Inca Land - Explorations in the Highlands of Peru | Page 9

at Arequipa,

alfalfa, highly prized as fodder for pack animals, sugar cane, from
which aguardiente, or white rum, is made, and grapes. It is said that the
Majes vineyards date back to the sixteenth century, and that some of
the huge, buried, earthenware wine jars now in use were made as far
back as the reign of Philip II. The presence of so much wine in the
community does not seem to have a deleterious effect on the natives,
who were not only hospitable but energetic--far more so, in fact, than
the natives of towns in the high Andes, where the intense cold and the
difficulty of making a living have reacted upon the Indians, often
causing them to be morose, sullen, and without ambition. The
residences of the wine growers are sometimes very misleading. A
typical country house of the better class is not much to look at. Its long,
low, flat roof and rough, unwhitewashed, mud-colored walls give it an
unattractive appearance; yet to one's intense surprise the inside may be
clean and comfortable, with modern furniture, a piano, and a
phonograph.
Our conscientious and hard-working arrieros rose at two o'clock the
next morning, for they knew their mules had a long, hard climb ahead
of them, from an elevation of 1000 feet above sea level to 10,000 feet.
After an all-day journey we camped at a place where forage could be
obtained. We had now left the region of tropical products and come
back to potatoes and barley. The following day a short ride brought us
past another pictographic rock, recently blasted open by an energetic
"treasure seeker" of Chuquibamba. This town has 3000 inhabitants and
is the capital of the province of Condesuyos. It was the place which we
had selected several months before as the rendezvous for the attack on
Coropuna. The climate here is delightful and the fruits and cereals of
the temperate zone are easily raised. The town is surrounded by
gardens, vineyards, alfalfa and grain fields; all showing evidence of
intensive cultivation. It is at the head of one of the branches of the
Majes Valley and is surrounded by high cliffs.
The people of Chuquibamba were friendly. We were kindly welcomed
by Señor Benavides, the sub-prefect, who hospitably told us to set up
our cots in the grand salon of his own house. Here we received calls
from the local officials, including the provincial physician, Dr. Pastór,

and the director of the Colegio Nacional, Professor Alejandro Coello.
The last two were keen to go with us up Mt. Coropuna. They told us
that there was a hill near by called the Calvario, whence the mountain
could be seen, and offered to take us up there. We accepted, thinking at
the same time that this would show who was best fitted to join in the
climb, for we needed another man on the rope. Professor Coello easily
distanced the rest of us and won the coveted place.
From the Calvario hill we had a splendid view of those white solitudes
whither we were bound, now only twenty-five miles away. It seemed
clear that the western or truncated peak, which gives its name to the
mass (koro = "cut off at the top"; puna = "a cold, snowy height"), was
the highest point of the range, and higher than all the eastern peaks. Yet
behind the flat-topped dome we could just make out a northerly peak.
Tucker wondered whether or not that might prove to be higher than the
western peak which we decided to climb. No one knew anything about
the mountain. There were no native guides to be had. The wildest
opinions were expressed as to the best routes and methods of getting to
the top. We finally engaged a man who said he knew how to get to the
foot of the mountain, so we called him "guide" for want of a more
appropriate title. The Peruvian spring was now well advanced and the
days were fine and clear. It appeared, however, that there had been a
heavy snowstorm on the mountain a few days before. If summer were
coming unusually early it behooved us to waste no time, and we
proceeded to arrange the mountain equipment as fast as possible.
Our instruments for determining altitude consisted of a special
mountain-mercurial barometer made by Mr. Henry J. Green, of
Brooklyn, capable of recording only such air pressures as one might
expect to find above 12,000 feet; a hypsometer loaned us by the
Department of Terrestrial Magnetism of the Carnegie Institution of
Washington, with thermometers especially made for us by Green; a
large mercurial barometer, borrowed from the Harvard Observatory,
which, notwithstanding its rough treatment by Mr. Hinckley's mule,
was still doing good service; and one of Green's sling psychrometers.
Our most serious