LiM'fl'ii?*? 1^1 i©Mi<3^ n^ "^ajAiNajwv^ ^.{/OJIIVO JO"^ ^^ ^OFCAlIFOff^lk, .^.OFCALIF0% .\WEUNIVERS/A {§ — "^ >- ^>;lOSANCflfj> ■^/V83AIN(]-3WV^ '^^'^AHVHflln^^^' %AaV83n-^V^^ % A>lOSANCFlfj>. n2 ^. V<^ ^/Sa3AINI13^ ^• ^;OFCAllF0ff^ 6: "^^OAttvaaii-i'^ ,NlOSANCElfj> ^^Aa3AiNn]UV % ,^ ^^^l•llBRARY■Gr -s>^tLIBRARYac ^ ''AIIFO/?^ ^OF-CAllFOff^ aWEUNIVERS//, 5;> //X A^lOSANCElfjVx > so %a3AiNn-3WV^ ^lOSANCElfj-^ /.ya]AiNft-3WV AvMum .^ Off ..\v ^WE-l!N'I\Tf?T//. \\\\ i'\'ivri?v// in<^Avr.nrr, ., nFfAiir-' Mn ^nM-LIBRARYOc, ^^OJIWDJO^ '^^FTAIIFOff^ '^''^ A\UUNIVER% ^lOSANGEiai, ^J:?133NVS0# ^/ia3AlNn-3VkV> \\\E UNIVER^//. \NCEl£r.> ]V3.jo>> ^.aOJIlVJJO^ ^XilJONVSOl^ %a3AINn3WV s ^^=^1 I -< aiFO/?^ ^OFCAllFOff^ AME UNIVERS/A A>:lOSANCElfj> >^;OFCAIIFO% -s^lLIBRARY^/;^ -v;^llIBRARYac. %a3AlN(l-3WV^ ^«!/0JnV3JO^ ^//OJIWD-JO"^ AWEUNIVERy//^ - _ ^ o v^lOSANCElff o "^aaAiNn-avV' \[\m//i o ^^/smm-^^ ^OF'CAllFO/P/j^ DC ^OF"CAIIFO% OS i\ />^ A S "^(^Anvaaiiii^ ^^AHvaaiH^ ^\\E•UNIVERy//, o ^>^:lOSANCElfj> o %iGAiNn]y^^ ^ARYOc 1IF0% ^:^UIBRARYa&AavaaiHV^^ IIVERS//) o o vj^lOSANCElfjv o %a3AINn-3WV> -^s^lllBRARYO^, ^UIBRARYQ^ ^^tfOJIlVDJO^ ^.tfOJITYDJO^ %a3AiN.aaft'^ "^(^Aavaani^ "^(?AyvHani^ ^WEUNIVER%. i %a3AiNn3y\v vi^lOSANCELfj-^ ^J:?i3DNvsm^^ %a3AiNn-3WV' [RARYQc^ ALIFOff> ,^,OFCAIIFO% THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU GEOGRAPHICAL RECONNAISSANCE ALONG THE SEVENTY-THIRD MERIDIAN BY ISAIAH BOWMAN Director of the American Geographical Society PUBLISHED FOR THE AMERICAN GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY OF NEW YORK BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY «.-^K /^^ 1916 K Q f 30944 COPTUIOHT, 1916 BT HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY EUS'T TM« Ou PREFACE The geographic work of the Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911 was essentially a reconnaissance of the Peruvian Andes along the 73rd meridian. The route led from the tropical plains of the lower Urubamba southward over lofty snow-covered passes to the desert coast at Camana. The strong climatic and topographic contrasts and the varied human life which the region contains are of geo- graphic interest chiefly because they present so many and such clear cases of environmental control within short distances. Though we speak of "isolated" mountain communities in the Andes, it is only in a relative sense. The extreme isolation felt in some of the world's great deserts is here unknown. It is there- fore all the more remarkable when we come upon differences of ^ customs and character in Peru to find them strongly developed in 5^ spite of the small distances that separate unlike groups of people. ^* My division of the Expedition undertook to make a contour map >^ of the two-hundred-mile stretch of mountain country between ^ Abancay and the Pacific coast, and a great deal of detailed geo- ^1 graphic and physiographic work had to be sacrificed to insure the completion of the survey. Camp sites, forage, water, and, above ?^all, strong beasts for the topographer's difficult and excessively ^ lofty stations brought daily problems that were always serious ."^ and sometimes critical. I was so deeply interested in the progress of the topographic map that whenever it came to a choice of plans r\ the map and not the geography was first considered. The effect upon my work was to distribute it with little regard to the de- mands of the problems, but I cannot regret this in view of the great value of the maps. Mr. Kai Hendriksen did splendid work in putting through two hundred miles of plane-tabling in two months under conditions of extreme difficulty. Many of his tri- angulation stations ranged in elevation from 14,000 to nearly viii PREFACE 18,000 feet, and the cold and storms— especially the hailstorms of mid-afternoon — were at times most severe. It is also a pleasure to say that Mr. Paul Baxter Lanius, my assistant on the lower Urubamba journey, rendered an invaluable serWce in securing continuous weather records at Yavero and else- where, and in getting food and men to the river party at a critical time. Dr. W. Gr. Erving, surgeon of the Expedition, accompanied me on a canoe journey through the lower gorge of the Urubamba between Rosalina and the mouth of the Timpia, and again by pack train from Santa Ana to Cptahuasi. For a time he assisted the topographer. It is due to his prompt surgical assistance to vari- ous members of the party that the field work was uninterrupted. He was especially useful when two of our river Indians from Pongo de Mainique were accidentally shot. I have since been in- formed by their patron that they were at work within a few months. It is difficult to express the gratitude I feel toward Professor Hiram Bingham, Director of the Expedition, first for the execu- tive care he displayed in the organization of the expedition's plans, which left the various members largely care-free, and sec- ond, for generously supplying the time of various assistants in the preparation of results. I have enjoyed so many facilities for the completion of the work that at least a year's time has been saved thereby. Professor Bingham's enthusiasm for pioneer field work was in the highest degree stimulating to every member of the party. Furthermore, it led to a determination to complete at all hazards the original plans. Finally, T wish gi-atcrnlly to ackiiowlodgo the expert assistance of Miss Ciladys M. Wrigley, of the editorial staff of the American Geographical Society, who prepared the climatic tables, many of the miscellaneous data related thereto, and all of the curves in Chapter X. Miss Wrigley also assisted in the revision of Chap- ters TX and X and in the correction of the proof. TTor eager and in the highost dogreo fnilhfnl assistance in these tasks bespeaks n frno soiontific spirit. IsATATi Bowman. SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS FOR ILLUSTRATIONS Fig. 28. Photograph by H. L. Tucker, Engineer, Yale Peruvian Expedi- tion of 1911. Fig. 43. Photograpli by H. L. Tucker. Fig, 44. Photograpli by Professor Hiram Ijinghani. Figs. 136, 139, 140. Data for^ hachured sketch maps, chiefly fi'ora topo- graphic] sheets by A, H. Bumstead, Topographer to Professor Bingham's Peruvian Expeditions of 1912 and 1914. CONTENTS PART I HUMAN GEOGRAPHY CHAPTEK PAGE I. The Regions of Peru 1 II. The Rapids and Canyons op the Urubamba . . . . 8 III. The Rubber Forests . . 22 (XZ-^ The Forest Indians 36 V. The Country of the Shepherds 46 VI. The Border Valleys of the Eastern Andes .... 68 (yilTj) The Geographio Basis of Revolutions and of Human Character in the Peruvian Andes 88 VIII. The Coastal Desert 110 IX. Climatology of the Peruvian Andes 121 X. Meteorological Records from the Peruvian Andes . . 157 XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. PART II PHYSIOGRAPHY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES The Peruvian Landscape 183 The Western Andes: The Maritime Cordillera or Cor- dillera Occidental The Eastern Andes: The Cordillera Vilcapampa The Coastal Terraces Physiographic and Geologic Development . Glacial Features 199 204 225 233 274 Appendix A. Survey Methods Employed in the Construction of the Seven Accompanying Topographic Sheets . 315 Appendix B. Fossil Determinations 321 Appendix C. Key to Place Names 324 Index 327 TOPOGRAPHIC SHEETS Camana Quadrangle 114 Aplao Coropuna Cotahuasi La Cumbi-e AntabamVa Lambram't 120 188 192 202 282 304 PART 1 HUMAN GEOGRAPHY CHAPTER I THE REGIONS OF PERU Let four Peruvians begin this book by telling what manner of country they live in. Their ideas are provincial and they have a fondness for exaggerated description: but, for all that, they will reveal much that is true because they will at least reveal them- selves. Their opinions reflect both the spirit of the toiler on the land and the outlook of the merchant in the town in relation to geography and national problems. Their names do not matter; let them stand for the four human regions of Peru, for they are in many respects typical men. The Fokest Dweller One of them I met at a rubber station on the lower Urubamba River.^ He helped secure my canoe, escorted me hospitably to his hut, set food and drink before me, and talked of the tropical forest, the rubber business, the Indians, the rivers, and the trails. In his opinion Peru was a land of great forest resources. Moreover, the fertile plains along the river margins might become the sites of rich plantations. The rivers had many fish and his garden needed only a little cultivation to produce an abundance of food. Fruit trees grew on every hand. He had recently married the daughter of an Indian chief. Formerly he had been a missionary at a rubber station on the Madre de Dios, where the life was hard and narrow, and he doubted if there were any real converts. Himself the son of an English- man and a Chilean woman, he found, so he said, that a mission- ary's life in the rubber forest was intolerable for more than a few * For all locations mentioned see maps accompanying the text or Appendix C. 2 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU years. Yet he had no fault to find with the religious system of which he had once formed a part; in fact he had still a certain curious mixed loyalty to it. Before I left he gave me a photo- graph of himself and said with little pride and more sadness that perhaps I would remember him as a man that had done some good in the world along with much that might have been better. We shall understand our interpreter better if we know who his associates were. He lived with a Frenchman who had spent several years in Africa as a soldier in the ' ' Foreign Legion. ' ' If you do not know what that means, you have yet all the pleasure of an interesting discovery. The Frenchman had reached the sta- tion the year before quite destitute and clad only in a shirt and a pair of trousers. A day's journey north lived a young half- breed — son of a drunken father and a Machiganga woman, who cheated me so badly when I engaged Indian paddlers that I should almost have preferred that he had robbed me. Yet in a sense he had my life in his hands and I submitted. A German and a native Peruvian ran a rubber station on a tributary two days' journey from the first. It will be observed that the company was mixed. They were all Peruvians, but of a sort not found in such relative abundance elsewhere. The defeated and the outcast, as well as the pioneer, go down eventually to the hot forested lands where men are forgotten. While he saw gold in every square mile of his forested region, my clerical friend saw misery also. The brutal treatment of the Indians by the whites of the Madre de Dios country he could speak of only as a man reviving a painful memory. The Indians at the station loved him devotedly. There was only justice and kind- ness in all his dealings. Because he had large interests to look after, he know all the members of the tribe, and his word was law in no hackneyed sense. A kindlier man never lived in the rubber forest. His influence as a high-souled man of business was vastly greater tlian as a missionary in this frontier society. He could daily illustrate by practical example what he had formerly been able only to proaoh. He thought the lifo of tlio Peruvian cities debasing. The Fig. 1. Fig. Fig. 1 — Tropical vegetation, clearing on the river bank and rubber station at Pongo de ^lainique. The pronounced scarp on the northeastern border of the Andes is seen in the right background. Fig. 2 — Pushing a heavy dugout against the current in the rapids below Pongo de Mainique. The Indian boj- and his father in the canoe had been accidentall.v shot. I'lii. .'! I'roiii i((; t(i Hiif^.ir <';uu', I riihimilni \nllt'V, Jit (*'()l|uiiii. On tlic north- eaHt<-rn liordi-r nf tlic ('unlillcni Vilcaimmjia looking' ii|)HtrciMii. In tlic cxlroino bnck- groiimt and thirteen Hixt<'cn(liH of an incli from tlic Inp nf (lie piitnrc is tlic sharp peak «>f Salcantay. Only the lower einl of the niorr opi n portiDH of the Canyon of Torontoy is lierc sliown. There iH n field of Kiifjar ciinc in the forr^'rmind and the valley trail in shown on the r)ppo8ite side of the river. THE REGIONS OF PERU 3 coastal valleys were small and dry and the men who lived there were crowded and poor (sic). The plateau was inhabited by In- dians little better than brutes. Surely I could not think that the fine forest Indian was lower than the so-called civilized Indian of the plateau. There was plenty of room in the forest; and there was wealth if you knew how to get at it. Above all you were far from the annoying officials of the government, and therefore could do much as you pleased so long as you paid your duties on rubber and did not wantonly kill too many Indians. For all his kindly tolerance of men and conditions he yet found fault with the government. "They" neglected to build roads, to encourage colonization, and to lower taxes on the forest products, which were always won at great risk. Nature had done her part well — it was only government that hindered. Moreover, the for- ested region was the land of the future. If Peru was to be a great nation her people would have to live largely upon the eastern plains. Though others spoke of "going in" and "coming out" of the rubber country as one might speak of entering and leaving a dungeon, he always spoke of it as home. Though he now lived in the wilderness he hoped to see the day when plantations cov- ered the plains. A greater Peru and the forest were inseparable ideas to him. The Eastern Valley Planter My second friend lived in one of the beautiful mountain val- leys of the eastern Andes. We walked through his clean cacao orchards and cane fields. Like the man in the forest, he believed in the thorough inefficiency of the government; otherwise why were there no railways for the cheaper transportation of the val- ley products, no dams for the generation of power and the storage of irrigation water, not even roads for mule carts 1 Had the gov- ernment been stable and efficient there w^ould now be a dense popu- lation in the eastern valleys. Revolutions were the curse of these remote sections of the country. The ne'er-do-wells became gen- erals. The loafer you dismissed today might demand ten thou- sand dollars tomorrow or threaten to destroy your plantation. 4 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU The govermnent troops might come to help you, but they were always too late. For this one paid most burdensome taxes. Lima profited thereby, not the valley planters. The coast people were the favored of Peru anyhow. They had railroads, good steamer service, public improvements at government expense, and com- paratively light taxes. If the government were impartial the eastern valleys also would have railways and a dense population. Who could tell? Perhaps the capital city might be here. Cer- tainly it was better to have Lima here than on the coast where the Chileans might at any time take it again. The blessings of the valleys were both rich and manifold. Here was neither a cold plateau nor the hot plains, but fertile valleys with a vernal climate. We talked of much else, but our conversation had always the pioneer flavor. And though an old man he saw always the future Peru gro\ving wonderfully rich and powerful as men came to rec- ognize and use the resources of the eastern valleys. This too was the optimism of the pioneer. Once started on that subject he grew eloquent. He was provincial but he was also intensely patriotic. He never missed an opportunity to impress upon his guests that a great state would arise when people and rulers at last recog- nized the wealth of eastern Peru. The Highland Shepherd The people who live in the lofty highlands and mountains of Peru have several months of real winter weather despite their tropical latitude. In the midst of a snowstorm in the Maritime Cordillera I met a solitary traveler bound for Cotahuasi on the floor of a deep canyon a day's journey toward the east. It was noon and wo halted our pack trains in the lee of a huge rock shelter to escape the bitter wind that blew down from the snow-clad peaks of Solimana. Men who follow the same trails arc fraternal. In a moment w(' had food from our saddle-bags spread on the snow iiiKJcr the coi-iicr of a poncho niid lind exchanged the best in each other's collection as ii;iliir;illy ;is friends exchange greetings. By the time I had fold liim wIkiicc and why in response to his inevita- THE REGIONS OF PERU 6 ble questions we had finished the food and had gathered a heap of tola bushes for a fire. The arriero (muleteer) brought water from a spring in the hollow below us. Though the snow thick- ened, the wind fell. We were comfortable, even at 16,000 feet, and called the place "The Salamanca Club." Then I questioned him, and this is what he said: "I live in the deep valley of Cotahuasi, but my lands lie chiefly up here on the plateau. My family has held title to this puna ever since the Wars of Liberation, except for a few years after one of our early revolutions. I travel about a great deal looking after my flocks. Only Indians live up here. Away off yonder beyond that dark gorge is a group of their huts, and on the bright days of summer you may see their sheep, llamas, and alpacas up here, for on the floors of the watered valleys that girdle these volcanoes there are more tender grasses than grow on this despoUado. I give them corn and barley from my irrigated fields in the valley ; they give me wool and meat. The alpaca wool is most valuable. It is hard to get, for the alpaca requires short grasses and plenty of water, and you see there is only coarse tufted ichu grass about us, and there are no streams. It is all right for llamas, but alpacas require better forage. ''No one can imagine the poverty and ignorance of these moun- tain shepherds. They are filthier than beasts. I have to watch them constantly or they would sell parts of the flocks, which do not belong to them, or try to exchange the valuable alpaca wool for coca leaves in distant towTis. They are frequently drunk." ''But where do they get the drink? " I asked. "And what do you pay them? " "Oh, the drink is chiefly imported alcohol, and also chicha made from corn. They insist on having it, and do better when I bring them a little now and then. They get much more from the deal- ers in the towns. As for pay, I do not pay them anything in money except when they bring meat to the valley. Then I give them a few reales apiece for the sheep and a little more for the llamas. The flocks all belong to me really, but of course the poor Indian must have a little money. Besides, I let him have a part 6 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU of the yearly increase. It is not much, but he has always lived this way and I suppose that he is contented after a fashion." Then he became eager to tell what wealth the mountains con- tained in soil and climate if only the right grasses were intro- duced by the government. "Here, before us, are vast punas almost without habitations. If the officials would bring in hardy Siberian grasses these lava- covered plateaus might be carpeted with pasture. There would be villages here and there. The native Indians easily stand the alti- tude. This whole Cordillera might have ten times as many people. Why does the government bother about concessions in the rubber forests and roads to the eastern valleys when there are these vast tracts only requiring new seeds to develop into rich pastures? The government could thus greatly increase its revenues because there is a heavy tax on exported wool." Thus he talked about the bleak Cordillera until we forgot the pounding of our hearts and our frequent gasps for breath on ac- count of the altitude. His rosy picture of a well-populated high- land seemed to bring us do^vn nearer sea level where normal folks lived. To the Indians the altitude is nothing. It has an effect, but it is slight; at any rate they manage to reproduce their kind at elevations that would kill a white mother. If alcohol were abol- ished and better grasses introduced, these lofty pastures might indeed support a much larger population. The sheep pastures of the world are rapidly disappearing before the march of the farmer. Hero, well above the limit of cultivation, is a permanent range,, one of the great as well as permanent assets of Peru. The Coastal Planter The man from the deep Majcs Valley in the coastal desert rode out with me through cotton fields as rich and clean as those of a Texas plantation. He was tall, straight-limbed, and clear-eyed — one of the energetic younger generation, yet with the blood of a proud old family. We forded the river and rode on through vine- yards and fig oreliards loaded with fruit. His manner became deeply earnest as he pictured the future of Peru, when her people Fig. 4. Fig. 5. Fig. 4 — Large ground moss — so-called i/areta — used for fuel. It occurs in the zone of Alpine vegetation and is best developed in regions where tlie snowline is highest. The photograph represents a typical occurrence between Cotahuasi and Salamanca, elevation 16,000 feet (4,880 m.). The snowline is here at 17,500 feet (.5,333 m.). In the foreground is the most widely distributed tola bush, also used for fuel. Fig. 5 — Expedition's camp near Lambrama, 15.500 feet (4,720 m.), after a snow- storm. The location is midway in the pasture zone. Fio. G. 5*!^ f Fici. 7. Kio. r> — Frri^i't''! ' liili Xiillfv on iln- niitskirls nf Ancmipii. Ilir Idwit hIojx's of Kl MiNti lire in Hm- Ifit l»ii(kKri»iiii(l. 'I'lic .Wdi ilr Ion JIuchos or l'l;il<;ni of lUmos licH (»n tlip fnrtlHT >i(ir nf I he vullcy. Kiu 7 — CroHHiiifi the lii^'lifsl [ihhh (Clni'inilii ) in tlic ('(irdillfin \il<':ii)iiiri|)ii, 14,500 feet (4,420 m.). (Irnziiif^ is licrr carried on up to the snowline. THE REGIONS OF PERU 7 would take advantage of scientific methods and use labor-saving machinery. He said that the methods now in use were medieval, and he pointed to a score of concrete illustrations. Also, here was water running to waste, yet the desert was on either hand. There should be dams and canals. Every drop of water was needed. The population of the valley could be easily doubled. Capital was lacking but there was also lacking energy among the people. Slipshod methods brought them a bare living and they were too easily contented. Their standards of life should be elevated. Education was still for the few, and it should be uni- versal. A new spirit of progress was slowly developing — a more general interest in public affairs, a desire to advance with the more progressive nations of South America, — and when it had reached its culmination there would be no happier land than coastal Peru, already the seat of the densest populations and the most highly cultivated fields. These four men have portrayed the four great regions of Peru — the lowland plains, the'" eastern mountain valleys, the lofty plateaus, and the valley oases of the coast. This is not all of Peru. The mountain basins have their own peculiar qualities and the valley heads of the coastal zone are unlike the lower valleys and the plateau on either hand. Yet the chief characteristics of the country are set forth with reasonable fidelity in these indi- vidual accounts. Moreover the spirit of the Peruvians is better shown thereby than their material resources. If this is not Peru, it is what the Peruvians think is Peru, and to a high degree a man's country is what he thinks it is — at least it is little more to him. CHAPTER II THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA Amoxg the scientifically unexplored regions of Peru there is no other so alluring to the geographer as the vast forested realm on the eastern border of the Andes. Thus it happened that within two weeks of our arrival at Cuzco we followed the northern trail to the great canyon of the Urubamba (Fig. 8), the gateway to the eastern valleys and the lowland plains of the Amazon. It is here that the adventurous river, reenforced by hundreds of mountain- born tributaries, finally cuts its defiant way through the last of its great topographic barriers. More than seventy rapids interrupt its course ; one of them, at the mouth of the Sirialo, is at least a half-mile in length, and long before one reaches its head he hears its roaring from beyond the forest-clad mountain spurs. The great bend of the Urubamba in which the line of rapids occurs is one of the most curious hydrographic features in Peru. The river suddenly changes its general northward course and striking south of west flows nearly fifty miles toward the axis of the mountains, where, turning almost in a complete circle, it makes a final assault upon the eastern mountain ranges. Fifty miles farther on it breaks through the long sharp-crested chain of the Front Range of the Andes in a splendid gorge more than a half- mile deep, the famous Pongo de Mainique (Fig. 9). Our chief object in descending the lino of rapids was to study the canyon of the Urubamba below Rosalina and to make a topo- graphic sketcli map of it. Wo also wished to know what secrets might 1)0 gathered in tliis liilluilo unexplored stretch of country, what people dwdt along its banks, and if Iho vague tales of de- serted towns and fugitive tribes had any basis in fact. We could gather almost no information as to the nature of the river except from tlie report of Major Korboy, an American, who, in 1807, descended the last twenty miles of the one hundred we proposed to navigate, lie i)rc)nounced the journey more hazard- 8 THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA Pon;fo (le Mainique ROUGH SKETCH CONTOURMAP off/if URUBAMBA VALLEY BETWEEN ROSALINA AND PONGO DE MAINIQUE by ISAIAH BOWMAN Aoprox sco/e " f ""-^S ionlour interval approximately ZOO feet . rapids alluvia/ flats, locally called playos Elevation of Rosalina 2,000 feet „ // Pongo de Mainique- f.200 feet „ Passes on frail between Rosalina and Pongo de Mainique 5000-7.000 ft. Fig. S — Sketch map showing the route of the Yale- Peruvian Expedition of 1911 clown the Urubamba Valley, together with the area of the main map and the clianges in the delineation of the bend of the Urubamba resulting from the surveys of the Expedition. Based on the " Mapa que comprende las ultimas exploraciones y estudios verificados desde 1900 hasta 190G," 1:1,000,000, Bol. Soc. Geogr. Lima, Vol. 25, No. 3, 1909. For details of the trail from Rosalina to Pongo de Mainique see " Piano de las Secciones y Afluentes del Rio Urubamba: 1902-1904, scale 1:150,000 by Luis M. Robledo in Bol. Soc. Geogr. Lima, Vol. 25, No. 4, 1909. Only the lower slopes of the long mountain spurs can be seen from the river; hence only in a few places could observations be made on the topography of distant ranges. Paced distances of a half mile at irregular intervals were used for the estimation of longer distances. Direc- tions were taken by compass corrected for magnetic deviation as determined on the seventy-third meridian (See Appendix A). The position of Rosalina on Robledo's map was taken as a base. 10 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU ous than Major Powell's famous descent of the Grand Canyon in 1867 — an obvious exaggeration. He lost his canoe in a treacher- ous rapid, was deserted by his Indian guides, and only after a painful march through an all but impassable jungle was he finally able to escape on an abandoned raft. Less than a dozen have ventured down since Major Kerbey's day. A Peruvian mining engineer descended the river a few years ago, and four Italian traders a year later floated down in rafts and canoes, losing al- most all of their cargo. For nearly two months they were marooned upon a sand-bar waiting for the river to subside. At last they succeeded in reaching Mulanquiato, an Indian settlement and plantation owned by Pereira, near the entrance to the last canyon. Their attempted passage of the worst stretch of rapids resulted in the loss of all their rubber cargo, the work of a year. Among the half dozen others who have made the journey — Indians and slave traders from down-river rubber posts — there is no rec- ord of a single descent without the loss of at least one canoe. To reach the head of canoe navigation we made a two weeks' muleback journey north of Cuzco through the steep-walled granite Canyon of Torontoy, and to the sugar and cacao plantations of the middle Urubamba, or Santa Ana Valley, where we outfitted. At Echarati, thirty miles farther on, where the heat becomes more in- tense and the first patches of real tropical forest begin, we were obliged to exchange our beasts for ten fresh animals accustomed to forest work and its privations. Three days later we pitched our tent f)ii 11)0 river bank at Rosalina, the last outpost of the valley set- tlem^'iits. As we dropped down the steep mountain slope before striking the river flood plain, we passed two half-naked Machi- ganga Indians perched on the limbs of a tree beside the trail, our first sight of membors of a tribe whose territory we had now en- tered. Later in the day they crossed the river in a dugout, landed on the sand-bar above us, and gathered brush for the nightly fire, around which thoy lie wrapped in a single shirt woven from the fiber of the wild cotton. Rosalina is liardly more than a iiani(! on llie map and a camp site on the river ])ank'. Some distance back from the left bank of <2 c a> c 'ji '"^ O «»« 'a H .'" o o t« -1^ •4-1 o 'A >, HH <*- ^3 ^ c> c S _2 ^ CC T. < "^ ',»' "y. 2 ■= .2-. ti: i: -' c ^ en JJEV. Fig. U. Imo. 12. Fio. II— A t<'in|Mir!try i-licllrrliiit (,n :i -iiiHll.:ir iicur (lie j;ic:i) Ixiid of (lie I'm- bnmhii (Mc- niai), Fif^. H). 