact olive-green rock, in which are some verj- small
dcirk prisms. Probably a homblende-andesite, slightiy
stained with malachite.
(7). An elongated triangular fragment, defined by joint
faces, showing some very smaU crystals of felspar in a
compact matrix. An andesite.
(8), (9). SmaU fragments of a rather dark, finely speckled
andesite, "powdered" in places with a minute, yeUow-
green nuneral (epidote?).
(10). A small flat chip of a dark andesite, partiy coated
with a greenish mineral. Probably epidote.
* Quart. Jour. Geol. Soc, vol. xxiv. (1878), p. 515, etc.
380

APPENDIX
(n), (12). Compact dark-gray andesites.
(13), (14). Dark but finely speckled augile-andesites, as
proved by examining the powder from one under the
microscope. (15), (16). Minutely speckled andesites, very decomposed,
with external stains of limonite.
(17). The groundmass is compact, and a rather dark
gray color. It contains crystals of a dead-white felspar,
probably plagioclase, up lo Ys inch diameter, with a few,
smaUer in size, of a dark pyroxene, probably hornblende.
A variety of andesite.
(18). A very similar rock, but with a dull reddish ground-
mass. The spots of the dark pyroxene are fewer and small
er. Andesite.
(19). Similar lo (17) and (18) ; but with a greenish-gray
groundmass, little of the pyroxenic constituent, and some
specks of pyrite. The felspar as before, but it contains
some granules of epidote (?). Andesite.
(20). The groundmass is a dull purplish color, tbe min
erals in visible crystals are smaller, the felspars whitish,
being generally rather more elongated ; the dark constituent,
smaller in size but more abundant, proves lo be a rich
brown-colored hornblende. A hornblende-andesile.
(21). A gray groundmass, in which small crystals are
fairly abundant, representing the following minerals:
(a) white felspar; (b) a blackish pyroxenic mineral, often
columnar in form, nol seldom nearly ^ inch in length, and
in one case rather more; mostly, if not whoUy, born-
blende. A hornblende-andesile.
(22). A similar groundmass, but the felspars are slightiy
fewer and smaUer. The hornblende, however, is quite
as abundant, is more frequentiy columnar, and shows
traces of a paraUel ordering. Hornblende-andesite.
(23). Resembles the last two, but the felspars are
larger, neariy attaining lo % inch, tbe hornblende as
in (22), but without the fluxional structure. Hornblende-
andesite. (24), (25). Probably from one mass ; presenting a general
381

APPENDIX
resemblance to the last three; perhaps most closely aUied
to (23), but considerably more decomposed.
AU these rocks, (17) to (25), are closely related varieties
of andesites, but 1 should expect them to represent al least
three distinct masses of lava.
(26). A pale, slightly purplish, gray -colored, compact
groundmass, including many small crj^stalline grains of
while felspar and a few of pyroxene. The rock is an
andesite, obviously decomposed, and speckled wilh minute
pyrite. (27)~(3i). Pieces of compact dull purplish-red lava, one or
two showing a few very small cavities ; another contains
two or three stout crystals of hornblende, almost % inch
long, and yet anoiher many minute crystals of felspar.
Varieties of andesite.
(32). A block rather irregular in form, about 4 inches
in the longest diameter, brick-red in color, with indications
of minute felspar and of some hornblende. A rather
decomposed andesite. There are some small external
patches of a soft black mineral with metallic lustre —
stibnite (?).
(33). A fragment, considerably less than a cubic inch,
of a reddish-brown color resembling a chert or possibly a
pitchstone. This I have examined under the microscope.
The slice includes on one side a small piece of andesite,
with little crystals of plagioclase, in a groundmass of
microUths of the same and ferruginous specks, together
with a limited amount of glassy base showing traces of
devitrification. The remainder of the slice consists of an
irregular, sometimes labyrinthic, sponge-like structure of
a reddish to very dark-brown material, associated gen
erally with a thin outer band of light-yellow or occasion
ally reddish-brown color (the latter, when both are present,
being the exterior one). The interspaces are filled with
a clear mineral. Between crossed nicols this proves to be
chalcedonic quartz, wilh a slightly radial arrangement,
and the yellowish or reddish bands to be also chalcedony,
but iron-stained. I think this specimen lo be a piece of
382

APPENDIX
rather basic scoria, which has included a fragment of
andesite, and in which chalcedony has been afterwards
deposited, probably as a result of solfalaric action; or,
in other words, il is a specimen of silicified scoria.
The general absence of scoria, as already mentioned,
is noteworthy, especially in a mountain of such greal
elevation. No doubt Aconcagua has suffered much from
denudation, and the lighter materials, which hardly can fail
lo have entered into the composition of its crater ring, have
been swept away. But even if we aUow for this, lava
flows must be much in excess of ash, al any rale in the
part which has been examined by Messrs. FitzGerald,
Vines, and Conway. In these, hornblende-andesile seems
lo be the dominant variety.
(5) Mount Sarmiento, Tierra del Fuego.
(i). A rather thin slab, measuring approximately 3
inches by 2 inches, the broader surfaces indicating a
cleavage-foliation, and of a grayish-green or olive color;
apparently a gneiss or a rather micaceous schist, which
has undergone greal pressure. This inference is confirmed
by microscopic examination: the rock has been much
crushed and has afterwards been recemenled. It was orig
inally crystalline, banded, and probably traversed by
small quartz-veins. More felspathic or micaceous layers
once alternated wilh more quarlzose, the latter now forming
more or less irregular, often crumpled, streaks. The former
consist of a fine-grained mixture of a micaceous mineral
wilh granules, mostly earthy, but in part water-clear.
The flakes vary from a rather pale dull green lo almost
colorless, the one being very feebly pleochroic, and
giving dull tints with crossed nicols, while the olher pro
duce more brdliant tints and resemble an ordinary white
mica. Probably they are aU varieties of a hydrous mica,
but perhaps in some cases a chlorite may be present. Simi
lar flakes also occur in the more quarlzose streaks. In
these the water -clear mineral, commonly, when quartz
383

