Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
lying on the floor, holding his badly-bruised head. The alcohol had proved too much for his
imagination and the door too hard for his skull.
The mountain scenery waspretty butthe trail wasbad,andmore than once the onlyfodder
the horses had was bamboo, of the variety that grows up the trees in creepers and which we
pulled down and piled up for the animals before we retired. In many places the trail was very
muddy, and the pack animals we passed were covered with slime from head to tail. The suf-
ferings ofthese unfortunate beasts, often called 'the friends ofman,' are best left undescribed.
Suffice it to say, meaning no blasphemy, that my conception of hell is to be a pack animal of
the Andes.
If there happens to be a particularly deep or dangerous hole hidden under the slimy mud,
the mule drivers cut a branch and lay it over it to serve as a warning to the next passer. Once
we were wading along one of these terrible trails and when we came to an open space I saw a
strange shape near a solitary mule which was standing there, entirely covered with mud. As I
approached,theshapebegantomove,andwhenitwasinanuprightpositionIrecogniseditas
amanwho,likethemule,wascompletelymud-covered.Withouttheformalityofintroduction
the man addressed me in English, said that his mule had stumbled into a deep mud-hole and
that he had actually been submerged under the mud for a long moment. I did not blame him
for the flow of language that followed his explanation, leaving no doubt that he hailed from
America. Having eased his feelings he asked me what on earth I was doing in these blessed
parts, to which I answered that I was merely travelling for pleasure. 'Boy,' said he, 'you have
saved my life; I was thinking about shooting myself as the biggest gosh-darned fool for ever
having come here to do some surveying, but now, having met one bigger than myself, I shan't
do it!'
An old story that is often told about the muddy trails of Ecuador and Colombia goes as
follows:
A gringo was riding along a narrow, muddy trail when he saw a quite good hat lying near
him. He guided his mule towards it and picked it up. A gurgling voice that seemed to come
from nowhere commanded, ''Ey, leave this 'ere 'at alone!'
'Where are you?' asked the mystified gringo; and looking down to the spot where he had
picked up the hat he noticed a round shape that looked like a human head sticking out of the
mud.
'What in the name of all the saints are you doing down there?' enquired the surprised trav-
eller. Again the gurgling, spluttering voice answered, 'Ridin' a mule. I'm in an 'urry, give me
me 'at!'
A branch line of the Guayaquil-Quito railway had once been under construction, and was
to extend to Cuenca and further to the south. A great part of this line had already been con-
structed when work was abandoned owing to politics and lack of funds; a common complaint
in countries where politics are called
polftica
.