'rhc Maclii^'anKu liidiniiH iiw tlicsr < niw slicltcrs duriiif,' the; I'lHliinK MfHHon, whi'U the river in low. Kio. 12 — Thirty-foot cjitiof in :i i:i|.i(l uliovr I'onpi dc .M;iiiii(iii(.. THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA 11 the river is a sugar plantation, whose owner lives in the cooler mountains, a day's journey away; on the right bank is a small clearing planted to sugar cane and yuca, and on the edge of it is a reed hut sheltering three inhabitants, the total population of Rosalina. The owner asked our destination, and to our reply that we should start in a few days for Pongo de Mainique he offered two serious objections. No one thought of arranging so difficult a journey in less than a month, for canoe and Indians were diffi- cult to find, and the river trip was dangerous. Clearly, to start without the loss of precious time would require unusual exertion. We immediately despatched an Indian messenger to the owner of the small hacienda across the river while one of our peons car- ried a second note to a priest of great influence among the forest Indians, Padre Mendoza, then at his other home in the distant mountains. The answer of Senor Morales was his appearance in person to offer the hospitality of his home and to assist us in securing canoe and oarsmen. To our note the Padre, from his hill-top, sent a polite answer and the offer of his large canoe if we would but guarantee its return. His temporary illness prevented a visit to which we had looked forward with great interest. The morning after our arrival I started out on foot in company with our arriero in search of the Machigangas, who fish and hunt along the river bank during the dry season and re- tire to their hill camps when the heavy rains begin. We soon left the well-beaten trail and, following a faint woodland path, came to the river bank about a half day's journey below Rosalina. There we found a canoe hidden in an overhanging arch of vines, and crossing the river met an Indian family who gave us further directions. Their vague signs were but dimly understood and we soon found ourselves in the midst of a carrizo (reed) swamp filled with tall bamboo and cane and crossed by a network of inter- lacing streams. We followed a faint path only to find ourselves climbing the adjacent mountain slopes away from our destination. Once again in the swamp we had literally to cut our way through the thick cane, wade the numberless brooks, and follow wild ani- 12 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU mal trails until, late in the day, famished and thirsty, we came upon a little clearing on a sand-bar, the hut of La Sama, who knew the Machigangas and their villages. After our long day's work we had fish and yuca, and water to which had been added a little raw cane sugar. Late at night La Sama returned from a trip to the Indian villages down river. He brought with him a half-dozen Machiganga Indians, boys and men, and around the camp fire that night gave us a dramatic ac- count of his fomier trip down river. At one point he leaped to his feet, and with an imaginary pole shifted the canoe in a swift rapid, turned it aside from imminent wreck, and shouting at the top of his voice over the roar of the water finally succeeded in evading what he had made seem certain death in a whirlpool. We kept a fire going all night long for we slept upon the ground with- out a covering, and, strange as it may appear, the cold seemed in- tense, though the minimum thermometer registered 59° F. The next morning the whole party of ten sunned themselves for nearly an hour until the flies and heat once more drove them to shelter. Returning to camp next day by a different route was an experi- ence of great interest, because of the light it threw on hidden trails known only to the Indian and his friends. Slave raiders in former years devastated the native villages and forced the Indian to con- ceal his special trails of refuge. At one point we traversed a cliff seventy-five feet above the river, walking on a narrow ledge no wider than a man's foot. At another point the dim trail ap- parently disappeared, but when we had climbed hand over hand up the face of the cliff, by hanging vines and tree roots, we came upon it again. Crossing the river in the canoe we had used the day before, we shortened the return by wading the swift Chi- rumbia waist-deep, and by crawling along a cliff face for nearly an eight li of a niilo. At the steepest point the river had so under- cut the face that there was no trail at all, and we swung fully fif- teen feet from one lodge to another, on a hanging vine high above the river. After two days' delay we left Rosalina late in the afternoon of August 7. My party included several Machiganga Indians, La THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA 13 Sama, and Dr. W. G. Erving, surgeon of the expedition. Mr. P. B. Lanius, Moscoso (the arriero), and two peons were to take the pack train as far as possible toward the rubber station at Pongo de Mainique where preparations were to be made for our arrival. At the first rapid we learned the method of our Indian boatmen. It was to run the heavy boat head on into shallow water at one side of a rapid and in this way ' ' brake ' ' it down stream. Heavily loaded with six men, 200 pounds of baggage, a dog, and supplies of yuca and sugar cane our twenty-five foot dugout canoe was as rigid as a steamer, and we dropped safely dow^n rapid after rapid until long after dark, and by the light of a glorious tropical moon we beached our craft in front of La Sama's hut at the edge ojp the cane swamp. Here for five days we endured a most exasperating delay. La Sama had promised Indian boatmen and now said none had yet been secured. Each day Indians were about to arrive, but by nightfall the promise was broken only to be repeated the follow- ing morning. To save our food supply — we had taken but six days' provisions — we ate yuca soup and fish and some parched corn, adding to this only a little from our limited stores. At last we could wait no longer, even if the map had to be sacrificed to the work of navigating the canoe. Our determination to leave stirred La Sama to final action. He secured an assistant named Wilson and embarked with us, planning to get Indians farther down river or make the journey himself. On August 12, at 4.30 P. M., we entered upon the second stage of the journey. As we shot down the first long rapid and rounded a wooded bend the view down river opened up and gave us our first clear notion of the region we had set out to explore. From mountain summits in the clouds long trailing spurs descend to the river bank. In general the slopes are smooth-contoured and for- est-clad from summit to base ; only in a few places do high cliffs diversify the scenery. The river vista everywhere includes a rapid and small patches of playa or flood plain on the inside of the river curves. Although a true canyon hems in the river at two celebrated passes farther down, the upper part of the river 14. THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU flows in a somewhat open valley of moderate relief, mth here and there a sentinel-like peak next the river. A light shower fell at sunset, a typical late-afternoon down- pour so characteristic of the tropics. We landed at a small en- campment of Machigangas, built a fire against the scarred trunk of a big palm, and made up our beds in the open, covering them with our rubber ponchos. Our Indian neighbors gave us yuca and corn, but their neighborliness went no further, for when our boat- men attempted to sleep under their roofs they drove them out and fastened as securely as possible the shaky door of their hut. All our efforts to obtain Indians, both here and elsewhere, proved fruitless. One excuse after another w^as overcome; they plainly coveted the trinkets, knives, machetes, muskets, and am- munition that we offered them; and they appeared to be friendly enough. Only after repeated assurances of our friendship could we learn the real reason for their refusal. Some of them were escaped rubber pickers that had been captured by white raiders several years before, and for them a return to the rubber country meant enslavement, heavy floggings, and separation from their numerous wives. The hardships they had endured, their final escape, the cruelty of the rubber men, and the difficult passage of the rapids below were a set of circumstances that nothing in our list of gifts could overcome. My first request a week before had so sharpened their memory that one of them related the story of his wrongs, a recital intensely dramatic to the whole circle of his listeners, including myself. Though I did not understand the de- tails of his story, his tones and gesticulations were so effective that they hold mo as well as his kinsmen of the woods spellbound for over an hour. It is appalling to what extent this great region has been de- ^populated by the slave raiders and those arch enemies of the savage, smallpox and malaria. At liosalina, over sixty Indians died of malaria in one year; and only twenty years ago seventy of them, the entire population of the Pongo, were swept away by smallpox. For a week we passed former camps near small aban- doned clearings, once the home of little groups of Machigangas. THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA 15 Even the summer shelter huts on the sand-bars, where the Indians formerly gathered from their hill homes to fish, are now almost entirely abandoned. Though our men carefully reconnoitered each one for fear of ambush, the precaution was needless. Below the Coribeni the Urubamba is a great silent valley. It is fitted by Nature to support numerous villages, but its vast solitudes are unbroken except at night, when a few families that live in the hills slip down to the river to gather yuca and cane. By noon of the second day's journey we reached the head of the great rapid at the mouth of the Sirialo. We had already run the long Coribeni rapid, visited the Indian huts at the junction of the big Coribeni tributary, exchanged our canoe for a larger and steadier one, and were now to run one of the ugliest rapids of the upper river. The rapid is formed by the gravel masses that the Sirialo brings down from the distant Cordillera Vilcapampa. They trail along for at least a half-mile, split the river into two main currents and nearly choke the mouth of the tributary. For almost a mile above this great barrier the main river is ponded and almost as quiet as a lake. We let our craft down this rapid by ropes, and in the last dif- ficult passage were so roughly handled by our almost unmanagea- ble canoe as to suffer from several bad accidents. All of the party were injured in one way or another, while I suffered a fracture sprain of the left foot that made painful work of the rest of the river trip. At two points below Bosalina the Urubamba is shut in by steep mountain slopes and vertical cliffs. Canoe navigation below the Sirialo and Coribeni rapids is no more hazardous than on the rapids of our northern rivers, except at the two "pongos" or nar- row passages. The first occurs at the sharpest point of the abrupt curve shown on the map; the second is the celebrated Pongo de Mainique. In these narrow passages in time of high water there is no landing for long stretches. The bow paddler stands well forward and tries for depth and current; the stern paddler keeps the canoe steady in its course. When paddlers are in agreement even a heavy canoe can be directed into the most favorable chan- 16 THE AXDES OF SOUTHERN PERU nels. Our canoemen were always iu disagreement, however, and as often as not we shot down rapids at a speed of twenty miles an hour, broadside on, with an occasional bump on projecting rocks or boulders whose warning ordinary boatmen would not let go unheeded. The scenery at the great bend is unusually beautiful. The tropical forest crowds the river bank, great cliffs rise sheer from the water's edge, their faces overhung with a trailing drapery of vines, and in the longer river vistas one may sometimes see the distant heights of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. We shot the long succession of rapids in the first canyon without mishap, and at night pitched our tent on the edge of the river near the mouth of the Manugali. From the sharp peak opposite our camp we saw for the first time the phenomenon of cloud-banners. A light breeze was blow- ing from the western mountains and its vapor was condensed into clouds that floated down the Avind and dissolved, while they were constantly forming afresh at the summit. In the night a thunder- storm arose and swept with a roar through the vast forest above us. The solid canopy of the tropical forest fairly resounded with the impact of the heavy raindrops. The next morning all the brooks from the farther side of the river were in flood and the river discolored. When we broke camp the last mist wraiths of the storm were still trailing through the tree-tops and wrapped about the peak opposite our camp, only parting now and then to give us delightful glimpses of a forest-clad summit riding high above the clouds. The alternation of deeps and shallows at this point in the river and the well-devolopod canyon meanders are among the most cele- brated of their kind in 1lie world. Though shut in by high cliffs and bordered l)y iiiounlMius llio river exhibits a succession of curves so regular that one might almost imagine the country a / plain from tlie pattern of the meanders. The succession of smooth curves for a long distance across existing mountains points to a time when a lowland jilain with moderate slopes drained by strongly meandering rivers was developed here. Uplift afforded THE RAPIDS AND CANYONS OF THE URUBAMBA 17 a chance for renewed down-cutting on the part of all the streams, and the incision of the meanders. The present meanders are, of course, not the identical ones that were formed on the low- land plain; they are rather their descendants. Though they still retain their strongly curved quality, and in places have almost cut through the narrow spurs between meander loops, they are not smooth like the meanders of the Mississippi. Here and there are sharp irregular turns that mar the symmetry of the larger curves. The alternating bands of hard and soft rock have had a large part in making the course more irregular. The meanders have re- sponded to the rock structure. Though regular in their broader features they are irregular and deformed in detail. Deeps and shallows are known in every vigorous river, but it is seldom that they are so prominently developed as in these great canyons. At one point in the upper canyon the river has been broadened into a lake two or three times the average width of the channel and with a scarcely perceptible current ; above and below the ''laguna," as the boatmen call it, are big rapids with beds so shallow that rocks project in many places. In the Pongo de Mainique the river is at one place only fifty feet wide, yet so deep that there is little current. It is on the banks of the quiet stretches that the red forest deer grazes under leafy arcades. Here, too, are the boa-constrictor trails several feet wide and bare like a roadway. At night the great serpents come trailing down to the river's edge, where the red deer and the wildcat, or so- called "tiger," are their easy prey. It is in such quiet stretches that one also finds the vast colonies of water skippers. They dance continuously in the sun with an in- cessant motion from right to left and back again. Occasionally one dances about in circles, then suddenly darts through the entire mass, though without striking his equally erratic neighbors. An up-and-down motion still further complicates the effect. It is posi- tively bewildering to look intently at the whirling multitude and try to follow their complicated motions. Every slight breath of wind brings a shock to the organization of the dance. For though they dance only in the sun, their favorite places are the sunny 18 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU spots in the shade near the bank, as beneath an overhanging tree. When the wind shakes the foliage the mottled pattern of shade and sunlight is confused, the dance slows do^vn, and the dancers be- come bewildered. In a storm they seek shelter in the jungle. The hot, quiet, sunlit days bring out literally millions of these tiny creatures. One of the longest deeps in the whole Urubamba lies just above the Pongo at Mulanquiato. We drifted down with a gentle cur- rent just after sunset. Shrill whistles, like those of a steam launch, sounded from either bank, the strange piercing notes of the lowland cicada, cicada tibicen. Long decorated canoes, bet- ter than any we had yet seen, were dra^vn up in the quiet coves. Soon we came upon the first settlement. The owner, Senor Pereira, has gathered about him a group of Machigangas, and by marrying into the tribe has attained a position of great influence among the Indians. Upon our arrival a gun was fired to announce to his people that strangers had come, upon which the Machi- gangas strolled along in twos and threes from their huts, helped us ashore mth the baggage, and prepared the evening meal. Here we sat do\\Ti with five Italians, who had ventured into the rubber fields with golden ideas as to profits. After having lost the larger part of their merchandise, chiefly cinchona, in the rapids the year before, they had established themselves here with the idea of pick- ing rubber. Without capital, they followed the ways of the itiner- ant rubber picker and had gathered "caucho," the poorer of the two kinds of rubber. No capital is required; the picker simply cuts down the likeliest trees, gathers the coagulated sap, and floats it down-stream to market. After a year of this life they had g^o^vn restless and were venturing on other schemes for the great down-river rubber country. A few weeks later, on returning through the forest, we met their carriers with a few small bundles, the only part of their cargo they had saved from tlie river. Without a canoe or the means to buy one they had built rafts, which were quickly torn to pieces in the rapids. We, too, should have said "pobres Italianos" if their venture had not been plainly foolish. The rubber terri- w c ^ " •" ^ t. ^ W ;5 r ;; ^ 5^ J- ^ ^ ^ '^ «« 0) tc -*-5 _. H p n- "H P K -4-J Ol c? w a 2 2 fa ^ ^ ^ > C3 Hi .2 « e$ ci 0} -^ 1-- o j; OJ 03 3 .s - o i- li C/3 to Fig. 15. Via. 10. j.|(i 15 — Tfip<)f?rii|iliy nnd vcj^ftnl iun from (In- 'I'dcafr ]iiiHH, 7,100 feet ('2,1(!4 rn.), bftw«M-ii KoHiiliiui 1111(1 I'oiigo (!<■ Miiiiiiic. t>. g li] ^ ca s/ a> 3 0) ^ O4 cd 3 c -tS -»-> c3 a Si a c3 43 t3 60 O c^ r-" P*.T m "— !" ^^ i5 .S rO ~ 1i ^ O o; • ^ ,-* -i-» Ph d Oi 3 m 60 =s n "0 n 73 ti ,_, 'F> 12 0) t1 5 d d d OS d M •♦1 cj s >i tn OJ "^ tn ^ t> "S 0) -S .H _oJ 0> =1 ■5' a 3 C a 3 ei a 2 0) J3 cd OJ -3 +i ai CJ QJ <-• -d cS a 6 ti 2 fl a ai es <2 c aS >> O! 3 d a> > 60 C cd r/5 01 u a 00 d 0) a eg O) '■3 O) 3 d CJ 01 +^ P4 CO d ■n a •n ii >-> 60 cd J5 3 -t-> oT a 60 60 % 3 •f^ H Hi a o> 5 :3 OJ >. T3 d 'h 13 M-( O) 0) CJ d a u ♦-< d d ? e3 ♦J 0) d CJ en Cd CO 3 CI oj 3 cd 0) 6 3 d -!-> § -*-* ol m Ol cd C 1 M a d 60 THE RUBBER FORESTS 27 food and shelter and clothing are of the most primitive kind, but they are the best in the world for him because they are the only kind he has known. So where money and JSnery fail the lash comes in. The rubber man says that the Indian is lazy and must be made to work; that there is a great deal of work to be done and the Indian is the only laborer who can be found; that if rubber and chocolate are produced the Indian must be made to produce them; and that if he will not produce them for pay he must be enslaved. It is a law of the rubber country that when an Indian falls into debt to a white man he must work for the latter until the debt is discharged. If he runs away before the debt is canceled or if he refuses to work or does too little work he may be flogged. Under special conditions such laws are wise. In the hands of the rubber men they are the basis of slavery. For, once the rubber interests begin to suffer, the promoters look around for a chance to capture free Indians. An expedition is fitted out that spends weeks ex- ploring this river or that in getting on the track of unattached In- dians. When a settlement is found the men are enslaved and taken long distances from home finally to reach a rubber property. There they are given a corner of a hut to sleep in, a few cheap clothes, a rubber-picking outfit, and a name. In return for these articles the unwilling Indian is charged any fanciful price that comes into the mind of his ' ' owner, ' ' and he must thereupon work at a per diem wage also fixed by the owner. Since his obligations increase with time, the Indian may die over two thousand dollars in debt ! Peonage has left frightful scars upon the country. In some places the Indians are fugitives, cultivating little farms in se- creted places but visiting them only at night or after carefully re- connoitering the spot. They change their camps frequently and make their way from place to place by secret trails, now spending a night or two under the shelter of a few palm leaves on a sand- bar, again concealing themselves in almost impenetrable jungle. If the hunter sometimes discovers a beaten track he follows it only to find it ending on a cliff face or on the edge of a lagoon where 28 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU concealment is perfect. There are tribes that shoot the white man at sight and regard him as their bitterest enemy. Experience has led them to believe that only a dead white is a good white, revers- ing our saying about the North American Indian; and that even when he comes among them on peaceful errands he is likely to leave behind him a trail of S5i)hilis and other venereal diseases scarcely less deadly than his bullets. However, the peonage system is not hideous everywhere and in all its aspects. There are white o^vners who realize that in the long run the friendship of the Indians is an asset far greater than unwilling service and deadly hatred. Some of them have indeed intermarried with the Indians and live among them in a state but little above savagery. In the Mamore country are a few owners of original princely concessions who have grown enormously wealthy and yet who continue to live a primitive life among their scores of illegitimate descendants. The Indians look upon them as benefactors, as indeed many of them are, defending the Indians from ill treatment by other whites, giving them clothing and orna- ments, and exacting from them only a moderate amount of labor. In some cases indeed the whites have gained more than simple gratitude for their humane treatment of the Indians, some of whom serve their masters with real devotion. When the "rubber barons" wish to discourage investigation of their system they invite the traveler to leave and he is given a canoe and oarsmen with which to make liis way out of the dis- trict. Refusal to accept an offer of canoes and men is a declara- tion of war. An agent of one of the London companies accepted such a challenge and was promptly told that he would not leave the territory alive. The threat would have held true in the case of a less skilful man. Though Indians slept in the canoes to pre- vent their seizure, he slipped past the guards in the night, swam If) tlif opposite shore, and llicro secured a canoe within which ho made a difficult .ionrney down river to the nearest post wlicro food and an outfit could be secured. A, few companies operating on or near the border of the Cordil- lera have adopted a normal labor system, dependent chiefly upop THE RUBBER FORESTS 29 people from the plateau and upon the thoroughly willing assist- 1 ance of well-paid forest Indians. The Compaiiia Gomera de Mainique at Puerto Mainique just below the Pongo is one of these and its development of the region without violation of native rights is in the highest degree praiseworthy. In fact the whole conduct of this company is interesting to a geographer, as it reflects at every point the physical nature of the country. The government is eager to secure foreign capital, but in east- ern Peru can offer practically nothing more than virgin wealth, that is, land and the natural resources of the land. There are no roads, virtually no trails, no telegraph lines, and in most cases no labor. Since the old Spanish grants ran at right angles to the river so as to give the owners a cross-section of varied resources, the up-river plantations do not extend do\\Ti into the rubber coun- try. Hence the more heavily forested lower valleys and plains are the property of the state. A man can buy a piece of land down there, but from any tract mthin ordinary means only a primitive living can be obtained. The pioneers therefore are the rubber men who produce a precious substance that can stand the enormous tax on production and transportation. They do not want the land — only the exclusive right to tap the rubber trees upon it. Thus there has arisen the concession plan whereby a large tract is obtained under conditions of money payment or of improvements that w^ill attract settlers or of a tax on the export. The "caucho" or poorer rubber of the Urubamba Valley be- gins at 3,000 feet (915 m.) and the "hevea" or better class is a lower-valley and plains product. The rubber trees thereabouts produce 60 grams (2 ozs.) of dry rubber each week for eight months. After yielding rubber for this length of time a tree is allowed to rest four or five years. ''Caucho" is produced from trees that are cut dowTi and ringed with machetes, but it is from fifty to sixty cents cheaper owing to the impurities that get into it. The wood, not the nut, of the Palma carmona is used for smok- ing or "curing" the rubber. The government had long been urged to build a road into the region in place of the miserable track — absolutely impassable in the wet season — that heretofore 30 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU constituted the sole means of exit. About ten years ago Senor Kobledo at last built a government trail from Eosalina to Yavero about 100 miles long. While it is a wretched trail it is better than the old one, for it is more direct and it is better drained. In the wet season parts of it are turned into rivers and lakes, but it is probably the best that could be done with the small grant of twenty thousand dollars. With at least an improvement in the trail it became possible for a rubber company to induce cargadores or packers to trans- port merchandise and rubber and to have a fair chance of success. Whereupon a rubber company was organized which obtained a con- cession of 28,000 hectares (69,188 acres) of land on condition that the company finish a road one and one-half meters wide to the Pongo, connecting -with the road which the government had ex- tended to Yavero. The land given in payment was not continuous but was selected in lots by the company in such a way as to secure the best rubber trees over an area several times the size of the concession. The road was finished by William Tell after four years ' work at a cost of about seventy-five thousand dollars. The last part of it was blasted out of slate and limestone and in 1912 the first pack train entered Puerto Mainique. The first rubber was taken out in November, 1910, and produc- tive possibilities proved by the collection of 9,000 kilos (19,841 pounds) in eight months. If a main road were the chief problem of the rubber company the business would soon be on a paying basis, but