Inca Land - Explorations in the Highlands of Peru | Page 5

to go first to the Urubamba Valley. The story of our
discoveries there, of identifying Uiticos, the capital of the last Incas,
and of the finding of Machu Picchu will be found in later chapters. In
September I returned to Arequipa and started the campaign against
Coropuna by endeavoring to get adequate transportation facilities for
crossing the desert.
Arequipa, as everybody knows, is the home of a station of the Harvard
Observatory, but Arequipa is also famous for its large mules.
Unfortunately, a "mule trust" had recently been formed--needless to say,
by an American--and I found it difficult to make any satisfactory
arrangements. After two weeks of skirmishing, the Tejada brothers
appeared, two arrieros, or muleteers, who seemed willing to listen to
our proposals. We offered them a thousand soles (five hundred dollars
gold) if they would supply us with a pack train of eleven mules for two
months and go with us wherever we chose, we agreeing not to travel on
an average more than seven leagues [2] a day. It sounds simple enough
but it took no end of argument and persuasion on the part of our friends
in Arequipa to convince these worthy arrieros that they were not going
to be everlastingly ruined by this bargain. The trouble was that they
owned their mules, knew the great danger of crossing the deserts that
lay between us and Mt. Coropuna, and feared to travel on unknown
trails. Like most muleteers, they were afraid of unfamiliar country.
They magnified the imaginary evils of the road to an inconceivable
pitch. The argument that finally persuaded them to accept the proffered
contract was my promise that after the first week the cargo would be so
much less that at least two of the pack mules could always be free. The
Tejadas, realizing only too well the propensity of pack animals to get
sore backs and go lame, regarded my promise in the light of a factor of
safety. Lame mules would not have to carry loads.

Everything was ready by the end of the month. Mr. H. L. Tucker, a
member of Professor H. C. Parker's 1910 Mr. McKinley Expedition
and thoroughly familiar with the details of snow-and-ice-climbing,
whom I had asked to be responsible for securing the proper equipment,
was now entrusted with planning and directing the actual ascent of
Coropuna. Whatever success was achieved on the mountain was due
primarily to Mr. Tucker's skill and foresight. We had no Swiss guides,
and had originally intended to ask two other members of the Expedition
to join us on the climb. However, the exigencies of making a geological
and topographical cross section along the 73d meridian through a
practically unknown region, and across one of the highest passes in the
Andes (17,633 ft.), had delayed the surveying party to such an extent as
to make it impossible for them to reach Coropuna before the first of
November. On account of the approach of the cloudy season it did not
seem wise to wait for their coöperation. Accordingly, I secured in
Arequipa the services of Mr. Casimir Watkins, an English naturalist,
and of Mr. F. Hinckley, of the Harvard Observatory. It was proposed
that Mr. Hinckley, who had twice ascended El Misti (19,120 ft.),
should accompany us to the top, while Mr. Watkins, who had only
recently recovered from a severe illness, should take charge of the Base
Camp.
The prefect of Arequipa obligingly offered us a military escort in the
person of Corporal Gamarra, a full-blooded Indian of rather more than
average height and considerably more than average courage, who knew
the country. As a member of the mounted gendarmerie, Gamarra had
been stationed at the provincial capital of Cotahuasi a few months
previously. One day a mob of drunken, riotous revolutionists stormed
the government buildings while he was on sentry duty. Gamarra stood
his ground and, when they attempted to force their way past him, shot
the leader of the crowd. The mob scattered. A grateful prefect made
him a corporal and, realizing that his life was no longer safe in that
particular vicinity, transferred him to Arequipa. Like nearly all of his
race, however, he fell an easy prey to alcohol. There is no doubt that
the chief of the mounted police in Arequipa, when ordered by the
prefect to furnish us an escort for our journey across the desert, was
glad enough to assign Gamarra to us. His courage could not be called in

question even though his habits might lead him to become troublesome.
It happened that Gamarra did not know we were planning to go to
Cotahuasi. Had he known this, and also had he suspected the trials that
were before him on Mt. Coropuna, he probably would have begged
off--but I am anticipating.
On the 2d of