APPENDIX
(though a secondary felspar may also be present), is rather
polygonal in outline and exhibits a distinct grouping;
the grains, like the flakes, varying in diameter from about
.003 to .001 inch; occasionaUj', though rarely, being as
much as .005 inch. These show a distinct grouping by
size; the larger, which are more free from mica, probably
representing original veins; the smaUer, in which il is
more abiuidanl, the more quarlzose layers of the original
rock. The earthy granules, on examination with a high
power, appear to be decomposition products from felspar,
wilh some epidote, which mineral occasionaUy occurs in
rather more distinct grains. A somewhat rounded zircon
is also lo be seen. On the whole, a pressure-modified mica-
schist seems the best name for this specimen.
(2). A fine-grained rock, speckled greenish white and duU
green, with faint indications of foUation, resembling a
diabase or diorite, somewhat pressure - modified. The
microscope shows that it consists of a pale -green horn
blende, in nol very weU-f ormed crystals, which vary con
siderably in size (the larger being rather rich in small
enclosures), together with epidote, white mica, perhaps
some chlorite, and possibly a few grains of secondary
felspar. The rock is sUghlly foUaled, has probably been
somewhat affected by pressure, and is an altered diorite,
which may once have been a dolerile.
(3) . A rather pyramidal specimen, probably bounded by
irregular joint surfaces, deeply stained with limonite.
On chipping away a comer, the rock is found lo be holo
crystalline, moderately coarse, consisting mainly of de
composed felspar and a somewhat altered biotite. Il is
hardly sufficiently well presented to be worth slicing,
but it appears to be either a mica-syenite or a mica-diorile.
(4). A holocrystalline rock, having a rather dark but
speckled matrix, in which are scattered (with a slight
fluxional ordering) whitish crystals, apparently of felspar,
with a rather irregular outline ; the former seemingly con
sisting of this mineral and a dark-green hornblende, with
some specks of pvrite. On microscopic examination il
384

APPENDIX
becomes evident that the rock has undergone considerable
secondary change, initialed possibly by pressure ; for the
outlines of all the principal constituents are more or less
irregular. In the matrix, the felspars have undergone
much molecular rearrangement ; smaU granules, probably
in part epidote, in part kaoUnitic, having formed, wilh
occasionaUy a water -clear mineral resembling quartz,
which, however, may in some cases be a secondary felspar.
The hornblende is of a pale-green color, nol unf requenlly
speckled with granules, apparentiy of epidote, having also
flakelels of brown mica, and rather larger flakes of the
latter developed around the edges, as if formed al the
expense of the hornblende and the felspar. The larger
crystals, which lo the unaided eye appear lo be the latter
mineral, are found to be mainly composed of microUths.
The majority are rudely prismatic in form, incUning some
times to flaky. Al first sight two minerals apparently
are present : one, a fairly normal epidote ; the other, rather
less regular in form, giving low blue polarization tints, but,
as the one sometimes seems lo pass into the other in the
same crystallite, I doubt whether the difference indicates
more than some slight variety in composition. With
them a little while mica and residual felspar (?) is associat
ed. Pyrite happens nol lo be present, but there is a de
composed iron oxide, which, as il is associated wilh brown
granules resembling sphene, probably represents ilmenile.
Thus the rock is a modified diorite.
Examination wilh the microscope confirms the impression
which was formed from the hand specimens ; namely, that
this is a group of rocks of considerable antiquity, long
anterior to the date of the ordinary lavas and scoriae of the
Andean chain. They have been affected by the great
earth movements which have given il birth, and belong lo
the folded mass of older crystaUine and sedimentary rocks,
which serve as a foundation lo the newer volcanic summits.
Mount Sarmiento nol improbably belongs to the same part
of the greal mountain system of South America as the
eastern range of the Bolivian Andes (explored by Sir
2B 385

APPENDIX
William Martin Conway), and we must remember that Mr.
Whymper found Sara-urcu (15,502 feet), in the eastern
most range of the Ecuadorian Andes, lo consist wholly of
melamorphic rocks.*

ON SOME PALAEOZOIC FOSSILS FROM BOLIVL^
OBTAINED BY SIR WILLIAM MARTIN
CONWAY
By R. BULLEN NeWTON, F.G.S. , British Museum
Among the geological specimens collected by Sir William
Martin Conway in BoUvia are two rocks exhibiting cer
tain organisms which have been submitted lo the writer
for determination. The largest of these is a tabular mass
of micaceous, gray sandstone, measuring 5 by 6 inches
in extent, and having a thickness of 1% inches. Its struct
ure is impregnated with minute speckles of what appears
to be limonite, and a similar material fills up the numerous
fine veins which intersect the slab in all directions. On
the upper surface occur the fossils; these consisting of
Brachiopod - shell impressions, together with some olher
remains which, on account of their fragmentary nature
and bad preservation, are a good deal problematical, al
though they apparently belong to a crustacean or a fish.
It is through the Brachiopods, however, that the age of
the sandstone can be furnished, since one of tbe examples
is identifiable as Anoplotheca flabellites, a characteristic
species of Lower Devonian rocks of both North and South
America, the Falkland Islands, and South Africa. A
further Brachiopod valve is also observable, which appears
to belong to the genus Atrypa (?) ; but this as well as the
other specimens will be subsequently referred to under more
detailed observations. The locality of the sandstone, as
given by Sir William Martin Conway, is as follows : " In
*See Proc. Roy. Soc, No. 234 (1884), for descriptions of the speci
mens and references to similar occurrences in the Andes.
386

