Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
When the low houses of Puno had faded away in the distance we came to a range of hills, and
after descending the other side we found ourselves on a plain where short, coarse grass grew.
Much to my surprise the ground became boggy, but wishing to save time and distance I con-
tinued straight towards a cut in the mountains far ahead of us. I knew that this was the way
we had to go towards Cuzco, for the Puno-Cuzco railway line went that way, though making
a big, sweeping detour. The horses had already waded through soft puddles that gurgled in a
very unpleasant way with our weight, and when we came to a broad strip of water which ap-
peared to be traversing the plain from side to side, Gato, whom I was riding, refused to move
further. The water was only some four inches deep, but the horse propped with the stubborn-
ness of a bad-tempered mule, and when I hit him with the lead line he reared up and snorted
like a bronco. I tried every means of persuasion to make the horses enter the water, but all my
efforts were of no avail. Presently I saw an Indian in the distance who seemed to be shout-
ing and waving his arms whilst he came running in my direction. When he was near enough
I heard him calling to me in broken Spanish to stop. Once he had sufficiently recovered his
breath to speak he told me that this was a very dangerous place and that we would meet with
disaster if we entered the treacherous pool. He then guided us to a spot far away and put us on
a safe trail. Gato had taught me a good lesson, and I never interfered with him again when he
refused to step on a doubtful piece of ground. The good old boy had not forgotten the lessons
he had learnt in his youth whilst roaming over the plains of Patagonia, and the instincts of the
wild horse had warned him that danger was lurking below the innocent-looking water.
It is surprising that neither of the horses was ever badly bogged on the whole trip - more
so when it is considered that we went through regions where deadly quicksands and horrible,
slimy pools wait to swallow the unfortunate traveller who happens to step into them.
Putting it roughly,the three main ranges ofthe Andes extend fromthe extreme northtothe
south of the South American continent, but in several sectors cross ranges exist, and these run
from east to west. These cross ranges have formed a regular network of high, broken moun-
tains, between which there are deep canyons and vast, winding valleys, and these intricate
sectors are known as
nudos
(knots). We had struck the first of these in the Potosà sector, and
now we were entering the second, but the worst of them all was the formidable
nudo
we had
to cross after leaving the town of Cuzco, and later on we struck another bad place in southern
Ecuador. In the high parts of Peru these criss-cross valleys produce extraordinary atmospheric
conditions; thus it often happened that we were in glorious sunshine whilst only a few miles
away a terrific storm was raging, and the thunder sounded as if we were in the midst of this
heavenly bombardment, which made the ground quiver and tremble.
We passed Indian shepherds who were grazing their small flocks of sheep. To keep their
animals together they do not use dogs, but instead they cleverly handle slings, and if a sheep