for every mile of road there must be cut several miles of narrow trail (Fig. 14), as the rubber trees grow scattered about — a clump of a half dozen here and five hundred feet farther on another clump and only scat- tered individuals between. Furthermore, about twenty-five years ago rubber men from llio Ucayali came up hero in Lumches and canoes jitkI nil down largo nnni])ors of trees within reach of the water courses and l)y ringing tlie trunks every few feet with machotoR "blod" tliom rapidly and thus covered a large territory in a short time, and made huge sums of money when the price of rubber was high. Only a few of the small trees that were left THE RUBBER FORESTS 31 are now mature. These, the mature trees that were overlooked, and the virgin stands farther from the rivers are the present sources of rubber. In addition to the trails small cabins must be built to shelter the hired laborers from the plateau, many of whom bring along their women folk to cook for them. The combined expense to a company of these necessary improvements before production can begin is exceedingly heavy. There is only one alternative for the prospective exploiter : to become a vagrant rubber gatherer. With tents, guns, machetes, cloth, baubles for trading, tinned food for emergencies, and with pockets full of English gold parties have started out to seek fortunes in the rubber forests. If the friend- ship of a party of Indians can be secured by adequate gifts large amounts of rubber can be gathered in a short time, for the Indians know where the rubber trees grow. On the other hand, many for- tunes have been lost in the rubber country. Some of the tribes have been badly treated by other adventurers and attack the new- comers from ambush or gather rubber for a while only to over- turn the canoe in a rapid and let the river relieve them of selfish friends. The Compania Gomera de Mainique started out by securing the good-will of the forest Indians, the Machigangas. They come and go in friendly visits to the port at Yavero. If one of them is sick he can secure free medicine from the agent. If he wishes goods on credit he has only to ask for them, for the agent knows that the Indian's sense of fairness will bring him back to work for the company. Without previous notice a group of Indians appears : "We owe," they announce. "Good," says the agent, "build me a house." They select the trees. Before they cut them down they address them solemnly. The trees must not hold their destruction against the Indians and they must not try to resist the sharp machetes. Then the Indians set to work. They fell a tree, bind it mth light ropes woven from the wild cotton, and haul it to its place. That is all for the day. They play in the sun, do a little hunting, or 32 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU look over the agent's house, touching everything, talking little, exclaiming much. They dip their wet fingers in the sugar bowl and taste, turn salt out upon their hands, hold colored solutions from the medicine chest up to the light, and pull out and push in the corks of the bottles. At the end of a month or two the house is done. Then they gather their women and babies together and say : ''Now we go," without asking if the work corresponds with the cost of the articles they had bought. Their judgment is good how- ever. Their work is almost always more valuable than the arti- cles. Then they shake hands all around. ' * We will come again, ' ' they say, and in a moment have disap- peared in the jungle that overhangs the trail. With such labor the Compania Gomera de Mainique can do something, but it is not much. The regular seasonal tasks of road- building and rubber-picking must be done by imported labor. This is secured chiefly at Abancay, where live groups of plateau In- dians that have become accustomed to the warm climate of the Abancay basin. They are employed for eight or ten months at an average rate of fifty cents gold per day, and receive in addition only the simplest articles of food. At the end of the season the gang leaders are paid a gratifica- cion, or bonus, the size of which depends upon the amount of rub- ber collected, and this in turn depends upon the size of the gang and the degree of willingness to work. In the books of the com- pany I saw a record of gratificaciones running as high as $600 in uold for a season's work. Some of the laborers become sick and are cared for by the agent until they recover or can be sent back to their homes. Most of them have fever before they return. Tlie rubber costs the company two soles ($1.00) produced at ^'axcro. 'I'lic two \v<'('ks' Iranspoi-lntioii to Cuzco costs three and a half soles ($1.75) jxi' twenty-five pounds. The exported rubber, known 1o <))(• Iradc as Mollendo rubber, in contrast to the finer "Par.'i" rubber from the lower Amazon, is shipped to TTamburg. The eost for transportation from port to port is $24.00 per Eng- lish ton (1,010 kilos). There is a Peruvian tax of 8 per cent of THE RUBBER FORESTS 33 the net value in Europe, and a territorial tax of two soles ($1.00) per hundred pounds. All supplies except the few vegetables grown on the spot cost tremendously. Even dynamite, hoes, cloth- ing, rice — to mention only a few necessities — must pay the heavy cost of transportation after imposts, railroad and ocean freight, storage and agents' percentages are added. The effect of a dis- turbed market is extreme. When, in 1911, the price of rubber fell to $1.50 a kilo at Hamburg the company ceased exporting. When it dropped still lower in 1912 production also stopped, and it is still doubtful, in view of the growing competition of the East-Indian plantations with their cheap labor, whether operations will ever be resumed. Within tliree years no less than a dozen large com- panies in eastern Peru and Bolivia have ceased operations. In one concession on the Madre de Dios the withdrawal of the agents and laborers from the posts turned at last into flight, as the forest Indians, on learning the company's policy, rapidly ascended the river in force, committing numerous depredations. The great war has also added to the difficulties of production. Facts like these are vital in the consideration of the future of the Amazon basin and especially its habitability. It was the dream of Humboldt that great cities should arise in the midst of the tropical forests of the Amazon and that the whole lowland plain of that river basin should become the home of happy mil- lions. Humboldt's vision may have been correct, though a hun- dred years have brought us but little nearer its realization. Now, as in the past four centuries, man finds his hands too feeble to con- trol the great elemental forces which have shaped history. The most he can hope for in the next hundred years at least is the ability to dodge Nature a little more successfully, and here and there by studies in tropical hygiene and medicine, by the substi- tution of water-power for human energy, to carry a few of the out- posts and prepare the way for a final assault in the war against the hard conditions of climate and relief. We hear of the Madeira- Mamore railroad, 200 miles long, in the heart of a tropical forest and of the commercial revolution it will bring. Do we realize that the forest which overhangs the rails is as big as the whole plain 34 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU between the Rockies and the Appalachians, and that the proposed line would extend only as far as from St. Louis to Kansas City, or from Galveston to New Orleans f Even if twenty whites were eager to go where now there is but one reluctant pioneer, we should still have but a halting develop- ment on account of the scarcity of labor. When, three hundred years ago, the Isthmus of Panama stood in his way, Gomara wrote to his king: "There are mountains, but there are also hands," as if men could be conjured up from the tropical jungle. From that day to this the scarcity of labor has been the chief dif- ficulty in the lowland regions of tropical South America. Even when medicine shall have been advanced to the point where resi- dence in the tropics can be made safe, the Amazon basin will lack an adequate supply of workmen. Where Humboldt saw thriving cities, the population is still less than one to the square mile in an area as large as fifteen of our Mississippi Valley states. We hear much about a rich soil and little about intolerable insects; the climate favors a good growth of vegetation, but a man can starve in a tropical forest as easily as in a desert; certain tribu- taries of the Negro are bordered by rich rubber forests, yet not a single Indian hut may be found along their banks. Will men of the white race dig up the rank vegetation, sleep in grass ham- mocks, live in the hot and humid air, or will they stay in the cooler regions of the north and south? Will they rear children in the temperate zones, or bury them in the tropics'? What Gorgas did for Panama was done for intelligent people. Can it be duplicated in the case of ignorant and stupid laborers? Shall the white man with wits fight it out mth Nature in a tropical forest, or fight it out with his equals under better skies? The tropics must be Avon by strong hands of the lowlier classes who are ignorant or careless of hygiene, and not by the khaki-clad robust young men like those who work at Panama. Tropical medi- cine can do something for these folk, but it cannot do much. And wo cannot surround every laborer's cottage with expensive SfTfMis, ()]]('(] difohcK, and well-kept lawns. There is a practical optimism mthI ;i scnfimoulnl optimism. The one is based on facts; THE RUBBER FORESTS 36 the other on assumptions. It is pleasant to think that the tropical forest may be conquered. It is nonsense to say that we are now conquering it in any comprehensive and permanent way. That sort of conquest is still a dream, as when Humboldt wrote over a hundred years ago. CHAPTER IV THE FOREST INDIANS The people of a tropical forest live under conditions not unlike those of the desert. The Sahara contains 2,000,000 persons within its borders, a density of one-half to the square mile. This is al- most precisely the density of population of a tract of equivalent size in the lowland forests of South America. Like the oases groups in the desert of aridity are the scattered groups along the river margins of the forest. The desert trails run from spring to spring or along a valley floor where there is seepage or an inter- mittent stream; the rivers are the highways of the forest, the flowing roads, and away from them one is lost in as true a sense as one may be lost in the desert. A man may easily starve in the tropical forest. Before start- ing on even a short journey of two or three days a forest Indian stocks his canoe with sugar cane and yuca and a little parched com. He knows the settlements as well as his desert brother knows the springs. The Pahute Indian of Utah lives in the irri- gated valleys and makes annual excursions across the desert to the distant mountains to gather the seeds of the nut pine. The Machiganga lives in the hills above the Urubamba and annually comes down through the forest to the river to fish during the dry season. The Machigangas are one of the important tribes of the Ama- zon basin. Though they are dispersed to some extent upon the plains their chief groups are scattered through the heads of a large numbor of valleys near the eastern border of the Andes. Chief among tlie valleys they occupy are the Pilcopata, Tono, Pini-pini, Yavero, Yuyato, Shirineiri, Ticumpinea, Timpia, and Camisea (Fig. 20.'}). In their distribution, in their relations with each other, in their manner of life, and to some extent in their personal traits, they display characteristics strikingly like those m THE FOREST INDIANS 37 seen in desert peoples. Though the forest that surrounds them suggests plenty and the rivers the possibility of free movement with easy intercourse, the struggle of life, as in the desert, is against useless things. Travel in the desert is a conflict with heat and aridity; but travel in the tropic forest is a struggle against space, heat, and a superabundant and all but useless vegetation. The Machigangas are one of the subtribes of the Campas In- dians, one of the most numerous groups in the Amazon Valley. It is estimated that there are in all about 14,000 to 16,000 of them. Each subtribe numbers from one to four thousand, and the terri- tory they occupy extends from the limits of the last plantations — for example, Rosalina in the Urubamba Valley — downstream be- yond the edge of the plains. Among them three subtribes are still hostile to the whites: the Cashibos, the Chonta Campas, and the Campas Bravos. In certain cases the Cashibos are said to be anthropophagous, in the belief that they will assume the strength and intellect of those they eat. This group is also continuously at war with its neighbors, goes naked, uses stone hatchets, as in ages past, be- cause of its isolation and unfriendliness, and defends the entrances to the tribal huts with dart and traps. The Cashibos are diminish- ing in numbers and are now scattered through the valley of the Gran Pajonal, the left bank of the Pachitea, and the Pampa del Sacramento.^ The friendliest tribes live in the higher valley heads, where they have constant communication with the whites. The use of the bow and arrow has not, however, been discontinued among them, in spite of the wide introduction of the old-fashioned muzzle-load- ing shotgun, which they prize much more highly than the latest rifle or breech-loading shotgun because of its simplicity and cheap- ' The Cashibos of the Pachitea are the tribe for whom the Piros besought Herndon to produce " some great and infectious disease " -which could be carried up the river and let loose amongst them (Herndon, Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon, Washington, 1854, Vol. 1, p. 196). This would-be artfulness suggests itself as some- thing of a match against the cunning of the Cashibos whom rumor reports to imitate the sounds of the forest animals with such skill as to betray into their hands the hunters of other tribes (see von Tschudi, Travels in Peru During the Years 1838-1842, translated from the German by Thomasina Ross, New York, 1849, p. 404). 38 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU ness. Accidents are frequent among them owing to the careless use of fire-arms. On our last day's journey on the Urubamba above the mouth of the Timpia one of our Indian boys dropped his canoe pole on the hammer of a loaded shotgun, and not only shot his own fingers to pieces, but gravely wounded his father (Fig. 2). In spite of his suffering the old chief directed our work at the canoe and even was able to tell us the location of the most favora- ble channel. Though the night that followed was as black as ink, with even the stars obscured by a rising storm, his directions never failed. We poled our way up five long rapids without spe- cial difficulties, now working into the lee of a rock whose location he knew within a few yards, now paddling furiously across the channel to catch the upstream current of an eddy. The principal groups of Machigangas live in the middle Uru- bamba and its tributaries, the Yavero, Yuyato, Sliirineiri, Ticum- pinea, Timpia, Pachitea, and others. There is a marked difference in the use of the land and the mode of life among the different groups of this subtribe. Those who live in the lower plains and river ''playas," as the patches of flood plain are called, have a sin- gle permanent dwelling and alternately fish and hunt. Those that live on hill farms have temporary reed huts on the nearest sand- bars and spend the best months of the dry season — April to Oc- tober — in fishing and drying fish to be carried to their mountain homes (Fig. 21). Some families even duplicate chacras or farms at tlie river bank and grow yuca and sugar cane. In latter years smallpox, malaria, and the rubber hunters have destroyed many of the river villages and driven the Indians to permanent resi- dence in the hills or, whoro raids occur, along secret trails to hid- den camps. Thoir Rvstom of agriculture is strilciiigly adajited to some im- jKti-taiit featuiT'S of tropical soil. Tlic tlilii hillside soils of tlie region are but poorly stocked with linmus, even in their \irgin condition, {'"alien trees and foliage decay so quickly that the layer of forest mold is exceedingly thin and the little that is incor- porated in tlie soil is confined to a shallow surface layer. To meet those special conditions the Indian makes new clearings by gir- THE FOREST INDIANS 39 dling and burning the trees. When the soil becomes worn out and the crops diminish, the old clearing is abandoned and allowed to revert to natural growth and a new farm is planted to corn and yucsL. The population is so scattered and thin that the land assign- ment system current among the plateau Indians is not practised among the Machigangas. Several families commonly live together and may be separated from their nearest neighbors by many miles of forested mountains. The land is free for all, and, though some heavy labor is necessary to clear it, once a small patch is cleared it is easy to extend the tract by limited annual cuttings. Local tracts of naturally unforested land are rarely planted, chiefly be- cause the absence of shade has allowed the sun to burn out the limited humus supply and to prevent more from accumulating. The best soil of the mountain slopes is found where there is the heaviest growth of timber, the deepest shade, the most humus, and good natural drainage. It is the same on the playas along the river ; the recent additions to the flood plain are easy to cultivate, but they lack humus and a fine matrix which retains moisture and prevents drought or at least physiologic dryness. Here, too, ' the timbered areas or the cane swamps are always selected for planting. The traditions of the Machigangas go back to the time of the Inca conquest, when the forest Indians, the "Antis," were subju- gated and compelled to pay tribute.' When the Inca family itself fled from Cuzco after the Spanish Conquest and sought refuge in the wilderness it was to the Machiganga country that they came by way of the Vilcabamba and Pampaconas Valleys. Afterward came the Spaniards and though they did not exercise governmental au- ^ The early chronicles contain several references to Antisuyu and the Antis. Garcilaso de la Vega's description of the Inca conquests in Antisuyu are well kno^vn (Royal Commentaries of the Yncas, Book 4, Chapters 16 and 17, Hakluyt Soc. Pubis., Ist Ser., No. 41, 1869 and Book 7, Chapters 13 and 14, No. 45, 1871)." Salcamayhua who also chronicles these conquests relates a legend concerning the tribute payers of the eastern valleys. On one occasion, he says, three hundred Antis came laden with gold from Opatari. Their arrival at Cuzco was coincident with a killing frost that ruined all the crops of the basin whence tlie three hundred fortunates were ordered with their gold to the top of the high hill of Paehatucsa (Pachatusun) and there buried with it (An Account of the Antiquities of Peru, Hakluvt Soc Pubis 1st Ser., No. 48, 1873). 40 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU tliority over the forest Indians they had close relations mth them. Land grants were made to white pioneers for special services or through sale and with the land often went the right to exploit the people on it. Some of the concessions were owned by people w^ho for generations knew nothing save by hearsay of the Indians who dwelt in the great forests of the valleys. In later years they have been exploring their lands and establishing so-called relations whereby the savage ''buys" a dollar's worth of powder or knives for whatever number of dollars' worth of rubber the owner may care to extract from him. The forest Indian is still master of his lands throughout most of the Machiganga country. He is cruelly enslaved at the rubber posts, held by the loose bonds of a desultory trade at others, and in a few places, as at Pongo de Mainique, gives service for both love and profit, but in many places it is impossible to establish con- trol or influence. The lowland Indian never falls into the abject condition of his Quechua brother on the plateau. He is self-re- liant, proud, and independent. He neither cringes before a white nor looks up to him as a superior being. I was greatly impressed by the bearing of the first of the forest tribes I met in August, 1911, at Santo Anato. I had built a brisk fire and was enjoying its comfort when La Sama returned with some Indians whom he had secured to clear his playa. The tallest of the lot, wearing a colored band of deer skin around his thick hair and a gaudy bunch of yellow feathers down his back, came up, looked me squarely in the eye, and asked *'Tatiry payta?" (What is your name?) AV'hon I replied he quietly sat down by the fire, helping liimself to the roasted corn T had prepared in the hot ashes. A few days hiter wlion we cnmo to the head of a rapid I was busy sketching-in my topographic Tiiap and did not hoar his twice repeated request to leave the l)<);it wliilc flic party reconnoiterod ilic r.M])id. AVatch- ing liis opportunity lie came alongside from the rear — he was steersman — and, turning just as he was leaving the boat, gave me a whack in the forehead with his open palm. La Sama saw the motioTi ;m(l protested. The surly answer was: THE FOREST INDIANS 41 "I twice asked him to get out and he didn't move. What does he thinlc we run the canoe to the bank for?" To him the making of a map was inexplicable ; I was merely a stupid white person who didn't know enough to get out of a canoe when told! The plateau Indian has been kicked about so long that all his independence has been destroyed. His goods have been stolen, his services demanded without recompense, in many places he has no right to land, and his few real rights are abused beyond belief. The difference between him and the forest Indian is due quite largely to differences of environment. The plateau Indian is agricultural, the forest Indian nomadic and in a hunting stage of development ; the unforested plateau offers no means for concealment of person or property, the forest offers hidden and difficult paths, easy means for concealment, for ambush, and for wide dispersal of an afflicted tribe. The brutal white of the plateau follows altogether different methods when he finds himself in the Indian country, far from military assistance, surrounded by fearless savages. He may cheat but he does not steal, and his brutality is always care- fully suited to both time and place. The Machigangas are now confined to the forest, but the limits of their territory were once farther upstream, where they were in frequent conflict with the plateau Indians. As late as 1835, ac- cording to General Miller,^ they occupied the land as far upstream as the "Encuentro" (junction) of the Urubamba and the Yanatili (Fig. 53). Miller likewise notes that the Chuntaguirus, "a superior race of Indians" who lived ''toward the Maranon," came up the river "200 leagues" to barter with the people thereabouts. "They bring parrots and other birds, monkeys, cotton robes white and painted, wax balsams, feet of the gran bestia, feather ornaments for the head, and tiger and other skins, which they ex- change for hatchets, knives, scissors, needles, buttons, and any sort of glittering bauble." = Notice of a Journey to the Northward and also to the Northeastward of Cuzco. Royal Geog. Sec. Journ., Vol. fi, 1836, pp. 174-186. 42 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU On their yearly excursions they traveled in a band numbering from 200 to 300, since at the mouth of the Paucartambo (Yavero) they were generally set upon by the Pucapacures. The journey upstream required three months; with the current they returned home in fifteen days. Their place of meeting at the mouth of the Yanatili was a response to a long strip of grassland that extends down the deep and dry Urubamba Valley, as shown in Figs. 53-B and 55. The wet forests, in which the Machigangas live, cover the hills back of the valley plantations; the belt of dry grassland terminates far within the general limits of the red man's domain and only 2,000 feet above the sea. It is in this strip of low grassland that on the one hand the highland and valley dwellers, and on the other the Indians of the hot forested valleys and the adjacent lowland found a convenient place for barter. The same physiographic features are repeated in adjacent valleys of large size that drain the eastern aspect of the Peruvian Andes, and in each case they have given rise to the periodic excursions of the trader. These annual journeys are no longer made. The planters have crept down valley. The two best playas below Rosalina are now being cleared. Only a little space remains between the lowest val- ley plantations and the highest rubber stations. Furthermore, the Indians have been enslaved by the rubber men from the Ucayali. 'J'he Macliigangas, many of whom are runaway peons, will no hmgor take cargoes down valley for fear of recapture. They have the cautious spirit of fugitives except in their remote valleys. 'I'JH'ii' llioy are secure and now and tlicn reassert their old spirit wlicii ;i lawless trader tries to browbeat them into an unprofitable trade. Also, they are yielding to the alluring call of the planter. At Santo Anato they are clearing a playa in exchange for am- nmnitioii, inaclietes, brandy, and baubles. They no longer make animal excursions to get these things. They have only to call at the nearest jdanlafion. Tliei'e is always a wolf before the door of thr' planter — the laek ol' labor. Yet, as on every frontier, he turns wolf liimsolf wlieii the lambs come, and without shame takes a week's work for a penny mirror, or, worse still, supplies them THE FOREST INDIANS 43 with firewater, for that will surely bring them back to him. Since \ this is expensive they return to their tribal haunts with nothing except a debauched spirit and an appetite from which they can- not run away as they did from their task masters in the rubber forest. Hence the vicious circle : more brandy, more labor ; more labor, more cleared land; more cleared land, more brandy; more brandy, less Indian. But by that time the planter has a large sugar estate. Then he can begin to buy the more expensive plateau labor, and in turn debauch it. Nature as well as man works against the scattered tribes of Machigangas and their forest kinsmen. Their country is exceed- ingly broken by ramifying mountain spurs and valleys overhung with cliffs or bordered by bold, wet, fern-clad slopes. It is useless to try to cut your way by a direct route from one point to another. The country is mantled with heavy forest. You must follow the valleys, the ancient trails of the people. The larger valleys offer smooth sand-bars along the border of which canoes may be towed upstream, and there are little cultivated places for camps. But only a few of the tribes live along them, for they are also more accessible to the rubbermen. The smaller valleys, difficult of access, are more secure and there the tribal rem- nants live today. While the broken country thus offers a refuge to fugitive bands it is the broken country and its forest cover that combine to break up the population into small groups and keep them in an isolated and quarrelsome state. Chronic quarreling is not only the product of mere lack of contact. It is due to many causes, among which is a union of the habit of migration and divergent tribal speech. Every tribe has its own peculiar words in addition to those common to the group of tribes to which it be- longs. Moreover each group of a tribe has its distinctive words. I have seen and used carefully prepared vocabularies — no two of which are alike throughout. They serve for communication with only a limited number of families*. These peculiarities increase as experiences vary and new situations call for additions to or changes in their vocabularies, and when migrating tribes meet their speech may be so unlike as to make communication difficult. 44 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU Thus arise suspicion, misunderstanding, plunder, and chronic war. Had they been a united people their defense of their rough coun- try might have been successful. The tribes have been divided and now and again, to get firearms and ammunition with which to raid a neighbor, a tribe has joined its fortunes to those of vagrant rub- ber pickers only to find in time that its women were debased, its members decimated by strange and deadly diseases, and its old morality undermined by an insatiable desire for strong drink.