APPENDIX
situ, on ascent of spur of Cacaaca, in crossing from MiUuni
to Huaina Potosi mine " ; at a height of 16,500 feel above
the level of the sea. The other rock specimen is a thin
fragment of dark slaty-shale, tinged superficiaUy with
a reddish brown color. One of its surfaces is covered with
the valves of a small Brachiopod, aU in an extremely
compressed state, and presenting resemblances to the
genus Orthotetes. It was obtained al "Cerro Anlajahua,
Mina MiUuni, La Paz," and is probably of Devonian age.
One of the most valuable contributions on the Palaeozoic
fossUs of Bolivia was furnished by Dr. A. Ulrich in 1892,
from some rich material supplied him by Dr. G. Sleinmann.
Ulrich demonstrated that the clay-slates and sandstones,
so widely distributed over Bolivia and Brazil, could be
synchronized wilh the Oriskany sandstone, the Upper
Helderberg and the Hamilton groups of North America,
on account of the occurrence of such typical Brachiopods
as Anoplotheca flabellites and Vitulina pustulosa. From
similar data he also traced an analogy between these
Bolivian deposits and those of Brazil, the Falkland Isl
ands, and South Africa.
Several other authors have written on the palaeontology
of Bolivia, but without reviewing their works it may be
of interest to append the following list of memoirs on this
subject :
Derby, 0. A. — "Notice of the PalEeozoic Fossils (from Lake
Titicaca) ; with notes by Alexander Agassiz." Bull. Mus. Comp.
Zoology, Harvard College, 1876. Vol. iii.. No. 12, pp. 279-286.
Forbes, David — " On the Geology of Bolivia and Southern Peru."
Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc, 1861. Vol. xvii., p. 762 (with geological
map). GabB, W. M. — " Description of a Collection of Fossils, made by
Dr. Antonio Raimondi, in Peru." Journ. Acad. Nat. Set., Philadel
phia, 1877, new series. Vol. viii., part iii., p. 302.
KAYSER, E. — "Beitrage zur Kenntniss einiger palaozoischer Faun-
ien von Sud-Amerika." (a) Devonische Versteinerungen vom Titica-
casee." Zeitschr. Deutsch. Geol. Ges., 1897. Vol. xlix., pi. 12, p. 303.
ORBIGNY, Alcide D'. — 'Voyage dans I'Amerique Meridionale
(La Republique de Bolivia, etc.)" Paleontologie et GSologie, 1842.
Vol. iii., parts iii. and iv. 387

APPENDIX
Salter, J. W.— " On the Fossils from the High Andes (Bolivia)
collected by David Forbes." Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc, 1861. Vol.
xvii., pp. 62-73, pis. 4 and 5 (Palaeozoic Fossils).
Steinmann, G. — " Zur Kenntniss der Jura- und Kreideformation
von Caracoles (Bolivia)." Neues Jahrbuch, 1881, Beilage Band I,
pp. 239-301, pis. 9-14.
Steinmantst, G. — "A Sketch of the Geology of South America.''
American Naturalist, 1891, p. 585.
Ulrich, A. — " Palaozoische Versteinerungen aus BoUvien," in
" Beitrage zur Geologic und Palaontologie von Siidamerika " (edited
by G. Steinmann). Neues Jahrbuch, 1892, Beilage Band 8, p. 116,
pis. 1-5.
descriptions of THE SANDSTONE FOSSILS
Brachiopoda
Anoplotheca flabellites. — Conrad. (See fig. i, page 389.)
Atrypa Flabellites. Conrad. Fifth Ann. Rep., New York
Geological Survey/, 1841, p. 55. (Not figured.) (North America.)
(?) Terebratula Peruviana. D'Orbigny. Voy. AmSrique
Merid., 1842. Vol. iii., part iv., p. 36; vol. viii., pi. 2, figs. 22-25
(=Bolivia) .
Atrypa PalmATA. Morris and Sharpe. Quart. Journ. Geol.
Soc, 1846. Vol. ii., pi. 10, fig. 3, p. 276. (Falkland Islands.)
Orthis Palmata. Sharpe. Trans. Geol. Soc, London, 1856.
Ser. ii., vol. vii., pi. 26, figs. 7-10, p. 207. (South Africa.)
Leptoc(elia Flabellites. Hall. Pal. New York, 1859. Vol.
iii., pi. 1036, fig. I, pi. 106, fig. I, p. 449. (North America.)
Orthis Aymara. Salter. Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc, 1861. Vol.
xvii., pi. 4, fig. 14, p. 68. (Bolivia.)
LePTOCOELIA ACUTIPLICATA. Hall. Pal. New York, 1867. Vol.
iv., pi. 57, figs. 30-39, p. 367.
LeptOCCELIA Flabellites. Ulrich. Beitr. Geol. Pal. Siid
amerika — Paldozoische Versteinerungen von BoUvien, 1892. PI. 4, figs.
9-13, p. 60. (Bolivia.)
Leptoccelia Flabellites. Hall and Clarke. Pal. New York,
1893. Vol. viii., part ii., pi. 53, figs. 40-46, 53, p. 137.
Anoplotheca PI^abellites. Schuchert. Bull. if. S. Geol.
Survey, No. 87, 1897, p. 144.
This form, as represented by Sir William Martin Con
way's specimen, appears to be an external view of the
dorsal or smaller valve, exhibiting an orbicular contour,
and ornamented with twelve rather rounded ribs, of which
the two or three central ones thicken out in the anterior
388

liOLIVIAN I'OSSII.S

-*j'»>fc

M<.. I
ANOI'I.O'I IMCCA I'l.AillCM.rTRS
t iiiii;ul ,",p.

