Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ocean billows. In such places the heat is terrific and there is absolutely no water. The ancient
MochicaIndians,latertheChimus,andthentheIncas,hadirrigatedmanyoftheregionswhich
are now empty deserts, and I saw the ruins of their towns, forts, canals, and burial grounds,
which tell the sad story of the white man's invasion.
Contrary to the practice of most travellers in dry regions, I carried no water. For my own
use I had a flask of brandy, and another filled with lemon juice mixed with a little salt. This
concoction was very stimulating but tasted so bad that I was never tempted to drink much at
a time. The juice of canned fresh tomatoes is probably the best thirst quencher, but then this
article is rarely found when it is needed. As for the horses, I calculated that the energy wasted
bythemincarryingwaterwouldbegreaterthantheactual benefitderivedfromdrinkingit,so
theyonlydrankwhenwecametoariverorsomevillage.Ibelievemytheorywassound;with
a light load we gained in speed, and avoided the horses getting sore, for water is the most un-
comfortable and clumsy load a pack animal can carry. Only on rare occasions did the animals
seem to suffer from excessive thirst.
After leaving Ancon we travelled over high sand dunes, and at eventide, in a fertile plain,
we arrived at a big
hacienda
belonging to a Chinaman, whose hospitality I shall never forget.
The next day's trip being a long one we started long before daybreak. When I saddled up I
thought my saddlebags were rather heavier than usual, and later I found out that my kind host
had filled them with all sorts of good things during the night.
The first rays of dawn found us among sand dunes where the horses sank deep into the
soft sand that had been blown about by the wind until it appeared like ripples on a lake. The
imposing silence was broken only by the rolling of the waves that sounded like the snoring of
some sleeping giant. The wind almost immediately covered our tracks, and soon the terrible
heat rose in waves, making breathing uncomfortable. In some places I could follow the coast,
ridingalongthewetsand,whereImadethehorsesgoatafasttrotorevenataslowgallop,for
I knew that this would be impossible once the sun rose higher; and time was precious. Some-
times a wave, bigger than the average, would wash higher up the beach, and the moving foam
would frighten the horses. The vastness of the ocean, and the regular roaring of the waves on
the seemingly endless and glittering beach, and the rolling sand dunes, gave the impression of
eternity. Thousands of sea birds hovered silently over our heads, and crabs of all sizes went
running with amazing swiftness towards their holes in the sand as we approached. Their man-
nerofwalkingsidewayswasalmostcomical,andoften,whilstIgavethehorsesafewminutes
to breathe, I amused myself trying to catch some of them. Once or twice I threw a dead one as
farasIcould,thenwatchedtheotherscometodevourit;thefightsthatensuedwerefierceand
terrible,andIcouldnothelpcomparingthesefightingcrabswithhumanbeings.Thewetsand
was white with seagulls waiting for the waves to wash up something to eat. The birds would
onlyrisewhenwehadalmostreachedthem,flyinasmallcirclearoundus,invariablytowards
sea, where the wind came from, and again settle behind us. Thousands of guanos (a kind of
sea bird) were flying in regular clouds, dashing and splashing into the water after fish, for all