* /The Indian loses whether with the white or against him. The forest Indian is held by his environment no less strongly than the plateau Indian. We hear much about the restriction of the plateau dweller to the cool zone in which the llama may live. / As a matter of fact he lives far below the cool zone, where he no longer depends upon the llama but rather upon the mule for trans- port. The limits of his range correspond to the limits of the grasslands in the dry valley pockets already described (p. 42), or on the drier mountain slopes below the zone of heaviest rainfall (Fig. 54). It is this distribution that brought him into such in- timate contact with the forest Indian. The old and dilapidated coca terraces of the Quechuas above the Yanatili almost overlook the forest patches where the Machigangas for centuries built their rude huts. A good deal has been written about the attempts of the Incas to extend their rule into this forest zone and about the failure of these attempts on account of the tropical climate. But tlio forest Indian was held by bonds equally secure. The cold cli- mate of the plateau repelled him as it does today. His haunts are tlic liot valleys where he need wear only a wild-cotton shirt or where he may go naked altogether. That he raided the lands of the plateau Indimi is certain, but he could never displace him. Only along Ihc coinnioii borders of their domains, where the climates of two zones merged iiilo each other, could Ihc forest hidinii ;m(l the jihitcnu Indian seriously (lis|)utc c'lcli other's ♦ Wnlln fltatoH ( Lc IVroii TCcoiu»niiq)ic, rmiH, 1007, p. 207) tlint the Conibos, a tritKi nf tlio rcnyali, mnkc nnniia] rjtrrcriaa or iniiln <]iiriii|X (Ik- months of July, AugUNt, nnd Sc'ptfmlnT, thnt in during the senson of low wattr. Over seven hundred canoes are said to pnrticipnt«' and the captives secured are sold to rubber exploiters, wlio, indeed, frequently nid in tlie orfjaniz.if ion of the raids. THE FOREST INDIANS 45 claims to the land. Here was endless conflict but only feeble trade and only the most minute exchanges of cultural elements. Even had they been as brothers they would have had little in- centive to borrow cultural elements from each other. The forest dweller requires bow and arrow; the plateau dweller requires a hoe. There are fish in the warm river shallows of the forested zone; llamas, vicuna, vizcachas, etc., are a partial source of food supply on the plateau. Coca and potatoes are the chief products of the grassy mountain slopes ; yuca, corn, bananas, are the chief vegetable foods grown on the tiny cultivated patches in the forest. The plateau dweller builds a thick-walled hut; the valley dweller a cane shack. So unlike are the two environments that it would be strange if there had been a mixture of racial types and cul- tures. The slight exchanges that were made seem little more than accidental. Even today the Machigangas who live on the highest slopes own a few pigs obtained from Quechuas, but they never eat their flesh ; they keep them for pets merely. I saw not a single woolen article among the Indians along the Urubamba whereas Quechuas with woolen clothing were going back and forth regu- larly. Their baubles were of foreign make; likewise their few hoes, likewise their guns. They clear the forest about a wild-cotton tree and spin and weave the cotton fiber into sacks, cords for climbing trees when they wish to chase a monkey, ropes for hauling their canoes, shirts for the married men and women, colored head-bands, and fish nets. The slender strong bamboo is gathered for arrows. The chunta palm, like bone for hardness, supplies them with bows and ar- row heads. The brilliant red and yellow feathers of forest birds, also monkey bones and teeth,- are their natural ornaments. Their life is absolutely distinct from that of their Quechua neighbors. Little wonder that for centuries forest and plateau Indians have been enemies and that their cultures are so distinct, for their environment everywhere calls for unlike modes of existence and distinct cultural development. CHAPTER V THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS The lofty mountain zones of Peru, the high bordering valleys, and the belts of rolling plateau between are occupied by tribes of shepherds. In that cold, inhospitable region at the top of the country are the highest permanent habitations in the world — 17,100 feet (5,210 m.) — the loftiest pastures, the greatest degree of adaptation to combined altitude and frost, lit is here only a step from Greenland to Arcady. Nevertheless it is Greenland that has the people. Why do they shun Arcady? To the traveler from the highlands the fertile valleys between 5,000 and 8,000 feet (1,500 to 2,5U0 m.) seem like the abode of friendly spirits to whose charm the highland dweller must yield. Every pack-train from valley to highland carries luxury in the form of fruit, coca, cacao, and sugar. One would think that every importation of valley products would be followed by a wave of migration from highland to val- ley. fOn the contrary the highland people have clung to their lofty pastures for unnumbered centuries. Until the Conquest the last outposts of the Incas toward the east were the grassy ridges that terminate a few thousand feet below the timber line. In this natural grouping of the people where does choice or blind prejudice or instinct leave offf Where does necessity be- gin? There are answers to most of these questions to be found in the broad field of geographic comparison. But before we begin comparisons we must study the individual facts upon which they rest. These facts are of almost every conceivable variety. They range in iiiiport.nicc li-oiii n liumble shepherd's stone corral on a mountain slope to a thickly settled mountain basin. Their in- terpretation is to be sought now in the soil of rich playa lands, now in the fixed climatic zones and rugged relief of dee])ly dis- sected, lofty highlands in the tropics. Some of the controlling factors are historical, others economic; still other factors have •jr. THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 47 ■exerted their influence through obscure psychologic channels al- most impossible to trace. The why of man's distribution over the earth is one of the most complicated problems in natural science, and the solution of it is the chief problem of the modern geographer. At first sight the mountain people of the Peruvian Andes seem to be uniform in character and in mode of life. The traveler's first impression is that the same stone-walled, straw-thatched type of hut is to be found everywhere, the same semi-nomadic life, the same degrees of poverty and filth. Yet after a little study the diversity of their lives is seen to be, if not a dominating fact, at least one of surprising importance. Side by side with this di- versity there runs a corresponding diversity of relations to their physical environment. Nowhere else on the earth are greater phys- ical contrasts compressed within such small spaces. If, there- fore, we accept the fundamental theory of geography that there is a general, necessary, varied, and complex relation between man and the earth, that theory ought here to find a really vast num- ber^ of illustrations. A glance at the accompanying figures dis- closes the wide range of relief in the Peruvian Andes. The cor- responding range in climate and in life therefore furnishes an am- ple field for the application of the laws of human distribution. In analyzing the facts of distribution we shall do well to begin with the causes and effects of migration. Primitive man is in no small degree a wanderer. His small resources often require him to explore large tracts. As population increases the food quest becomes more intense, and thus there come about repeated emigra- tions which increase the food supply, extend its variety, and draw the pioneers at last into contact with neighboring groups. The farther back we go in the history of the race the clearer it becomes that migrations lie at the root of much of human development. The raid for plunder, women, food, beasts, is a persistent feature of the life of those primitive men who live on the border of un- like regions. The shepherd of the highland and the forest hunter of the plains perforce range over vast tracts, and each brings back to the 48 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU home group news that confirms the tribal choice of habitation or sets it in motion toward a more desirable place. Superstitions may lead to flight akin to migration. Epidemics may be inter- preted as the work of a malignant spirit from which men must flee. War may drive a defeated group into the fastnesses of a moun- tain forest where pursuit by stream or trail weakens the pursuer and confines his action, thereby limiting his power. Floods may come and destroy the cultivated spots. Want or mere desire in a hundred forms may lead to movement. Even among forest tribes long stationary the facile canoe and the light household necessities may easily enable trivial causes to develop the spirit of restlessness. Pressure of population is a powerful but not a general cause of movement. It may affect the settled groups of the desert oases, or the dense population of fer- tile plains that is rooted in the soil. On the other hand mere whims may start a nomadic group toward a new goal. Often the goal is elusive and the tribe turns back to the old haunts or per- ishes in the shock of unexpected conflict. In the case of both primitive societies and those of a higher order the causes and the results of migration are often contra- dictory. These will depend on the state of civilization and the ex- tremes of circumstance. (When the desert blooms the farmer of the Piura Valley in northwestern Peru turns shepherd and drives his flocks of sheep and goats out into the short-lived pastures of the great pampa on the west. In dry years he sends them eastward into the mountains. "^ The forest Indian of the lower Uru- bamba is a fisherman while the river is low and lives in a reed hut beside his cultivated patch of cano and yncn. When the floods come he is driven to the higher ground in the hills where he has another cultivated patch of land and a rude shelter. To be sure, these are aeasoiial Tnii::rarK)ns, yet through ilicm \ho country be- comes betlci- kiiowTi 1() cacli new generation of men. And each general ion supplies its pioneers, who drift into the remoter places where poj)ulation is scarce or altogether wanting. Dry years and extremely dry years may have o])p()sitc effects. When moderate dryness prevails the results may be endurable. THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 49 The oases become crowded with men and beasts just when they can ill afford to support them. The alfalfa meadows become over- stocked, and cattle become lean and almost worthless. But there is at least bare subsistence. By contrast, if extreme and pro- longed drought prevails, some of the people are driven forth to more favored spots. At Vallenar in central Chile some of the workmen in extreme years go up to the nitrate pampa; in wet years they return. When the agents of the nitrate companies hear of hard times in a desert valley they oifer employment to the stricken people. It not infrequently happens that when there are droughts in desert Chile there are abundant rains in Argentina on the other side of the Cordillera. There has therefore been for many generations an irregular and slight, though definite, shift- ing of population from one side of the mountains to the other as periods of drought and periods of rain alternated in the two regions. Some think there is satisfactory evidence to prove that a number of the great Mongolian emigrations took place in wet years when pasture was abundant and when the pastoral nomad found it easy to travel. On the other hand it has been urged that the cause of many emigrations was prolonged periods of drought when the choice lay between starvation and flight. It is evident from the foregoing that both views may be correct in spite of the fact that identical effects are attributed to opposite causes. It is still an open question w^hether security or insecurity is more favorable for the broad distribution of the Peruvian Indians of the mountain zone which forms the subject of this chapter. Cer- tainly both tend to make the remoter places better known. Tradi- tion has it that, in the days of intertribal conflict before the Con- quest, fugitives fled into the high mountain pastures and lived in hidden places and in caves. Life was insecure and relief was sought in flight. On the other hand peace has brought security to life. The trails are now safe. A shepherd may drive his flock anywhere. He no longer has any one to fear in his search for new pastures. It would perhaps be safe to conclude that there is equally broad distribution of men in the mountain pastures in time of peace and in time of war. There is, however, a difference in THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU I'KJ. 2ij — Uff^ional diagram for tlio Maritiinc Cordillora to hIiow the pliysical rclationH in tlu* distrift wliorc tlic liighcst liahitatiniis in the world are located. For location, m-e Fig. 20. It Hliould be romcmhcrcd tliat tiio orientation of these diagrama IB generalized. By reference to Fig. 20 it will he seen that soine ])()r(iiiiiH of the crest of the Maritime Cordillera run east and west and others iinrlli and south. The Bame i« true of the Cordillera Vileapampa, Fig. .'{(». tlic kind of distribution, in time of peace the individual is safe anywhere; in time of unrest lie is safe only when isolated and vir- tually concealed. By contrast, the p^roup living near the trails is THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 51 scattered by plundering bands and war parties. The remote and isolated group may successfully oppose the smaller band and the individuals that might reach the remoter regions. The fugitive group would have nothing to fear from large bands, for the limited food supply would inevitably cause these to disintegrate upon leaving the main routes of travel. Probably the fullest ex- ploration of the mountain pastures has resulted from the alterna- tion of peace and war. The opposite conditions which these estab- lish foster both kinds of distribution ; hence both the remote group life encouraged by war and the individual's lack of restraint in jVofe on regional diagrams. — For the sake of clearness I have classified the accom- panying facts of human distribution in the country of the shepherds and represented them graphically in "regional" diagrams, Figs. 17, 25, 26, 32, 34, 36, 42, 65. These diagrams are constructed on the principle of dominant control. Each brings out the factors of greatest importance in the distribution of the people in a given region. Furthermore, the facts are compressed within the limits of a small rectangle. This com- pression, though great, respects all essential relations. For example, every location on these diagrams has a concrete illustration but the accidental relations of the field have been omitted; the essential relations are preserved. Each diagram is, therefore, a kind of generalized type map. It bears somewhat the same relation to the facts of human geography that a block diagram does to physiography. The darkest shading represents steep snow-covered country; the next lower grade represents rough but snow-free country; the lightest shading represents moderate relief; unshaded parts represent plain or plateau. Small circles represent forest or woodland; small open- spaced dots, grassland. Fine alluvium is represented by small closely spaced dots; coarse alluvium by large closely spaced dots. To take an illustration. In Figure 32 we have the Apurimac region near Pasaje (see location map. Fig. 20). At the lower edge of the rectangle is a snow-capped outlier of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. The belt of rugged country represents the lofty, steep, exposed, and largely inaccessible ridges at the mid-elevations of the mountains below the glaciated slopes at the heads of tributary valleys. The villages in the belt of pasture might well be Incahuasi and Corralpata. The floors of the large canyons on either hand are bordered by extensive alluvial fans. The river courses are sketched in a diagrammatic way only, but a map would not be diflferent in its general disposition. Each location is justified by a real place with the same essential features and relations. In making the change there has been no alteration of the general relation of the alluvial lands to each other or to the highland. By suppressing unnecessary details there is produced a diagram whose essentials have simple and clear relations. When such a regional diagram is amplified by photographs of real conditions it becomes a sort of generalized picture of a large group of geographic facts. One could very well extend the method to the whole of South America. It would be a real service to geography to draw up a set of, say, twelve to fifteen regional diagrams, still further generalized, for the whole of the continent. As a broad classification they would serve both the specialist and the general student. As the basis for a regional map of South America they would be invaluable if worked out in sufficient detail and constructed on the indispensable basis of field studies. 52 . THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU time of peace are probably in large part responsible for the pres- ent widespread occupation of the Peruvian mountains. The loftiest habitation in the world (Fig. 24) is in Peru. Be- tween Antabamba and Cotahuasi occur the highest passes in the Maritime Cordillera. We crossed at 17,400 feet (5,300 m.), and three hundred feet lower is the last outpost of the Indian shep- herds. The snowline, very steeply canted away from the sun, is between 17,200 and 17,600 feet (5,240 to 5,360 m.). At frequent intervals during the three months of winter, snowfalls during the night and terrific hailstorms in the late afternoon drive both shep- herds and flocks to the shelter of leeward slopes or steep canyon walls. At our six camps, between 16,000 and 17,200 feet (4,876 and 5,240 m.), in September, 1911, the minimum temperature ranged from 4° to 20° F. The thatched stone hut that we passed at 17,100 feet and that enjoys the distinction of being the highest in the world was in other respects the same as the thousands of others in the same region. It sheltered a family of five. As we passed, three rosy-cheeked children almost as fat as the sheep about them were sitting on the ground in a corner of the corral playing with balls of wool. Hundreds of alpacas and sheep grazed on the hill slopes and valley floor, and their tracks showed plainly that they were frequently driven up to the snoAvline in those valleys where a trickle of water supported a band of pasture. Less than a hundred feet below them were other huts and flocks. Here we have the limits of altitude and the limits of resources. The intervalley spaces do not support grass. Some of them are quite bare, others are covered with mosses. It is too high for even the tola bush — that pioneer of Alpine vegetation in the Andes. Tlic illstance' to Cotahuasi is 75 miles (120 km.), to Aii(;ib;niil)a r)() iniloa (80 km.). Tlionco wool must bo Khipixnl l)y pack-train 1() tlic r.'iilrond in I lie one case 250 miles (400 km.) lo .\r('(|iiii);i. in tlic otlier case 200 miles (.'520 km.) to Cuzco. l^^vcii the potatoes and l)Mrley, wliicli must ))o imported, come from valleys several days' journey ;i\v;iy. Tiie question naturally arises why these peo- ple live on the rim of the woi-Jd. Did they seek out these neglected • DisinnccB nre not taken from thp map but from the trnil. THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 53 pastures, or were they driven to them? Do they live here by choice or of necessity? The answer to these questions introduces two other geographic factors of prime importance, the one phys- ical, the other economic. ^ \ The main tracts of lofty pasture above Antabamba cover moun- tain slopes and valley floor alike, but the moist valley floors supply the best grazing. Moreover, the main valleys have been inten- sively glaciated. Hence, though their sides are steep walls, their floors are broad and flat. Marshy tracts, periodically flooded, are scattered throughout, and here and there are overdeepened por- tions where lakes have gathered. There is a thick carpet of grass, also numerous huts and corrals, and many flocks. At the upi^er edge of the main zone of pasture the grasses become thin and w^ith increasing altitude give out altogether except along the mplst val- ley floors or on shoulders where there is seepage. If the streams head in dry mountain slopes without snow^ the grassy bands of the valley floor terminate at moderate elevations. If the streams have their sources in snowfields or glaciers there is a more uniform run-off, and a ribbon of pasture may extend to the snowline. To the latter class belong the pastures that support these remote people. In the case of the Maritime Andes the great elevation of the snowline is also a factor. If, in Figure 25, we think of the snow- line as at the upper levfel of the main zone of pasture then we should have the conditions shown in Figure 36, where the limit of general, not local, occupation is the snowline, as in the Cordillera Vilcapampa and between Chuquibambilla and Antabamba. A third factor is the character of the soil. Large amounts of volcanic ash and lapilli were thrown out in the late stages of vol- canic eruption in which the present cones of the Maritime Andes were formed. The coarse texture of these deposits allows the ready escape of rainwater. The combination of extreme aridity and great elevation results in a double restraint upon vegetation. Outside of the moist valley floors, with their film of ground moraine on whose surface plants find a more congenial soil, there is an extremely small amount of pasture. | Here are the natural 54 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU grazing grounds of the tleet vicuna. Tliey occur in hundreds, and so remote and little disturbed are they that near the main pass one may count them by the score. As we rode by, many of them only stared at us without taking the trouble to get beyond rifle shot. It is not difficult to believe that the Indians easily shoot great numbers in remote valleys that have not been hunted for years. 1 The extreme conditions of life existing on these lofty plateaus are well sho^\Ti by the readiness with which even the hardy shep- herds avail themselves of shelter. Wherever deep valleys bring a milder climate within reach of the pastures the latter are unpopu- lated for miles on either side. The sixty-mile stretch between Chuquibamba and Salamanca is without even a single hut, though there are pastures superior to the ones occupied by those loftiest huts of all. Likewise there are no permanent homes between Sala- manca and Cotahuasi, though the shepherds migrate across the belt in the milder season of rain. Eastward and northward to- ward the crest of the Maritime Cordillera there are no huts within a day's journey of the Cotahuasi canyon. Then there is a group of a dozen just under the crest of the secondary range that parallels the main chain of volcanoes. Thence northward there are a number of scattered huts between 15,500 and 16,500 feet (4,700 and 5,000 m.), until we reach the highest habitations of all at 17,100 feet (5,210 m.). The unpopulated belts of lava plateau bordering the entrenched valleys arc, liowever, as distinctly "sustenance" spaces, to use Penck's term, as the irrigated and fertile alluvial fans in the bot- tom of the valley. This is well shown when the rains come and flocks of llamas and sheep are driven forth from the valleys to the^ best pastures, li is equally well shown by the distribution'^of the shepherds' homes. Those are not down on llic wjinii (•.•luyoii lloor, separated by a li.ill" d.iy's journey from the grazing. They are in tlic intrenched liihntary valleys of Figure 20 or just within the rim <.f tlie canyon. It is not shelter from the cold but^ from the wind tliat chiefly determines their location. They are also kept near the rim of the canyon })y the pressure of th(^ farming popu- THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 55 lation from below. Every hundred feet of descent from the arid plateau (Fig. 29) increases the water supply. Springs increase in number and size; likewise belts of seepage make their appear- ance. The gradients in many places diminish, and flattish spurs and shoulders interrupt the generally steep descents of the canyon Fig. 26 — Regional diagram to show the physical relations in the lava plateau of the Maritime Cordillera west of the continental divide. For location, see Fig. 20. Trails lead up the intrenched tributaries. If the irrigated bench (lower right corner) is large, a town will be located on it. Shepherds' huts are scattered about the edge of the girdle of spurs. There is also a string of huts in the deep sheltered head of each tributaiy. See also Fig. 29 for conditions on the valley or canyon floor. w^all. Every change of this sort has a real value to the farmer and means an enhanced price beyond the ability of the poor shepherd to pay. If you ask a wealthy hacendado on the valley floor (Fig. 29), who it is that live in the huts above him, he will invariably say "los Indios," w^ith a shrug meant to convey the idea of poverty and worthlessness. Sometimes it is "los Indios pobres," or merely "los pobres." Thus there is a vertical stratification of 56 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU society corresponding to the superimposed strata of climate and land. At Salamanca (Fig. 62) I saw this admirably displayed under circumstances of unusual interest. The floor and slopes of the valley are more completely terraced than in any other valley I know of. In the photograph, Fig. 30, which shows at least 2,500 feet of descent near the town, one cannot find a single patch of sur- face that is not under cultivation. The valley is simply filled mth people to the limit of its capacity. Practically all are Indians, but with many grades of wealth and importance. When we rode out of the valley before daybreak, one September morning in 1911, there was a dead calm, and each step upward carried us into a colder stratum of air. At sunrise we had reached a point about 2,000 feet above the town, or 14,500 feet (4,420 m.) above sea level. We stood on the frost line. On the opposite wall of the valley the line was as clearly marked out as if it had been an irrigating canal. The light was so fully reflected from the millions of frost crystals above it that both the mountainside and the valley slopes were sparkling like a ruffled lake at sunrise. Below the frost line the slopes were dark or covered with yellow barley and wheat stubble or green alfalfa. / It happened that the frost line was near the line of division 'between corn and potato cultivation and also near the line separat- ing the steep rough upper lands from the cultivable lower lands. Not a habitation was in sight above us, except a few scattered miserable huts near broken terraces, gullied by wet-weather streams and grown up to weeds and brush. Below us were well- fiiltivatf'd fields, and the stock was kept in bounds by stone fences and corrals; above, the half-wild burros and mules roamed about everywhere, and only the sheep and llamas were in rude enclo- sures. Tims ill ;i li;iir hour we passed llic rroiillci' Ix'lwccii tlie agrieulf iiral fnlk Ix'low llic frost line ;ni(l flif sli('))lii'i-(l folk ,'il)ove it. In ;i few spots the line followed an irregular course, as where flatter lands were developed at unusual elevations or where air drainage altered the normal temperature. And at one place the Fio. 27. Fig. 28. Fig. 27 — Terraced valley slopes at Hiiaynacotas, Cotahnasi Valley, Peru. Eleva- tion 11,500 feet (3,500 m.). Fig. 28 — The highly cultivated and thoroughly terraced floor of the Ollantaytambo Valley at Ollantaytambo. This is a tributary of the Urubamba; elevation, 11,000 feet. .•.;.'V,. ; :^^ FlO. 29 — C'otuliua.si on the lloor of tlic ('(itnliiiiisi ciiiiyoii. 'Ihc cvcii skyline of the buckgruund in on u ratlicr <'vcii-toj)|)C(l lavii pliit<'iiu. 