an Number 41. SAETA UPdate SAETA - AIR ECUADOR NEWS New Non Stop Service Miami-Quito AETA listens. We are mak- ing major changes as part of providing the best flight ex- perience for your passengers. These changes are a direct result of input from you - our travel partners. Now you have it!!! £H Flight # 23 four times a week departing at 4:30PM. And, starting this summer - daily service. Your clients can experi- ence the ultimate in passenger in-flight service - our “PREMIER” SERVICE... on our non stop service to Quito. SAETA will continue to operate daily service Miami-Guayaquil non stop. EH Flight # 21 departing at 5:30PM. It continues to Quito after a very short stop. SERVICE OUR FIRST PRIORITY... “PREMIER?” service stands for the ul- timate in passenger in-flight service. From the start SAETA distinguished it- self by offering “Premier” service sys- temwide. During the flight, your clients will feast by choosing from various se- lections of our extensive and exquisite menu served in fine china over linen by our efficient, professional and courteous flight attendants. Plus, on all of our USA/Ecuador flights, a movie is fea- tured for our passengers’ entertainment. “Premier” Service also stands for punctuality on departures and arrivals. Non stop seryice to Quito,.. si One Continent... One Airline... One Premier in-flight service... Direct service between Los Angeles and Ecuador... Six non stop flights between New York & Ecuador. New three weekly non stop between New York & | Panama starting July 3/95. Immediate connections to Lima, Santiago & Buenos Aires. Plus... Competitive air fares. Best Tour Programs with the Best Wholesalers. an AETA has the best spe- cial interest (archaeology, ecology, nature, art & his- tory, bird-watching, diving, the Ama- zonia, Galapagos Islands, capitals of South America, Cuzco & Machu Pichu, etc. etc.) tours to Ecuador, Peru and beyond in co- participation with the most pro- fessional, reliable and knowledge- able wholesalers in the USA and Canada and the best land opera- tors in each of our destinations. When you book a tour with SAETA you know that you will be in good hands and in good company. SPECIALLY PRICED TOURS TO ECUADOR & BEYOND. We offer many specially priced trips to Ecuador with and without Galapagos Islands, Ecuador & Peru, etc. etc. on a continuos ba- sis for individuals and groups. These programs are made to fit every budget. Each tour will give you an unusual opportunity to discover the beauty of our des- tinations and of our in-flight ser- vice. For additional information on SAETA please call or send fax to our MARKETING & SALES DEPARTMENT Telephone: 305 477 2104 - FAX 305 477 3945 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER Don Montague Editor Susan Montague Art Director Saoirse McClory, Manager Cynthia Nelson Assistant Manager Leighton Klein Editor at Large Rachel Meyer Color Consultant Craig Sorensen Records Supervisor w/o portfolio Contributing Editors Richard Elgar Lima Clubhouse Manager Bill Glick Assistant Manager Melanie Ebertz, Damaris Carlisle, Sheila Corwin, Quito Clubhouse Managers Michael Dowling Legal Advisor Zachary James Montague, Harris Mendell, Dallas Griffin Frederick, Christine Sevi Frego, Sara Selin Frego Youth Directors Hilary Bradt, Jamie Browder, Tim Cahill, John W. Davidge III, Eleanor Griffis de Zufliga, Gregory Deyermenjian, Paolo Greer, John Hemming, Forest Leighty, Rob Rachowiecki, Maria Reiche, Teddy Ronalds, David Smith, Virginia Smith, Gerald Starbuck, H. Valdivia, Jean Brown, Nelson Carrasco, Maruja Reyes Advisors Number 41, August 1995 Old Stones & fe) Ancient Peoples My by Kate Wheeler, Dinner Page 5 with e a e Of Duendes & Canadian Priests cks, By Jonathan Derkson, Page 16 Page 32 . @ The Hole in the Wall Gang by Dr. Stewart Redwood, Page 39 + Where on Earth Is Ascuncion, Paraguay ® a by Carroll Straus Pissis «3 Page 23 by Bob: Villarreal, “4 Page 26 ee 50 Club News Pe 53 Tips & Notes Pd 55 Letters 57 Books Hitchhiking in 59 Classifieds Patagonia By David Andrews, Page 44 COVER: “‘Los Purunmachus de Ayspachaca”’, cliff tombs of the Chipuric culture, c. 1200 AD near Trita (Lamud). The South American Explorer is the quarterly journal of the South American Explorers Club, a non-profit 501(c)(3) corporation located at 126 Indian Creek Road, Ithaca, NY 14850, Telephone (607) 277-0488. No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent of the publisher. All statements in articles and advertisements are those of the authors and advertisers and do not necessarily represent the views of the South American Explorers Club or the South American Explorer. Copyright © 1994 by the South Adsarhsen Elonex Club. All rights reserved. Peru Clubhouse: Casilla 3714, Lima 100, Peru (Street Address: Avenida Republica de Portugal 146, Brefia, Lima), Telephone (5114) 25 01 42. Ecuador Clubhouse: Apartado 21-431, Eloy Alfaro, Quito, Ecuador (Street Address: Toledo 1254, La Floresta, Quito), Telephone (5932) 566-076. Reprints of articles are available from the Ithaca office. Unsolicited articles must include a self-addressed, stamped envelope; photographs should be insured or registered. Neither the South American Explorers Club nor the South American Explorer are responsible for materia] lost or damaged in the mail. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 3 DIRECT ENCOUNTER Today, more than ever, we need a change of view concerning the values that rule our chaotic world. Our retreat in Pisaq offers you the opportunity to get to know a culture which understands and respects the importance of living in harmony with nature. Enjoy our vegetarian cuisine. Visit ancient ruins in a breathtaking setting. Plan your own tour or let us plan it for you. Treat yourself to a spiritual awakening that will alter your way of thinking. For reservations call DIRECT ENCOUNTER TOUBS at (305)936-1337. All air travel, land transportation, meals and hotel accomodations are included (Except taxes). Travel provided by: Carnival Air Lines 4 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER PERU Old Stones and Ancient Peoples e stand atop a twelve- thousand foot ridge in Peru’s northeastern Andes, overlooking a haunted lagoon. Be- yond stretches the pro- found dark green selva, the rainforest that runs virtually uninterrupted to the Atlantic. Forgetting wet boots and sore muscles, Peter, Tina and I ‘‘appreciate,’’ as our guide puts it, the birth of clouds: how the selva breathes up shreds and spirals of vapor that coalesce into gray puffs, white cauliflowers, and thick tattered blankets quickly pulling across the sky. A pair of Andean Condors circles stiffwinged out By Kate Wheeler ofthe broken clouds, majestically uncon- cerned with the harassments of several Greater Black Hawks -- much less with the topographic accidents that make Andean travel difficult for earthbound beings. Fourteen hours by jet, fifteen hours by car, three days on horseback, a day and a half on foot separate me and my two companions from ourhomes in the United States: but along with forward motion, we’ve also traveled back in time five hundred years. Like Peru’s ancient in- habitants, we move along on foot, lead- ing a train of ‘beasts.’ But we aren’t able to travel back far enough: it’s obvi- ous that the soft-footed llamas used by A version of this article appeared in the New York Times Magazine, Part II, November 13, 1994, On the trail approaching La Jalca pre-Conquest cultures would have been far more suitable to the terrain than the mules and horses used nowadays. This golden, grassy height is actually a treacherous bog full of mule-swallow- ing sinkholes. For the first time since leaving the tropical banks of the River Utcubamba three days ago, my little bay stallion looks disheveled. ‘‘Michael Jack- son’’ (named for his elegance, his occa- sional nervous dances) has carried me down stone Inca staircases cut into steep hills; across log bridges over rivers. Now he is muddy to the shoulders, the chrome nail clipper that adorns his bridle askew. But as usual, neither scenic beauty nor SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 5 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER View of Duraznopampa and the Utubamba Valley from San Pedro. personal danger fazes Michael Jackson’s appetite. He drops his head and begins cropping ichu grass. My friends and I share a handful of dried coca leaves with the guide and mule drivers, It’s the traditional (legal) rem- edy for the pangs of high altitude walk- ing. The effects are extremely mild: numb gums, like at the dentist. Among high- landers, sharing coca is a ritual of friend- ship and a link to the glorious past, as much as a remedy for hunger, depres- sion, and fatigue. As we start down, the condors soar away to the west, across ranges serried in fading tones of blue toward the canyon of the Upper Maranon River. Now a dozen bolts of solar fire strafe the narrow valley ahead, luridly illuminating its green and yellow swamp plants, its perfectly black lagoon. The ancient gods must be alive. Cuntur, Condor, god of the Chachas. Inti, Sun, god of the Incas. Last night, we slept in the village of La Jalca, on the dusty, hand-hewn wooden balcony of an abandoned convent built in Spanish Colonial times. Most doors in town are padlocked, the villagers off harvesting corn and wheat from their chacras, tiny fields that patch the nearby mountaintops like angular sequins of lost Inca gold. La Jalca was built with Inca forced labor; five hundred years later, people’s surnames still reflect the distant regions where their ancestors lived be- fore they were resettled by the Incas. Displacing conquered tribes was the im- perial strategy to prevent rebellion; the Incas gave special treatment to new set- tlers, but the Chachapoyans (whose name isusually translated as the Cloud People), proved to be particularly fierce, still chaf- ing under Inca rule when the Spanish arrived in 1530. At first, some powerful tribes like the Chachas collaborated with the Conquis- tadores, understanding too late the lethal Middle: Incaic (?) carving of a puma in the cemetery, La Jalca, Bottom: Pre-Incan (?) carving said to be of the Moon God, in the base of the church tower, LaJalca consequences. In Amazonas, 97% of the indigenous population had perished by the 17th Century, according to Dr. Peter Lerche, an ethnohistorian who has lived and worked in Amazonas over the last 12 years. They died of smallpox, measles, and despair, as well as the Toledo blade; even today the population is smaller than in the 16th Century. Ghosts are every- where: most hilltops have a ruin, while hillsides and valleys are cov- ered with disused agricultural terracing, fences, and irrigation canals, Farmers can hardly dig a hole, or plow a furrow, with- outturningup bones, stone tools, and potsherds. ‘*They (the indigenous people) died of fright,’’ La Jalca’s church treasurer, Don Francisco Puerta Culqui, ex- plains as his assistant, Tulio Culqui, piles skulls and shat- . tered femurs to one side while digging dirt for a new wall. Indeed, the armored Spanish horseman was Europe’s most sophisticated war machine; the Inca footsoldier had only club and spear. “It’s all right to dig in the daytime,”’ says Don Francisco. ‘*The old ones are sleeping. But at night they get enraged. One boy who dugat night swelled up and died.”’ La Jalca’s rammed earth houses have changed little since the Conquest. It’s the satellite antenna over the plaza that looks anachronistic. What must La Jalcans make of ‘‘Los Simpsons?’’ Our young mule driver, 20-year-old Segundo from the other side of the Utcubamba River, is blown away by his first exposure to TV. He proposes buying a bottle of aguardiente and staying up all night to watch Argen- tine soap operas at the village store. Instead, we sip local pineapple spirits and talk about ruins and curses, Some people here still avoid Laguna Mamacochas (Mother Lake): they fear thelagoon’s displays of wrath, her storms, rainbows, deadly bolts of lightning. That won’t happen to us, promises our guide, Don Oscar Arce Caceres, who has our confidence ever since he con- jured up six ‘“‘beasts’’ and two mule drivers overnight. He isn’t superstitious -- he doesn’t even believe in God. Still, he confides later, he feels there is some- thing supernatural about Mamacocha. Strange noises slice the sky at dawn and dusk, but when you look, you see noth- Church tower, La Jalca ing. ‘‘Maybe the golden necklace of Atahualpais hiddenin there,’’ he muses. Perhaps the Laguna confounds his sense of direction, gets us lost in fogs and bogs, the mule drivers mutter: strange how everything went bad just afier Don Oscar shot that fox at midday. He should get rid of the pelt, which he’s taking home to tan with a mix of alum and local herbs. We set up camp in an inch of cold water below a mountain called Black Caca. The kerosene won’t burn. Yet we are enveloped in an unearthly pink and golden sunset, cloudsculpted light sug- gesting primordial creation. Next morn- ing, we spot an antlike human figure running away from us along the top of a nearby ridge. ‘‘He thinks we’re terror- ists,”’ says Don Oscar, ‘“but I need to ask directions.’’ He sprints uphill, the 16mm Savage hunting rifle still pok- ing up behind his shoulder. We can’t blame the campesino for bolting down the back of the ridge. No tourists visit the La- guna; the only strangers who come here belong to the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Move- ment (MRTA). (Later, we find their camp at the Laguna.) Two years ago, MRTA ter- rorists shot up La Jalca’s police station; the army was called in. Children died in the resulting siege. Some terrorists escaped, eventually making it to the roadless Marafion area. Most of the terrorists are now dead orin prison, but local cops still don’t dare wear uniforms, and while they admit that things are more tranquilo, they still are not per- fectly tranquilo. Finally we reach Mama- cochas. That night at 4 A.M., I wake from visions of blue hum- mingbirds. A barrage of mor- tars shells is whizzing over our tents, Shoo! Shhew! Bats? Birds? Electromagne- tism? I poke my head out: the sky is utterly clear, blackbright, the Milky Way glittering like a white scarf. In the morning, Peter and Tina say they heard the noises, too. But we never find Atahualpa’s necklace: the Laguna is cold; only the pink-fleshed rainbow trout can live in it. Amazonas provokes the imagination; it has 500 known but unexcavated ar- chacological sites, and it’s full of lime- stone caves and lakes, Paved Inca roads lead down into the jungle (on our last day in the mountains, we heard of one that starts from Mamacochas’ northwest tip), SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 7 but only a fraction have been explored. Some caves are full of vampire bats. Eerie, painted sarcophagi face the dawn from high cliff niches. No wonder Don Oscar grew up to be arather feral, other-worldly person, ever alert to possibility. His favorite expres- sion seemed to be, ‘‘Who knows?’ You hear an animal scream minutes after you drop a stone into a certain cavern. Why? **Who knows?”’ That cave entrance was blocked up centuries ago. Why? “‘Who knows?” he’d say. Noonchas fully studied Chachapoyas. Neither of Lima’s two great museums, the Museo Nacional de Antropologia y Arqueologia nor the Museo dela Nacion, displays a single artifact from Chachapoyas’ three unique pre-Incaic cultures. Yet the cultures must have been impressive. The temples of Macro are like delicate hanging gardens, melting, with exquisite harmony of formand color, into ocher cliffs above the River Rooftops of Chayapoyas Utcubamba. Cerro Olan’s white palaces, near San Pedro, still reek of wealth, sophistication, and taste -- but each year, local subsistence farmers tear more of them down to make livestock corrals. Kuelap, the best known ruin, isa massive implacable fortress built over a period of 200 years, 1100 to 1300 A.D., and con- taining three times more stone than the Great Pyramid at Giza. Decorated with jungle vegetation, it looks like an entire atoll strategically beached atop a moun- tain. Kuclap’s narrow entrances allowed defenders to bonk or boil invaders one by one, then pitch them over handy cliffs. Travelling overland, it takes, at the very least, a day or two to reach these ruins whichexplains why Amazonas isn’t overrun with archaeologists and visitors. It rains heavily six months a year. Arti- factsrot; ruinsare overgrown with maleza, meaning “‘evil;’’ dense, thorny, sticky, rank, impassable undergrowth, It took sixty men three months to clear Kuelap, the only ruin that’s even partially main- tained. Garcilaso de la Vega wrote at the end of the 1500s, ‘‘the country . . . is so tugged that on some roads the Indians slide down ropes a distance eight or ten times the height ofa man, for there is no other way of advancing.”” All roads are terrifying in the dry season, near-impassable in the wet. Brit- ish traveler Kirk Mayer wrote of his 1992 bus ride in from Cajamarca: ‘‘ Abysmal. Ifyou’ re not into pain, terror, and suffer- ing, fly to Chachapoyas.”’ His trip report did much to dissuade us from signing up for the trip through the spectacular Marafion Canyon. As for the airstrip, however, it is short, radarless, cloudy, surrounded by mountains; we preferred taking off to landing. So we drive in from Chiclayo, sharing a four-wheel-drive Toyota Landcruiser with a Peruvian family we met in Chiclayo Hills, at first bluish mirages in the seacoast mist, slowly turn into moun- tains, visionary, golden, dotted with hal- lucinogenic cacti; adobe houses; views that now look like Egypt, now Tuscany, now Scotland. As soon as we reach a 8 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER decent elevation, our driver friend stops to buy a bag of coca. Chewing madly, he reveals his past as a race car driver. Now five of us are packed into the swaying, bucking back seat, enclosed in steel walls, with windows that won’t open wide enough to leap out. We can only pray. The one lane road cuts into a cliff; overhead a frozen wave of limestone drips with hanging bromeliads and or- chids. Parrots shrick, flying in to roost at dusk. To our immediate left yawns a thousand-foot chasm with a tiny, foam- ing river rapid at the bottom. When we get out to rest, the air smells of medicinal roots. I’m really here! The fireflies are so huge and bright, we mistake them for shooting stars. Peter sticks his head out sideways out of the vehicle, risking decapitation at every rut, crying out in admiration at the sight of the stars pressing down upon the world. The Andean sky is so bright, he tells us, that the Incas mapped its darknesses as well as its constellations. After dark, people caped in black ag- ricultural plastic loom in the headlights’ white haze, like souls begging for a lift out of tropical Hell. Now bigger shapes block the road. A truck. A crowd. We stop; a woman comes and weeps at the driver’s window. A van has just gone over the side. Four dead. Several gravely injured people have been taken on ahead tothe hospital. A man with a gashed knee still needs a rideto Chachapoyas. We feel sorry for him, but we have no space. We have to refuse. Surely he’ll find another conveyance, We inch past the same truck the van driver tried to pass, Tire tracks in the wet muddy grass lead over the edge. We hope to reach the hotel in one piece. Flashes of lightning reveal the chasm once more in starkest black and white. The road to Chacha is notorious for a reason. Adventures have many beginnings; they carry you back and forth in time, shifting experience, radically and refresh- ingly, into the present. Again and again, actuality hits with such unprecedented clarity that you can only babble to your- self, ‘“Now it’s really happening. I’m really seeing a cobalt blue hummingbird as big asa robin.’’ And if this humming- bird brings joy -- a joy impossible for the person you were, up to the very moment you saw it -- well, what then? Whatever comes next will be just as unforeseeable. Even if it’s horrible, like the moment when you understand how easily you could die riding some unshod pony down awet, rocky Inca staircase cut into a cliff: well, even this may be better than sitting at home wondering why the gas company persecutes you. We come to appreciate why Peruvian drivers, like vampires, wait for nightfall to set forth. Roads look safer when you can’t see the six-thousand-foot chasm on one side. Then too, the visibility is better. At least at night you can see the oncom- ing headlights around the blind curves. Arriving late that night, lost souls seem to populate the city, flitting in the murk Lake Mamachocas SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 9 f bata voc Swan fountains and topiary in the main square, Lamud. between the dim street lights. Now that leaders of the Shinning Path and MRTA terrorist groups are in prison, and an economic recovery is underway, tourists are flocking to Peru’s better known destinations. Rooms are scarce in Lima and Cuzco. True, we overhear a Lima matron say she was held up at grenade point, but, for the most part, Peruvians reassure us that anyone still pretending to bea terrorist is really justa common robber. But no hordes are descending on Chacha; it had all of seven foreign tour- ists in July. Still, we linger on in Lima, falling prey to its dreamy charms, its seafood restaurants, the fascinating talk of the archaeologists staying at our hotel. Independence Day draws nigh; streets are clogged with school kids practicing parade steps. Peter wants to follow a scintillating Doctora to digs near the southern resort beaches. What’s the hurry? says Peter. Drunken campesinos 10 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER will be celebrating Independance Day. “Figure the whole town will grind to a halt.’” Hoping to disprove this, I call Chacha Central. An operator plugs me in to Radio Reina de la Selva (Queen of the Jungle Radio). ‘“Come! Come!”’ a teen- age DJ urges. ‘‘Chachapoyas will be muy tranquilo, you can do everything you want.’’ Peruvian rap throbs in the back- ground. The DJ turns out to be right; but of course, when we arrive late on a rainy night, there are no rooms. Except, strangely, at the Hotel Amazonas, right on the Plaza de Armas. Tous it’s the only hotel with any charm, a Colonial man- sion with hand-carved wooden balco- nies, courtyard fountain, and roofed in heavy, lichen-covered red tile. The man- ager, whose name translates as Angel Pioushouse, goes out of his way to wel- come us with promises of beds tonight, hot water tomorrow. Slipping and slid- ing along floors rubbed with kerosene against termites, we fall onto clean cot- ton sheets. Almost immediately, we’re up again after spotting a dozen or so peepholes in the wall between our rooms. One, indistinguishable from the rest, is prudishly covered with duct tape: the tape has been pierced, then ripped aside. In the end, we fall asleep wondering what acts were so enthralling that no other peephole would do. Next day we learn that, until recently, our hotel was the prostibulo. But the manager, Don Angel, a Jehovah’s Wit- ness from Lima, is determined to cleanse this legacy of shame. He is constantly planting flowers, scrubbing the fishpond, routing sewer pipes and posting signs: ‘TMMORALITY WILL NOT BE TOL- ERATED.” Still, only last week he had to evictan amourous couple. Inthe rooms off the patio there are gigantic posters of a baby over the double beds: perhaps another of Don Angel’s messages, to remind Chacha’s traveling salesmen that all acts have purpose. We visit the Instituto Nacional de Cultura, three blocks from our hotel. In its tiny museum, we admire the mum- mies in glass cases, looking agonized, like advertisements for migraine medi- cine. Otherwise, there isn’t much to look at. Dr. Carlos Torres Mas, the Director, apologizes for the bareness of his office and begs us not to listen to those who criticize him every day on the radio for not taking care of the ruins. He gives us pamphlets and tips on visiting remote villages: ‘Ask the mayor, or the school- teacher for guidance, so as not to offend local mores.”’ This lesson came too late for Peter, who tried to explore the backwoods near Leimebamba in 1985. When he didn’t abide by local custom, the villagers sent the Guardia Civil to detain him. There were those who thought he was in ca- hoots with Gene Savoy, an early explorer of these regions, who some suspect of looting tombs. (This year, we follow Dr. Torres Mas’ advice, and are rewarded handsomely. In the town of Duraz- nopampa (Peach Flats), the officials wel- come us with ceremonial rounds of beer, cordial speeches, and inscription in the district annals). No one can produce convincing evi- dence that Savoy looted tombs. Though his books about his own exploits are largely responsible for bringing Amazonas to outside notice, locals resent him for the way he’s swashbuckled around for 30 years, renaming and rediscovering Tuins, pursuing semimystical theories about a lost white savior that came up from the jungle, repeatedly appearing on U.S. TV news but not sending back vid- eotapes. Then too, only Savoy seems to be making a handsome profit off the ruins. Maybe, people say, he’s digging up hoards of gold. All foreigners dig up gold. Foreigners have black boxes that let them find gold inside limestone ma- sonry. If there’s gold, the boxes click. The foreigners then come back at night with helicopters to remove it. ““Have you found the wili-wincha?”’ shouts an unfriendly campesino as we return from the Purunmachus de Ayspachaca, seven eight-foot-tall adobe mummy cases set into a cliff that vaguely Saddling the horses, Lamud. resemble Easter Island figures. “‘What’s a wili-wincha?’’ I ask our guide, Don Fidel. “It’s a golden lamb that turns up in avalanches,’’ he answered. ‘‘Something from the ancient ones. It’s made of gold, and it shits silver.’’ ‘But it doesn’t exist,’’ I say. **Oh, no, it’s real,’’ he answers confi- dently. Perhaps because they are not over- grown, all the knowncliff sites have been looted; even the Purunmachus are partly smashed, Later, in Lamud, a man shyly displays a boxful of muddy pots he says he dug out of the Purunmachus. At this we feel that same despair we feel when we see ruins used as a source of ready-cut stones -- or see so much selva burnt for farmland that sunsets are obscured by smoke. No one’s seen the gold of Chachapoyas, but rumors hang in the air as palpably as mountain mists. The six- SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 11 teenth century chronicler Pedro Cieza de Leon wrote of the gold mines of Chachapoyas. Certainly, Peru’s wealth was the stuff of legend; and foreigners stole most of it. The conquistador, Fran- cisco Pizzaro, became the richest man in the world overnight. Over the next 150 years, Spain paid off vast foreign debts with millions of tons of gold and silver plundered from the Inca empire. Records speak of treasures that never fell into Top and Bottom: Ruins of Kuelap, near El Tingo 12 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER Spanish hands: the face of the Sun from the temple in Cuzco, a 700-foot golden chain with links as big as a baby’s fist. Someconsider Chachapoyas to be the last stronghold of Manco, the last Inca em- peror. Dr. Jesus Bricefio, chiefarchacologist for the Instituto Regional de Cultura in Trujillo, says there never was any gold. “*This was a culture that expresscd itself by transforming landscape.”’ Dr. Torres Mas agrees: “‘It was not a culture of goldsmiths.’’ But Dr. Walter Alva Alva, chief archaeologist at the Sipdn excava- tions on the coast, says gold isn’t out of the question. The treasure dug up by Dr. Alva in 1987, from graves looted more or less continuously, since Incantimes, now tours the world a la King Tut. Who knows? More importantly, who cares? Perhaps there are better things to discover among the ruins. The ancient people of Latin America prized gold for its beauty and lacked any feeling for its monetary value. ‘“They (the Conquista- dores) crave gold like hungry swine,”’ a Nahuatl commentary sneers. Under the Incas, no one went hungry; poor people’s fields were worked before anyone else’s. The people of Amazonas are re- markably amiable, friendly and easy going. When Tina caught a cold, the hotelkeeper’s wife, Dona Rosa, rubbed her all over with jungle herbs, wrapped her in a blanket, and dosed her with chuchu wasi, an anti-inflammatory bark soaked in aguardiente. Stopped byalandslide on the hair-raising drive to Kuelap, a party of farmers appeared and cleared the road for us with hoes. Offered pay, they refused. ‘‘We did this out ofaffection,”’ the village head- man said. ““To help you advance. It’s our duty to fix the road, but we don’t use the road, so we usually neglect it.’’ Don Jose Sobrino Cornejo, one of La Jalca’s policemen, says, ‘‘Ourtown must seem like the land of marvels to you. But if I came to your country, it would probably seem marvelous to me, too.”’ Of course. Weare eating breakfast in the town of San Pedro, ina windowless kitchen built of rammed earth, a room dark and medieval as any pre-Potato-Fam- ine Irish croft. My conditioning tells me I ought to worry about germs, and feel a little sorry for the people who live here. But no, the maize cakes and the spicy music on the radio are deli- cious: we all make friends with the guide and the arrieros, exactly the kind of dark, bearded men my mother taught me to be afraid of as a child. I feel purely connected with all essen- tial things, at home in the world and in myself. Ofcourse, it’s the sadness of travelers to recognize that such moments are fleet- ing. Once they’ve happened, though, good luck to going back to your old address. ‘*There’s a lot we don’t know about Chachapoyas,”’ says Dr. Lerche. ‘But people shouldn’t fill in the gaps with fantasy.”’ Alas, Chachapoyas is cer- tain to sprout stories, legends and fables as abundantly as the moss grows on its ancient stones and red bromeliads proliferate in the tropical air. Mankind loves mystery, but isn’t com- fortable with the unknown. For now, dreamers and schemers will have their day among the ruins. Service Box In Peru, it is always winter and summer. July is mild, misty winter on the desert coast, with spring arriving by mid-August. Inthe Andes, blue-green-golden summer lasts from May to early September, with dry weather returning in November. Mid- August is especially beautiful, harvest season under ultravio- let skies. Bring sweaters and raingear for both regions, and film for cloudy as well as bright conditions. Especially ifyou are going to do any exploring on your own, by all means get a copy of The South American Handbook. Make sure to reserve flights and hotel rooms well in advance in major cities, especially in Cuzco, where many hotels went out of business during the terrorist scare. The Hotel Amazonas in Chachapoyas can be reached by dialing Chacha Central at 011-44-98-02-06 and asking for Extension 199. The operator can plug you in to other hotels by name. Chachapoyas isn’t on any paved road. The routes from Cajamarcaand Tarapoto are lovely, but hair raising. Best bet is the 12-hour drive from Chiclayo. The daily bus is cheap, comfortable, and fast, Or you can rent a four-wheel-drive vehicle and keep it for a few extra days driving around the ruins. Try Chiclayo Rent A Car at 74-237-512. For a car driver, standard rate is $100-$150; gas costs about US$4 per gallon. Start early so as. not to miss the best mountain scenery after dark -- or start later to make the drive (feel) safer. Recreation of traditional Chachapoyan house (by Morgan Davis), Levanto. Chachapoyas isn’t served by Fauccett or AcroPeru, or any other airline acces- sible from U.S. computer networks. Expresso Acreo flies Lima-Chacha twice a week (theoretically Wednesday and Sunday) for US$89. Check the other smaller airlines for even better rates. You can phone for reservations in Lima at 45- 25-45; or try Chacha Central and ask for Expresso Acreo. Return reservations from Chacha must be confirmed in Chacha; do not think that a reservation madein Lima actually counts. Expresso Aereo’s Chacha office is on the Plaza de Armas. Grupo A8, a branch of the Peruvian Air Force, flies Lima-Chacha twice a month for a little less than US$40 (Chiclayo- Chachapoyas for US$20). A8’s Lima phone is in care of Olca Tours: 28-57-92; in Chacha, A8 has a blackboard on the Plaza de Armas. When in Chachapoyas, which ruins to visit? Kuelap is absolutely recommended, As with most trips in this area, it’s a grueling undertaking whether by road (don’teven think of this without 4-wheel-drive), mule, or foot. Plan on four to six hours uphill any way you go. Start early, don’t forget water. You can easily find riding horses or mules in El Tingo, for US$5-10 a day. You can stay on top of the Tuinsat the Kuelap guardhouse, if you don’t mind basic food; you may want your own sleep- ing bag. Morning light on the fortress is good for photogra- phy. El Chillo, south of El Tingo, is quite comfortable at around US$35 per night with meals (see below). After Kuelap, there are hun- dreds of sites including cliff tombs, fortresses, temples, and residential complexes of the Revash, Chippuric, Chilchos, and Kuelap cultures. It’s fun to make your own selection and then figure out a way to get there, but remember - getting to any ruin will consume a day or two. The fine print in the South American Handa- book is tremendously helpful, and so are South American Explorers Club trip re- ports. In Chacha, talkto Dr. Carlos Torres Mas, Director of the Instituto Nacional de Cultura, about day trips in the area. Highly recommended are the cliff sar- cophagi. Those above Trita are fairly well preserved and can be reached by four-wheel-drive from Chachapoyas ina day. It’s more fun by horse, but takes three days in total. For the horse trip, go SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 13 to Lamud and take a room at the Hostal Kuelap, on the Plaza de Armas. The night before, go see Angel Cuaman (Av. Garcilaso de la Vega 363) for guides and horses. Horses cost about 10 soles a day (US$5), guides S/15 to 25 (US$7-12). It’s a comfortable, exhilarating day trip that will take you to just below the cliffs; bring your longest camera lens. For further adventures, you can get help from Don Oscar Arce Caceres at El Chillo, 4.5 km past El Tingo in the Utcubamba Valley. You'll need to bring all camping equipment, first aid sup- plies, and food. Don Oscar can arrange easier trips than ours, which was the most ambitious he’d ever organized for tourists. Note: If you are injured in the back country, it can take five days to reach even basic medical help. ‘*Please tell people that if they want to see the selva, they have to suffer,’’ Don Oscar says. ‘These are not trips on a high- way.’’ There’s no telephone, so Don Oscar is not easy to pin down at short notice. But, the owner of Chachapoyas’ radio station is his friend. He can call Don Oscar over the airwaves, but, even then, it can take several days for a re- sponse; or you can travel to El Chillo from Chachapoyas, US$25 for a private, pickup taxi, or minimal bus fare. By the time you arrive, you’ll have to stay over- night; El Chillo is a hotel with nice gardens, a handbuilt stone swimming pool, and the river nearby. Dona Ada de Arce’s home cooking is the best food we ate in the region. For best results, write months in advance toDon Oscarat Casilla de Correo 41, Chachapoyas, Dpto Amazonas, Peru. Mail can be slow; the post office is several hours from his house. But given enough advance warn- ing, Don Oscar can make very efficient arrangements, such as picking you up at the airport in Chachapoyas and starting atrek the next day. Don Oscar charged us $30 per person per day for ‘‘beasts,’’ muleteers, and his own services. SIDE TRIPS There’s been an explosion in Peru- vian coastal archacology. Well worth exploring are the following: CHICLAYO: Visit the witches’ mar- ket, and explore the massive adobe pyra- 14 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER midsat Ticume, Batdn Grande, or Sipan. When not on tour, many of the spectacu- lar 1987 Sipan gold finds can be seen at the Museo Arqueologico Bruning in Lambayeque (Av. Huamachuco S/N), near the city. Thor Heyerdahl’s house is visible from the Ticume pyramid, which also has a museum. CAJAMARCA: Fly there from Chacha on Expresso Aerco for about $42. Cajamarca is in a beautiful valley, with hot springs. Women dress tradition- ally, and you can visit various historical sites, including what is claimed to be the Cuarto de Rescate (Ransom Room) which the Inca Atahualpa filled with gold hop- ing to ransom his life, only to be brutally garrotted by Pizarro. You can see where this happened in the Plaza de Armas, now a showcase for topiary art. TRUJILLO: Take the bus from Cajamrca down through the mountains to Trujillo. It is a beautiful, more or less nonstop 8-hour ride on a more or less paved road. As we drove through dusty adobe towns where mangotrees bloomed, a distorted video of Clint Eastwood was playing inside our bus, prompting the reflection that Sergio Leone westerns could easily have been shot in Peru. Trujillo has dynamic night life, well- dressed young people, good restaurants, and restored Colonial mansions down- town. Alexander von Humboldt called one of them (now the private Club Cen- tral) the most beautiful house in South America. Archacological discoveries are being made nearby at the Moche Auacas, or pyramids, and also in the cnormous Chimu city of Chan Chan. An hour north of town, the Juaca del Brujo has wall to wall mummics, with hair and wrappings sticking out of the ground; spectacular colored friezes, and astronomical dia- grams that are being excavated and re- stored. You can stop for a nice seaside lunch and see traditional reed boats in Hudnuco on the way. The Huaca de la Luna and Huaca del Sol, just south of Trujillo center, also have impressive painted friezes. Go with a guide and don’t stay after hours at the ruins. Before or after your exertions, sched- ule a few days in Lima. Go to museums and restaurants (especially the seafood restaurants in Chorrilos), and do all of your Christmas shopping at Miraflores’ night market and craft shops. Wherever you are, beware of July 28. In many remote towns, the celebrants imbibe stunning amounts of alcohol and all prudent travelers will hide in their hotel rooms. All Limefios seem to head for Ica and Paracas; if you want to imitate them, make reservations. You may want to watch the parades in Lima, though, and travel afterward. FOOD You cannot visit Peru without learn- ing two descriptive adjectives in Span- ish. These are rico and sabroso, both of which mean ‘“‘savory, tasty, flavorful, rich.’ When people ask, *‘How are you passing your time in Peru?’’ you can answer, ‘‘Muy sabroso.’’ To understand the precise flavor of sabroso, you must turn to coastal cuisine. It is possible to tour Peru the way some people tour France, eating your way across the coun- try ina series of four-hour lunches. How- ever, in Peru, the expense is vastly less. In Lima, lunch at a tourist restaurant (in- cluding appetizer, one or even two en- trees, and drinks) comes in at well under $30 per person; in the provinces, meals can be had for as little as $4. Chupe de camarones (crawfish chowder with yel- low peppers), sudado de conchas negras (black scallop stew -- you will under- stand why it is called the shellfish of love), aji de gallina (spicy chicken with cumin and farmer’s cheese), anticuchos (grilled, marinated beef heart), scallops cooked with the roe, a good pisco sour with its lime tang and hint of nutmeg -- ah, what palate could spurn such celestial fare. Add a live bolero, a singer accompa- nied by two guitarists and a pianist; watch the dancing couples of all ages, their smiling faces dappled by the pale sun that filters down through the woven straw roof. Now that is sabroso. oO Kate Wheeler is the author of Not Where 1 Started From, (Houghton Mifflin 1993), a collection of short stories. Jae Cultural /\ Survival © 1. AR. IR TB Ry World Report on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and Ethnic Minorities Founded in 1982, the Quarterly is the award-winning, scholarly journal of Cultural Survival, the international human fights group for indigenous peoples and ethnic minorities. Each issue of CSQ includes a central theme with supporting articles, news, resources, reviews, photo essays, and general interest pieces. Theme articles explore issues such as environmental destruction, land rights, cultural preservation programs, women's concerns, and sustainable development. Mailing address for membership: Cultural Survival Quarterly Membership Dept. 46 Brattle Street Cambridge, MA 02138 Tel. 617-441-5400 Fax. 617-441-5417 Membership rates: Individual $25 lyear 4issues ‘Institution $60 1year 4issues ADVENTURE TRAVEL Transitions Abroad, the original magazine for the socially responsible traveler, details the alternatives to travel as a tourist. 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FAX: 011-593-2-508872 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 15 Of Ducndesand Canadian Priests by Jonathan Derksen he airplane tires thud onto the clay runway. A man in front of me shouts to his wife over the din of the propel- lers. ‘‘Look, there’s smoke coming from the floor!’’ My heart skips a beat. But it isn’t smoke, just condensation. I have arrived safely at Riberalta airport and I say a quick prayer of thanks. I am always de- voutly religious, or you might call it superstitious, when it comes to fly- ing. Prayers seem to work. We have been invited to visit one ofthe barracas -- orbrazilnut collec- tion sites -- called Rio Negro, some 1000 kilometers northwest of Riberalta, in the heart of the Boliv- ian Amazon. But the circumstances surrounding our visit are a bit bi- zarre. We’ve been asked to investi- With some hardwood gate the mysterious fires that burned z os eae down several homes on the barraca. shells, we eventually haul A number of clotheslines and mos- the pickup to level ground. quito nets also went up in smoke for no apparent reason. According to the administrator of the barraca who has radioed in to company head- quarters in Riberalta, there is abso- lutely no explanation for the fires. Theobscure, densejungle around Riberalta isa perfect breeding ground for all things occult and supernatu- ral. Riberaltefios and people in the forest harbor a healthy respect for the tangled, mysterious entity that surrounds them. It only takes one after-dinner talk with the locals to realize just how ingrained their su- perstitions are; vivid tales of mon- strous apes, gargantuan man-eating catfish and anacondas (an uncom- fortably-large boa constrictor) and mischievous forest spirits abound. Mysterious fires are, I assume, just another drop in the bucket. We leave for Rio Negro on the A chair has been transformed into a Catholic shrine -- complete with a bleeding crucifix, a patron saint and the Virgin Mary. 11 de Octubre, an old barge. Riberalta has no proper dock due to the tempera- mental nature of the Beni River. Still, we have somehow managed to get the com- pany pickup on board without dropping it into the water. Once underway down the Rio Beni, a gentle breeze blows in our faces. Mark, a biologist and administrator of one of the company’s other barracas, strings up his hammock while I busy myself with tak- ing pictures. Just as Juan, another com- pany worker and soothsayer of sorts, is saying that whenever the wind picks up in the Amazon it means precipitation, a storm blows in. Thejungle-lined riverbanks dis- appear. It feels like we are out on the open ocean. The storm passes almost as quickly as it began, and a couple of hours later, we throb to a halt alongside a muddy embankment. I see a few dilapidated buildings peeking through the trees up above. The captain of the barge announces that this isLoma Alta. The beauty of Bolivia is that, even in the most impossibie situ- ations, the Bolivians pull through. After one look at the steep, muddy embankment, it’s difficult to imagine how we’re ever going to unload the pickup truck. But with some hardwood planks, a gasoline barrel and bagsfull of brazilnut shells, we eventually haul the vehicle to level ground. Those thirty-five kilometers into Rio Negro are some of the worst roads I’ve ever seen. But in Bolivia, if you don’t want a ner- vous breakdown, it’s not worth getting uptight about the way things are. Sliding and bouncing along the jungle track it’s clear we’re still in the muddy season. Over unstable bridges spanning small waterholes and streams, we pass through two small settlements of thatch- roof homes. Leaving these behind, we ride through the forest, seeing only a few tustic brazilnut collection huts built on stilts. Then we get stuck. Juan, our driver, is alittle tense, unused to roads this bad. He hasn’t quite figured out that speed and luck are often our only salvation when it comes to making it through the larger mudholes. With the pickup a little low to the ground, we get buried. By the time we get the truck out of the muck, it’s thoroughly dark. Even with torches, the blackness is so consuming it’s hard to see the road. Yet we manage to pound on through the night for another few kilometers. Then to our relief, we see the headlights of the tractor -- the one Crosses have been etched on each doorway in charcoal, apparently to ward off the duende. that was suppose to meet us at the port. It arrives in time to pull us out of the mire afew more times before we finally get to the barraca. Our arrival is a bit ecrie. In the dis- tance we can make out the dull orange glow of several kerosene lanterns. We follow the signals of flashlights and fi- nally pull up in front of the administra- tion building -- or perhaps hut would better describe it. The kerosene lanterns illuminate a sad-looking congregation of people camped out like gypsies on the grass nearby. In their midst, a chair has been transformed into a Catholic shrine -- complete with a bleeding crucifix, a patron saint and the Virgin Mary all sharing the same seat. The people appear quiet and frightened; theirs is an under- lying sense of anticipation: they’re /i- nally here, but what can they do? As mentioned earlier, the pur- pose of our trip is to inspect sev- eral homes and certain items which have mysteriously gone up in smoke. In fear, people have left their homes and even refuse tocook in the buildings still stand- ing, afraid, as I found out later, of the duende, or evil one, they be- lieve inhabits them. Such is the mental state of our welcoming committee. We enter the home of Carmelo, the administrator, a pot- bellied man with a mustache, a dirty wool skullcap covering his head and a good-the-bad-and- the-ugly smile. Crosses have been etched on each doorway in char- coal, apparently to ward off the duende. An odd quiet has settled over us. We sit sipping juice, watch- ingratschase oneanother through the rafters with loud squeaks. **So, Carmelo, what do you think’s going on?’’ Jorge, the driver, asks. ‘*No idea,”’ he replies. ““ButI doknow one thing. Those people out there aren’t planning to go back to their homes anytime soon. They want to Ieave.”’ A rat jumps off the end of a rafter, crashes loudly onto the tin cupboards in the kitchen pit, then scurries away. It’s clear from our inspection of the burnt row of buildings that there must have been quite a fire. In the harsh light of our flashlights, charred beams lean haphazardly in rooms now open to the SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 17 QgJaeH]} QYAH bB V19yw VIAIOL WADA gqaatt : nt epeme Oe) VOIre a ees ~ PeeNIe wy es! =] % e , KS SOSENDE(E | 000°0S2"I:1 “XONdY WIVOS3 iS i ‘ Vidvu90399 Old] esisnoey A ANY OLENG"OLErCOsey ~ =" epasAriopoy PIA eur (0298) OLPNS CLUAMUTISOAYH — ojuswenedeg ap ertea SVION3UII38 OBdaN Dea A ane (mena me uy <0 ,¥ . = ’ S Ave - ) i - ” L 4. Ye ‘Games OGNVd 9d OOLLIIOd VavIN | ekatateiatess VI 4d OOIAVUDOaD SVLLY APNSTAd2e_ QA SOS Top and Middle; The houses have no electricity, so electricity can’t have caused the fires. Possibly a stove started the fires. ~ air. Thick ash crunches underfoot. We are taken to where mosquito nets and a clothesline caught fire in an otherwise intact home. The houses have no electricity, so electricity can’t have caused the fires. Possibly a stove started the fires or some smoldering embers, but that doesn’t ex- plain the clothesline and mosquito nets. A pyromaniac makes sense, but the com- munity is very small -- no more than ten families -- and the culprit would most likely have surfaced by now. No. To the people it is clear that the duende is at work causing things to spon- taneously combust. Later that evening, Carmelo tellsus of aresident spirit, a ghost who, in the past, has caused chairs and tables to move on their own. According to him, even the owner of the company was a witness once. Juan’s explanation for the fires is that someone secretly buried metal items in the walls and floors of the homes when they were built. Over the years, these items have corroded, giving off a highly combustible gas which, when it reaches acertain temperature, bursts into flames. Okay. But my question is, how does the clothesline fit into this theory? We spend the rest of the evening making plans for the reconstruction of the barraca. That night is surrealistic fora number of reasons. First, I hear the rats racing about overhead. Carmelo is snoring like an elephant with asthma. Worse, every few minutes his sonic breathing stops altogether, leaving me ina horrid state of anticipation until he chokes to life again. Another sound haunts me, too. It’s out- side. It’s a mix of small gusts of wind with little zips and clicks and high-pitched squeaks. If I don’t get up and find out what’s causing it, I’ll lic there sleepless and wondering. I ease open the kitchen door and leap back startled when a large bat swoops into my face, missing me by only a few centimeters. Hundreds of bats are circling around the small yard out- The lagoon is still, except for the intermittent plips of fish surfacing for breakfast. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 19 side, most about the size of pigcons, dipping in mid-flight to take sips of water from a puddle. No wonder there are so few bugs about. Back in my hammock I dream all night. I only remember one but that one I remember in uncanny detail. A bruja, or witch, with short black hair and a gold tooth is seated with me at a low wooden table. I am telling her that the duende doesn’t exist. Suddenly she fixes me with a hard stare of her bloodshot eyes ‘“The buey exists,’’ buey meaning ox. To this day I’ve never quite figured out what the ox symbolizes. Probably nothing. I awake with a start. It’s still dark outside, and judging from the chill in the air, probably about two in the morning. A chronologically-challenged rooster crows. It is way too early for roosters to be making such a racket. But then I remem- J stop to speak with two women working in the shade of an open air hut. One sews while the other spreads coca leaves to dry. ouTy,wat? 20 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER ber something Juan had told me the previous day: ‘‘When animals act strangely, you know the weather is going to change. Probably a southwind’s com- ing in.’’ Earlier inthe day we sawa hand- sized tarantula circling oddly about on the deck of the barge. I make a mental note of these things and drift uneasily back to sleep. At six o’clock the barraca rustles to life under a blanket of mist. I climb stiffly out of my hammock and grab my camera. The walk down to the Rio Negro is like passing through a light-starved version ofa Scurat; everything seems made up of small dots of subdued color continuously shifting and mixing. The lagoon is still except for the intermittent plips of fish surfacing for breakfast. I want badly to see the legendary bufeo, or fresh water dolphin, which according to legend ap- pear in the form of robust young men and impregnate young maidens, but they never materialize. Later I am told that some degencrate with a machete hacked at the female dolphin that used to frequent the lagoon and that her mate has since disap- peared downstream. Dolphins mate for life. Isitona plank near the water listening to this tremendous work of art around me. Everywhere morning dewdrips from the trees. Somewhere in the distance a bird calls forlornly. The magical Ama- Zon... On my way back to the administration hut I take several pictures of the charred buildings and of the people’s shrine on the chair outside. But I skip the school- house since it’s still intact. The others are up when I get back. We sit for breakfast and Juan gives a bless- ing. Breakfast? Dried tapir meat, mashed banana and juice. Sadly, the meat is excellent. I say sadly because the South American Tapir is such an elegant, vul- nerable animal. When the clouds lift, the sun burns down. By 10:00 a.m., the humidity has risen to a sticky ninety percent. We are sweating profusely and Mark is already in his hammock taking an early siesta. Along with others, I go for a swim in the Rio Negro. The water is refreshingly cool. Butterflies swarm in psychedelic clumps on our sweaty clothes on the bank to lick the salt with their probosces. A child from the village shows me how to grab a handful of these butterflies, pluck off their wings and feed them to the piranhas. How nice, I think. Ah well, ashes to ashes. Children play naked in the water alongside pigs wallowing in the mud of the riverbank. Others fish from their dugout canoes. A troop of squirrel monkeys crashes down out of the trees to see what is going on below the canopy. It really is a paradise. On the way back, I stop to speak with two women working in the shade of an open air hut. One sews while the other spreads coca leaves to dry. It’s a perfect photo opportunity, so I ask if they mind my taking their picture. They don’t and I snap away. But just before I leave, one lady asks, ‘‘So what are you going to do about the burnings?’’ “Oh there won’t be any more burnings,”’ I airily reassure her, having, ofcourse, no clue if there really will be or not. “I’m sure the others have put every- thing straight.” The two women eye me suspiciously. “*Sure,”’ says the other. “‘Just wait. This aflernoon, something else will go up in flames. You'll see.”’ Then, very naively, and not thinking at all about the power of words, I hold up my camera and jokingly say, ‘‘See this machine? You've heard, no doubt, that the co/las (highlanders) think it steals a person’s soul?’” They grunt. ““Well,’” I continue. ““This machine is special. It removes the evil from what- ever I take a picture of. And now that I have taken pictures of the burnt build- ings, there is no more evil in them.”’ ““No lo creo!’” the women exclaim. They don’t believe me. “It’s true!’’ I say, sure that they know I speak in jest. We Icave the barraca that afternoon, the tractor out in front, just in case we get stuck again, which we do. The jungle we couldn’t sce the night before now towers up on all sides. I stand beneath an a/mendra (brazilnut tree), its trunk over seven fect in diameter and easily over two-hundred feet tall. This is supposedly a small almendra. Imagine getting thunked on the head by abrazilnut pod falling from that height. In fact, one of the company workers told me that just last season alone, four people died from falling pods. Huge palm trees called motacu fanout like giant green peacocks all along the overgrown track; thinner trees shoot up through openings in the canopy scecking a piece of sunlight. Although the jungle may seem a place of peace, the evidence of the silent struggle for survival is all about us. Back at Loma Alta we have no prob- lem getting the pickup back on the barge. But a trip that took three hours coming downstream, takes us nine hours return- ing, as we fight the current. Night falls and finding ourselves with- out a proper spotlight, Juan removes one of the pickup’s headlamps and connects it by long wires to the battery. The headlamp is then hoisted to the roofof the barge and used as a handheld spotlight. Bolivian ingenuity has struck again. Stars spill across the night and from my hammock, strung from the roof of the barge, I witness a meteor burn itself out while the skies reel with the movement of the boat. We don’t arrive at Puerto Riberalta until late that night, and the port is full of barges and /anchas, so we have to search with the headlight along the banks of the river until we find a place to dock for the night. The next morning awake well-rested. When I enter the company office later that day, Juan approaches with a strange smile. “*Have you heard about Rio Negro?” he asks. “*No, I just got up.’” He laughs. ‘‘The villagers there are elated because a Canadian cura (pricst) came by and somchow exorcised the duende from the barraca with some sort of evil-catching device.”’ **That’s amazing,”’ I reply, not quite clued in to what he is saying. **A CANA-DIAN pricst,’’ Juan re- peats. Yeah, [heard you. I’m Canadian, too. Big deal. Wait a second. **You mean to tell me the villagers thought I was a priest?!’’ I say, shocked. ““That’s right,’ Juan laughs even louder. “*You are now a holy man, Seiior Derksen.”’ My conversation with the two women in the hut suddenly returns to me. What an idiot I am! They believed me. For the next three days, everyone in the company office calls me cura. Thenacall comes in on the radio from Rio Negro. Carmelo, the administrator, says the school has burnt down. In the office, people aren’t laughing anymore. This is starting to get serious. It dawns on me that the school is the only building at the barraca I didn’t photograph. If only I had --. What am I thinking? I suddenly real- ize that the villagers’ faith in my priestly powers has triggered a strange response deep within. Somehow I want to think myself into a state of holiness or witchdoctorship. If only I could return to the barraca and dispel their fear and give them hope. But this isn’t the movie Accidental Hero. Thetruth is, Ishouldn’t have joked about the supernatural with the women at the barraca. By noon, a foreboding wall of cloud swirls up on the horizon, the temperature drops considerably. A surazo, or southwind, swoops in. And by the time my LaPaz-bound plane climbs unsteadily skyward, the rain is pounding down in great sheets. As I watch the storm outside my little oval window, I remember Juan’s words: “‘When animals act strangely, look for the weather to change. Probably a southwind’s coming in.”’ Perhaps, I think, we’realla little more superstitious than we'd like to admit. o SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 21 A mountain biking adventure Cs through the Andes of Ecuador ECUADOR SI! The _ Academia _ Latinoamer! PO Box 21-431, Espahol...1he "Academia in ‘the sit : waitin r lu come an Quito, ECUADOR experience the Rscinaion of the Andes, Email: the Galapagos Islands, the rain foresi and the _ of rok a Le pedal@explorer.ecx.ec tely phere. The staff are professionally trained to fovide one-on-one language Instruction grammar and: an Iving the: 1 Resp ns mM personal ins into Ite ‘qn and Bee. ural Gapects: of the sullen people In Ecuado! : Academia iB located In a quiet, SPANISH SCHOOL elegant residential area, it — has comfortable, sunny classrooms with THE QUICKEST AND BEST OR GORY 1G /VRRS OF STNG You have the chol WAY TO LEARN SPANISH...!! Sawa ee : Suzanne S. 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Titles: Argentina ($16.95) Baja ($14.95) Bolivia ($16.95) Brazil ($17.95) Central America on a shoe- string ($16.95) Chile @ Easter Island ($15.95) Colombia ($1 1-95) Costa Rica ($14.95) Ecuador @ the Galapagos Islands ($16.95) Guatemala, Belize ® Yucatan (formerly titled La Ruta Maya) ($16.95) Mexico ($19.95) Peru ($14.95) South America on a shoestring ($27.95) Brazilian phrasebook ($5.95) Latin American Spanish phrasebook ($4.95) Quechua phrasebook ($3.95) Trekking in the Patagonian Andes ($15.95). Lonely Planet guides are available from the South American Explorers Club. Contact Lonely Planet for a complete list of titles and free newsletter. Lonely Planet Publications, 155 Filbert St., Suite 251 planet Oakland, CA 94607 Phone: 800/275-8555 nah publications eV ie On ae sears a rv. os “oe se se" x *? wee oe ie: BK SK, ba aa gon Wha Ti ora ae x Se 22 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER Where on Earth Is Asuncion, Paraguay? he eclipse. Ah, yes -- I just got my pictures back and the memory of the physical pain brought on by so little sleep and so much effort is begin- ning to fade. A new reality takes form... Asuncion, if you could view my panoramic snap-shots in color, isa vibrant green with lots of red clay soiland red tile roofs. (These match, not coincidentally). Colorful buses and crazy traffic. Bidets and minia- ture toilet paper, napkins made of god-knows-what, but absorbing -- nada. We’ve only traveled 24 hours or so from Southern California to view this 4 1/2 minute cosmic event. We are met by our hosts -- local resi- dents whom my husband met over his “ham radio”’ HF rig while driv- ing through Palm Springs one fine day. For the uninitiated ‘‘HF’’ is the worldwide radio frequency band, and such contacts are not uncommon. This does nothing, in my opinion, however, tomake them any the less magical. In any case, here we are, being met by this gentleman, Malcolm, a transplanted American, and his wife Zuni, a Paraguayan. We've already exchanged photos by mail, and so manage to find each other in the chaos of arriving on an international flight. They kiss us on both checks in the local custom and whisk us away. Only 30-some hours into our travel “‘pipeline’’ we are settled in the pension, a former residence, where we are to stay for the week. Thick concrete walls, with no windows (except in the tall, narrow by Carroll Straus New Orleans-style doors to the room!), and high ceilings for staying cool in the tropical warmth. The gas fixiures can still be seen, where once there had been a chandelier. Electricity and an asth- matic window air conditioner set into the David is the ‘'scientifico Americano. "’ wall are recent additions. Quaint, to be sure. We are fortunate to have a private bath. And only $30.00 a day. We decide which of the four beds we want to sleep on and dump our gear onto the others. Alas, no time to rest -- our hosts are expecting us. Our clothes go into the wardrobe, then a shower in the tiny, windowless, cramped but valued bathroom. That done, we stroll over to their now noticeably large, lovely, and thoroughly modern house. Servants greet usat the door, (uniformed and bare- foot!) we are shown upstairs, and our adventure begins in earnest. We have four days to line up the perfect spot to view the totality -- exactly in the center of the path -- and, if possible, to set up some experiments to see if the eclipse affects the ability of the HF radio to transmit and receive signals. Four days to make friends with these perfect strangers, recover from jet lag, decide ona route, and get all of us there in joyful harmony or at least without an international inci- dent. No biggy! My job, as I see it, isto beso graciousand appreciative that no one minds the general frenzy and madness! We are up at 2:00 a.m. on the Big Day, November 3 -- still reverberatinag to the sounds of deto- nations that have been booming away for more than an hour. David, my husband, is certain it is a coup, butI can’t see how it can be so quiet if there’s been a lot of bloodshed. Stull. Very alarming to think that we might have come all this way and that it might not be safe to travel when the hour arrives! But it turns out I'm right -- no coup, only fireworks. Some deposed dictator chanced to be born on November 3, ergo, bang-bang- bang all night long. No sleep that night. At the appointed hour, we clamber over the high wrought-iron fence of the pension -- we are locked in -- after first SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 23 making contact with Malcolm, our friend and host (and sole means of transporta- tion) via our portable ham radio. (My husband and I are both licensed ama- teurs.) We have lent him one of ours, as these are not used so much in Paraguay. Luckily, it works, as there is only one phone in the pension (which is kept locked up.) It seems unthinkable to wake the hostess at such an hour. Thanks again, ham radio! En route, our caravan of two Mitsubishi Monteros, with our high-tech global positioning system, maps, food, cameras, tripods, viewing filters, and other equipment in tow. Offinto the dark Paraguayan countryside. Stop for chipas before light -- hot, crisp rings made with manioc, filled with cheese and flavored with anise. A strange combina- tion, but delicious. The girls bring them to the car window, stacked ontraysand linen- wrapped. So little money forso much work, and so early in the morning. On we go. The clouds burn off, the cameras and equipment get set up, lectures are given to all and sundry (and trans- latedby alocal dig- nitary), the televi- sion crew arrives, ; ‘ and David graciously gives an interview minutes before totality. (He is, after all the ‘‘scientifico Americano.’’) We are set up in a soccer field in the tiny farm community of Cecilio Baez and we’re ready. Now, fast forward with me to where I kneel in the cool, green grass, gazing skyward, grateful that we have made it and all is perfect and awed by the dark- ening sky and roosters crowing at 9:00 a.m., three hours after dawn and ten hours before sunset. In the deepening indigo and the eerie 360 degree-twilight, anyone can feel that something huge is 24 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER about to happen. Looking through the mylar filter, I wait for the moment when I can snatch it away and look at the sun with naked eye. Venus pops out. David shouts, ‘‘Look at Venus, look at Venus!’ There is a thin sliver ofsun, and Venus shining offto the right of it. This, alone, makes the trip worthwhile! We’re almost to totality. Suddenly the moon covers the sun com- pletely and the streamers appear on both sides of the disk -- two on the left like horns, and another, long and beardlike, several times the diameter of the disk, on the right. I am crying and I don’t know why. Itjust makes me cry, and it still does now. It is just not possible to sit and look and feel, ‘Oh, how interesting.’ It is more than interesting, more than my own We are set up in a soccer field in the tiny farm community of Cecilio Baez. inner dialogue can process. I just cry and stare at this incredible sight I have schlepped 15,000 miles to see. It’s worth it. Indigo and silver! The sun! The sun! I am looking at the sun! I am looking at the solar wind, at phenomena which are there all the time but which I have never seen, and may never see again. There it is before my eyes, and I know what Iam seeing. It is awesome. Suddenly I remember to look at the world, and what the people and animals are doing. It’s eerie, too, but not as good as the totality. Long minutes -- about 3 1/2 — go by, then on the far side of the disk the sun finally explodes with blind- ing light. The show is over. Vigilant, I whip the filter back into place. Jubilation erupts -- Mario is hug- ging David, who is covered with sweat, despite the cool of the morning. My legs are cramped from the position I’ve kept them in for so long. Ouch! Nobody watches as the moon passes the mid- point of the eclipse. Cameras are put away. The news crew sticks the mike back in David’s face. He de-briefs every- one on how this eclipse compares with others. They tell us to kiss for the camera, and we do. People, animals and events - begin to return to normal bit by bit. Slowly, dazed but happy, we get ready forthe long and bumpy drive back. We arrive home exhausted beyond words and go straight to bed. Asleep, we miss both the local cov- erage and the in- ternational cover- age wereceivedon CNN - including the shot of David and me kissing. Kissing is big in Paraguay, appar- ently. Paraguay, No- vember 3, 1994! I’m sure the local news crew will never forget this date. Their satellite “‘feed’’ was picked up by CNN, a triumph, Our hosts and their families, won’t forget either. And David and I will never forget this wonderful adventure and the role our amateur radio affilia- tions played in this globe-spanning event -- we literally could not have done it without our radios. The next eclipse will take place on October 24, 1995, in Thailand and Viet Nam. We’ll be there -- ham radios, cam- eras, tripods, computers and all. eh we’ll see you! 26 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER by Bob Villarreal We climb east toward the iron tower that marks the Paso Vidal Gormaz, our 4WD truck grinding through the rocks and sand of the high Chilean desert 110 miles east southeast of Copiapo, Chile. The cerulean blue of the sky, unmarked by the thick clouds we had seen the day before, promises that today the great peak will be in view. “*There, Roberto, there it is,’’ shouts Giancarlo over the whine of the engine as the truck crests the incline of the Paso at 15,000 feet. In the distance some 12 miles away, the five crested summit of Pissis sits under the sky like a queen’s diadem, the afternoon sun of the altiplano providing a golden glint to the stone and ice. As I gaze upon it, I think about its place among the Andean giants. Infrequently seen and rarely climbed, Pissis is one of several mysterious mountains in this re- mote area of the Andes. Its true height is in debate, although current estimates place it second only to thatof Aconcagua’s Top: View of NW slopes of Pissis. My tent is in the foreground, sitting at 17,000 feet. The vast snowfield that guards the north side of the peak is behind the tent. The peak on the right is the one upon which I experienced the wind storm. Bottom: View north from the northern slopes. Fifty miles distant are: Tres Cruces (22,172 feet) the second high peak from the left margin and Ojos del Salado (22,582 feet), the dark high point to the right of center in the photo. Top: Clear shot of the northwestern slopes of the peak. Bottom: Closeup view of the western slopes. -at 22,834 fect. First summitted by a Pol- ish expedition in 1937 via the northern slopes, there have been few ascents since that time. There is no record of a climb from the western side. “‘T have not read of an attempt from the west, Giancarlo. Perhaps we are the first to see it from this side.”’ I thrill to my words. Am I embarked upon the first western ascent of one of the great peaks of the Andes? It seems possible. We drive east toward the mountain, though ridges and small peaks block its view and I frequently refer to my com- pass to verify ourcourse. After driving an hour, we come to a wide, flat area at 15,900 feet. From here, the northwestern terraces of the great mountain are visible four miles in the distance. The site seems ideal for my basecamp. “*Here, Giancarlo. I will make camp here.”’ An hour later we have off-loaded all my gear, agreed upon Giancarlo’s return 10 days later, and hugged each other goodbye. In a moment the truck is out of sight, swallowed by the necrotic waste and emptiness of the desert. I am utterly alone. It snows the first night and I awake next morning to clear skies and an end- less expanse of white over the land, as if an ivory-colored table cloth has been draped over the landscape. New fallen snow melts and evaporates quickly in the Andean altiplano’s arid climate, and this load disappears in a day. I spend the day in camp, giving my body the time it needs to adjust to the higher elevation. I revel in my aloncness. I shrug off the comforts of civilization like a snake shedding its skin, and my soul feels the better for it. lam now high above my everyday existence, an exist- ence like that of most men - preoccupicd with tedious pursuits that do little for the welfare or wellness of the soul. A vast amphitheater of tranquillity and silence, save for the wind’s soughing about nearby rocks and ridges, enraps me and I spend the afiernoon in quiet reflection. Iam not alone during this time for I fecl a Pres- ence near me, a Being ncither protective nor threatening but there nonetheless, the embodiment of all living creatures. That night I close my eyes with a fecling of unity and oneness with all mankind and feel at peace. The next day I seck to go higher. The altitude punishes my audacity, for I progress slowly to 17,600 fect. There I choose a flat area near a snow field as the site for my first camp, returning to it the following day with the remainder of my gear. The northwestern crown of Pissis is barely visible from this spot, the bulk of the peak hidden by the ridges of rock and sand behind the camp. It snows the first night at Camp I, but the morning brings clear skies and my resolve to push onto a Camp II site. More of the great mountain comes into view the higher I climb and I eagerly antici- pate possessing its virgin walls. My steps have a spring to them and this liveliness of spirit makes the weight of my pack lighter and more bearable. But my joy is short-lived. For asI crest a ridge at 17,900 feet with the peak SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 27 ’ ' . sae = , 2030 co mone u a My aie =e te -- OE INDI ’ 4 ~ be ae a 6167.5 ei ar ERA ~ CO cE . ea ‘ - co. wp reRon ". : ~~ 47) . to \ Pico Sa = co. tacules_ = <4 Cpipa ne vO pe ~ ~\ 7 i. SHEE MICHT s. a ERwitaRO ~~ ~ YER. === s, ms . 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From where I stand, to the distant base of the mountain a mile and a half away, the glacier stretches, its expanse riven by a thou- sand small crevasses grinning skyward in the morning sun. It flows from the north to the western slopes of the great peak and through a chasm between it and a subsidiary mountain of 19,000 feet directly to the west. look for ways around this cunning labyrinth but at this altitude my brain is slow to examine alternatives. After a time I decide to ascend the subsidiary peak. From high on its flank I will be able to look into the chasm between it and Pissis and learn the glacier’s full extent. If the intervening valley is ice free, an ascent will be possible. I set off with all my belongings and with slow, plodding steps climb up to 18,900 feet, to a place where I can stare into the space between the two peaks. There, with the western slopes of Pissis brooding across the abyss, I understand the truth. For the same hateful ice field with its maze of crevasses chokes the chasm and makes it impassable. I can go no farther. My climb is at an end on this side of the mountain and I think fleet- ingly of the years of preparation and study that have brought me to this mo- ment. Have they been all for naught? I am determined to make an attempt upon the summit. I resolve to have Giancarlo take me to the north side of the peak. From there I’ll go up by the first ascensionists’ route. With this new plan my disposition brightens and I spend the next day in pleasant contemplation of climbing the northern slopes. In the af- ternoon, I leave my tent to photograph an alpenglow on Pissis so fiery that it casts its glow across the chasm to where I stand, setting the rocks at my feet on fire. The sun sets and the radiance subsides with it. I turn to the north and look across View of the northern slopes. I came to this side after my windblown experience on the western slopes. My basecamp was at 16,500 feet, at the bottom of the glacier that ends out of the picture on the left. a big empty expanse stretching 50 miles to the great string of peaks that are my climbing obsessions - Azufre, Tres Cruces, Ojos del Salado, Nacimiento, Cazadero, and Incahuasi. The peace- fulness and quiet bathe my soul and I wish for this moment of idyllic beauty to last forever, stored up that I might call it forth in later years as an antidote to the cold and the loneliness and the darkness to come. As I stare at the distant panorama, a sudden gust of wind from behind startles me and I lose my moment of the spirit. I am surprised as much by the abrupt ar- rival as by its ferocity, for the tent strains against the stout cords anchoring it to the nearby rocks. Another blast soon fol- lows, this time accompanied by a deep throated boom somewhere overhead and above my precarious perch on the slope. The sound brings back memories of other times like these and I give an involuntary shudder. In another moment a stronger blast, this one laden with spindrift, bar- rels across the slope and I quickly retreat View of the northwestern slopes across the ice field. High winds at 22,000 feet are blowing spindrift from left to right. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 29 to the tent and zipper the safety of its goretex skin about me, a cocoon against the onrushing darkness and cold. The wind is in full fury, a maelstrom of demonic noise where only minutes be- fore stillness covered the mountainside in calm and tranquillity. The gale bears in against the west wall of the tent like the Furies unleashed and I lean into its side to lessen the pressure on the anchor cords that hold me and all I possess to the mountain. The thrusts come in rapid succession with neither respite norcalm and] feel the tent floor rise and fall in time with the blows. Icongratulate myselfon the tent’s sturdi- ness, the rigging of the parachute cords, and the solidity of the anchors I have placed. My home can withstand any- thing the mountain might throw its way, I tell myself, and I smile, believing this vainglorious boasting. The night wears on; the wind contin- ues to howl and blow with a force I have not known on other Andean peaks. Sleep is out of the question. At 10 P.M. I still remain seated, I’m propped against the tent wall with my sleeping bag drawn about me for warmth, unable to light the stove to melt snow for my parched throat. It is impossible to do anything save push against the monstrous force on the other side of the thin material. I can feel my antagonist through the fabric, as though itis humanin shapeand form. My tormen- tor is there, his cold breath against my body, devil-like, remorseless, implaca- ble, relentless, all that is evil in this life pitted against me for my body, my exis- tence, my soul. I dare not slacken my efforts. I fight for my life, for if the wind grips my tiny shelter, it will inevitably be hurled, with me inside, over the precipice 30 feet away and down onto the glacier 800 feet below. The hours drag on, At 2 A.M. the gale seems to increase in force and sound. The tent gives ground gradu- ally, and I feel it slip toward the cliffs edge with each succeeding blast. I am now weak and tired from the physical and spiritual strain. Twice I hear the voices of my daughter and wife call to me, their cries so distinct and clear that I turn to the tent door each time, their 30 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER names upon my lips, only to turn away when they are not there. I feel abandoned and alone and it takes all the mental strength I can muster to keep my compo- sure. By4 A.M., asense of doom has found ils way into my soul. The wind is too powerful and I can feel a weakness in body and mind succumbing to its con- tinual onslaughts. My life’s transgres- sions flash before me. I ask forgiveness there in the dark, in the cold, amid the cacaphony of Nature gone berserk, and make peace with myself and all those dear to me. The tent gives ground gradually, and I feel it slip toward the cliff’s edge with each succeeding blast. At 6:15 A.M. everything suddenly turns upside down. Three tremendous slams in rapid order pull out the tent’s northern anchor. My shelter collapses inward and I am briefly airborne, until the remaining anchors hold and keep me from being hurtled over the edge and into eternity. I fall ina heap and immediately feel a burning sensation in my right side. The tent flaps terrifically in the tempest and sounds like machine gun fire until I gather it tightly about me. And there lie, completely without strength, panting for air after my exertions. As the wind contin- ucs to wail, with something like an exul- tant air, I fall asleep exhausted from my efforts. I sleep until 9:30 A.M., long after the sun has risen. The wind still howls and beats upon the crumpled mass of the tent with me inside, though with less force than it had mustered during