ATKYI'A ? SI

inc.. 3
SANos'i'onh sr.Ai! n.KniiuTiNO p'o.ssil remains on rrs suhI'-acic
A ANfJl'LiJ-jiiKiA n.Aitm.i.n'KS (cxlrrior ol ilnrHal valvp).
H lliltn (an iiiiprcn'.iiiii 111 Mil' .mtciior li.ilf of a Hinallcr valvr).
A'I'NVI'A i' Hp.
) P'taKiiiriilaiv llcatl nl Hhlcld n) |iiulial)lv a 'I'rllubilo ni t:f'|ilialaH|ii(llaii fmll witli a pus-
tno-lalrral mniii.
•: Marginal lilTldl a licad-nliicld licloiif^iii).; to fl nitiiilar iir^.tniHin anil Hhowiiig nlj.^riiri-
iliiirar iiliialiiiiiM.
lOvnily tiiai>'.liic(l, oval, anil ohloiiK cxcavatinrm of doubttnl nri|;in.

p>-<«VTO7...;,.i[ I'lu, I |r|l„ 5
oH'riio'Pici'ics SI'.

APPENDIX
direction. Under a favorable light, obscure indications
seem to be present of concentric striations decorating tbe
ribs. The Uabellate character of the species is well ex
pressed in the sjieciraen.
Dimensions-Length = 12 ) .^inimetres.
Width = 12 j
Conrad originally recorded this species from the Oriskany
sandstone of North America, but through tbe researches
of Ulrich and other writers it is now recognized from the
Devonian beds of South American countries, the Falk
land Islands, and South Africa, although not known as a
European form. The genus suggested for the species
on this occasion is that adopted by Dr. Schuchert, one
of the latest authorities on systematic Brachiopoda.
Atrypa (?) (See fig. 2, page 389.)
Under this genus a rather doubtful imiiression is in
cluded. Tbe specimen is elongate, sligbtl\' convex, and
with moderately oblique sides ; its ornamentation consists
of three or four prominently raised ribs, which a])j)ear to
trifurcale, these main ribs being separated by fairly wide
grooves. There are no indications of transverse scul])t-
uring, and in the absence of such a character it is possible,
as my colleague. Dr. F. A. Bather, points out, tbat this
valve may belong lo the genus Spirifer, and not to Atrypa,
although in some of its charactcr.s there is a resemblance
to such forms of this genus as Atrypa marginalis (Dal-
man). The specimen has the beak ciir\'ed inward, and it
probably represents the pedicle (or ventral) valve.
Dimensions-Length = 20 ) ^iiiij^e^j.^^
Width = 18 S ™"i™eires.
Problematical Organisms
The problematical remains, previously mentioned, now
require to be considered. They resemble portions of
bead-shields which may have belonged to cither a crus
tacean or a fi.sh. One is furni.sbed with a long, lateral,
tapering spine, forming the produced extremity of what
300

APPENDIX
appears to be the cheek-.siirfacc of a trilobile or a ccph-
alaspidiaii fish ; Ihe other re])i"e.senls a rim or margin
ol a possible hcYidsiiield of a similar or!.;aiiisni, showing
obsmrc-linear striations. Adjacent to this last-mentioned
iia^nienl are .some curiously excavated spaces, which
.sceiii to be connected wilh il, from the fact that they ex-
bibil pcrrectly even margins. Those lyin^; close lo the
rim are of oval design, whereas another is of oblong shape,
with the lateral iiiar.nins narrowing slightiy towards the
rounder excavations. Neither Dr. Trtiquair nor Dr. A.
S. Woodward are able to acknowled).;e delinitely that these
rciiiaiii.s heloiif^ to the rKsh-!.;roup of animals, although
the latter thinks Ibere is a resemblance in that direction.
It is, of course, more probable that they should be crus
tacean, since trilobitcs have been described from fJolivia,
and no vertebrates, so far as can be ascertained, have yet
been recorded from the Devonian rocks of that country.
Therefore, as these curious bodies offer no structure of
suflicicnl importance to connect them decidedly with any
known fo.ssil, we must await further collections from this
sandstone formation before a more accurate statement
can be made reuardin.i:; them.
It ui.iy be interesting- to mention, however, that a similarly
si)ined bvssil of doubtful afliiiity from the I'abeozoic rocks
of Bolivia was described by Salter* in i86l as Boliviana
bipciniis; although il need not be mistaken for the present
specimen, as it differs in i)ossessing surface ridt;ings and
furrows, besides in other details appearing lo be an entirely
¦separate organism. (See fig. ,?, page 389.)
DIOSCRIPTION OF FOSSILS ON THE SPECIMEN OF SLATY
SILVLIC
BrACMIOI'ODA
Orthotetes sp. (See figs. 4 and S- l>;»ti'c 389.)
The dark slaty-shale rock exhibits several compressed
casts of Bnicbioiiod-\alves which probably belong to a
* Quart. Joiirii. Geol. Soc, 18(0, vol. xvii., pi. 5. fi.u:- H. P- 7--

APPENDIX
species of Orthotetes. Unfortunately, the reddish-brown
surface of tbe matrix serves lo obscure the specimens,
and il is only by the aid of a lens and a good bright Ught
that they can be traced out. In shape they are transverse
ly oblong, and their sculpturing consists of . numerous
fine, closely set ribs which bifurcate a lillle below the
centre of the valve. There are indications also that tbe
ribbing is crossed by delicate concentric striations, which
would suggest relationship to such a form as Orthotetes
umbraculum (Schlotheim). The hinge is long and straight,
but whether the cardinal angles are rounded or not is some
what dif&cult lo discern, either on accoimt of imperfect
margins or because the impressions are rather crowded
and frequently overlap each other. A general resem
blance may also be noticed to Orthotetes sp. A. of Ulrich,*
a form from the same horizon and country, although nol
showing the striated character of the ribs.
Dimensions — Length =13) .,,.
Widtii= 9} millimetres.