'I lie tciijicc nii the lift of the town in formed on linicMtone, wliich is ovcrhiin hy lava Howh. A lliick (l(|)i)>it of ter- raced (iliuviiirn inny be wren on the valh-y lloor, and it is on one of the lower terraces that the eity of ( otahuasi stands, 'ihe hif,'her t o ^ - ^ tc *^ "J == H i^ o 'd Ch j2 ^ • ^ S3 00 &4 >v a> • I 7^ ei cc lo '3 8 O 5 a o '3 o > J ^ _o o ^ 2 CC X! £) 2 ^ ^ o ;:;;; 1) >. J2 OJ SJ ;h -:; o rt 33 y: o C3 +3 a; S 3 o ^ S s 33 o ^^ ;-< .2 'f _^ M '3 ^ "S 'S > h ^ cS -^ _, ,2 *^ c^ O 'tb '■"' ^ u 9 o > o o -fj 33 "c- 1 "2 H 1) i ^ "H- 33 o ^ 0) c^ M-l ■73 o a d -1^ 93 fiH u c3 &. 4) Si u o cS O THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 59 back and forth every few days. In a few places water is brought to the stock by canal from the woodland streams above, as at Corralpata.^ In the same way a canal brings water to Pasaje hacienda from a woodland strip many miles to the west. The little canal in the figure is almost a toy construction a few inches VALLEY ZONE MOUNTAIN ZONE Fig. 33 — Valley climates of the canyoned region shown in Fig. 32. wide and deep and conveying only a trickle of water. Yet on it depends the settlement at the spur end, and if it were cut the peo- ple would have to repair it immediately or establish new homes. The canal and the pasture are possible because the slopes are moderate. They were formed in an earlier cycle of erosion when the land was lower. They are hung midway between the rough mountain slopes above and the steep canyon walls below (Fig. 32). Their smooth descents and gentle profiles are in very pleasing contrast to the rugged scenery about them. The trails follow them easily. Where the slopes are flattest, farmers have settled and produce good crops of corn, vegetables, and barley. Some farm- ers have even developed three- and four-story farms. On an al- luvial fan in the main valley they raise sugar cane and tropical and subtropical fruits ; on the flat upper slopes they produce corn ; in the moister soil near the edge of the woodland are fields of mountain potatoes; and the upper pastures maintain flocks of ' Compare with Rainiondi's description of Quiches on the left bank of the Marafion at an elevation of 9,885 feet (3,013 m.) : "the few small springs scarcely suffice for the little patches of alfalfa and other sowings have to depend on the precarious rains. . . . Every drop of water is carefully guarded and from each spring a series •of well-like basins descending in staircase fashion make the most of the scant supply." (El Departamento de Ancachs, Lima, 1873.) 60 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU I sheep. In one district this change takes place in a distance that may be covered in five hours. Generally it is at least a full and hard day's journey from one end of the series to the other. Wherever these features are closely associated they tend to be controlled by the planter in some deep valley thereabouts. Where they are widely scattered the people are independent, small groups living in places nearly inaccessible. Legally they are all under the control of the owners of princely tracts that take in the whole country, but the remote groups are left almost wholly to themselves. In most cases they are supposed to sell their few commercial products to the hacendado who nominally owns their land, but the administration of this arrangement is left largely to chance. The shepherds and small farmers near the plantation are more dependent upon the planter for supplies, and also their wants are more varied and numerous. Hence they pay for their better location in free labor and in produce sold at a discount. So deep are some of the main canyons, like the Apurimac and the Cotahuasi, that their floors are arid or semi-arid. The fortunes of Pasaje are tied to a narrow canal from the moist woodland and a tiny brook from a hollow in the valley wall. Where the water has thus been brought down to the arable soil of the fans there are rich plantations and farms. Elsewhere, however, the floor is quite dry and uncultivated. In small spots here and there is a little seepage, or a few springs, or a mere thread of water that will not support a plantation, wherefore there have come into existence the valley herdsmen and shepherds. Their intimate knowledge of the moist places is their capital, quite as much as are the cattle and shoop they own. In a sense their lands are iho neglected crumbs from tho rich man's table. So we find the shepherd from the hills invading the valleys just as the valley farmer lias invaded lli" country of tiu' slieydicrd. The basin typo of 1o|)ography calls into ex-istence a scl of rela- tions quite distinct from either of those we have just desci-ibed. V Figure .'U represeutH the main facts. Tlie rieli and eomparatively flat floor of the basin supports most of th<' pcoph'. The alluvial fans tributary thereto are comi)osed of fine material on theii- outer THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 61 Fig. 34 — Regional diagram to show the typical physical conditions and relations in an intermont basin in the Peruvian Andes. The Ciizco basin (see Fig. 37) is an actual illustration; it should, however, be emphasized that the diagram is not a " map " of that basin, for whilst conditions there have been utilized as a basis, the generalization has been extended to illustrate many basins. margin and of coarse stony waste at their heads. Hence the val- ley farms also extend over the edges of the fans, while only pas- ture or dense chaparral occupies the upper portions. Finally 62 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU there is the steep margin of the basin where the broad and moder- ate slopes of the highland break do"\vn to the floor of the basin. If a given basin lies at an elevation exceeding 14,000 feet (4,270 m.), there will be no cultivation, only pasture. If at 10,000 or 11,000 feet (3,000 or 3,350 m.), there will be grain fields below ZONE OF STORED PRECIPITATION SOURCES OF BASIN STREAMS ZONE OF CULTIVATION ^-LIMIT OF IRRIGATION AND--; . INTENSIVE CULTIVATION ZONE OF MOUNTAIN PASTURFS Fig. 35 — Climatic cross-section showing the location of various zones of cultivation and pasture in a typical intermont basin in the Peruvian Andes. The thickness of the dark symbols on the right is proportional to the amount of each staple that is produced at the corresponding elevation. See also the regional diagram Fig. 34. and potato fields above (Figs. 34 and 35). If still lower, fruit will come in and finally sugar cane and many other subtropical prod- ucts, as at Abancay. Much will also depend upon the amount of available water and the extent of the pasture land. Thus the densely populated Cuzco basin has a vast mountain territory tributary to it and is itself within the limits of barley and wheat cultivation. Furthermore there are a number of smaller basins, like the Anta basin on tlio nortli, which are dependent upon its better markets and transportation facilities. A dominance of this kind is self-stimulating and at last is out of all proportion to the original fjiffcrencos of nature. Cuzco has also profited as the gate- way to th(' great northeastern valley region of the Urubamba and its big tributaries. All of tlie varied products of the subtropical \alleys liiid tlicir irmiicdi.-ilc iiinrkct, at ( 'iizco. Tlie effect of this natural conspiracy of conditions has been to place i]\<- liistoric city of Cuzco in a position of extraordinary im- portaiK'c. liinulrc'ds of years be^re the Spanish Conquest it was a center of far-reaching influence, the home of the powerful Inca kings. From it the strong arm of authority and conquest was ex- THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 63 tended; to it came tribute of grain, wool, and gold. To one ac- customed to look at such great consequences as having at least some ultimate connection with the earth, the situation of Cuzco would be expected to have some unique features. With the glori- ous past of that city in mind, no one can climb to the surround- ing heights and look down upon the fertile mountain-rimmed plain as at an ordinary sight (Fig. 37). The secret of those great con^ quests lies not only in mind but in matter. If the rise of the Incas ' to power was not related to the topography and climate of the Cuzco basin, at least it is certain that without so broad and noble , a stage the scenes would have been enacted on a far different? scale. The first Inca king and the Spanish after the Incas found here no mobile nomadic tribes melting away at the first touch, no savages hiding in forest fastnesses, but a well-rooted agricultural race in whose center a large city had grown up. Without a city y and a fertile tributary plain no strong system of government could be maintained or could even arise. It is a great advantage in rul- ing to have subjects that cannot move. The agricultural Indians / of the Andean valleys and basins, in contrast to the mobile shep- herd, are as fixed as the soil from which they draw their life. The full occupation of the pasture lands about the Cuzco basin is in direct relation to the advantages we have already enumer- ated. Every part of the region feels the pressure of population. \ Nowhere else in the Peruvian Andes are the limits between cultiva- tion and grazing more definitely drawn than here. Moreover, there is today a marked difference between the types that inhabit highland and basin. The basin Indian is either a debauched city dweller or, as generally, a relatively alert farmer. The shepherds are exceedingly ignorant and live for the most part in a manner almost as primitive as at the time of the Conquest. They are shy f and suspicious. Many of them prefer a life of isolation and rarely go do^vn to the town. They live on the fringe of culture. The j. new elements of their life have come to them solely by accident and by what might be called a process of ethnic seepage. The slight advances that have been made do not happen by design, they 64^ THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU merely happen. Put the highland shepherd in the basin and he would starve in competition with the basin type. Undoubtedly he would live in the basin if he could. He has not been driven out \of the basin; he is kept out. And thus it is around the border of the Abancay basin and others like it. Only, the Abancay basin is lower and more varied as to resources. The Indian is here in competition with the capi- talistic white planter. He lives on the land by sufferance alone. Farther up the slopes are the farms of the Indians and above |,hem are the pastures of the ignorant shepherds. Whereas the //Indian farmer who raises potatoes clings chiefly to the edge of '^ The Cuzco basin where lie the most undesirable agricultural lands, the Indian farmers of Abancay live on broad rolling slopes like those near the pass northward toward Huancarama. They are unusually prosperous, with fields so well cultivated and fenced, so clean and productive, that they remind one somewhat of the beautiful rolling prairies of Iowa. It remains to consider the special topographic features of the mountain environments we are discussing, in the Vilcapampa region on the eastern border of the Andes (Fig. 36). The Cordil- lera Vilcapampa is snow-crested, containing a number of fine white peaks like Salcantay, Soray, and Soiroccocha (Fig. 140). There are many small glaciers and a few that are several miles long. There was here in glacial times a much larger system of glaciers, wliicli lived long enough to work groat changes in the topography. The floors of llic glaciated valleys were smoothed and brondcned and their gradients flattened (Figs. 137 mid 190). Tin- side walls wccc steepencMl and jji'ccipitous cirques were formed a1 the xallcy heads. Also, Ihci'c were built across the val- leys a number of stony morainic ridges. With all these changes there was, however, biil liKlc ('(TccI u]um ilic main masses of the liit,'- irifcr\;ill('v spurs. TIm'V i'ciii;iin as bcl'orc bold, \viii(l-K\v('])<, l)rokcTi, and Ticaily inaccessible. The work of llie glaciers aids flie mountain ]M'ople. Tlie stony moraines afford lliein liandy sizable bnilding material for their stone lints and lliejr numerous corrals. The thick tufts of grass THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 65 Fig. 3G — Regional diagram for the Eastern Cordillera or Cordillera Vilcapampa. Note the crowded zones on the right (east and north) in contrast to the open suc- cession on the left. In sheltered places woodland extends even higher than shown. At several points patches of it grow right under the snowline. Other patches grow on the floors of the glaciated valley troughs. in the marshy spots in the overdeepened parts of the valleys fur- And, most im- nish them with grass for their thatched roofs 66 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU portant of all, the flat valley floors have the best pasture in the whole mountain region. There is plenty of water. There is seclu- sion, and, if a fence be built from one valley wall to another as can be done with little labor, an entire section of the valley may be inclosed. A village like Choquetira, located on a bench on the val- ley side, commands an extensive view up and down the valley — an important feature in a grazing village where the corrals cannot always be built near the houses of the owners. Long, finger-like belts of highland-shepherd population have thus been extended into the mountain valleys. Sheep and llamas drift right up to the snowline. There is, however, a marked difference between the people on opposite sides of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. On the west the moun- tains are bordered by a broad highland devoted to grazing. On the east there is a narrower grazing belt leading abruptly do^vn to tropical valleys. The eastern or leeward side is also the warmer and wetter side of the Cordillera. The snowline is sev- eral hundred feet lower on the east. The result is that patches of scrub and even a little woodland occur almost at the snowline in favored places. Mist and storms are more frequent. The grass is longer and fresher. Vegetation in general is more abundant. The people make less of wool than of cattle, horses, and mules. Vilcabamba pueblo is famous for its horses, wiry, long-haired lit- tle boasts, as hardy as Shetland ponies. We found cattle grazing only five hundred feet below the limit of perpetual snow. There are cultivated spots only a little farther down, and only a thou- sand feet below the snow are abandoned terraces. At the same elevation are twisted quenigo trees, at least two hundred years old, as shown by their rings of growth. Thus the limits of agricul- ture are higher on the east; likewise the limits of cattle grazing that Tint u rally goes with agriculture. Sheep would thrive, but llamas do Ix-Hit in diici- count !-y, and Oic slicplicrd must needs mix liis flocks, for llic wool wliicli is his cliicf product requires tranHi)ortation and only the cheap and acclimated llama is at the shepherd's disposMl. From these facts it will be seen that the anthropo-geographic contrasts between the eastern ;md western Fig. 37. ^.y*:"! "Ti,"::';" ^^-.v,-*-,* '<-«£,'«.■; ,»■. Fig. 38. Fig. 37 — Cuzco and a portion of the famous Cuzco basin with bordering grassy highlands. Fig. 38 — Terraced valley slopes and floor, Urubamba Valley between Urubamba and Ollantavtambo. .rf-*4.' Kk;. 1(1. Fl(J. 39 — lluicliiliiiii, iii'iir ('limiiiilKiiiihilla, ;i lypiciil iiKMiiitiiiii vill:ig<', in the vnllpyH of tlu' Ccntrnl HnngcH, PiTuvimi AdcU'b. Fio. 40 — I'otnto field iihovc Vilciiimmlm at 12.000 f«'ft (.J.OOO m.). The natural Bod iH hrokon by n Htc«-l-«hod Mticl< iiikI Ihc Hccd potato dropped into a mere puncture. It rcceiv«'H no iitleiitinn tln'iijiftcr iinlil liiirvcst. time. THE COUNTRY OF THE SHEPHERDS 67 sides of the Cordillera Vilcapampa are as definite as the climatic and vegetal contrasts. This is especially well shown in the differ- ences between dry Arma, deep-sunk in a glaciated valley west of the crest of the mountains, and wet Puquiura, a half-day's journey east of the crest. There is no group on the east at all comparable to the shepherds of Choquetira, either in the matter of thorough- going dependence upon grazing or in that of dependence upon glacial topography. Topography is not always so intimately related to the life of the people as here. In our own country the distribution of avail- able water is a far greater factor. The Peruvian Andes therefore occupy a distinctive place in geography, since, more nearly than in most mountains, their physical conditions have typical human relations that enable one clearly to distinguish the limits of con- trol of each feature of climate or relief. CHAPTER VI THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES Ox the northeastern border of the Peruvian Andes long moun- tain spurs trail down from the regions of snow to the forested plains of the Amazon. Here are the greatest contrasts in the physical and human geog- raphy of the Andean Cordil- lera. So striking is the fact that every serious student of Peru finds himself com- pelled to cross and recross this natural frontier. The thread of an investigation runs irregularly now into one border zone, now into another. Out of the forest came the fierce marauders who in the early period drove back the Inca pioneers. Down into the forest to escape from the Spaniards Fio. 41— Regional diagram of the eastern Aed tllO last luca ail(l his aspect of the Cortlillera Vilcapainpa. See also fu<^itive COlU't Here the Fit'. 17 of wliieh tliis is an cnhxrged section. Jesuit fathers sowed their missions along the forest margin, and watched over them for two liundrcd years. From tlio mountain border one rubber project after jinotlier lias been launched into the vast swampy lowlands 11ire;i(|c(l liy yreat rivers. As ;in elliiiic boundary ^the eastern niounl.-iin hoi-dei- of i'ci'u ;iiid Pxjlixi.M has no e(|ual elsewliere in Sonlli A nici-iea. P'roni the earliest antifjuity tlu; tribes of the grass-covered mountains and the hordes of the for- ested jjlains have had strongly divergent customs and speech, that bred enduring liafced and led 1o fi-e(|ncnt and bloody strife. 08 Fig. 42 — Rug weaver at Cotahiiasi. The industry is limited to a small group of related families, living in the Cotahuasi Canyon near Cotahuasi. Tlie rugs are made of alpaca wool. Pure black, pure white, and various shades of mixed gray wool are employed. The result is that the rugs have " fast " colors that always retain their original contrasts. They are made only to order at the homes of the purchasers. The money payment is small. Init tn it is added board and lodging, besides tobacco, liqueurs, and wine. Before drinking tlicv diji their finger-tips in the wine and sprinkle the earth " that it may be fruitful,'' the air " that it may be warm," the rug " that it may turn out well," and finally themselves, making the sign of the cross. Then they set to work. THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 69 On the steepest spurs of the Pampaconas Valley the traveler may go from snow to pasture in a half day and from pasture to forest in the same time. Another day he is in the hot zone of the larger valley floors, the home of the Machigangas. The steep descents bring out the superimposed zones with diagrammatic simplicity. The timber line is as sharply marked as the edge of a cultivated field. At a point just beyond the huts of Pampaconas one may stand on a grassy spur that leads directly up — a day's journey — to the white summits of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. Yet so near him is the edge of the forest that he is tempted to try to throw a stone into it. In an hour a bitter wind from the mountains may drive him to shelter or a cold fog come rolling up from the moist region below. It is hard to believe that oppressive heat is felt in the valley just beneath him. In the larger valleys the geographic contrasts are less sharp and the transition from mountains to plain, though less spectacu- lar, is much more complex and scientifically interesting. The for- est types interfinger along the shady and the sunny slopes. The climate is so varied that the forest takes on a diversified character that makes it far more useful to man. The forest Indians and the valley planters are in closer association. There are many islands and peninsulas of plateau population on the valley floor. Here the zones of climate and the belts of fertile soil have larger areas and the land therefore has greater economic value. Much as the valley people need easier and cheaper communication with the rest of Peru it is no exaggeration to say that the valley prod- ucts are needed far more by the coast and plateau peoples to make the republic self-supporting. Coca, wood, sugar, fruit, are in such demand that their laborious • and costly transportation from the valleys to the plateau is now carried on with at least some profit to the valley people. Improved transportation would promote travel and friendship and supply a basis for greater political unity. A change in these conditions is imminent. Years ago the Peruvian government decreed the construction of a railway from €uzco to Santa Ana and preliminary surveys were made but with- 70 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU out any immediate practical effect. By June, 1914, 12.4 miles (20 km.) had been opened to traffic. The total length of the proposed line is 112 miles (180 km.), the gauge is to be only 2.46 feet (75 cm.),' and the proposed cost several millions of dollars. The financial problem may be solved either by a diversion of local revenues, derived from taxes on coca and alcohol, or by borrowed foreign capital guaranteed by local revenues. A shrubby vegetation is scattered along the valley from the village of Urubamba, 12,000 feet (3,058 m.) above sea level, to the Canyon of Torontoy. It is local and of little value. Trees appear at Ollantaytambo, 11,000 feet (3,353 m.), and here too are more extensive wheat and maize fields besides throngs of cacti aiKl great patches of wild geraniums. On our valley journey we camped in pleasant fields flanked by steep hills whose summits each morning were tipped with snow. Enormous alluvial fans have partly filled up the valleys and furnished broad tracts of fertile soil. The patient farmers have cleared away the stones on the flatter portions and built retaining walls for the smooth fields required for irrigation. In places the lower valley slopes are ter- raced in the most regular manner (Fig. 38). Some of the fans are too steep and stony for cultivation, exposing bare tracts which wash down and cover the fields. Here and there are stone walls built especially to retain the rush of mud and stones that the rains bring down. Many of them were overtlirown or completely 1)11 il'd. Unless the stream channels on Ihe fans are carefully watched and effective works kept u]), the labor of years may be destroyed in a single slide from the head of a steep fan. / Each group of fans has a population proportioned to its size 4ii rivers deeply inlrenclied. In some jilaees llie tiny fans perclied high upon the flanks of the mountains where; little tributaries burst out • Dnilv foiiR. nnd Trndf T'vcpoii, .Iunc 10, 1011, No. Kif), niul f'ommcrfc l?cportH, March 20. I'oc, V,, rw; THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 71 of steep ravines are cultivated by distant owners who also till parts of the larger fans on the main valley floors. Between the fans of the valley bottoms and the smooth slopes of the high plateaus are the unoccupied lands — the steep canyon walls. Only in the most highly favored places where a small bench or a patch of alluvium occurs may one find even an isolated dwelling. The stair-like trails, in some places cut in solid rock, zigzag up the rocky slopes. An ascent of a thousand feet requires about an hour's travel with fresh beasts. The valley people are therefore "walled in. If they travel it is surely not for pleasure. Even busi- ness trips are reduced to the smallest number. The prosperity and happiness of the valley people are as well known among the plateau people as is their remarkable bread. Their climate has a combination of winter rain and winter cold with light frosts that is as favorable for good wheat as the continuous Avinter cold and snow cover of our northern Middle West. The colder grainfields of the plateau are sowed to barley chiefly, though there is also produced some wheat. Urubamba wheat and bread are exported in relatively large quantities, and the market demands greater quantities than the valley can supply. Oregon and Washington flour are imported at Cuzco, two days' muleback journey from the wheat fields of Urubamba. Such are the conditions in the upper Urubamba Valley. The lower valley, beginning at Huadquiila, is 8,000 feet (2,440 m.) above sea level and extends down to the two-thousand-foot con- tour at Rosalina and to one thousand feet (305 m.) at Pongo de Mainique. The upper and lower sections are only a score of miles (30 km.) apart between Huadquina and Torontoy, but there is a difference in elevation of three thousand feet (915 m.) at just the level where the maximum contrasts are produced. The cold tim- ber line is at 10,500 feet (3,200 m.).- Winter frosts arc common ^ Reference to the figures in this chapter will show great variation in the level of the timber line depending upon insolation as controlled by slope exposure and upon moisture directly as controlled largely by exposure to winds. In some places these controls counteract each other; in other places they promote each other's effects. The topographic and climatic cross-sections and regional diagrams else- where in this book also emphasize the patchiness of much of the woodland and scrub, some noteworthy examples occurring in the chapter on the Eastern Andes. Two of 72 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU at the one place; they are absent altogether at the other. Toroutoy produces corn; Huadquiua produces sugar cane. These contrasts are still further emphasized by the sharp topo- graphic break between the two unlike portions of the valley. A few miles below Torontoy the Urubamba plunges into a mile-deep granite canyon. The walls are so close together that it is impos- sible from the canyon floor to get into one photograph the highest and steepest walls. At one place there is over a mile of descent in a horizontal distance of 2,000 feet. Huge granite slabs fall off along joint planes inclined but 15° from the vertical. The effect is stupendous. The canyon floor is littered with coarse waste and the gradient of the river greatly steepened. There is no cultiva- tion. The trees cling with difficulty to patches of rock waste or to the less-inclined slopes. There is a thin crevice vegetation that outlines the joint pattern where seepage supplies the venturesome roots ^^ith moisture. Man has no foothold here, save at the top of the country, as at Machu Picchu, a typical fortress location safeguarded by the virtually inaccessible canyon wall and con- nected with the main ridge slopes only by an easily guarded narrow spur. Toward the lower end of the canyon a little finer alluvium appears and settlement begins. Finally, after a tumble of three thousand feet over countless rapids the river emerges at Colpani, where an enormous mass of alluvium has been dumped. The well-intrenched river has already cut a lai'L'"!' i)art of it away. A little farther on is Huadquina in the Salcantay Valley, whore a tributary of the Urubamba has built up a sheet of alluvial land, bright green witli cane. From the distant peaks of Salcantay and its neighbors well-fed streams descend to fill the irrigation channels. Thus the snow and rock- waste ()\' the (lislaul iixiunlaiTis ai'c iiinicd into corn and sugar on the valley lowlands. the moBt rpmnrkablp caflPB nr<> the pntrh of wnodlnnd nt 14,500 fc«'t (4,420 m.) just undfr tho hnnf^nf; plnricr of Soirocroclia luifl tlic otln-r tho qneniKo Hcrnl> on the lav.i pliifrnu nbovo riiut|iiihnmhii nt 13.000 fcot (3,900 m.). The strong compression of climntin zonen in the rnihntnha Vnlh-y l)oln\v S.uita Ana brijiRs into sharp contrast the RrnsHV ridf^n slope's fjicirif? the huh jiikI i\\v forested slopes that liave a high propor- tion of H)ind<'. Fig. r)4 r^prcsints the general distribution but the details jire far more complicated. Sec also Figs. 53A and 53B. (See Coropuna Quadrangle.) ■-mr- ^jmr I'll, Fig. 44 — The snow-capped Cordillera Vilcapaiupa north of Yucay and the upper canyon of the Urubamba from tlie wheat fields near Chinchero. In the foreground is one of the well-graded mature slojjes of Fig. 123. The crests of the mountains lie along the axis of a granite intrusion. The extent of the snowtields is extraordinary in view of the low latitude, 13° S. Fig. 45 — Rounded slopes due to glacial action at Panipaconns in the Pampaconas Valley near Vilcabamba. A heavy tropical forest extends up the Pampaconas \'alley to the hill slopes in the background. Its upper limit of growth is about 10,000 feet (3,050 m.). The camera is pointed slightly downhill. "5 to :t. '^ •^ H THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 73 The Cordillera Vilcapampa is a climatic as well as a topo- graphic barrier. The southwestern aspect is dry; the northeast- ern aspect forested. The gap of the canyon, it should be noticed, comes at a critical level, for it falls just above the upper border of the zone of maximum precipitation. The result is that though mists are driven through the canyon by prolonged up-valley winds, they scatter on reaching the plateau or gather high up on the flanks of the valley or around the snowy peaks overlooking the trail between Ollantaytambo and Urubamba. The canyon walls are drenched with rains and even some of the lofty spurs are clothed with dense forest or scrub. Farther down the valley winds about irregularly, now pushed to one side by a huge alluvial fan, now turned by some resistant- spur of rock. Between the front range of the Andes and the Cordillera Vilcapampa there is a broad stretch of mountain coun- try in the lee of the front range which rises to 7,000 feet (2,134 m.) at Abra Tocate (Fig. 15), and falls off to low hills about Bosalina. It is all very rough in that there are nowhere any flats except for the narrow playa strips along the streams. The dense forest adds to the difficulty of movement. In general appearance it is very much like the rugged Cascade country of Oregon except that the Peruvian forest is much more patchy and its trees are in many places loaded with dense dripping moss which gives the landscape a somber touch quite absent from most of the forests of ihe temperate zone. ^ The fertility of the eastern valleys of Peru — the result of a union of favorable climate and alluvial soil — has drawn the planter into this remote section of the country, but how can he dis- pose of his products? Even today with a railway to Cuzco from the coast it is almost impossible for him to get his sugar and cacao to the outside world.