the night. [know thatI must escape or chance staying on the mountain forever. With great difficulty, I gather all the gear not blown away and am ready to descend by 11:30 A.M, I flee my camp and never look back as I seek safety below. Back in basecamp, I while away the hours until Giancarlo’s return by plan- ning an ascent of the northern slopes. Maybe we can simply drive around the western and northwestern slopes of the peak to reach the north side. Or will we have to retreat to Paso Vidal Gormaz, drive north to Paso Valle Ancho and approach from that direction? The intervening ground is unexplored terri- tory and these questions must await our further exploration. My ribcage is painful and each cough, each deep breath causes a stabbing pain. I consume pain killers to quell the sore- ness and the hours drift by in a languor- ous haze. I am greatly relieved when Giancarlo’s truck appears the next after- noon over a near ridge to the west. He speeds toward me, honking the truck’s horn wildly. I’ve been worried about his return ever since he left and my concern has increased during the inactivity at basecamp. “*Comoestas, howare you, my friend,”’ I shout. We hug each other in a warm abrazo. “Bien, amigo. I would have been here earlier but I had to repair a flat tire. The roads show no mercy, Roberto, and I never feel safe on the altiplano even with two spare tires.”” We talk in to the night about what to do. I’m determined to climb the peak. But the west side is clearly a challenge that needs more reflection and study before another attempt. Late that night we decide to drive in the morning to the northern slopes. There I will make an attempt by the route of the first ascenionists. We abandon basecamp just as the sun pecks over Pissis. The soreness in my side is dulled by drugs but the truck’s bouncing and heaving over the rocks and stones brings occasional jabs of knife- like pain that I do my best to ignore. By early afternoon we have traversed around the northwestern flanks of Pissis and find ourselves below the high north- ern wall of the mountain. The wind is terrific and during a stop to add water to the radiator the truck rocks slightly to each blow. The summit is not visible, the mountain’s flank rising to a height that blocks views behind its crest. Snow-free ground to the right of a large glacier offers an ascent route. “‘Let’s get to 17,000 feet, Giancarlo,” I say. The slope proves too steep. At 16,000 feet it is impossible to continue. “That is all, Roberto, I cannot go farther.”’ We throw my gear from the truck. The wind gusts stiffly, its bite sharpened by the cold, and I pull the parka hood more tightly about my face. Giancarlo angles the truck back down the slopeand quickly becomes a tiny speck on the landscape. His parting comment has hit a nerve. “You understand that ifit snows I cannot teach you. You will have to walk to Mina Marte,” The South African gold mine is 60 miles away. It will be a struggle to hike there, taking three days at least. Sud- denly, I feel vulnerable and my stomach muscles tighten involuntarily. Am I tempting fate beyond the point of pru- dence? With the wind slowing my efforts, I pitch the tent and anchor it at each corner to heavy rocks. The effort strains my side and I clench my teeth to withstand the pain. I lie down inside and listen as the wind strafes the rocks and sand and buffets my tiny home. I think of the night of terror on the other side of the peak and feel an urge to flee. But run I can not. I think of my wife and daughters. What will the rest of their lives be like if I am no longer by their side? Will they do the “right” thing with their lives? Will they make the “‘right’’ choices? Perhaps Iovervalued my influence upon them. Of course they will go on and of course their lives will move forward. Differently than if I am there with them, but they will move on nonetheless. I fall asleep with these musings play- ing through my mind to the tune of the wind’s symphony. I awake to stillness and quiet. I arise and perform the labori- ous, time consuming ritual at altitude of cooking, drinking, and packing. Iam on my way up the slope by 8 A.M., hopeful of setting camp as high above 18,000 feet as I can go. After three hours my altimeter regis- ters 17,600 feet. The pain in my ribs comes more frequently now. Each deep breath brings a stab to my ribs and I stop to swallow more pain pills. At 18,000 feet I walk straight into the tecth of a whipping gale blowing from the north- west. A ridge has shielded me until my clevation robs me of its protection. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain my balance in the face of this terrible wind. The large pack on my back acts as a sail, and at one point the wind even spins me around and throws me heavily to the ground, squarely on my injured side. Evenas1 lic there, the blows continue. I feel the cold enter my body, first my hands and then my feet become numb as the wind’s cold breath begins to draw the warm breath of life from me. I am through. Beaten, The mountain has too many weapons and | have no more defenses. 1am naked, helpless in front of its might. To flee is to live. During the long days waiting for Giancarlo’s return, I become increas- ingly desirous of companionship lying alone in my tent. One late morning while reading and enjoying the warmth of the sun, a tiny shadow onthe tent wall catches my attention. I turn to watch it for a moment, for it moves several times and, curious, I move outside to examine it. There, to my surprise and delight squats a small cricket, looking for all the world as though she is perfectly comfortable in the cold, harsh surroundings we share. She is taking the sun, as it were, just as I. Perhaps blasted by the fierce winds from lower Argentine elevations, she found herself deposited here against her will far from home and hearth. And what of her family? Will they manage without her? Will she return to them whole to help manage their struggles? She is very forward and willingly takes my outstretched finger to ride it into the tent. I treat her as my guest and put her in the folds of my fleece jacket, the most sumptuous place at my dis- posal. Later in the afternoon, bored with my awkward attempts at conversation, she pushes her way into one of the pock- ets of the jacket, perhaps anticipating the cold of the coming night. When I make my supper that evening, I nudge a bit of dried fruit her way, that she might dine on its nourishment. She nibbles it about the edges until satisfied and then pushes it aside. Afterward, I tuck her into the fleece’s warmth when the sun goes down and the harsh cold begins to grip our world. I close my eyes that night with her beside me. Next morning I awake with the sun, and immediately think of my friend. I lean over and carefully push open the bedroom door so as not to frighten her. But she is not there. She has gone as mysteriously as she had arrived and I keenly feel her disappearance. And soI wait until, five days later, the sun’s glint off the truck’s windshield 25 miles to the north tells of Giancarlo’s return. As he speeds to me over the sand and crushed pumice of the high desert, I think about the mountain’s gift to me. For I had come to Pissis as the world’s mountaincers of long ago approached their obsessions, with no literary or pho- tographic record to guide my steps. In this I am truly fortunate, for I climbed with a freshness of spirit that I have not known on other peaks. I know I will return, if only to recapture once again, that purity of experience. oO Notes to the text The altitude of Pissis has long been in question. Two climbing friends, Sverre Aarseth of Cambridge, Englandand Gred Horne from Jasper, Alberta, Canada recently have used GPS equipment to more accurately guage the mountain’s height. More information about their findings can be obtained by writing the author directly. Bob Villarreal is a retired executive from Pacific Bell in California. One of his present pursuits is as a climbing guide in the Argentine and Chilean Andes. When not guiding others, he prefers to solo peaks in this part of the Andes. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 31 My Dinner With Andre by David Hicks Campsite on Santiago. he pirate ship puts us ashore at sunset. We watch as the last inhabitants of the island quickly pack their gear and guns, load up a panga, and disap- pear toward the rising moon. We struggle to set up our tents in the gloom before the mosquitoes clustered under the mangroves emerge in hordes. We have come to the north coast of the unin- habited Isla Santiago, fourth largest of the Galapagos archipelago, on a botanical mission. 32 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER My companion, Andre Mauchamp, is the head botanist of the Charles Darwin Research Station, and we are on the goat-haunted island on a dual mission. Our major task is to assess the status of populations of the endemic tree cactus Opuntia galapageia. Andre also is in search of Scalesia atractyloides, arare and infrequently collected shrub known only from lava flows on Santiago. Our transport is the vessel E/ Pirata, captained by Lenin Cruz, from Puerto Ayora. Lenin is a native Galapagueno who owns a finca in the highlands of Isla Santa Cruz, and cruises the islands delivering scientists and Galapagos National Park wardens to their field sites. On this trip, he is returning home with eight park wardens who, for three weeks, have been hunting pigs and goats in the highlands. They are clearly ready to leave Santiago for their week’s vacation. We watch in amazement as all eight of the hunters, plus their eight dogs, crowd into the 3-meter panga and motor out to E/ Pirata on the start of their journey home. Isla Santiago, our home for the next ten days, is the site of Charles Darwin’s longest stay in the Galapagos. However, Santiago has a darker significance for modern- day biologists. It is home toa huge population of goats, originally introduced by Captain David Porter in the early Andre speaks with the hawks. Ripped tent in foreground. 1800’s. Porter was a U.S. naval commander on a mission to chase English whalers out of the Galapagos during the War of 1812. For any future mariners who might be stranded in the islands, he put a few goats ashore to provide meat on the hoof. Goats, with their catholic diet and ability to drink sea water during rainless periods, have adapted extremely well to the dry tropical islands. Surprisingly, this initial introduction did not take; Darwin and other visitors in the early 19th century reported seeing no goats on Santiago. On other Galapagos islands, goat populations have grown from an initial handful to tens of thousands in only a few decades. Unfortunately, the goats reintroduced early in this cen- tury flourished all too well. Now there are an estimated 60,000 goats on an island of 572 square kilometers. Later visitors brought in pigs and donkeys. Now there are several thousand pigs and donkeys on Santiago. According to what I have read and heard, the animals have nearly destroyed native ecosystems in some parts of the island. On the trip from Santa Cruz, I anxiously ask Andre if there is some chance of seeing the endemic Galapagos hawk on Santiago. Once abundant throughout the islands, the hawk is now quite rare on Santa Cruz, where it has been hunted by irate farmers. Andre replies that yes, he thinks there are some hawks on Santiago. The next morning it becomes clear that I need not have worried. As we are eating SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 33 breakfast, a hawk flies into the edge of the mangroves and lands a few meters away. Then another. And another. Eventually, eight hawks have flapped into the surrounding trees and are scrutinizing us intently. Notall inhabitants of Santiago are bothered by the goats. The hawks apparently take us for hunters, and hope we will kill and gut a goat for them. Wherever we go, there are always at least a few hawks gathered, expectantly scrutiniz- ing our activities. Our audience sometimes numbers as many as fifteen. Weset out on the trail to the highlands. The word “‘trail’’ is used in a broad sense in the Galapagos. In this case, the trail markers are rocks placed in the branches of trees, to indicate a slightly less grueling path over the incredibly rough lava flows than one might pick by chance. The tree rocks are supplemented by cairns in treeless areas. Unfor- tunately, both types of markers don’t seem to last all that long. It doesn’t take much time to see why some park guards call Santiago ‘“La Hacienda’’. Within a kilometer of camp we encounter our first donkeys. Not a square meter is free of goat and donkey droppings. Everyday we see or hear feral animals and eventually discover the hacienda’s goat The world's largest goat trap. Goat skeletons visible at bottom. Top: Palo Santo forest, with sparse underbrush. Lots of small cacti, no adults Bottom: Cactus pads from plant knocked over by animals barn, a red lava outcrop riddled with caves where the animals shelter. A bit further along the trail, there’s a gaping hole in the rocky ground. It’s alava tunnel. Such tunnels form when the surface of flowing lava cools and hardens, leaving a flowing core of red-hot, molten rock. Here, the roof has collapsed to expose the interior of the tunnel. Later, we find that this tunnel extends for at least several kilometers more or less parallel to the coast. Its bottom is littered with goat bones. As we're looking into the sinkhole, two goats appear, apparently trapped in the tunnel and not far away from adding their skeletons to the jumble of bones on the floor. It is clear that after decades of occupation, the animals are having major effects on plant populations. The most common tree, palo santo (Bursera graveolens), seems, at first, to be in no trouble - large, fruit-bearing adults grow from near sea level to the highest elevations we can see. But a closer look shows that there are no seedlings or saplings. The same is true of the other common tree, muyuyo (Cordia lutea). But here things look even worse, for the twisted, silvery skeletons ofadult muyuyos litter the ground in many 34 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER areas. Andre notes that some are among the largest speci- mens he has seen of this species. We manage to find a few small acacias, much the worse for wear from the attentions of goats. When this generation of trees dies, there will be none to replace them. A few plants seem to be succeeding in the face of the grazing pressure. The shrub Castela galapageia is very common. I taste a leaf and find it horribly bitter. Andre points out that the local name is amargo, meaning “‘bitter’’ in Spanish. Old-time botanists note that even goats won’t eat it. Sarcostemma angustissima, a curious, vining mem- ber of the milkweed family is also abundant. It seems to be protected by copious amounts of milky, bitter sap. One of the common low plants is Menizelia aspera, a plant with incredibly sticky leaves and fruits. A brief stroll through a patch of this plant will turn one’s pants green with adhering foliage. Perhaps its abundance has something to do with the hordes of goats that act as dispersers. Although the plants of Santiago are in trouble, condi- tions appear to be good for some of the animals. There is a large crop of grasshoppers, and the green-and-red lava lizards seem to enjoy themselves stalking the insects and displaying. Snakes, rarely sighted by casual visitors, look to be common. We return to the campsite late in the afternoon. A strong sea breeze has blown Andre’s tent over. Iam luckier, for my tent is held in place by a large hawk. Perhaps it thinks there’s a dead goat inside. I speak sharply to the fowl. Unfortunately, I forget that hawks, when sharply spoken to, tend to shift their claws from side to side in discomfort. As this hawk does so, it claws gaping holes in the fly. Luckily, we run into little rain on this trip. Over the next week, our activities fall into a routine. We - rise near dawn, battle the mosquitoes through breakfast, and go into the field to