Over the Quillapatuni Pass to Tipuani, Part 1

Next morning we loaded up the fifteen llamas, amongst other things with half a fresh sheep and six challonas. These last are sheep salted, dried and frozen, which keep a long time. All cargo was tied on with ropes made of llama wool, quite the best kind of rope to use in a tropical forest. Manuel took with him the elder of his two wives and one of his sons, a boy about fourteen or fifteen. The first part of the journey was all easy going and downhill all the way; after the first two hours, the path became a slush of melted snow and the air began to be warmer. We saw no birds and scarcely any trees until 12.30, when we reached a level spot where the forest started on either side. Here we rested for half an hour, without taking off any of the cargo except a billy to make hot water. Miguel and I had some tea and a scratch meal and gave Manuel and the others some coca leaves to chew and two cakes of cocoa and some sugar for themselves; they stirred the cocoa with a wooden spoon and enjoyed it very much.

We started off again, the boy in front leading one of the llamas, old Manuel in the middle and his wife behind him, then the llamas and Miguel carrying my guns and his own pack, and I, bringing up the rear, carrying some cartridges and my flask. The path was still downhill and slushy with recent rains, but the day was fine and the sun was shining. Occasionally we saw a few common looking birds. By this time the forest was beginning to appear, and we were traversing patches of long coarse grass; on the hills round about a little snow could still be seen.

At 3.30 we got to the clearing and saw the owner, who grew barley and had a flock of sheep there. I saluted him and gave him a drink, and he let me have an empty stone hut and mud bed for myself, and another one for Miguel and the cooking, for a Bolivian dollar, which was about 1/10. Miguel went to get firewood while I went to a clear pool in the stream and had a bath and a change, and put on a dry pair of socks made of llama wool, which I had bought from the Indians. Then I changed my shooting boots for alpagatas, unstrapped my kit mattress, fixed up my bed comfortably and helped Miguel to make a good Irish stew. We made an excellent meal, starting with gin and bitters, followed by the stew, rice pudding, sterilized milk and jam; with plenty of good water and a cup of Yungas coffee afterwards. There was some stew left over, which I gave to the owner, in exchange for which he gave me four fresh eggs.

In the evening, after dinner, the owner came over to my hut and we had a smoke and a yarn. He told me that he came from La Paz and that his father had a store there, but he preferred an open air life, so his father had bought him a concession of land here and sent him regular supplies of flour and other things, as well as money to pay the three Indians that worked for him, and llamas to carry the barley to La Paz. The spare hut I occupied, he always kept for travellers at a Bolivian dollar a night, and I was evidently lucky to find it unoccupied.

Next morning, while I was preparing my breakfast, he came over again and advised me to give up the idea of going to Challana, as he had heard it was a very rough and dangerous journey. We loaded up the llamas and started at 9 a.m.; before we left I made a note of the height registered by my aneroid; it was just 12,350ft. After walking for about three hours, we rounded a bend and came suddenly on some of the finest rhododendron bushes I ever saw, growing on both sides of the path, in full bloom, and continuing for two miles or more. At 12.30 we rested for half an hour among the rhododendrons for our usual lunch. In the afternoon the path continued downhill, past banks of fuchsias, roses and flowers of the geranium type. There were also many hardy ferns, and long stretches of bracken and brambles of wild raspberry as large as acorns. The ground was swampy in places, and the path very slushy after the recent downpour. My host of the night before told me it had rained without a break for three days, except for some sleet and hail, but that the weather would probably hold now for some days.

That afternoon we saw several partridges, and some martinettes, a bird the colour of a partridge and the size of a hen pheasant; like the hen pheasant too it tastes well cooked with bread sauce in the same way. As we still had the remains of half a sheep we did not require fresh meat, so I satisfied myself with one martinette. They are easy to shoot, as they sit very close and then run along in full view sometimes for eight or ten yards without getting up to fly, unlike the red-wing partridges which go in pairs, and so fast that they require a pretty good shot.

At 3.30 we camped at an Indian clearing that Manuel knew very well; there were several small sheds of stone and thatch, of which I hired one for myself and one for a kitchen at the usual price of a Bolivian dollar. The owner begged for some coca leaves, as no Indians had come down with any for some time, so I gave him a double handful, and he at once presented me with a young bear’s ham, which he had trapped in a garden where he had a lot of green corn growing. He told me there were plenty of them about, and said that if I went down to the cornfield I might perhaps get one. After I had bathed and changed my boots, I took my rifle and went down to the field. I had told Miguel to make plenty of ashes to grill the leg over, so that we could have it cold next day for lunch, and also to prepare the Irish stew in the usual way, but not to put it on until I got back. The field was not far off, but after waiting about for an hour or more, and seeing nothing, I went back empty handed.