^ How did he manage before even this rail- way was built? How could the eastern valley planter live before there were any railways at all in Peru? In part he has solved the problem as the moonshiner of Kentucky tried to solve it, and • Commenting on the excellt nee of the cacao of the niontaua of the Urubamba von Tsehudi remarked (op. cit., p. 37) that the long land transport prevented its usii in Lima where the product on the market is that imported from Guayaquil. 74. THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU from cane juice makes aguardiente (brandy). The latter is a much more valuable product than sugar, hence (1) it will bear a higher rate of transportation, or (2) it will at the same rate of transportation yield a greater net profit. In a remote valley where sugar could not be exported on account of high freight rates brandy could still be profitably ex^Dorted. The same may be said for coca and cacao. They are condensed and valuable products. Both require more labor than sugar but are lighter in bulk and thus have to bear, in proportion to their value, a smaller share of the cost of transportation. At the end of three years coca produces over a ton of leaves per acre per year, and it can be made to produce as much as two tons to the acre. The leaves are picked four times a year. They are worth from eight to twelve cents gold a pound at the plantation or six- teen cents a pound at Cuzco. An orchard of well-cultivated and irrigated cacao trees will do even better. Once they begin to bear the trees require relatively little care except in keeping out weeds and brush and maintaining the water ditches. However, the pods must be gathered at just the right time, the seeds must be raked and dried with expert care, and after that comes the arduous labor of the grinding. This is done by hand on an inclined plane with a heavy round stone whose corners fit the hand. The choco- late must then be worked into cakes and dried, or it must be sacked in heavy cowhide and sewed so as to be practically air tiglit. AVlion eight or ten years old the trees are mature and each may then bear a thousand pounds of seed. Tf labor were cheap and abundant the whole trend of tropical agriculture in the eastern Valleys would be toward intensive culti- vation and the production of expensive exports. But labor is ac- 1u;illy scarce. Every ])lan '-S CS «*-! -tJ o s CS -i-> -^ "E, .s° <; 'C '2 '^ 3 c ^ ^ ^ to ? ^ hn cS a> y ■-■ s o a> d ;^ Xi -M ^ ci 7; ^ "^ ."ti "S « r* & te 32 ^ tS S C3 O '-' +J ^ "E, ^ u: CJ s' C c3 -^ i - CS cS <; (B ■"3 « fi cS >^. -a CS o ^ '^ O Ira f»j C c CS w d <<-i -tJ h-t o O (^ c CS 'O (B O g 2 ^ be ^ 2 THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 75 storehouse, a grinding stone, and a rake are all that are required. So the planter must work out his own salvation individually. He must take account of the return upon investments in machinery, of the number of hands he can command from among the "faena" or free Indians, of the cost and number of imported hands from the valley and plateau towns, and, finally, of the transportation rates dependent upon the number of mules in the neighborhood, and distance from the market. If in addition the labor is skilfully employed so as to have the tasks which the various products re- quire fall at different periods of the year, then the planter may expect to make money upon his time and get a return upon his initial investment in the land.* The type of tropical agriculture which we have outlined is profitable for the few planters who make up the white population of the valleys, but it has a deplorable effect upon the Indian popu- lation. Though the planters, one and all, complain bitterly of the drunken habits of their laborers, they themselves put into the hands of the Indians the means of debauchery. Practically the whole production of the eastern valleys is consumed in Peru. What the valleys do not take is sent to the plateau, where it is the chief cause of vicious conduct. Two-thirds of the prisoners in the city jails are drunkards, and, to be quite plain, they are virtually supplied with brandy by the planter, who could not otherwise make enough money. So although the planter wants more and better labor he is destroying the quality of the little there is, and, if not actually reducing the quantity of it, he is at least very cer- tainly reducing the rate of increase. The difficulties of the valley planter could be at least partly overcome in several ways. The railway will reduce transporta- tion costs, especially when the playas of the valleys are all cleared and the exports increased. Moreover the eastern valleys * The inadequacy of the labor supply was a serious obstacle in the early days as well as now. In the documents pertaining to the " Obispados y Audiencia del Cuzco" (Vol. 11, p. 349 of the " Juicio dc Lfmites entre el PerG y Bolivia, Prueba Peruana presentada al Gobierno de la Ropfiblica Argentina por Victor M. Maurtua." Barcelona, 1906) we find the report that the natives of the curacy of Ollantaytambo who came down from the hills to Huadquina to hear mass were detained and compelled to give a day's service on the valley plantations under pain of chastisement. 76 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU are capable of producing things of greater utility than brandy and coca leaves. So far as profits are increased by cheaper trans- portation we may expect the planter to produce more rather than less of brandy and coca, his two most profitable exports, unless other products can be found that are still more profitable. The ratio of profits on sugar and brandy will still be the same unless the government increases the tax on brandy until it becomes no more profitable than sugar. That is what ought to be done for the good of the Indian population. It cannot be done safely with- out offering in its place the boon of cheaper railway transporta- tion for the sugar crop. Furthermore, with railway improve- ments should go the blessings that agricultural experiments can bestow. A government farm in a suitable place would establish rice and cotton cultivation. :\rany of the playas or lower alluvial lands along the rivers can be irrigated. Only a small fraction of the water of the Rio Urubamba is now turned out upon the fields. For a large part of the year the natural rainfall would suffice to keep rice in good condition. Six tons a year are now grown on Hacienda Sahuayaco for local use on account of the heavy rate on rice imported on muleback from Cuzco, whither it comes by sea and by trail from distant coastal valleys. The lowland people also need rice and it could be sent to them do^^^l river by an easier route than that over which their supplies now come. It should be exported to the highlands, not imported therefrom. There are so many varieties adapted to so many kinds of soil and climate that large amounts should be produced at fair profits. The cotton plant, on the other hand, is more particular about climato and especially the duration of dry and wet seasons; in spite of this its requirements are all met in the Santa Ana Valley. The i-niiifnll is mod'Talc ;md there is an abundance of dry warm soil. Tlif ))laii1 f', 1836, pp. 174-1 HO. ' Hoi. Soc. (;pog. do Miiiii, \n,'' llie man contends, "I had to visit a sick cousin in tlie next \alley. ( »li, lie was very sick, Senor," and he Cf)ngliH liarsliiy as if lie too were on the verge of prostration. The sick cousin, a faena Indian, has been at work in another cane field on the same plantation for two days and now calls out that he is THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 85 present and has never had a sick day in his life. Those outside laugh uproariously. The contador throws down two soles and the drunkard is pushed back into the sweating crowd, jostled right and left, and jeered by all his neighbors as he slinks away grumbling. Another Indian seems strangely shy. He scarcely raises his voice above a whisper. He too is a faena Indian. The contador finds fault. ''Why didn't you come last month when I sent for youT' The Indian fumbles his cap, shuffles his feet, and changes his coca cud from one bulging cheek to the other before he can an- swer. Then huskily: ''I started, Senor, but my woman overtook me an hour after- ward and said that one of the ewes had dropped a lamb and needed care." ' ' But your woman could have tended it ! " "No, Seiior, she is sick." "How, then, could she have overtaken you?" he is asked. ' ' She ran only a little way and then shouted to me. ' ' "And what about the rest of the month?" persists the contador. "The other lambs came, Seiior, and I should have lost them all if I had left." The contador seems at the end of his complaint. The Indian promises to work overtime. His difficulties seem at an end, but the superintendent looks at his old record. "He always makes the same excuse. Last year he was three weeks late." So the poor shepherd is fined a sol and admonished that his lands will be given to some one else if he does not respond more promptly to his patron's call for work. He leaves behind him a promise and the rank mixed smell of coca and much unwashed woolen clothing. It is not alone at the work that they grumble. There is ma- laria in the lower valleys. Some of them return to their lofty mountain homes prostrated with the unaccustomed heat and alter- nately shaking with chills and burning with fever. - Without aid 86 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU they may die or become so weakened that tuberculosis carries them off. Only their rugged strength enables the greater number to return in good health. A plantation may be as large as a principality and draw its laborers from places fifty miles away. Some of the more distant Indians need not come to work in the canefields. Part of their flock is taken in place of work. Or they raise horses and mules and bring in a certain number each year to turn over to the patron. Hacienda Huadquiiia (Fig. 46) takes in all the land from the snow-covered summits of the Cordillera Vilcapampa to the canefields of the Urubamba. Within the broad domain are half the climates and occupations characteristic of Peru. It is diffi- cult to see how a thousand Indians can be held to even a mixed allegiance. ' It seems impossible that word can be got to them. However the native "telegraph" is even more perfect than that among the forest Indians. From one to the other runs the news that they are needed in the canefields. On the trail to and from a mountain village, in their ramblings from one high pasture to another, within the dark walls of their stone and mud huts when they gather for a feast or to exchange drinks of brandy and chicha — the word is passed that has come up from the valleys. For e\'ery hundred faena Indians there are five or six regular laborers on the plantations, so with the short term passed by the faeiia Indians their number is generally half that of the total laborers at work at any one time. They live in huts provided for thoiii l)y llic planter, and in the houses of their friends among the regular laborers. Here there are almost nightly carousals. The regular laborer comes from the city or the valley town. The faena laborer is a small liill farmer or shepherd. They have much to exchange in llic way oi" clothing, food, and news. I have fre- (|U«iitly had lla-ir conxcrsal ions interpreted for me. They ask about, the flocks and tlx- cliildi-cn, who ])assod along the trails, what accidents befell the jx-ople. "Last year," droned one to anothei- over their chicha, "last year we lost three lambs in a hailstorm up in the high fields near the snow. It was very c<»ld. My foot cracked open and, though THE BORDER VALLEYS OF THE EASTERN ANDES 87 I have bound it with wet coca leaves every night, it will not cure," and he displays his heel, the skin of which is like horn for hard- ness and covered with a crust of dirt whose layers are a record of the weather and of the pools he has waded for years. Their wanderings are the main basis of conversation. They know the mountains better than the condors do. We hired a small boy of twelve at Puquiura. He was to build our fires, carry water, and help drive the mules. He crossed the Cordillera Vilcapampa on foot with us. He scrambled down into the Apurimac canyon and up the ten thousand feet of ascent on the other side, twisted the tails of the mules, and shouted more vigorously then the ar- rieros. He was engaged to go with us to Pasaje, where his father would return with him in a month. But he climbed to Huascatay with us and said he wanted to see Abancay. When an Indian whom we pressed into service dropped the instruments on the trail and fled into the brush the boy packed them like a man. The soldier carried a tripod on his back. The boy, not to be outdone, insisted on carrying the plane table, and to his delight we called him a soldier too. He went with us to Huancarama. When I paid him he smiled at the large silver soles that I put into his hand; and when I doubled the amount for his willingness to work his joy was unbounded. Forthwith he set out, this time on muleback, on the return journey. The last I saw of him he was holding his precious soles in a handkerchief and kicking his beast with his bare heels, as light-hearted as a cavalier. Often I find myself won- dering whether he returned safely with his money. I should very much like to see him again, for with him I associate cheerfulness in difficult places and many a pleasant camp-fire. CHAPTER Vn THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF REVOLUTIONS AND OF HUMAN CHARACTER IN THE PERUVIAN ANDES Human character as a spontaneous development has always been a great factor in shaping historical events, but it is a strik- ing fact that in the world of our day its influence is exerted chiefly in the lowest and highest types of humanity. The savage with his fetishes, his taboos, and his inherent childlikeness and suspi- cion needs only whim or a slight religious pretext to change his conduct. Likewise the really educated and the thoughtful act from motives often wholly unrelated to economic conditions or results. But the masses are deeply influenced by whatever affects their material welfare. A purely idealistic impulse may influence a people, but in time its effects are ahvays displayed against an eco- nomic background. There is a way whereby we may test this theory. In most places in the world we have history in the making, and through field studies we can get an intimate view of it. It is peculiarly the province of geography to study the present distribution and character of men in relation to their surroundings and these are the facts of mankind that must forever be the chief data of economic history. It is not vain repetition to say that this means, first of all, the study of the character of men in the fullest sense. Tt means, in the second place, that a large part of the char- acter must be really understood. Whenever this is done there is found a geograpliic basis of human character lliat is capable of the clearest (Icnionslralioii. it is in tiic geographic environment that the material jn<)li\'('S of Immanity liave struck their deepest roots. These coiichisions miglit l»e illustrated from a hundred places in the fiekl of study covered in this l)()()k. Almost every chapter of Part I contains facts of this charaeter. 1 wish, however, to dis- ss THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 89 cuss the subject specifically and for that purpose now turn to the conditions of life in the remoter mountain valleys and to one or two aspects of the revolutions that occur now and then in Peru. The last one terminated only a few months before our arrival and it was a comparatively easy matter to study both causes and effects. A caution is necessary however. It is a pity that we use the term "revolution" to designate these little disturbances. They affect sometimes a few, again a few hundred men. Rarely do they involve the whole country. A good many of them are on a scale much smaller than our big strikes. Most of them involve a loss of life smaller than that which accompanies a city riot. They are in a sense strikes against the government, marked by local dis- orders and a little violence. Early in 1911 the Prefect of the Department of Abancay had crowned his long career by suppressing a revolution. He had been Subprefect at Andahuaylas, and when the rebels got control of the city of Abancay and destroyed some of the bridges on the principal trails, he promptly organized a military expedition, con- structed rafts, floated his small force of men across the streams, and besieged the city. The rebel force was driven at last to take shelter in the city jail opposite the Prefectura. There, after the loss of half their number, they finally surrendered. Seventy-five of them were sent to the government penitentiary at Arequipa. Among the killed were sons from nearly half the best families of Abancay. All of the rebels were young men. It would be difficult to give an adequate idea of the hatred felt by the townspeople toward the government. Every precaution was taken to prevent a renewal of the outbreak. Our coming was telegraphed ahead by government agents who looked with suspi- cion upon a party of men, well armed and provisioned, coming up from the Pasaje crossing of the Apurimac, three days' journey north. The deep canyon affords shelter not only to game, but also to fugitives, rebels, and bandits. The government generally abandons pursuit on the upper edge of the canyon, for only a pro- longed guerilla warfare could completely subdue an armed force 90 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU scattered along its rugged walls and narrow floor. The owner of the hacienda at Pasaje is required to keep a record of all passen- gers rafted across the Apurimac, but he explains significantly that some who pass are too hurried to write their names in his book. Once he reaches the eastern wall of the canyon a fugitive may command a view of the entire w^estern wall and note the approach of pursuers. Thence eastward he has the whole Cordillera Vilca- pampa in which to hide. Pursuit is out of the question. AVhen we arrived, the venerable Prefect, a model of old-fash- ioned courtesy, greeted us with the utmost cordiality. He told us of our movements since leaving Pasaje, and laughingly explained that since we had sent him no friendly message and had come from a rebel retreat, he had taken it for granted that we intended to storm the town. I assured him that we were ready to join his troops, if necessary, whereupon, with a delightful frankness, he explained his method of keeping the situation in hand. Several troops of cavalry- and two battalions of infantry were quartered at the government barracks. Every evening the old gentleman, a Colonel in the Peruvian army, mounted a powerful gray horse and rode, quite unattended, through the principal streets of the town. Several times I walked on foot behind him, again I pre- ceded him, stopping in shops on the way to make trivial purchases, to find out what the people had to say about him and the govern- ment as he rode by. One old gentleman interested me particularly, lie had only the day before called at the Prefectura to pay his respects. Although his manner was correct there was lacking to a noticeable degree the profusion of sentiment that is apt to be exhibited on such an occasion. He now sat on a bench in a shop. Both his own son and the shopkeeper's son had been slain in the revolution. It was natural Ihnt they should be bitter. P>ut the precise nature <•(" ilicir coinpI.-iiTil \v;is wliat interested me most. One said that lie did not ol^jccj Jo li.-niii^- liis son lose his life for Ills eouiitry. I'lii 1li;ii liis coiniiry'.s olTicials slionld liiro Indians to slioot Ilia son seemed to him sheer murder. Later, at Lam- brama, T talked with a rebel fugitive, and that was also his com- plaint. The young men drafted into the army are Indians, or THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 91 mixed, never whites. White men, and men with a small amount of Indian blood, officer the army. When a revolutionary party organizes it is of course made up wholly of men of white and mixed blood, never Indians. The Indians have no more grievance against one white party than another. Both exploit him to the limit of law and beyond the limit of decency. He fights if he must, / but never by choice. Thus Indian troops killed the white rebels of Abancay. "Tell me, Sefior," said the fugitive, "if you think that just. Tell me how many Indians you think a white man worth. W^ould a hundred dead Indians matter! But how replace a white man where there are so few! The government assassinated my com- patriots ! " "But," I replied, "why did you fight the government? All of you w^re prosperous. Your fathers may have had a grievance against the government, but of what had you young men to com- plain?" His reply was far from convincing. He was at first serious, but his long abstract statements about taxes and government waste- fulness trailed off into vagueness, and he ended in a laughing mood, talking about adventure, the restless spirit of young men, and the rich booty of confiscated lands and property had the rebels won. He admitted that it was a reckless game, but when I called him a mere soldier of fortune he grew serious once more and reverted to the iniquitous taxation system of Peru. Further inquiry made it quite clear that the ill-fated revolution of Abancay .was largely the work of idle young men looking for adventure. It seemed a pity that their splendid physical energy could not have been turned into useful channels. The land sorely needs en- gineers, progressive ranchmen and farmers, upright officials, and a spirit of respect for law and order. Old men talked of the un- stable character of the young men of the time, but almost all of them had themselves been active participants in more than one revolution of earlier years. Every night at dinner the Prefect sent off by government tele- graph a long message to the President of the Republic on the 92 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU state of the Department, and received similar messages from the central government about neighboring departments. These he read to us, and, curiously enough, to the entire party, made up of army officers and townsmen. I was surprised to find later that the company included one government official whose son had been among the imprisoned rebels at Arequipa. We met the young man a week later at a mountain village, a day after a general amnesty had been declared. His escape had been made from the prison a month before. He forcibly substituted the mess-boy's clothing for his ow^n, and thus passed out unnoticed. After a few days ' hiding in the city, he set out alone across the desert of Vitor, thence across the lofty volcanic country of the Maritime Andes, through some of the most deserted, inhospitable land in Peru, and at the end of three weeks had reached Lambrama, near Abancay, the picture of health ! Later I came to have a better notion of the economic basis of the revolution, for obviously the planters and the reckless young men must have had a mutual understanding. Somewhere the rebels had obtained the sinew^s of war. The planters did not take an open part in the revolution, but they financed it. When the rebels were crushed, the planters, at least outwardly, welcomed the government forces. Inwardly they cursed them for thwart- ing their scheme. The reasons have an interesting geographic basis. Abancay is the center of a sugar region. Great irrigated estates are spread out along the valley floor and the enormous al- luvial fans built into the main valley at the mouths of the tribu- tary streams. There is a heavy tax on sugar and on aguardiente (brandy) manufactured from cane juice. The haccndndos had dreamed of lighter taxes. The rebels offered the means of secur- ing relief. But taxes were not the real reason for the unrest, for many other sugar producers pay the tax without serious com- pl;iiiit. Ab;iiif'ay is cul off from st of Peru by great moun- tains. Toward the west, via Antabamba, Cotahuasi, nnd Thuqui- bamba, two Inmdred milos of frail separate its plantations from the Pacific. Twelve days' hnrd riding is required to reach Tjimn over the old colonial trade route. Tt is three days to Cuzco at the THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 93 eud of the three-hundred-mile railway from the port of Mollendo. The trails to the Atlantic rivers are impossible for trading pur- poses. Deep sunk in a subtropical valley, the irrigable alluvial land of Abancay tempts the production of sugar. But nature offers no easy route out of the valley. For cen- turies the product has been exported at almost prohibitive cost, as in the eastern valley of Santa Ana. The coastal valleys enjoy easy access to the sea. Each has its own port at the valley mouth, where ocean steamers call for cargo. Many have short railway lines from port to valley head. The eastern valleys and Abancay have been clamoring for railways, better trails, and wagon roads. From the public fund they get what is left. The realization of their hopes has been delayed too long. It would be both economic and military strategy to give them the desired railway. Revolutions in Peru always start in one of two ways : either by a coup at Lima or an unchecked uprising in an interior province. Bolivia has shown the way out of this difficulty. Two of her four large centers — La Paz and Oruro — are connected by rail, and the line to Cochabamba lacks only a few kilometres of construction.' To Sucre a line has been long projected. Formerly a revolution at one of the four to^^^ls w^as exceedingly difficult to stamp out. Diaz had the same double motive in encouraging railway building in the remote des- ert provinces of Northern Mexico, where nine out of ten Mexican revolutions gather headway. Argentina has enjoyed a high degree of political unity since her railway system was extended to Cordoba and Tucuman. The last uprising, that of 1906, took place on her remotest northeastern frontier. We had ample opportunity to see the hatred of the rebels. At nightfall of September 25th w^e rode into the courtyard of Haci- enda Auquibamba. We had traveled under the worst possible •According to the latest information (August, 1916) of the Bolivia Rnilway Co.. trains are running from Oruro to Buen Retiro, 35 km. from Cochabamba. Thence connection with Cochabamba is made by a tram-line operated by the Electric Light and Power Co. of that city. The Bulletin of the Pan-American Union for July, 1916, also reports the proposed introduction of an automobile service for conveyance of freight and passengers. 