LIST OF PLANTS COLLECTED BY SIR WILLIAM
MARTIN CONWAY IN THE BOLIVIAN
ANDES— 1898-99.
Ranxinculace^.
Anemone integrifolia, H. B. K.
37. Near the top of HuaUata Pass, 14,110 ft.
65. Tbe Puna — "Common fuel-moss."
Cruciferje.
Draba affinis. Hook f.(?)
This very meagre specimen was mixed with Werneria
pyginaea, Gill.(?), and Saxifraga CordUlerarum,
Presl, from the neighborhood of Rocktooth Camp,
Mount Sorata, al about 18,000 fl.
*" Beitr. Geol. Pal. Siid-Amerika," Palaozoische Versteinerungen
von BoUvien, 1892, pi. 4, fig. 30, p. 76.
392

APPENDIX
VlOLACE^.
Viola pygniaea, Juss.
38. Near the lop of Huallata Pass, 14,110 ft.
Caryophyllace.e.
Cerastiuni mucronatum, Wedd.
6. Illimani, camp 3, 16,500 ft.
Hypericace^.
Hypericum thesiifolium, H. B. K.
48. High up on the south side of HuaUata Pass, at
about 14,000 fl.
Malvace^.
Malvastruiii flabellatum, Wedd.
35. On ascent from Hiska Haukana lo Rocktooth
Camp, at about 18,700 ft.
Geraniace.e.
Erodium cicutarium, L'H6rit.
63. La Paz race-course; 18, Umapusa, 14,270 fl.
Oxalis lotoides, H. B. K.
46. High up on south side of Huallata Pass.
LEGUMINOS.E. Adesmia spinosissima, Meyen.
54. Hiska Haukana and neighborhood.
Astragalus uniflorus, DC.
39. Near the lop of Huallata Pass, 14,110 fl.
Medicago denticulata, WiUd.
64. La Paz; on the race-course (introduced).
Lupinus sp.
9. Illimani, near first camp, 14,000 fl.
Saxifragace,e.
Saxifraga CordUlerarum, Presl, var. trigyna, Eng-
ler.
Nccu Rocktooth Camp, about 18,000 ft.
Loasace-e.
Bliimenbachia chuquitensis. Hook. f.
23. Frasciya, 15,000 ft.
Cactace.e.
Echinocactus sp.
16. Umapusa, 14,270 ft. 393

APPENDIX
Umbellifer^.
Azorella diapensioides, A. Gray.
65. Vilahaque Hill, about 14,500 fl.
Valerianace^.
Valeriana nivalis, Wedd.
34. On the ascent from Hiska Haukana to Rocktooth
Camp, about 18,000 f I. ; common ; 52, Puna.
Composite. Aster limnophilus, Hemsl. and H. H. W. Pearson.
28. Hiska Haukana, al about 16,500 fl.
Baccharis genistelloides, Pers.
8. Illimani, near first camp, al 14,000 fl.
Baccharis subpenninervis, Sch.-Bip.
10. Illimani, near first camp, al 14,000 ft.
Baccharis alpina, Wedd. ( ?)
24. Frasciya, about 15,000 ft.
Baccharis microphylla, H. B. K.
II. Illimani, near first camp, al 14,000 fl.
Erigeron Brittonianum, Rusby.
36. Hiska Haukana; 44, High up on the south side of
Huallata Pass,
Senecio adenophylloides, Sch.-Bip.
4. Illimani, on moraine, at about 16,000 fl.
Senecio linear if alius, Poepp. ( ?)
25. Frasciya, at about 15,000 fl.
Senecio sp.
13. Illimani, near first camp, at 14,000 fl.
Werneria dactylophylla, Sch.-Bip.
32. On ascent from Hiska Haukana lo Rocktooth
Camp, al about 18,000 ft.
Werneria Mandoniana, Wedd.
29, 30, and 31. On ascent from Hiska Haukana to
Rocktooth Camp, al about 18,000 ft.
Werneria pygmaea, Gill.
21. Umapusa, 14,270 ft., and without number, near
Rocktooth Camp, about 18,000 ft.
Werneria heteroloba, Wedd.
51. Puna. 394

APPENDIX
Barnadesia polyacantha, Wedd.
40. On the way down towards Sorata.
Perezia caerulescens, Wedd.
2. lUimani, near first camp, at 14,000 fl. ; 56, Hiska
Haukana and neighborhood, at about 16,000 ft.
Hypochaeris sessiliflora, H. B. Iv.
55. Hiska Haukana and neighborhood; 61, South
slope of Huallata Pass.
CAMPAXULAC-E. Lobelia iiana, H. B. Iv.
45. Idigh up on south side of HuaUata Pass; 59,
Hiska Haukana and neighborhood ; 60, TheodoUte
station 6, Puna, near Achacache.
Centropogon, sp. nova.?
42. On the way down towards Sorata.
Vaccixiacee;.
Vaccin ium penaeoides, H. B. K.
7. lUimani, Camp 3, al 16,720 fl.
PLUMBAGIXACE-E. Plurnbago scan dens, Linn.
43, 44. On the way down towards Sorata.
GEXTIAXACE-E. Gentiana sedifolia, H. B. K.
I. lUimani, near first camp, at about 14,000 ft.; 20,
22, Umapusa, at about 14,500 ft. ; 50, Puna.
BORAGINACE.E. Eritrichiuni, species indeterminala.
62. South slope of HuaUata Pass.
SOLAXACE^.
Solanum pallidum, Rusby.
43. On the way down towards Sorata.
Scrophulariacee;.
Fagelia defiexa, 0. Kuntze.
41. On the way down towards Sorata.
Mimulus, species indeterminala.
57. HiskaHaukanaandneighborhood,ataboul i6,ooof I.
Ourisia muscosa, Benth.
26. Hiska Haukana, at about 16,500 ft.
39,5

APPENDIX
Labiate.
Bystropogon canus, Benth.
12. Illimani, near first camp, at 14,000 ft.
Micromeria boliviana, Benth.
3. Illimani, near first camp, al 14,000 fl.
Amaryllidacee;.
Bomarea glaucescens. Baker.
5. Illimani, Camp 3, at about 16,700 fl.
Bomarea glaucescens. Baker, var. puberula. Baker.
14. Illimani, at about 11,500 ft., just below Atahuail
lani.
Gramine^.
Deyeuxia glacialis, Wedd.
33. On the ascent from Hiska Haukana to Rocktooth
Camp, al about 18,000 fl.

