Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I have often been asked if descendants of Incas still exist, and this is a question that is
easilyanswered.Incaswerewhatwewouldcallkingsoremperors,andthepeopleunderthem
were often called by the same name by the Spaniards. It is obvious that the majority of pure
Bolivian and Peruvian Indians are direct descendants of the old subjects of the Incas, for it is
inconceivable that the blood could have changed entirely in less than four centuries. The Indi-
an languages that are spoken today are practically the same as when the first Spaniards under
Pizarro set foot on what is now Peruvian soil. The excellent character of the old Quichua In-
diansisclearly showninthewaytheygreeted each other,forwhentheymet thegreeting was:
'
Ama llulla, ama sua, ama gguella
.'(Benotuntruthful,benotathief,benotidle.)Theanswer
to this was: '
Ccampas nocca, jinollatacc
.' (Be this the same for you as for myself.)
We had heard about an old Inca thermal bath that exists some two miles from the settle-
ment, and as neither Mr W. nor myself had had a bath in Cuzco, where such luxuries did not
existinthehotels,wethoughtitwouldnotbeabadideatospendthenextdayingettingclean,
and seeing the ruins in and around the little village. By following a rough footpath we found
the old thermal bath that had been hewn out of the rock on the mountainside. It lay hidden
away in a pretty creek and was surrounded by shady trees. The water was delightfully warm,
and it was amusing to think that we were soaping and scrubbing ourselves where formerly
perhapssomemighty Incahadbathed whilst beingaccompanied byanescort ofachosenfew.
After Limatambo our way lay through beautiful wooded valleys with marvellous and ex-
uberantvegetation;veritableparadisesfornaturalists.Thetrailpassedunderenormoustreesor
againthroughregularforestsofbamboo,andtherocksalongtherushingandfoamingstreams
were overhung with many varieties of delicate ferns. On some rocks there were big trees with
peculiar roots hanging down like huge snakes, and on these roots grew big brown knobs that
resembled enormous potatoes. Here the ride would have been like a beautiful dream, had it
not been for swarms of mosquitoes and gnats that were tantalising us. The horses kicked and
fidgeted and were frantically swishing their tails in vain attempts to free themselves from the
masses of insects which had settled on them. The heat was considerable, and when I looked
for the candles at night I found that they had melted into a soft, pasty mass, and so we had to
use a plateful of grease with a wick stuck in it, which is the usual way of illuminating the huts
among the primitive people in many parts of South and Central America.
Sometimes we were winding our way through narrow and deep valleys, with walls of rock
that seemed to reach the clouds on either side, and then again we had to zig-zag up a rough
trail,stumbling,scramblingandslipping.Menandbeastsweredrippingwithperspiration,and
every now and again we had to halt to recover our breath, and so we slowly climbed higher
and higher. We no longer admired the gorgeous panorama, all we saw was the trail, and after
some time of this I began to feel as if the whole thing were a never-ending nightmare. Often
the track was cut out of a perpendicular mountain wall, with a giddy fall down to the river,
which from above looked like a winding streak of silver. In some places these trails are so
narrow that the pack animals have to walk near the edge to avoid bumping against the rocky