94: THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU circumstances. Our mules had been enfeebled by hot valley work at Santa Ana and the lower Urubamba and the cold moun- tain climate of the Cordillera Vilcapampa. The climb out of the Apurimac canyon, even without packs, left them completely ex- hausted. AVe were obliged to abandon one and actually to pull another along. It had been a hard day in spite of a prolonged noon rest. Everywhere our letters of introduction had won an outpouring of hospitality among a people to whom hospitality is one of the strongest of the unwritten laws of society. Our sol- dier escort rode ahead of the pack train. As the clatter of his mules' hoofs echoed through the dark buildings the manager rushed out, struck a light and demanded ''Who's there?" To the soldier's cheerful "Buena noche, Senor," he sneeringly replied ' ' Halto ! Guardia de la Repiiblica, aqui hay nada para un soldado del gobierno." Whereupon the soldier turned back to me and said we should not be able to stop here, and coming nearer me he whispered "lie is a revolutionary." I dismounted and approached the haughty manager, who was in a really terrible mood. Almost before I could begin to ask him for accommodations he rattled off that there was no pasture for our beasts, no food for us, and that we had better go on to the next hacienda. ''Absolutamente nada!" he re- peated over and over again, and at first I thought him drunk. Since it was then quite dark, with no moon, but instead heavy black clouds over the southern half of the sky and a brisk valley wind threatening rain, I mildly protested that we needed noth- ing more than shelter. Our food boxes would supply our wants, aiid oui- mules, even without fodder, could reach Abancay the next day. SI ill lie stormed at the government and would have none of us. I reminded him that his fields were filled with sngMT- cane ;m(l tii;it il \v;is ilie staple forage for beasts during the part of Iho year when i)as iiiid<'i-sl;iiid Spanish and protested vigorously that they had to keep on wilji llicir llamas. I thought from the bel- ligerent attitude of tlie older, which grew rapidly more threaten- ing as he saw that I was alone, that I was in for trouble, but when THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 99 I drew my revolver he quickly obeyed the order to sit down to breakfast, which consisted of soup, meat, and army biscuits. I also gave them coca and cigarettes, the two most desirable gifts one can make to a plateau Indian, and thereupon I thought I had gained their friendship, for they at last talked with me in broken Spanish. The older one now explained that he must at all hazards reach Matara by nightfall, but he w^ould be glad to leave his son to help us. I agreed, and he set out forth^vith. The arriero (muleteer) had now returned with the lost mules and with the as- sistance of the Indian we soon struck camp and loaded our mules. I cautioned the arriero to keep close w^atch of the Indian, for at one time I had caught on his face an expression of hatred more in- tense than I had ever seen before. The plateau Indian of South America is usually so stupid and docile that the unexpectedly venomous look of the man after our friendly conversation and my good treatment alarmed me. At the last moment, and when our backs were turned, our Indian, under the screen of the packs, slipped away from us. The arriero called out to know w^here he had gone. It took us but a few moments to gain the top of a hill that commanded the valley. Fully a half-mile away and almost indistinguishable against the brown of the valley floor was our late assistant, running like a deer. No mule could follow over that broken ground at an elevation of 16,000 feet, and so he escaped. Fortunately that afternoon we passed a half -grown boy riding back toward Antabamba and he promised to hand the Governor a note in Spanish, penciled on a leaf of my traverse book. I dropped all the polite phrases that are usually employed and wrote as follows : " Senor Gobernador : " Your Indians have escaped, likewise the Lieutenant Governor. They have taken two beasts. In the name of the Prefect of Abancay, I ask you immediately to brine: a fresh supply of men and animals. We shall encamp near the first pass, three days west of Antabamba, until you come." We were now without Indians to carry the instruments, which had therefore to be strapped to the mules. Without guides we started westward along the trail. At the next pass the topog- 100 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU rapher rode to the summit of d bluff and asked which of the two trails I intended to follow. Just then a solitary Indian passed and I shouted back that I would engage the Indian and precede the party, and he could tell from my course at the fork of the trail how to direct his map and where to gain camp at nightfall. But the Indian refused to go with us. All my threatening was useless and I had to force myself to beat him into submission with my quirt. Several repetitions on the way, when he stubbornly re- fused to go further, kept our guide with us until we reached a camp site. I had offered him a week's pay for two hours' work, and had put coca and cigarettes into his hands. When these failed I had to resort to force. Now that he was about to leave I gave him double the amount I had promised him. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He rushed up to the side of my mule, and reaching around my waist embraced me and thanked me again and again. The plateau Indian is so often waylaid in the mountains and impressed for service, then turned loose without pay or actually robbed, that a promise to pay holds no attraction for him. I liad up to the last moment resembled this class of white. He was astonished to find that I really meant to pay him well. Then he set out upon the return, faithfully delivering my note to the topographer about the course of the trail and the position of the camp. He had twelve miles to go to the first mountain hut, so that he could not have traveled less than that distance to reach shelter. The next morning a mantle of snow covered everything, yet when I pushed back the tent flap there stood my scantily clad Indian of the night before, shivering, with sandaled feet in the snow, saying that he had come back to work for me ! This camp was number thirteen out of Abancay, and here our topograpliM- was laid iij) for three days. TTeretoforo the elcxalion had had no crfcct upon liim, hiil llic excessively lofty stations of the past few days and I lie liard climbing had finally prostrated him. We had derided to carry him out by the fourth day if he felt no better, hut iiappily he recovered sufTiciently to continue the work. The delay enabled the Governor to overtake us with a fresh THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 101 outfit. On the morniiig of our third day in camp he overtook us with a small escort of soldiers accompanied by the fugitive Teniente. He said that he had come to arrest me on the charge of maltreating an official of Peru. A few packages of cigarettes and a handful of raisins and biscuits so stirred his gratitude that we parted the best of friends. Moreover he provided us with four fresh beasts and four new men, and thus equipped we set out for a rendezvous about ten miles away. But the faithless Governor turned off the trail and sought shelter at the huts of a company of mountain shepherds. That night his men slept on the ground in a bitter wind just outside our camp at 17,200 feet. They com- plained that they had no food. The Governor had promised to join us with llama meat for the peons. We fed them that night and also the next day. But we had by that time passed the crest of the western Cordillera and were outside the province of Anta- bamba. The next morning not only our four men but also our four beasts were missing. We were stranded and sick just under the pass. To add to our distress the surgeon, Dr. Erving, was obliged to leave us for the return home, taking the best saddle animal and the strongest pack mule. It was impossible to go on with the map. That morning I rode alone up a side valley until I reached a shepherd 's hut, where I could find only a broken-down, shuffling old mule, perfectly useless for our hard work. Then there happened a piece of good luck that seems almost providential. A young man came down the trail with three pack mules loaded with llama meat. He had come from the Cotahuasi Valley the week before and knew the trail. I persuaded him to let us hire one of his mules. In this way and by leaving the in- struments and part of our gear in the care of two Indian youths we managed to get to Cotahuasi for rest and a new outfit. The young men who took charge of part of our outfit interested me very greatly. I had never seen elsewhere so independent and clear-eyed a pair of mountain Indians. At first they would have nothing to do with us. They refused us permission to store our goods in their hut. To them we were railroad engineers. They said that the railway might come and when it did it would depopu- 102 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU late the country. The railway was a curse. Natives were obliged to work for the company without pay. Their uncle had told them of frightful abuses over at Cuzco and had warned them not to help the railway people in any way. They had moved out here in a remote part of the mountains so that white men could not exploit them. In the end, however, we got them to understand the nature of our work. Gifts of various sorts won their friendship, and they consented to guard the boxes we had to leave behind. Two weeks later, on his return, the topographer found everything unmolested. I could not but feel that the spirit of those strong and inde- pendent young men was much better for Peru than the cringing, subservient spirit of most of the Indians that are serfs of the whites. The policy of the whites has been to suppress and ex- ploit the natives, to abuse them, and to break their spirit. They say that it keeps down revolution; it keeps the Indian in his place. But certainly in other respects it is bad for the Indian and it is worse for the whites. Their brutality toward the natives is in- credible. It is not so much the white himself as the vicious half- breed who is often allied with him as his agent. I shall never forget the terror of two young girls driving a don- key before them when they came suddenly face to face with our party, and we at the same time hastily scrambled off our beasts to got a photograph of a magnificent view disclosed at the bend of the steep trail. They thought we had dismounted to attack them, iiu(] fled screaming in abject fear up the mountain side, abandoning 1lif donkey and the pack of potatoes which must have represented a large part of the season's product. It is a kind of highway roy)bery condoned because it is only robbing an Indian. Tic is considered to he lawful prey. His complaint goes unnoticed. In tlio past a rovolntion lias offered him sporadic chances to wreak vcni^caiK'f. More oflcn it, adds to liis troubles by scattering through the mountain xallcys tin* desperate refugees or lawless bands of niarandcrs wlio kill tlic floeks of tho nionntain shepherds and despoil their women. There are still considerable numbers of Indians wlio shun the THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 103 white man and live in the most remote corners of the mountains. I have now and again come upon the most isolated huts, invisible from the valley trails. They were thatched with grass ; the walls were of stone; the rafters though light must have required pro- digious toil, for all timber stops at 12,000 feet on the mountain borders. The shy fugitive who perches his hut near the lip of a hanging valley far above the trail may look down himself unseen as an eagle from its nest. When the owner leaves on a journey, or to take his flock to new pastures, he buries his pottery or hides it in almost inaccessible caves. He locks the door or bars it, thank- ful if the spoiler spares rafters and thatch. At length we reached Cotahuasi, a town sprawled out on a ter- race just above the floor of a deep canyon (Fig. 29) . Its flower gar- dens and pastures are watered by a multitude of branching canals lined with low willows. Its bright fields stretch up the lower slopes and alluvial fans of the canyon to the limits of irrigation where the desert begins. The fame of this charming oasis is wide- spread. The people of Antabamba and Lambrama and even the officials of Abancay spoke of Cotahuasi as practically the end of our journey. Fruits ripen and flowers blossom every month of the year. Where we first reached the canyon floor near Huaynacotas, elevation 11,500 feet (3,500 m.), there seemed to be acres of rose bushes. Only the day before at an elevation of 16,800 feet (5,120 m.) we had broken thick ice out of a mountain spring in order to get water ; now we were wading a shallow river, and grateful for the shade along its banks. Thus we came to the town prepared to find the people far above their plateau neigh- bors in character. Yet, in spite of friendly priests and officials and courteous shopkeepers, there was a spirit strangely out of harmony with the pleasant landscape. Inquiries showed that even here, where it seemed that only sylvan peace should reign, there had recently been let loose the spirit of barbarism. We shall turn to some of its manifestations and look at the reasons therefor. In the revolution of 1911 a mob of drunken, riotous citizens gathered to storm the Cotahuasi barracks and the jail. A full- 104 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU blooded Indian soldier, on duty at the entrance, ordered the rioters to stop and when they paid no heed he shot the leader and scat- tered the crowd. The captain thereupon ordered the soldier to Arequipa because his life was no longer safe outside the barracks. A few months later he was assigned to Professor Bingham's Coropuna expedition. Professor Bingham reached the Cotahuasi Valley as I was about to leave it for the coast, and the soldier was turned over to me so that he might leave Cotahuasi at the earliest possible moment, for his enemies were plotting to kill 'him. He did not sleep at all the last night of his stay and had us called at three in the morning. He told his friends that he was going to leave with us, but that they were to announce his leav- ing a day later. In addition, the Subprefect was to accompany us until daybreak so that no harm might befall me while under the protection of a soldier who expected to be shot from ambush. At four o'clock our whispered arrangements were made, we opened the gates noiselessly, and our small cavalcade hurried through the pitch-black streets of the town. The soldier rode ahead, his rifle across his saddle, and directly behind him rode the Subprefect and myself. The pack mules were in the rear. We had almost reached the end of the street when a door opened sud- denly and a shower of sparks flew out ahead of us. Instantly the soldier struck spurs into his mule and turned into a side street. The Subprefect drew his horse back savagely and when the next shower of sparks flew out pushed me against the wall and whispered: "i'oi- Dios, quien es?" Then suddenly lie shouted: *'S<>i)la no mas, sojjhi no mas" (stop blowing). 'I'licrfiipon a shabl)y penitent man came to the door holding in his li.iiid a largo tailor's flatiron. The base of it was filled with glnuiiiL'- cli.'irco;!! iiikI he was a])()ut to stai't his day's work. The sparks were mndc in llic i)rocess (d" blowing lliroiigli llic ii'on to start tlie smoldering coals. We greeted liini willi moi-c tlian ordiii.'iry friendliness and passed on. At daybreak we li;id reached tlu; steej) western wall of the canyon where the re;d ascent begins, and here the Subprefect tuiiied h.'ick with many felicidades for the journey and threats THE GEOGRAPHIC BASIS OF HUMAN CHARACTER 105 for the soldier if he did not look carefully after the pack train. From every angle of the zigzag trail that climbs the "cuesta" the soldier scanned the valley road and the trail below him. He was anxious lest news of his escape reach his enemies who had vowed to take his life. Half the day he rode turned in his saddle so as to see every traveler long before he was within harm's reach. By nightfall we safely reached Salamanca, fifty miles away (Fig. 62). The alertness of the soldier was unusual and I quite enjoyed his close attention to the beasts and his total abstinence, for an alert and sober soldier on detail is a rare phenomenon in the in- terior of Peru. But all Salamanca was drunk when we arx iyed — Governor, alcaldes, citizens^ Even the peons drank up in brandy the money that we gave them for forage and let the beasts starve. The only sober person I saw was the white telegraph operator from Lima. He said that he had to stay sober, for the telegraph office — the outward sign of government — was the special object of attack of every drink-crazed gang of rioters. They had tried to break in a few nights before and he had fired his revolver point- blank through the door. The town offered no shelter but the dark filthy hut of the Gobernador and the tiny telegraph office. So I made up my bed beside that of the operator. We shared our meals and chatted until a late hour, he recounting the glories of Lima, to which he hoped to return at the earliest possible moment, and cursing the squalid town of Salamanca. His operator's keys were old, the batteries feeble, and he was in continual anxiety lest a message could not be received. In the night he sprang out of bed shouting frantically : "Estan llamando" (they are calling), only to stumble over my bed and awaken himself and offer apologies for walking in his sleep. Meanwhile my soldier, having regained his courage, began drinking. It was with great difficulty that I got started, after a day's delay, on the trail to Chuquibamba. There his thirst quite overcame him. To separate him from temptation it became nec- essary to lock him up in the village jail. This I did repeatedly on the way to Mollendo, except beyond Quilca, where we slept in the 106 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU hot marshy valley out of reach of drink, and where the mosquitoes kept us so busy that either eating or drinking was almost out of the question. The drunken rioters of Cotahuasi and their debauched brothers at Salamanca are chietiy natives of pure or nearly pure Indian blood. They are a part of the great plateau population of the Peruvian Andes. Have they degenerated to their present low state, or do they display merely the normal condition of the plateau people? Why are they so troublesome an element? To this as to so many questions that arise concerning the highland population we find our answ^er not chiefly in government, or re- ligion, or inherited character, but in geography. I doubt very much if a greater relative difference would be seen if two groups of whites were set do^\^l, the one in the cold terrace lands of Salamanca, the other in the warm vineyards of Aplao, in the Majes \'alley. The common people of these two towns were originally of the same race, but the lower valley now has a white element including even most of those having the rank of peons. Greater differences in character could scarcely be found between the Aztecs and the Iroquois. In the warm valley there is of coarse drunken- ness, but it is far from general ; there is stupidity, but the people are as a whole alert; and finally, the climate and soil produce grapes from which famous \vines are made, they produce sugar cane, cotton, and alfalfa, so that the whites have come in, diluted the Indian blood, and raised the standard of life and behavior. Undouljtodly their influence would tend to have the same general effect if they mixed in equal numbers with the plateau groups. Tliorc is, however, a good reason for their not doing so. The lofty towns of the plateau have a really wretched climate. \\ liitf men cannot live comfortably at Antabamba and Salamanca. i''inlli' channel of the river. In some places almost the whole floor is cultivated from one valley wall to the other. In other places the fields are restricted to narrow bands between the river and the impending cliffs of a narrow canyon. Where tributaries enter from the desert there may be huge banks of mud or broad triangu- lar fans covered with raw, infertile earth. The picture is gener- ally touched with color — a yellow, haze-covered horizon on the bare desert above, brown lava flows suspended on the brink of the val- ley, gray-brown cliffs, and greens ranging from the dull shade of algarrobo, olive and fig trees, to the bright shade of freshly irri- gated alfalfa pastures. After several months' work on the cold highlands, where we rode almost daily into hailstorms or wearisome gales, Ave came at length to the border of the valley country. It will always seem to me that the weather and llie sky conspired that afternoon to re- ward us for llie months of toil that lay behind. And certainly there could be no happier place to receive the reward than on the brink of the lava plateau above Chuquibamba. There was prom- ise of an extraordiunry view in the growing beauty of the sky, and we hurried our tired beasts forward so that the valley below no Fig. 63. Fig. 04. Fig. 63— The deep fertile Majes Valley below Cantas. Compare with Fig. 6 show- ing the Chili Valley at Arequipa. Fig. 64— The Majes Valley, desert coast, western Peru. The lighter patches on the valley floor are the gravel beds of the river at high water. :Much of the alluvial land is still uncleared. THE COASTAL DESERT 111 miglit also be included in the picture. The head of the Majes Val- ley is a vast hollow bordered by cliffs hundreds of feet high, and we reached the rim of it only a few minutes before sunset. I remember that we halted beside a great wooden cross and that our guide, dismounting, walked up to the foot of it and kissed and embraced it after the custom of the mountain folk when they reach the head of a steep '^cuesta." Also that the trail seemed to drop off like a stairway, which indeed it was.^ Everything else about me was completely overshadowed by sno^vy mountains, col- ored sky, and golden-yellow desert. One could almost forget the dark clouds that gather around the great mass of Coropuna and the bitter winds that creep down from its glaciers at night — it seemed so friendly and noble. Behind it lay bulky masses of rose- tinted clouds. We had admired their gay colors only a few min- utes, when the sun dropped behind the crest of the Coast Range and the last of the sunlight played upon the sky. It fell with such marvelously swift changes of color upon the outermost zone of clouds as these were shifted with the wind that the eye had scarcely time to comprehend a tint before it was gone and one more beautiful still had taken its place. The reflected sunlight lay warm and soft upon the white peaks of Coropuna, and a little later the Alpine glow came out delicately clear. When we turned from this brilliant scene to the deep valley, we found that it had already become so dark that its greens had turned to black, and the valley walls, now in deep shadow, had lost half their splendor. The color had not left the sky before the lights of Chuquibamba began to show, and candles twinkled from the doors of a group of huts close under the cliff. We were not long in starting the descent. Here at last were friendly habita- tions and happy people. I had worked for six weeks between 12,000 and 17,000 feet, constantly ill from mountain sickness, and it was with no regret that I at last left the plateau and got down ' Raimondi (op. cit., p. 109) has a characteristic description of the " Camino del Penon " in the department of La-Libertad: "... the ground seems to disappear from one's feet; one is standing on an elevated balcony looking down more than 6,000 feet to the valley . . . the road which descends the steep scarp is a masterpiece." 112 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU to comfortable altitudes. It seemed good news when the guide told me that there were mosquitoes in the marshes of Camana. Any low, hot land would have seemed like a health resort. I had been in the high country so long that, like the Bolivian mining engineer, I wanted to get down not only to sea level, but below it ! If the reader will examine Figs. 65 and 66, and the photographs that accompany them, ho may gain an idea of the more important Fig. 65 — Ili-gional diagram to show the physical relations in the coastal desert of Peru. For location, see Fig. 20. features of the coastal region. We have already described, in Chapters \' ;iii(l V'll, the character of the plateau region and its people. Therefore, we need say little in this place of the part of the Maritime Cordillera that is included in the figure. Its unjjopulated rim (see p. 54), the semi-nomadic ftlerdsmen and slicp- herds from (,Tiu(iuibamba that scour its pastures in the moist vales about Coropuna, and the gnarled an^ stunted trees at 13,000 feet (3,900 m.) wltidi partly supply Chuquibamba with firewood, are its most impoj-ianl features. A few gr()ui)s of hiiis just under the snowliiK- nrc iiili;il)i1c(| Ww only a ])art of the year. The de- lightful vjillcvH .-ire loo near aud tempting. Even a plateau Indian responds to liic call of a dry valley, however he may shun the moist, warm valleys on the eastern border of the Cordillera. THE COASTAL DESERT 113 Fig. 66 — Irrigated and irrigable land of the coastal belt of Peru. The map ex- hibits in a striking manner how small a part of the whole Pacific slope is available for cultivation. Pasture grows over all but the steepest and th6 highest portions of the Cordillera to the right of (above) the dotted line.' Another belt of pasture too nar- row to show on the map, grows in the fog belt on the seaward slopes of the Coast Range. Scale, 170 miles to the inch. 114 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU The greater part of the coastal region is occupied by the des- ert. Its outer border is the low, dry, gentle, eastward-facing slope of the Coast Eange. Its inner border is the foot of the steep descent that marks the edge of the lava plateau. This descent is a fairly well-marked line, here and there broken by a venturesome lava flow that extends far out from the main plateau. Within these definite borders the desert extends continuously northwest- ward for hundreds of miles along the coast of Peru from far be- yond the Chilean frontier almost to the border of Ecuador. It is broken up by deep tranverse valleys and canyons into sorcalled ** pampas," each of which has a separate name; thus west of Arequipa between the Vitor and Majes valleys are the "Pampa de Vitor" and the ''Pampa de Sihuas," and south of the Vitor is the "Pampa de Islay." The pampa surfaces are inclined in general toward the sea. They were built up to their present level chiefly by mountain streams before the present deep valleys were cut, that is to say, when the land was more than a half-mile lower. Some of their material is wind-blown and on the walls of the valleys are alter- nating belts of wind-blown and water-laid strata from one hun- dred to four hundred feet thick as if in past ages long dry and long wet periods had succeeded each other. The wind has blown sand and dust from the desert down into the valleys, but its chief work has been to drive the lighter desert waste up partly into the mountains and aloiii;- llicir margins, partly so high as to carry it* into tlic roalni of tiio lofty terrestrial winds, whence it falls upon surfaces far distant from the fields of origin. Tliero are left behind the ln-avicr sand which the wind rolls along on the sur- faces and builds into crescentic dunes called medanos, and the peb- blos that it can sandpaper but cannot remove bodily. Thus there i\»' belts of dunes, belts of irregular sand drifts, and bells of true d^'Rert "pavement" (a residual mantle of faceted pebbles and irrerriilar .stones). Vet anollier feature of the desert pampa are the "dry" val- leys that Join the through-flowing streams at irregular intervals, as shown in the accompanying regional diagram. If one follow 16" 2i ^EDIT, IRE CI ZVfl. CAiSASX OnADRAirtS^ TJn-TiF: I' A (• I /•• / (■ (> c /■: A .