OTHER COLLECTIONS
Owing to absence from England I have been unable lo
obtain detailed lists of these in time for publication. All
are deposited in the British Museum (Natural History).
The undescribed collections included :
A number of birds.
Two human skulls, man and woman, both artificially
distorted. Two lizards, Liolamus cyanogaster and Lilamus multi
formis, from high above Umapusa.
Four batrachians, Paludicola bibronii and Bufo spiru-
lorus. One fish, Oustias owenii, from the slopes of Mount So
rata, about 15,000 fl.
Nineteen Arachnida and about fifty insects. " Among
the beetles collected by yourself in Bolivia," writes Mr.
Charles 0. Water house, of the British Museum, "there
are two specimens of a species which is quite new, and
which I have described under the name of Plastica
polita." 396

APPENDIX
Two land shells were identified by Mr. E. A. Smith : Epi-
phragmophora estella (d'Orbigny) [=-Helix estella, d'Or
bigny], habitat, Illimani ; Bulimulus culmineus (d'Orbigny)
[=^Bulimus culmineus, d'Orbigny], habitat, Illimani and
Umapusa.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
The following are the works to which I have referred or attempted
to refer. Some of them were inaccessible to me. This list, of course,
makes no claim to be a complete bibliography of Bolivia.
AhUMADA Moreno, P. — Guerra del Pacifico. 6 vols. Valparaiso,
1884-9. Foi.
AlceDO, Ant. de — Geographical and Historical Dictionary of Amer
ica (G. A. Thompson's edition). 5 vols. London, 1812— 15. 4to.
 Atlas. London, 1816. Foi.
Annals of the Astronomical Observatory of Harvard College. Peru
vian Meteorology (S. I. Bailey and E, C. Pickering). Chapter on
the Configuration and Heights of the Andes, with Bibliography.
Cambridge (Mass.), 1899. 4to.
Aramayo, Avelino — Proyecto de una nueva via de comunicacion
entre Bolivia y el oceano Pacifico. London, 1863.
 Bolivia. London, 1874.
ArARA(?) — Voyage dans I' Amerique meridionale. Paris, 1809. (Not
in Brit. Mus.)
ArcHIVO Boliviano — Coleccion de Docum-entos relatives a la His
toria de Bolivia, durante la epoca colonial, con un catalogo de obras
impresas y de m.anuscritos que tratan de esa parte de la America
Meridional, publicados por V. de Ballivian y Roxas. Paris, 1872,
etc. Svo. In progress.
Ballivian, M. V., and E. Idiaquez — Diccionario Geografico de la
Republica de Bolivia. La Paz, 1890.
BelleSSORT, Andre — La jeune Amirique. Chili et Bolivie. Paris,
1897. 8vo.
BiLLINGHURST, GuillerMO E. — Reconocimiento Militar del Rio
Desaguadero y de la Altaplanicie Andina. Lima, 1880. Foi. (vide
Proc. R. G. S. 1882, p. 647.)
Bolivia, Foreign Office Reports on — Annual Series, Nos.
1053, 1499 (C. Akers), and 1841 (A. St. John).
Bolivia, Handbook of— Bulletin No. 55 of the Bureau of the
American Republics. Washington, 1892. 8vo.
Bravo, C. — La Patria Boliviana: Estado geografico, being vol. v. of
the Biblioteca Boliviana de Geografia e Historia, La Paz, 1894. 8vo.
398

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bresson, Andre — Bolivia. Sept annSes d'ezploratiotis, de voyages,
et de sSjours dans VAmirique australe. Paris, 1886. 4to.
Castelnau, Francois de — Expedition dans les parties centrales de
I'Amerique du sud. 7 pts. Paris, 1850—59. Svo, 4to, and foi.
Charlevoix, Pierre F. X. de — Histoire du Para^ay. Paris,
1756. 4to. English translation, 2 vols. London, 1769. Svo.
Cisneros, C. B., and R. E. GARCIA — Geografia comercial de la
America del sur. Tercera Entrega. Rep. de Bolivia. Lima, 1897,
etc. Svo. In progress.
Cortes, ManOEL Jose — Ensayo sobre la Historia de Bolivia.
Sucre, 1861.
 Bolivia. Paris, 1875.
Dalena, Jose Maria — Bos^Me/o estadistico de Bolivia. Sucre,
1851 and 1878 (?).
De Bonelli, L. Hugh — Travels in Bolivia. 2 vols. London, 1854.
Svo.
DesjarDINS (?) — Le Perou avant la ConquMe espagnole. (Not in Brit.
Mus.) 1. and d. ? This is stated to contain representations of pre-
Inca Bolivian ruins as observed and drawn in 1847 by M. Angrand.
Forbes, DAVro — The Aymara Indians. Journal of the Ethnologi
cal Society, new series, vol. ii., p. 193 et seq. London, 1870, Svo.
 Geology of Bolivia and S. Peru. Quarterly Journal of the
Geological Society, vol. xvii., pp. 7—62, with map and sections.
London, 1861. Svo.
Ford, Isaac N. — Tropical America. London, 1893. Svo.
GranDIDIER, Ernest — Voyage dans I'Amerique du sud. Perou et
Bolivie. Paris, 1S61. Svo.
Humboldt, AxeX. von — Aspects of Nature. Translation by Mrs.
Sabine. 2 vols. London, 1849. Svo.
Mathews, E. D. — Up the Amazon and Madeira Rivers, through
Bolivia and Peru. London, 1S79. Svo.
Miller, General — Memoirs, in the Service of the Republic of Peru.
2 vols. London, 1S29.
Minchin, J. B. — Bolivia. Proceedings R. Geographical Soc., p. 671.
London, 1SS2. Svo.
Moreno, J. 'L.—Nociones de geografia de Bolivia. Sucre, 1889.
Musters, G. C. — Notes on Bolivia. Journal of the R. Geographical
Soc, vol. xlvii., p. 201. London, 1877. Svo.
ORBIGNY, A. DESSALESTES D' — Descripcion geografica, historica, y
estadistica de Bolivia. Paris, 1S45. Svo.
 Voyage dans I'Amerique meridionale de 1S26 h 1833. 9 vols.
and atlas. Paris, 1835-47. 4to.
Paz Soldan, M. F. — Guerra de Chile contra Peru y Bolivia. La
Paz, 1S84.
Pentland, J. B. — Memoir on the Andes and on the Great Plateau.
Journal of the R. Geographical Soc. London, 1835 and 1849.
Svo. See also Annates de Chimie et de Physique, Paris, 1829.
399