\ (3 THE COASTAL DESERT 115 a dry valley to its head lie will find there a set of broad and shal- low tributaries. Sand drifts may clog them and appear to indi- cate that water no longer flows through them. They are often re- ferred to by unscientific travelers as evidences of a recent change of climate. I had once the unusual opportunity (in the mountains of Chile) of seeing freshly fallen snow melted rapidly and thus | turned suddenly into the streams. In 1911 this happened also at San Pedro de Atacama, northern Chile, right in the desert at ', 8,000 feet (2,440 m.) elevation, and in both places the dry, sand- ^^ choked valleys were cleaned out and definite channels reestab- lished. From a large number of facts like these we know that the dry valleys represent the work of the infrequent rains. No desert is absolutely rainless, although until recently it was the fashion to say so. Naturally the wind, which works incessantly, partly offsets the work of the water. Yet the wind can make but little impression upon the general outlines of the dry valleys. They re- main under the dominance of the irregular rains. These come sometimes at intervals of three or four years, again at intervals of ten to fifteen years, and some parts of the desert have probably been rainless for a hundred years. Some specific cases are dis- cussed in the chapter on Climate. v The large valleys of the desert zone have been cut by snow- fed streams and then partly filled again so that deep waste lies on their floors and abuts with remarkable sharpness against the bor- dering cliffs (Fig, 155). Extensive flats are thus available for easy cultivation, and the through-flowing streams furnish abundant water to the irrigatin;;>^^ IRRIGATED LAND m) Flu. (i7 — Irrigati'il and irrigable land Fig, GS — The projected canal to con- in the lea Valley of the coastal desert of vey water from the Atlantic slope to the Peru. Pacific slope of the ^laritinie Cordillera.* by uncertain springs that issue below tlie hollows of tlie bordering mountains. In central and iioitlicrn I'eru the coastal region has as])octs quite differcTif I'l-oni those about Camana. At some places, for examine iiorfli of" (Nmto A/ul, the main s])ni"s of llic Cordillera extend down 1o llic sliocc. HMid'c is iicillicr n low (*oast Range nor a lii'ond di'sci-l |);iin|ia. In sncli places (lal land is found only on tlu' alluvial fans and deltas. Ijima and ('nllao are typical. P^ig. on, c()mj)iled from Adams's reports on tlie water resources of •FigH. 07 and R« are from T^ol. do Minns dr] Pern, 1000, No. .17. pp. R2 and 84 resppctively. '^\ THE COASTAL DESERT 119 the coastal region of Peru, shows this distinctive feature of the central region. Beyond Salaverry extends the northern region, where nearly all the irrigated land is found some distance back from the shore. The farther north we go the more marked is this 3M 2M JAN FEB MARCH APRIL MAY JUNE JULY AUG SEPT OCT. NOV 1 DEC i 1 ^ 1 ^P ^^ ^. Fig. 69 — A stream of the intermittent type in the coastal desert of Peru. Depth of water in the Puira River at Puira, 1905. (Bol. de Minas del Peru, 1906, No. 45, p. 2.) feature, because the coastal belt widens. Catacaos is several miles from the sea, and Piura is an interior place. At the extreme north, where the rains begin, as at Tumbez, the cultivated land once more extends to the coast. These three regions contain all the fertile coastal valleys of Peru. The larger ones are impressive — with cities, railways, JAN. FEB MARCH APRIL MAY JUNE JULY AUG. SEPT. OCT Fig. 70 — A stream of the perennial type in the coastal desert of Peru. Depth of water in the Chira River at Sullana, 1905. Data from May to September are ap- proximate. (Bol. de Minas del Peru, 1906, Xo. 45, p. 2.) ports, and land in a high state of cultivation. But they are after-^ all only a few hundred square miles in extent. They contain less ! than a quarter of the people. The whole Pacific slope from the crest of the Cordillera has about 15,000 square miles (38,850 sq. km.), and of this only three per cent is irrigated valley land, as shown in Fig. 66. Moreover, only a small additional amount may be irrigated, perhaps one half of one per cent. Even this amount 120 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU may be added not only by a better use of the water but also by the diversion of streams and lakes from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Figs. 67 and 6S represent such a project, in which it is proposed to carry the water of Lake Choclococha through a canal and tunnel under the continental divide and so to the head of the lea Valley. A little irrigation can be and is carried on by the use of well water, but this will never be an important source because of the great depth to the ground water, and the fact that it, too, depends ulti- mately upon the limited rains. The inequality of opportunity in the various valleys of the coastal region depends in large part also upon inequality of river discharge. This is dependent chiefly upon the sources of the streams, whether in sno^vy peaks of the main Cordillera with fairly constant run-off, or in the w^estern spurs where summer rains bring periodic high water. A third type has high water dur- ing the time of greatest snow melting, combined with summer rains, and to this class belongs the Majes Valley with its sources in the snow-cap of Coropuna. The other two types are illustrated by the accompanying diagrams for Puira and Chira, the former intermittent in flow, the latter fairly constant." • The BoleWn de IMinas del PerG, No. 34, 1905. contains a graphic representation of the regime of the Rio Chili at Arequipa for the years 1901-1905. "\ 0? 1911 -.Araes 4 w % •& 1 ■^ CHAPTER IX CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES CLIMATIC BELTS The noble proportions of the Peruvian Andes and their posi- tion in tropical latitudes have given them climatic conditions of great diversity. Moreover, their great breadth and continuously lofty summits have distributed the various climatic types over spaces sufficiently ample to affect large and important groups of people. When we add to this the fact that the topographic types developed on a large scale are distributed at varying elevations, and that upon them depend to a large degree the chief character- istics of the soil, another great factor in human distribution, we are prepared to see that the Peruvian Andes afford some strik- ing illustrations of combined climatic and topographic control over man. The topographic features in their relations to the people have been discussed in preceding chapters. We shall now examine the corresponding effects of climate. It goes without saying that the topographic and climatic controls cannot and need not be kept rigidly apart. Yet it seems desirable, for all their natural inter- dependence, to give them separate treatment, since the physical laws upon which their explanations depend are of course entirely distinct. Further, there is an independent group of human re- sponses to detailed climati-! f^ures that have little or no connec- tion with either topogiaphy or soil. The chief climatic belts ol Peru run roughly from north to south in the direction of the main features of the topography. Be- tween 13° and 18° S., however, the Andes run from northwest to southeast, and in short stretches nearly west-east, with the result that the climatic belts like"\\'ise trend westward, a condition well illustrated on the seventy-third meridian. Here are devel- 121 122 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU oped importaut climatic features not found elsewhere in Peru. The trade winds are greatly modified in direction and effects ; the northward-trending valleys, so deep as to be secluded from the trades, have floors that are nearly if not quite arid; a restricted coastal region enjoys a heavier rainfall ; and the snowline is much more strongly canted from west to east than anywhere else in the long belt of mountains from Patagonia to Venezuela. These ex- ceptional features depend, however, upon precisely the same phys- ical laws as the normal climatic features of the Peruvian Andes. They can, therefore, be more easily understood after attention has been given to the larger aspects of the climatic problem of which they form a part. The critical relations of trade winds, lofty mountains, and ocean currents that give distinction to Peruvian climate are shown in Figs. 71 to 73. From them and Fig. 74 it is clear that the two sides of the Peruvian mountains are in sharp contrast climatically. I The eastern slopes have almost daily rains, even in the dry season, ' and are clothed with forest. The western leeward slopes are so dry that at 8,000 feet even the most drought-resisting grasses stop — only low shrubs live below this level, and over large areas there is no vegetation whatever. An exception is the Coast Eange, not shown on these small maps, but exhibited in the suc- ceeding diagram. These have moderate rains on their seaward (westerly) slopes during some years and grass and shrubby vegetation grow Ix'lwccn llic nrid coasl.-il terraces below lliem and llic i)ai'('li<'etween are the eliniates of half the world compressed, it may be, Ix-tweeii where the effects of tlie ejininte on ni;in ai'e set forth. The ascending trades on the eastern .slopes pass successively into CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 123 Fig. 71. Fig. 72. WET ]/^S\i»;H[}mJf % % %\ SEMI ■■'^\MOUNTAINS, PLATEAUS AN Dc< ^ ^^BASINSS^ Fig. 73. Fig. 74. Fig. 71 — The three chief topographic regions of Peru. Fig. 72 — The wind belts of Peru and ocean currents of adjacent Avaters. Fig. 73 — The climatic belts of Peru. Fig. 74 — Belts of vegetation in Peru. 124- THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU atmospheric levels of diminisliing pressure; hence they expand, deriving the required energy for expansion from the heat of the air itself. The air thereby cooled has a lower capacity for the retention of water vapor, a function of its temperature; the colder the air the less water vapor it can take up. As~ long as the actual amount of water vapor in the air is less fthan that which the air can hold, no rain falls. But the cool- ing process tends constantly to bring the warm, moist, ascend- ing air currents to the limit of their capacity for water vapor by diminishing the temperature. Eventually the air is saturated and if the capacity diminishes still further through diminishing temperature some of the water vapor must be condensed from a gaseous to a liquid form and be dropped as rain. The air currents that rise thousands of feet per day on the eastern slopes of the Andes pass again and again through this practically continuous process and the eastern aspect of the moun- tains is kept rain-soaked the whole year round. For the trades here have only the rarest reversals. Generallj^ they blow from the east day after day and repeat a fixed or average type of weather peculiar to that part of the tropics under their steady domination. During the southern summer, when the day-time temperature con- trasts between mountains and plains are strongest, the force of the trade wind is greatly increased and likewise the rapidity of the rain-making processes. Hence there is a distinct seasonal differ- ence in the rainfall — what we call, for want of a better name, a "wet" and a "dry" season. On the western or seaward slopes of the Peruvian Andes the trade winds descend, and the process of rain-making is reversed to one of rain-taking. The descending air currents are com- pressed as they reach lower levels where there are progressively higher atmospheric pressures. The energy expended in the proc- ess is expressed in llic nil' as bent, wliciu'c llic (Icscciidiiiu- aii- gains stondily in Iciiipci'ahii-c and capaciiy for water vapor, and there- fore is a diying wind. Tims the leeward, western slopes of the mountains roceivo little rain and the lowlands on that side are desert. CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 125 THE CLIMATE OF THE COAST A series of narrow but pronounced climatic zones coincide with the topographic subdivisions of the western slope of the country between the crest of the Maritime Cordillera and the Pacific Ocean. This belted arrangement is diagrammatically shown in Fig. 75. From the zone of lofty mountains with a well-marked summer rainy season descent is made by lower slopes with successively ZONE OF COASTAL TER- RACES RAIN ONCE IN MANY YEARS ZONEOF FOG- COVERED MOUN- TAINS RAINAT INTER- VALS OF 5-10 YEARS 5,( 00' ZONE OF DESERT PLAINS RAIN AT INTERVALS OF MANY YEARS ZONEOFSTEEP VALLEYS YEARLY RAINS ZONE OF LOFTY MOUNTAINS AND PLATEAUS /-^^^la?!?; FREQUENT RAINS IN^-^'d^^^^''^'^^^^ -PROFILE OF MAJES VALLEY 1 Fig. 75 — Topographic and climatic provinces in the coastal region of Peru. The broadest division, into the zones of regular annual rains and of irregular rains, occurs approximately at 8,000 feet but is locally variable. To the traveler it ia always clearly defined by the change in architecture, particularly of the house roofs. Those of the coast are flat; those of the sierra are pitched to facilitate run off. less and less precipitation to the desert strip, where rain is only known at irregular intervals of many years ' duration. Beyond lies the seaward slope of the Coast Eange, more or less constantly enveloped in fog and receiving actual rain every few^ years, and below it is the very narrow band of dry coastal terraces. The basic cause of the general aridity of the region has already been noted ; the peculiar circumstances giving origin to the variety in detail can be briefly stated. They depend upon the meteorologic and hydrographic features of the adjacent portion of the South Pacific Ocean and upon the local topography. The lofty Andes interrupt the broad sweep of the southeast trades passing over the continent from the Atlantic ; and the wind circulation of the Peruvian Coast is governed to a great degree by the high pressure area of the South Pacific. The prevailing winds blow from the south and the southeast, roughly paralleling the coast or, as onshore w^nds, making a small angle with it. When the Pacific high pressure area is best developed (during the southern winter), the southerly direction of the winds is empha- 126 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU "^^ Air Z..ry \^ ■'Air 4p.m. X/^ — Sea 12a. m>^ Sea Sa.m."^^, :>Sca 4p.m. ;\;^ "^"w ^-. Air 8a.m. ■^^^ >^'^ ~~^^--~ sized, a condition clearly shown on the Pilot Charts of the South Pacific Ocean, issued by the U. S. Hydrographic Office. / The hydrographic feature of greatest importance is the Hum- ' boldt Current. To its cold waters is largely due the remarkably low temperatures of the coast.' In the latitude of Lima its mean JUNE JULY AUG. SEPT. surface temperature is about 10° below normal. Lima itself has a mean annual tempera- ture 4.6° F. below the theo- retical value for that latitude, "° (12° S.). An accompanying curve shows the low tem- 16° perature of Callao during the winter months. From mid- June to mid-September the 16° mean was 61° F., and the annual mean is only 65.6° F. Fig. 70 — Temperatures at Culluo, June- September, 1912, from observations taken (18° C). The rcductioU in by Captain A. Taylor, of Callao. Air tern- temperature is accompauicd by peratures are shown by heavy lines; sea temperatures by light lines. In view of a rcductioU in tllC Vapor CapaC- the scant record for comparative land and .. ^^ ^^^ SUper-iuCUmbent air, water temperatures along the Peruvian •' coast tliis record, short as it is, has special an cffcct of wllicll mucll liaS interest. \i(iQ.VL mado in explanati(5n of the west-coast desert. That it is a contributing though not ex- clusive factor is demonstrated in Kig. 77. Curve A represents the hypothetical change of temperature on a mountainous coast witli tt'iiiporary afternoon onshore winds from a irarm sea. Curve JJ represents the change of temperninre il" llie sea be cold factual case of Pern). 'I'lie more rai)i(l rise of curve B to tlie riglit of X-X", llie line of 1 i-:insi1ion, and its higlier eleva- tion above its foinifi- s;it nr;itioii le\-el, as coiil i-;is1e\vei- i-eL'iti\-e linniidity). Tliere has bcLii pfeelpll.'ilioli ill case A, hut ;il .-1 llighel- tellll)el-;itn|-e, lienCC >Hann (TTnndbook of riimntoloKy. trnnHlnf^nl by R. P.- C Ward, Now York, 1903) indicates a ronfributory cauHe in tlio upwcllinf; of en),! wnt.T .iloiif,' the coast caused by the Htcady wcntorly drift, of fhc cqnatorinl riirniit. CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 127 more water vapor remains in the air after precipitation has ceased. Curve B ultimately rises nearly to the level of A, for with less water vapor in the air of case B the temperature rises more rapidly (a general law). Moreover, the higher the tem- perature the greater the radiation. To summarize, curve A rises more slowly than curve B, (1) because of the greater amount of water vapor it contains, which must have its temperature raised with that of the air, and thus absorbs energy which would 70° 50°_ 401 30 : BELT OF FALLING TEMPERATURES BELT OF RISING TEMPERATURES, CLOUD BANKS.HIGH DEW POINT CLEAR SKIES, LOW DEW POINT, ANDMODERATEPRECIPITATION AND ARIDITY SATURATION TEMPERATURE- SATURATION TEMPERATURE- I I SEASHORE COAST RANGES DESERT Fig. 77 — To show progressive lowering of saturation temperature in a desert under the influence of the mixing process whereby dry and cool air from aloft sinks to lower levels thus displacing the warm surface air of the desert. Tlie evaporated moisture of the surface air is thus distributed through a great volume of upper air and rain becomes increasingly rarer. Applied to deserts in general it shows that the effect of any cosmic agent in producing climatic change from moist to dry or dry to moist will be disproportionately increased. The shaded areas C and C represent the fog-covered slopes of the Coast Range of Peru as shown in Fig. 92. X — X' represents the crest of the Coast Range. otherwise go to increase the temperature of the air, and (2) be- cause its loss of heat by radiation is more rapid on account of its higher temperature. We conclude from these principles and de- ductions that under the given conditions a cold current intensi- jaes, but does not cause the aridity of the west-coast desert. Curves a and h represent the rise of temperature in two con- trasted cases of. warm and cold sea with the coastal mountains eliminated, so as to simplify the principle applied to A and B. The steeper gradient of h also represents the fact that the lower the initial temperature the dryer will the air become in passing over the warm land. For these two curves the transition line X-X' coincides mth the crest of the Coast Range. It will also be seen that curve a is never so far from the saturation level as 128 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU 9 a.m. DEC, JAN., 1897-1900 N 3 p.m. 8 a.m. JUNE 11-SEPT. 11, 1912 N Noon Fia. 78 — Wind roses for Callao. Tlic figures for tlie onrlier pe- riod (1H07-1900) lire drnwn from dnla in tli(! IJoIelfii dc la Sociediul Geogrfificii de Limn, Vols. 7 and H, IKOH- 11)00: for tlie hiiU-v period data from obscrvntions of ('a|)tiun A. Tiiyl'ir, of Callao. The diam- eter of the circle reprosenlH the proiiortionat-i' niiniher of (jhservation.s when calm was registered. CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 129 curve b. Hence, unusual atmospheric disturbances would result in heavier and more frequent showers. Turning now to local factors we find on the west coast a re- gional topography that favors a diurnal periodicity of air move- ment. The strong slopes of the Cordillera and the Coast Range create up-slope or eastward air gradients by day and opposite OCT.-MARCH, 1893-'95 2 p.m. APRIL-SEPT., 1893- '95 2 p.m. Fig. 79 — Wind roses for Mollendo. The figures are draAAii from data in Peruvian Meteorology (1892-1895), Annals of the Astronomical Observatory of Harvard College, Vol. 39, Pt. 2, Cambridge, Mass., 1906. Observations for an earlier period, Feb. 1869-March 1890, (Id. Vol. 39, Pt. 1, Cambridge, Mass. 1899) record S. E. wind at 2 p. m. 97 per cent of the observation time. gradients by night. To this circumstance, in combination with the low temperature of the ocean water and the direction of the prevailing winds, is due the remarkable development of the sea- breeze, without exception the most important meteorological fea- ture of the Peruvian Coast. Several graphic representations are appended to show the dominance of the sea-breeze (see wind roses 130 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU for Callao, Mollendo, Arica, and Iquique), but interest in the phenomenon is far from being confined to the theoretical. Every- where along- the coast the virazon, as the sea-breeze is called in contradistinction to the terral or land-breeze, enters deeply into the affairs of human life. According to its strength it aids or hinders shipping; sailing boats may enter port on it or it 7 a.m. OCT.-MARCH N Fio. SO — Wind rosos for tlic suiniiu'r aiul winter seasons of the years 1!)11-1!>13. The (iianu'ter of tlic circle in eaeli case shows the proi)orUon of calm. Figures are drawn from data in tla- Anuario Meteorologico de Chile, Publications No. 3, (1911), {V.)\-l) and 13 (Hil3), Santiago, 1912, 1!)14, 1!I14. may be so x'iolciit, as, \i\v cxaiiiplc. it coiiiiiKUily is .-il I'isco, tliat cai'go (•;iiiin)t he loiidcd oi- uiilondi'd diii-iiii;- ilic artci'iioon. On the nitr;i1c |)aiii|.;i of iioi-tlicni Chile (I'd to 2.")' S. ) it not iiirr<'<|Hcii1l\- l)rc;iks \\i1li a i-(i;ii- Ili;it lici-ahls its coiiiiiig an hour ill ii(lv;iii(T. hi tlw Majcs \ alley ( TJ" S.) il blows gustily for a lialt'lioiir mid mImdiI ikkhi (often by elexcn o'clock) it settles down to an uiieomrorliihle gale. I^'oi" an hour or two CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 131 before the sea-breeze begins the air is hot and stifling, and dust clouds hover about the traveler. The maximum tempera- ture is attained at this time and not around 2,00 p. m. as is nor- mally the case. Yet so boisterous is the noon wind that the laborers time their siesta by it, and not by the high temperatures of earlier OCT.-MARCH N N . K 7 a.m. 2 p.m. Fig. 81 — Wind roses for Iquique for the summer and winter seasons of the years 1911-1913. The diameter of the circle in each case shows the proportion of calm. For source of data see Fig. 80. hours. In the afternoon it settles down to a steady, comfortable^ and dustless wind, and by nightfall the air is once more calm. Of highest importance are the effects of the sea-breeze on pre- cipitation. The bold heights of the Coast Range force the nearly or quite saturated air of the sea-wind to rise abruptly several thousand feet, and the adiabatic cooling creates fog, cloud, and even rain on the seaward slope of the mountains. The actual form and amount of precipitation both here and in the interior region vary greatly, according to local conditions and to season and also from year to year. The coast changes height and contour from 132 THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU place to place. At Arica the low coastal chain of northern Chile terminates at the Morro de Arica. Thence northward is a stretch of open coast, with almost no rainfall and little fog. But in the stretch of coast between Mollendo and the Majes Valley a coastal range again becomes prominent. Fog enshrouds the hills almost daily and practically every year there is rain somewhere along their western aspect. During the southern winter the cloud bank of the coast is best developed and precipitation is greatest. At Lima, for instance, EASTERiy WINDS fEEBU RAINY SEASON SEA BREEZE -^ DRY SEASON ,,-,--^^~^*^^^~~" MARIIIMt MBOILURA- HUH90LBICU»B£NT3J^!fOAST RANGE OESER Fig. 82 — The wet and dry seasons of the Coast Range and the Cordillera are complementary in time. The " wet " season of the former occurs during the southern winter; the cloud bank on the seaward slopes of the hills is best devel- oped at that time and actual rains may occur. EASTEBLY WINOSATHIGH ELEVATION DRY SEASON SEA BREEZE -'sei,^^ HlJMBOLDT CUI Fig. 83 — During the southern summer the seaward slopes of the Coast Range are comparatively clear of fog. Afternoon cloudiness is characteristic of the desert and increases eastward (compare Fig. 86), the influence of the strong sea winds as well as that of the trades (compare Fig. 93B) being felt on the lower slopes of the Maritime Cordillera. the clear skies of March and April begin to be clouded in May, and the cloudiness grows until, from late June to September, the sun is invisible for weeks at a time. This is the period of the garua (mist) or the ^'tiempo de lomas," the "season of the hills," when the moisture clothes them with verdure and calls thither the herds of the coast valleys. During the southern summer on account of the greater relative /differenec between the temperatures of land and water, the sea- breeze attains its maximum strength. It then accomplishes its greatest work in the desert. On the pampa of La Joya, for exam- ple, the sand dunes move most rapidly in the summer. According to the Peruvian Meteorological Records of the Harvard Astronom- ical Observatory the average movement of the dunes from April to September, 1900, was 1.4 inches per day, while during the sum- mer months of the same year it was 2.7 inches. In close agree- ment are the figures for the wind force, the record for which also CLIMATOLOGY OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES 133 June, July Dec, Jan. 9 a.m. 3 p.m. shows that 95 per cent of the winds with strength over 10 miles per hour blew from a southerly direction. Yet during this season the coast is generally clearest of fog and cloud. The explanation ap- pears to lie in the exceedingly delicate nature of the adjustments between the various rain-making forces. The relative humidity of the air from the sea is al- ways high, but on the im- mediate coast is slightly less so in summer than in win- ter. Thus in Mollendo the relative humidity during the winter of 1895 was 81 per cent; during the summer 78 per cent. Moreover, the temperature of the Coast Range is considerably higher in summer than in winter, and there is a tendency to reevaporation of any mois- ture that may be blown against it. The immediate shore, indeed, may still be cloudy as is the case at Cal- lao, which actually has its cloudiest season in the sum- mer, but the hills are com- paratively clear. In conse- quence the sea-air passes over into the desert, w^here the relative increase in tem- perature has not been so great (compare Mollendo and La Joya in the curve for mean monthly temperature), with much higher vapor content than in winter. The relative humidity for the winter season at La Joya, 1895, was 42.5 per cent; for the summer season 57 per cent. The influence of the great barrier of the Maritime Cordillera, aided 9p.m. jjCompletely 3 Overcast Scale of Cloudiness [IZl Clear EH 0-2.5 ES3 2.5-7.5 ^9.5-10 Fig. 84 — Cloudiness at Callao. Figures are drawn from data in the Boletfn de la Sociedad Geognlfica de Lima, Vols. 7 and 8, 1898-1900. They represent the conditions at three observation hours during the summers (Dec., Jan.) of 1897-1898, 1898-1899, 1899- 1900 and the winters (June, July) of 1898 and 1899. 13i THE ANDES OF SOUTHERN PERU doubtless by convectional rising, causes ascent of the compara- tively humid air and the formation of cloud. Farther eastward, as the topographic influence is more strongly felt, the cloudiness 1894 1895 Fig. So — Temperature curves for Mollendo (solid lines) and La Joya (broken lines) April, 1894, to December, 1895, drawn from data in Peruvian Meteorology, 1892- 1895, Annals of the Astronomical Observatory of Harvard College, Vol. 49, Pt. 2, Cambridge, Mass., 1908. The approximation of the two curves of maximum tempera- ture during the winter months contrasts with the well-maintained difference in minimum temperatures througliout the year. increases until on the border zone, about 8,000 feet in elevation, it may thicken to actual rain. Data have been selected to demon- strate this eastern gradation of meteorological phenomena. 1892 1893 1894 1895 „ . . of A M "Jl Tl A S ol "^1 "ijI J F m] "a m] [7] 7] AIS N D T F M "a M J J A S o N D J F M A M J J A S o N I) c»u 1 WINTER SUMMER w INI ER SUM MER W NTER SUMMER W IN TER r\ 8 7 6 6 4 8 _/ \ ^ f V '^ f > > I / N / --. ^ ^ / V / \ .Mollor