BIBLIOGRAPHY
PreSCOTT, W. H. — History of the Conquest of Peru, edited by J. F.
Kirk. 2 vols. London, 1884. Svo.
QUERBEUF, Abbe de — Lettres edifiantes et curieuses 4crites des
missions Etrang^res. 26 vols. Paris, 17S0— S3. l2mo.
Reck, Hugo — Geographie und Statistik der Republik Bolivia. With
map. Petermann's Mittheilungen. Gotha, 1865, 1S66, and 1867.
4to.
Rene-Moreno, Gabriel — Biblioteca Boliviana. A bibliography of
Bolivia. Santiago de Chile, 1879. 4to.
Reiss, W., and A. StubeL — Reisen in SUd.-Amerika. Berlin, 1SS6,
etc. 4to.
 and R. KoPPEL — Kultur und Industrie siidamerikanischer
Volker. 2 vols. Berlin, 1889. Foi.
RtJCK, E. O. — Guia General de Bolivia. Sucre, 1865.
Squier, E. G. — Peru: Incidents of Travel, etc. London, 1877. Svo.
Temple, Edmond — Travels in Various Parts of Peru, including a
Year's Residence in Potosi. 2 vols. London, 1830, Svo.
Tschudi, j. j. von — Reisen durch Siidamerika. 5 vols. Leipzig,
1866-69. 8vo.
 Travels in Peru during the years 1838—42, London, 1847. Svo.
URSEL, Comte C. D' — Sud Amerique: Sejours et voyages . . . en
Bolivie, etc. Paris, 1879. l2mo.
VALDfeS, J. C. — La Paz de Ayacucho. La Paz, 1S90. Svo.
Weddell, H. A. — Voyage dans le ord de la Bolivie. Paris,
1853. Svo.
Wiener, Charles— P^j-om et Bolivie. Paris, 1880. Svo.

INDEX

Abichaca, 223, 244, 249, 251, 2S6.
Achacache, 168, 169, 222, 242,
248, 255.
Agriculture, Indian methods of,
106, 166, 275.
Alpacas, 176.
Alto above La Paz, 74, 160,
285, 2S6.
Alto de Animas, 258.
Ampato, see Coropuna.
Ancohuma, see Sorata, Mount.
Antofagasta, 340.
Antofagasta Railway, 330-341 .
Araca gold-mine, 268.
Arequipa, 55-59.
Arriero, Bolivian, 83.
Ascotan, 337.
Atahuaillani, 146.
Aymara Indians, 69, 73, 91, 104,
no, 156, 196, 201, 228, 243, 252,
254, 280, 2S6, 2S8 ; as laborers,
211, 264, 271, 275, 299 ; as por
ters, 107, 113, 115, 117, 119, 121,
123, 175, 1S4, 239 ; trouble with,
187, 211, 245, 252, 279, 285, 309.
Ayoayo, 316.
Azores, the, 6.
Ballivian, Sefior M. V,, S3, 159.
Balsas, 65.
Bandolier, Mr. and Mrs., 146,
276, 318, 321.
Bar-subtense survey, 241, 254.
Barbados, 6.
Beni rubber, 208.
Bieber, Mr. N. E., 69, 162, 250,
257-273.
Boots for climbing, 142.
Bridgman, Hon. George, 310.
Cacaaca, 291, 293, 294, 295,
312.

Caimbaya, 109, 142.
Caimbaya Glacier, 114, 124.
Calacoto Valley, 257.
Calama, 339.
Callao, 42.
Canal, ancient, 304.
Carapata Pass, 198.
Carcote volcano, 337.
Caribbean S^a, the, 16.
CarocoUo, 320.
Cattle, wild, 221.
Chachani, 54, 56.
Chagres River, 19, 21, 23.
Challana Valley, 302.
Chicha, 2S7.
Chililaya, 69.
Chulpas, 223, 244, 277, 282.
Cloud views, 119, 140, 164.
Coati Island, 68.
CoSee, 217.
Cohoni, 151.
CoUana, 259.
Colon, 16.
Condoriri, 296, 301.
Cordillera Brava, 68.
Cordillera Real, 67.
Coropuna, 54.
Cotana, 103—107.
Culebra Hill, Panama, 22, 23.
Cundall, Mr. F., 7, 9, 11.
Cusanaco gold-mine, 262—266.
Desaguadero River, 64.
Desert coast of South America,
38, 40.
Devils on mountains, 193.
Dolmen models, 172, 282.
Earth-pyramids, 92, 257.
Earthquake, 55.
Ecuador coast, 35.
Execution of a murderer, 28S.

20

401

INDEX

Finca, a BoUvian, 104, 107.
FitzGerald, Mr. E. A., 3, 242.
Footgear, 142, 234.
Fraskiya, 173, 175, 193, 227,
22S.
German traders abroad, 325.
Gold-bearing regions, 195, 219-
221, 262, 26S.
Glacier eating back, 150.
Glaciers, ancient, 177, 17S, 195,
197, 293, 294, 297.
Glaciers of Bolivia, dry character
of, 116, 184.
Gordontown, Jamaica, 14.
Grande, Rio, 336.
Guayaquil, 36.
Guillen, Sefior, 103, 106, 130,
134, 141-
Hankuma, see Sorata, Mount.
Hard, Professor A. A., 263.
Hayti, 9.
Hiska Haukafia, iSo.
Huaina Potosi mine, 296—299.
Huallata Pass, 194-19S, 222,
249, 270.
Huanchaca, 334.
Huarina, 168.
Illabaya, 195, 197.
Illampu, see Sorata, Mount.
Illimani, ascent of, 113 et sqq.; der
ivation of the name, 159 ; de
scent of, 139 et sqq.; high camp,
125; highest snow -field, 136;
history of, 85 ; Pic de Paris, 115 ;
Pico del Indio, 114, 133, 135,
138 ; summit of, 137 ; the rock-
wall, 122, 124 ; topography ot,
113; views of, 84, 90, 107, 148,
258,312.
Inca civilization, 68, 147.
India-rubber, cost of production,
215 ; diminishing supply of
Para, 206 ; extraction of, 212 ;
forests of BoHvia, 203—218.
Jacmel, 9.
Jamaica, II— 15.

Kaka, Rio, 220.
Kingston, Jamaica, II.

La Paz, 74, 76, 77 et sqq., 226,
288, 307, 310.
La Paz River, great gap in the
Cordillera made by the, 125—
130.
La Paz Valley, the, 91-102, 292.
Leander, H. M. S., 27, 28.
Lima, 43.
Llamas, 176, 316, 326.
Loa, Rio, 338.
Lurata, 102.
Machaca-Marca, 162, 166, 278.
Maquignaz, Antoine, 3, 240.
Martindale, Mr. M., 207, 292.
Millocato, 97-100.
MiUuni mine, 293.
Minchin, Mr. J. B., 330.
Mirage, 314, 332, 335.
Misti, 54, 56.
Mollendo, 52.
Mollendo rubber, 207.
MoUendo-Titicaca Railway, 53—
62.
Mountain-sickness, 46, 47, 61,
7S-S2, 113, 117, 120, 136, 138,
140, 186, iSS, 229, 233,
Mountain-system of Bolivia, 67.
Mud-avalanche, 94.
Mules, 83, 88, 90, 298.
Mururata, 259, 260.
Negroes of Jacmel, II ; of Ja
maica, 12.
Nicaragua Canal, 31.
Obrajes, 92, 257, 311.
Observatory at Arequipa, 59.
Okomisto, 162, 225, 256.
Ollague, 336.
Oroya Railway, the, 44—50.
Oruro, 292, 323-330.
Pacific Steam Navigation Com
pany, 34.
Pacuani Pass, 258.
Palca Valley, 145, 259-266.
Panama, 30, 31 ; hats, 39 ; Isthmus
of, iS.
Panama Bay, 35.
Panama Canal, 18, 30, 32.
Pando, General J. M., 309.
Pariri, 280.

402

INDEX

Payta, 39.
Pearl Islands, 34.
Pelicans on the Pacific, 51.
PeUissier, Louis, 3, 194, 283.
Pefias, 222, 223.
Penas Hill, 224, 281.
Pizarro, 36, 42.
Place of Flies, no, 113.
Poopo Lake, 64, 332.
Port Royal, Jamaica, 11.
Porufia volcano, 337.
Potatoes, 171.
Puerto Ballivian, 221, 302.
Pulacayo mine, 333.
Puna, the, 67, 71, 160, 163, 165,
171, 222-227, 255, 274, 2S4,
286, 293, 305, 314-332.
Puno, 62.
Resources of Bolivia, unde
veloped, 203.
Revolution at Panama, 24—30 in
Bolivia, 307.
Roads, ancient, 161, 168, 173,
195-
Rubber, see India-rubber.
Sajama, 306, 310, 31S, 320.
San Francisco Lake, 177.
San Pedro volcano, 337.
Sand-dunes, 55.
Santa Ana, 276.
Sehuenca, Rio, 304.
Sicasica, 319, 328.
Sledge for baggage, 15S, 187.
Soldiers, Bolivian, 274, 284.
Sorata, Mount, 154 ; Ancohuma
glacier, 155, 179, 185 ; climb of,
184 — 191, 229-239; Haukana
glacier, 179, 184 ; Haukafia
peak, 179, 1S9; highest camp.

189, 229, 239 ; Rocktooth camp,
185, 229, 239 ; views of, 66, 69,
196, 198, 201, 249.
Sorata Town, 19S-202, 221, 270.
Sorocche, see Mountain-sickness.
Stony HUl, Jamaica, 13.
Sucre, 308.
Surveying under difficulties, 240-
256.
Taguapalca, 152.
Thunderstorms on the Puna, 225.
Tin-mines, 291—299.
Tipuani Valley, 195, 210, 219,
26S.
Tirata, 1 01.
Titicaca Island, 68,
Titicaca Lake, 63--i69, 191.
Triangulation of the Cordillera,
240-256, 277, 2S3, 286.
Tuni, 303.
Umapusa, 157, 161, 172, 173,
193, 222, 227, 240.
Uyuni, desert near, 333, 334.
Vicunas, 300, 314, 331.
VUahaque Hill, 274-277.
Villanova, Avelino, 83, 194.
Vinamarca Lake, 69, 16S.
Volcanic region, 336—338.

Weather in Bolivia, 74.
226, 23S, 280, 292, 306.
West Indies, the, 4.

192,

Yani gold-mine, 219, 267-273.
Yareta, 61, 326.
Yungas, Las, 258.
Zongo, 294, 296, 309.

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