collect data. We return in late afternoon, take a cooling swim, and talk over the day’s data. Gradually, a pattern emerges in the cactus data, too. Other researchers have noted that donkeys and goats are hard on the smaller members of cactus populations. Don- keys trample seedlings, and hungry goats can chew through the armament of 5 to 10 cm spines on small cacti. To our surprise, we find plenty of seedlings. The major effect of the animals seems to be on the larger plants. The trunks of tree- sized cacti are not woody like those of pines or oaks. Rather, there is a thin coating of coppery bark, which looks rather like that of Ponderosa pine. Under the bark is a cylinder of wood only a few centimeters thick. The bulk of the trunk consists of watery pith inside the woody cylinder. Goats and donkeys are entirely capable of biting through the bark and wood to reach the pith. They also chomp into low-growing cactus pads for a juicy mouthful. Once they start on the trunk, they return to the same place. Eventually the trunk is girdled, and the pad-filled canopy falls to the ground. Here, Opuntia galalpageia is ata major 36 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER disadvantage over other species. Pads of mature trees lack the long, sharp spines of young plants, and bear bristly spines that are more of an annoyance than a protection. Once these pads hit the ground, they’re goners. We find that about 60% of the larger cacti have been killed or damaged by animals. So far, the population appears to be sustaining itself through seedlings coming from buried seeds. But once the seed bank in the soil runs out, the future of the population looks as grim as that of palo santo and muyuyo. On our last day on Santiago, Andre makes a long reconnaissance westward along the coast in search of Scalesia atractyloides populations. To find a new one would be a major discovery. Unfortunately, he returns empty-handed. The Scalesia appears to be poorly defended against animal attack, and no observations of the plants have been made in about five years. The few known populations have been in decline for years, although other related species seem to be doing well. We finish our ten days of work on Santiago with a sense of foreboding. The Galapagos National park Service is working hard to control animal populations through hunt- ing but many ecosystems are in danger. Protecting them is a massive task on such a large island as Santiago, with so many animals. And there are problems on the other islands of the archipelago that cry out for attention. The hunters we’ ve seen will not be returning to Santiago for several weeks. Their next assignment will take them to the island of Isabela. On Isabela, five separate volcanoes are isolated by lava flows. Damage by humans and animals has long been confined to the two southernmost volcanoes but recently, though, goats have made their way across the lava barriers. They’re starting to menace Volcan Alcedo, home of one of the largest remaining populations of the endemic tortoises, the Galapagos tortoise that gave the islands their name. There is talk of building a giant fence from coast to coast across Isabela to prevent animal incursions on the more northern peaks. What hope is there for the damaged ecosystems of Santiago? In the short run, perhaps not much. Hunting has eliminated goats from some of the other islands. Fenced-off areas on Santiago have shown considerable recovery in less than five years, so nature’s capacity to bounce back seems to still be intact. On Santiago, however, the park service is currently putting most ofits efforts into eliminat- ing the relatively small population of pigs. The logic is that goat damage keeps the vegetation down and makes for easier and successful pig-hunting. If the goats were elimi- nated, the opportunity for pig control might be lost. Once the pig population is removed, attention can be turned to the goats. But shooting all the goats on an island as large and topographically complex as Santiago will be difficult. In the long run, it’s possible that only some form of biological control, such as disease, will be effective. O VANISHING WORLDS of South & Central America Largest program anywhere of “Classic & Unusual” Nature & Culture Programs, Eco-Tours, Hiking and other adventures. 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Internet: rku@pi.pro.ec World Records @ in birds: S75 species & butterflies; 1200+ species a dragon flies: 103 species Tambopata Wildlife Reserve Puerto Maldonado - Lodge-30 rooms w/private bath - Daily jet flights-30 minutes from Cusco - Wildlife, Birdwatching, Photo Safaris Bookings: Peruvian Safaris S.A. Lima: Garcilaso de la Vega 1334 Tel: 31-3047 or 31-6330 Fax; 328866 Cusco: Plateros 365 Tel: 235342 The Hole in the Wall Gang in Bolivia By Dr. Stewart D. Redwood fter almost ten years of searching, I recently obtained acopy of A. V.L. Guise’s book Six Years in Bolivia - The Adventures of a Mining En- gineer, published in 1922. It was recom- mended to measa good yarnby an American mine engineer work- ing in Bolivia. The book contains anaccount ofa lesser known hold- up in Bolivia by the Hole in the Wali Gang, one of the aliases of the Butch Cassidy Gang, and of the fate of one of their accom- plices. The facts and myths of the exploits ofthe Butch Cassidy Gang in South America have been well reviewed in these pages by Dan Buck and Anne Meadows. When things became too hot for the ban- dits in the United States, Harry Alonzo Longabaugh (alias the Sundance Kid), and Etta Place left for Argentina in 1901, and were joined by Robert LeRoy Parker (alias Butch Cassidy) the following year. After going straight for a few years carning their living by ranching, they re- turned to their old ways once more in 1905. In 1906 they turned upin Bolivia, probably traveling by way of Chile. It would appear that Butch and Sundance were hired by Percy Siebert and worked at the Concordia tin mine from late 1906 or early 1907, until some time in 1908. The famous shoot-out in San Vicentein south- ern Bolivia, took place on November 6th, 1908, following the hold-up of the Aramayo mine payroll a few days before. Butch and Sundance were almost cer- tainly involved, but whether they were the two killed has never been proven. To A.V.L. Guise, author of the forgotten account of the Hole in the Wall Gang's exploits in Bokivia, from his book. this day it remains the subject of endless speculation. Guise, the author of this hitherto for- gotten book, worked for two years as assistant manager at the Ocavi tin mine, situated in the Eastern Cordillera 150 kilometers south-east of La Paz, near to the Colquiri tin-silver mine. During his second year, he assembled a ten-stamp mill to process the ore. This was sent out from England, railed up to Lake Titicaca and shipped across to Bolivia. Guise spent a lot of time that year receiving the shipments in Guaqui and transporting them to the mine. For this he used the Guaqui to Viacha railway, and was also able to make use of the partly-completed line from Viacha to Oruro. At railway con- struction camps he was made wel- come by the ‘‘camp-bosses”’ and the American engineers, who su- pervised the local labor. “‘A railway construction camp, particularly in anew country, as arule harbours several men into whose past inspection is not in- vited by them, and Patacamaya was no exception in this respect. There was one man in particular - a ‘'gang-boss’’ and a particu- larly evil-looking individual-who was reputed to be the sole surviv- ing member of the ‘‘Hole in the Wall’’ gang.....This man, who went under the name of Grogan, had made good his escape from the States, and it was said that there was a price on his head of five SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 39 thousand dollars.’’ Grogan was an excellent shot with a revolver and when he learned that Guise possessed a .44 Colt, he made hima very good offer; so good that Guise grew suspicious and refused it, leaving a dis- gruntled Grogan to stalk off in silence. Three days later the camp was startled by the news, that the paymaster of an- other construction camp some fifteen miles further up the line had been ‘‘held- up”’ by four armed white men, and his 40 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER safe had been rifled of about ten thou- sand dollars. At the same time it was discovered that Grogan had disappeared Jom camp, with three other tough char- acters, employedin the construction work, and none of them was ever seen again in that region. It was rumoured that they had made for the hills on mules stolen from the railway, and then had parted company. Two of these bandits were discovered later in Cochabamba, a town which lies eighteen leagues to the north- east of Oruro. They were both shot dead in a affray with Bolivian soldiery who attempted to arrest them. Grogan, how- ever, was not one of these.’’ When did this robbery take place? Guise offers no datesat all in his book, which was evidently published several years after his sojourn in Bolivia. So it is important to establish the chronology of the book. The railways are the key to this. The first sod of the Viacha to Oruro railway was Officially cut at Oruro on July 4th, 1906 and the first rail officially laid at Viacha on December 25, 1906. Train service began on July 16th, 1908 and the line was inaugurated with due ceremony on August Ist, 1908. Railroad construction had reached the mid-point at Patacamaya at the time of the hold-up that Guise describes. The next event he mentions is Carnaval in La Paz. This usually takes place in February. Hence the hold-up must have taken place in late 1907 or early 1908. Also, by counting backwards, it can be worked out that Guise arrived in Bolivia in September 1906. Where did this robbery take place? The location given by Guise is ‘‘fifteen miles down the line’’ (24 km) from the construction camp at Patacamaya. This places it near to the community of Lomitas, going in the direction of Oruro. However, Guise’s estimate of distances is poor, as, for example, when he says Cochabamba is 87 km (18 leagues) from Oruro when it is actually 120 km. Since his distances are not accurate, I think he must be talking about the Eucaliptus robbery. Eucaliptus, a bleak railway town in the desert of the Altiplano, is 60 km (37 miles) from Patacamaya. This is mentioned by Arthur Chapman, whose 1930 account of the gang’s demise in Bolivia is largely behind the Butch Top: The Concordia tin mine, where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid worked for Percy Siebert in 1907 - 08, in the Cordillera Santa Vera Cruz (5,450 m - 17,881 feet). The mine is on the far side of the ridge on the right-hand side of the photo, Taken from Laguna Huallatani in the Cordillera Quimsa Cruz to the northwest. Bottom: The Colquiri Mine. From 1906 to 1908, Guise worked at the Ocavi tin mine which is part of this mine district. Cassidy legend. Chapman’s source was Percy Siebert, who, it will be remem- bered, was the mining engineer who had employed the pair at the Concordia tin mine, located in the Cordillera between La Paz and Guise’s mine at Ocavi. Ac- cording to Chapman, the gang held up a railway pay train ‘‘at the station of Eucaliptus’’. The gang he described was the outlaw trio (Cassidy, Sundance and Etta Place), with McVey as an accom- plice. The shoot-out which Guise describes in Cochabamba is the San Vicente shoot- out. This took place less than a year after the Eucaliptus hold-up. By this time Guise was working in the upper Amazon, where a sequel to the Eucaliptus hold-up occurred. Guise left the tin mine in August 1908 and took a job with an English company to build a gold dredge at Maquiqui on the Kaka river, an Amazon tributary in the tropical foothills of the Andes north of La Paz. This Clyde-built, 350 ton, steel bucket-ladder dredge had to be transported in small pieces down mule trails from La Paz and then downriver on rafts ~ an epic reminiscent of Fitzcaraldo! Guise worked on this project for about four and a half years, first building trails and then rebuilding the dredge. He left Bolivia in late 1912 orearly 1913 after laying up the dredge when it was found, after so much effort, that the gold grades of the deposit were too low to make the operation pay. The sequel to the Eucaliptus hold-up and the San Vicente shoot-out came in early 1910, when Guise unexpectedly came across Grogan again at Maquiqui whilst constructing the dredge. Grogan was now working for Otto Schneider. Schneider, a young German, and natu- ralized US citizen, managed a large tract ofrubber-producing forest in the area. He had hisbaseat Chichiponte, further down river. Schneider was unpopular in the region. It was said that he ‘‘stole’’ men indebted to their employers. Schneider did not pay off their debts as he was supposed to do when he hired them. He was also out of favor with the local Leco Indians after destroying a rum-still on his estate. Schneider thus lived in fear of murder One day Schneider dropped in on Guise’s camp just as he was sitting down to lunch: “As I rose to welcome him I noticed another man following close behindhim, BOLIVIA IN 1308 IN THE DAYS OF AV.L.QUise in whom] recognized, to my surprise, my JSormer acquaintance, Grogan, the hero of the ‘‘hold-up’’ at the railway con- struction camp. He looked at me very keenly but Imade no sign of recognition, and greeted him as a complete stranger when Schneider introduced him as ‘‘Mr. MacVeagh, ’’who, he toldme, wasnow in the employ of his rubber company, and was accompanying him to Chichiponte. After lunch, when alone with Schneider, I asked him whether he knew what man- ner of man ‘‘MacVeagh’’ was, to which he replied that he did, and that it was for that veryreason that he was bringing him to Chichiponte, there to act as his body- guard.”’ ‘* MacVeagh, ’’ however, did not re- main long in his new job. It appeared that when Braun [a German on the run from debt in La Paz, who had worked as store- keeper for Guise and then been ‘“‘stolen’’ by Schneider] arrived at Chichiponte, Schneider was at some distant rubber- gatherers camp. ‘‘MacVeagh”’ had re- mained in charge, andhad promptly laid hands on all available liquor supplies, which he proceeded to absorb. From the garrulous Braun, who had access to the books, he learned that there existed about £800 in my cash box, whereupon ‘‘MacVeagh"’ an- nounced his intention of pro- ceeding to Maquiqui by raft, there to ‘‘put the sign of the Cross,’’ as he expressed it, on me and the two Scotch JSoremen, annex the cash, and then drift down river to Rurrenabaque. Schneider told me this story later, and, with the air of one who wished to convey that he had saved my life, he informed me that he had returned to Chichi- ponte in time to give orders to the balseros [raftsmen] whom “MacVeagh’’ had singled out to be his crew, not to take him up-river on any account, but to go straight to Rurrenabaque. ‘Later I heard that ‘“‘MacVeagh”’ had arrived at that river town, and there had taken passage to Riveralta on a boat going down the Beni laden with rubber. ‘‘MacVeagh's’’ destination was the Madeira river, where a railway was be- ing constructed [the Madeira - Mamoré Railway, built between 1908 and 1912]. He did not succeed in carrying out his intention, however, for on the trip down river, some brutality he committed so enraged one of the crew that he shot “‘MacVeagh"’ in the back - a fate he had always dreaded. He used to say that he Seared no man face to face, as he was SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 41 quicker ‘‘on the draw’’ than any other he had yet encountered.’’ The alias of MacVeagh thus identifies Grogan as the accomplice of Cassidy and Sundance, called McVey by Chapman. But who was this bandit Grogan/ MacVeagh? According to Guise he was “reputed to be the sole surviving mem- ber of the ‘Hole in the Wall’ gang’’, and had escaped fromthe USA with a price on his head. This would suggest that he had been one of the gang members in the States, and had not sim- ply been recruited as an accomplice in South America, Guise gives little in the way of description of Grogan - all that we know is that he was an American outlaw, ‘‘apar- ticularly evil-looking in- dividual’’, an expert shot with a revolver, tough, ruthless, an abrasive char- acter and a hard drinker. Could he have been Harvey Logan (alias Kid Curry)? Is the similarity between the names Grogan and Logan mere coincidence? Kid Curry, one of the notorious mem- bers of the gang in the USA, may have joined Cassidy in Argentina, but this has never been proven. Was Grogan/Mac- Veagh the same individual as the American gunman, Harvey, whom Colonel Percy H. Fawcett encoun- tered in Rurrenabaque in July 1906, September 1907 and early 1913? No. Grogan was working onthe Viacha - Oruro railway in late 1907 / early 1908, and was killed in 1910. Buck and Meadows discuss the possibility that Harvey Logan and Fawcett’s Harvey were one and the same. They leave the question open, but suggest they were probably not. Guise’s book is a hitherto neglected 42 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER first-hand account of the Butch Cassidy Gang inBolivia, published fourteen years after the incidents and some eight years earlier than Chapman’s article. While Guise provides more detail of the Eucaliptus hold-up and describes the fate of Butch and Sundance’s accomplice Grogan/MacVeagh, it still leaves unan- swered the question of his true identity. The author in San Vicente graveyard, February 1991, supposedly on the site of the grave of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Acknowledgements: Id like to thank Dan Buck and Anne Meadows for their help andcomments on the manuscript. Sources: Arrazola, E., 1992. Butch Cassidy, Buscado. Facetas (Rivista de domingo de Los Tiempos), Cochabamba, Bolivia. February 9, 1992, pp 4-5. Blakemore, H., 1990. From the Pa- cific to La Paz: the Antofagasta (Chili) and Bolivia Railway Company 1888 - 1988. Antofagasta Hold- ings PLC and Lester Crook Academic Publishing, Lon- don. 334 pp. Buck, D. & Meadows, A., The Aramayo Mule. South American Explorer, No. 16, February 1988, pp 4-11. Chapman, A., 1930. Butch Cassidy. ElksMaga- zine, April 1930. Dick, G., 1989. 1° de Agosto de 1908: se inaugura el Ferrocarril Viacha - Oruro. La Paz de Ayer yde Hoy, LaPaz, Afio 9, No. 9, July 1989, pp 26- 30. Fawcett, B., 1963. Rail- ways of the Andes. George Allen & Unwin Ltd., Lon- don, 328 pp. Fawcett, P.H., 1953. Exploration Fawcett. Hutchinson & Co. (Pub- lishers) Ltd., London. 312 Pp. Guise, A.V.L., 1922. Six Years in Bolivia. The Ad- ventures of a Mining Engi- neer. T. Fisher Unwin Ltd., London. 246 pp. Pointer, L., 1977. In Search of Butch Cassidy. 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Wefinally hit the road about mid-day, walking south out of town along Ruta 3, the road to Rio Gallegos and Ushuaia, Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. Here where we are though, it is just a normal city street lined with garages and traffic lights, all concrete houses and flat roofs, busy with a whirl of suburban traffic. We walk till we reach a bus stop. There’s space enough here for a truck or car to pull in. We put down our packs and turn to face the traffic. Ian holds his thumb out. I try to look respectable. We’ve stacked our luggage (two rucksacks, a guitar and a charango) to make it look small. A steady stream of cars, pick-up trucks and lorries whoosh by in the bright dusty sunlight. After a while we swap places. My arm 44 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER MULES HORQUETAS'50 @ Gooe MAYLR 60 ALAS ESPERANZA NI outstretched, I stare smiling into the traf- fic, trying to make eye contact with the drivers and psyche them into stopping. It’s a good feeling to be starting out on a journey, impatient to be heading down the road, off to somewhere new. Minutes pass. So does the traffic. Ian has another go. I rest my arm and my smile, which the wind and the sun are changing into a Mona Lisa grimace. After a while the usual doubts creep in. Will anyone stop? Will we still be stand- ing here when the streetlights come on and the traffic dwindles away to nothing? Butsooner or later someonealways stops. Sure enough, a car flashes its lights and pulls into the layby behind us. We grab our stuff and climb in. The bloke is only going six miles down the road but this will get us out of town and away from all the local city traffic. Again, by the side of the road we stand amid dry grassy hills, the sky bright blue above us. A lorry rumbles past buffeting us with its slipstream, and right behind it a car trying to pass. Then nothing. Just the wind blowing dust around. A van passes in the other direction. Its wake washes over us for a second, and then there is just the wind again. The sun shines. A breeze blows. A lorry heaves into view and we start thumbing. It rumbles past us, but then with brakes hissing, it grinds to a stop some way down the road. Like a couple of gleeful cavemen who have just downed a mam- moth, we run after it. The cab door opens and the driver leansout. ““Whereare you heading then?”’ “Calafate, but anywhere south will do. ” ‘Well I can take you as far as Caleta Olivia.”’ Caleta Olivia is the next place of any consequence, about 30 miles south of Comodoro Rivadavia. This isn’t the long ride we have been hoping for but it is better than nothing. I climb up into the cab. Ian passes our bags up to me and then he climbs up. The door slams, the driver puts the lorry into gear and we roll off down the road. When you’ve been standing by the side of the road for a while wondering what’s around the next corner, it’s nice to finally find out. And then to see what’s around the next one and the next. The driver yells above the noise of the lorry. ‘Where are you from then?” “‘England.”’ ‘*Ah, English.’” He shakes his head and looks at his left hand mirror. The conversation lulls while the road goes on and on. Black tarmac in the afternoon sun. A few miles further on we come toa police check-point. It marks the bound- ary between the provinces of Chubut and Santa Cruz, the 46th parallel, and, oddly enough, a change in time zones. Santa Cruz keeps the same time as Buenos Aires but Chubut is an hour behind. The lorry stops. The driver winds down his window and hands his papers to the policeman waiting below. The police- man, in dark uniform with the obligatory sunglasses, leafs through the documents. Satisfied he turns his attention to us. ‘‘English,’’ the lorry driver says. ‘*Heading south.’’ The policeman stares at us and then at our guitar. ‘*They can get out here,’’ he says to nobody in particular. ‘“We’ll put them on the next lorry going all the way.”’ Not quite sure what’s going on, we climb down. We follow the policeman into a small office. Here there’sa desk. A policeman sits behind it. There’sa wooden benchand acouple more hanging around and that is about it. Outside, the lorry drives away. We produce our passports. A policeman studies them and writes us up in the log book. Then a few questions. We answer carefully, unsure of our sta- tus. A policemen picks up the guitar and plucks a few strings. **Who plays?”’ “Both of us.”’ He hands back the guitar. We ex- change glances. In for a penny, in for a pound. Ian opens his rucksack and pulls out a guena and then a set of pan-pipes. I pull the charango out of its too tight case. We tune up and then give a perfor- mance of our limited repertoire: Llorando se Fue, Greensleeves, all the old favourites. They stand about listening, saying hardly a word. No ice is broken. After a while they grow bored. ‘“That’s enough!”’ They return to their work. We put our instruments down, sit on the bench - and wait. More forms get filled in, guns are cleaned and loaded, a man in handcuffs is led in, and then out again. Someone drives off in a police pick-up truck. The afternoon wears on. Every now and then a vehicle stops at the barrier. We look up to see if it might be our lift south, but no, it’s waved on. An hour passes. Maybe two. A policeman comes in. **Come on, you two. Have a look at this.” We follow him out around the back of the building to where a pick-up truck is backing up under an overhang. In the back, its head lolling over the side, lies a dead guanaco. It looks like it’s just been shot, resisting arrest no doubt. Two po- licemen lift it out and carry it over to an old table. A man in green overalls ap- pears, holding a knife. He slits the animal from its neck, down across the belly, to its tail. Slowly he works off its hide. We sit on a rough bench in the shade. He .. . suddenly runs at us waving his knife and shouting, ‘*Blood! Blood! Blood!’’. It is some time before he gets the hide off and lays it to one side. Then, with his hands, he cleans out the guanaco’s in- sides. Droppings and half-digested grass splat onto the floor. He washes the car- cass down with water and starts dismem- bering the animal. Head, feet, tail and odd bits of offal are thrown into a wheel- barrow nearby. Then off come the legs and the body is split into halves. His hands and forearms covered in blood now, he stands back for a moment, looks at us, laughs, and suddenly runs at us waving his knife and shouting, ‘“Blood! Blood! Blood!’’. He stops a few feet in front of us, then, still giggling, turns around and goes back to the table. Only now do we recognize him as one of the policemen we’ve seen earlier. Tan surveys the pile of meat. ‘“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”’ “*T worked in a butcher’s shop after I left school,”’ he replies. Half an hour later, the guanaco has been reduced to assorted joints stacked on another table, the bloody hide and a barrowful of guts. A woman comes over from the bungalow next door. I presume she is the wife of the chief of the post. She surveys the meat without speaking, glances at us and walks away. Our grisly entertainment over, we go back to wait for our ride. The afternoon stretches into evening. We sit outside in the December sunshine. The world ignores us and we stare at the sky, sometimes talking, more often say- ing nothing. There’s a sense of time passing, a sense of getting nowhere. Another lorry stops at the barrier. *“Hey, you two!”’ The policeman standing by the cab is shouting at us. We look up and he waves us over. I open the cab door. The driver, an immensely fat man, is squeezed be- hind his steering wheel. He grins. ‘‘Put your bags on the trailer.’’ We do so, hoping that they won’t get jolted off, then climb in. The barrier is raised and we roll away. We still don’t know where he is going. I ask, hoping it is going to be a long ride. *“Ushuaia.’’ Well you can’t get much further than that. The old lorry bounces and rolls to the rhythm of the road. Ian is really happy for the first time that day. We swap the usual questions. Our driver, Guillermo, lives in Trelew but he spends most of his time on this road. Today his load is a prefabricated concrete building from Comodoro Rivadavia. He’ll get to Rio Callegos tomorrow night. From there to Ushuaia will take another three days. ‘*Play us atune then,’’ says Guillermo, and so we oblige. I can barely hear myself above the engine but we knock out the songs we know and then some more we half know. After each one Guillermo shouts, “Que tal eh? Que tal!’’ The lorry shakes us around and we sing till we are hoarse in the dry, dusty air. Ahead the road stretches in a long, Straight, endless black line. The land- scape is flat, the ground covered in tufty, scrubby grass. We pass several ‘“DAN- GER - ASH”’ road signs. We ask Guillermo what they mean. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 45 ee ““Hudson, a volcano in Chile, I think, blew up a few months ago. The ash blows over here. Sometimes it’s like a fog.”’ It grows dark. We drive on. Our re- flections stare back at us from the windscreen, the road unravels in the lorry’s headlights. It is a starry night, the Southern Cross hanging in the sky ahead. Below, lining the horizon, is a thick dark band. As we travel south it grows higher, asifwe are walking towards acastle wall. The night darkens. “‘’mnot stopping ina town tonight,”’ said Guillermo, “‘so if you want to spend the night in a hotel, you’ ll have to get out at Fitz Roy. But you’re welcome to kip on the trailer if you want.’’ Ian and I think about this; we don’t want to lose this ride. ““We’ll stick with you,’’ we say. The lorry rumbles on through the night. Itis midnight when we reach the truck stop. Guillermo pulls over and we go into the cafe. He ambles over to chat with some friends while we share a coke. Patagonia is the most expensive part of an expensive country and we are skint. After a while we go back to the lorry. The sides of the prefabricated building lean together, tied to a scaffold ‘A’ frame. They form two tall, thin concrete ‘tents’. We sit in one. Ian rummages around his pack, finds his shortwave radio and turns it on. We eat some bread rolls and listen to John Peel. Nothing but sky between us and London. 46 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER When the last song has finished, I crawl through the scaffolding to the other ‘tent’. Iwrap my cagou/e around me and curl up on the floor. A cold draught explores its way around me, a piece of scaffold digs into my back. I try a differ- ent position, and then another. It doesn’t work. I spend the night snatching mo- ments of sleep only to be awakened, sometimes by the cold, other times by pins and needles. I keep looking at my watch, willing the warmth-bringing morning toarrive. Finally, around 5 a.m. the sky pales. I clamber down from the trailer and rub my limbs. They, at least, are asleep. I walk out onto the road and stride north, trying to get the blood mov- ing, trying to warm up. My stomach is cramped up from the cold. All I want is to lie down somewhere soft and warm. I walk till I reach a road sign, Comodoro Rivadavia so many kilometres. I turn roundand walk south, swinging my arms. The sky is getting brighter and redder. A beautiful dawn lights the land around me, the road, the truck stop, all the buildings. The lorries, previously dark and menacing, take on form and colour. My spirits rise. Ian is up now and we breakfast on bread and oranges. People stir, dogs bark, and engines start up. The first lorries lumber off. Impatient to be off, we wait for Guillermo to appear. An hour or so later he emerges from the cafe where he has spent the night. “All right lads? Slept well?” He climbs into the cab and turns the ignition key. The lorry rolls slowly out of the truck stop and towards the open road. We turn south, gathering speed. The sunshine pours through the windscreen and the cab grows warm and stuffy. Mile after mile of Patagonia rolls by. I start to doze off. Guillermo looks over at us. “What, no music!’ And so we play our tunes over again to the beat of the road. A car passes in the other direction. It flashes its lights and then the road is empty again. I am surprised how green everything is. Isayas muchto Guillermo. “It’s not usually like this,”’ he says, “*we’ve had a fair bit of rain the last few months, cold weather, too. It’s all the ash from that volcano.”’ Sometime after mid-day, we come to a truck stop near the turn off to Santa Cruz. Guillermo goes off for a meal, We sit by the lorry eating bread and corned beef and looking at our map. Twenty miles south a road branches off due west to Calafate -- a solid red line on our map. We decide to go that way. Guillermo rejoins us and we tell him our plans. ‘*Fair enough,”” he says and we are off. We reach the turnoff to Calafate about 3 p.m. We say our goodbyes and jump down onto the 10ad. The lorry drives off. We are on our cwn again. A gravel road branches off from the main tarmac road and heads into Patagonia. Thereisa sign. We walk over to have a look. ‘‘Ruta 9 - Calafate - 241 km.’’ There are several small holesand dentsin thesign. ‘‘Funny. Ican’timagine stones doing that.’’ I take a closer look. Never having seen bullet holes, I can’t be certain, but that’s what they look like. Later we see them on other road signs. I presume passing motorists take potshots at them. Still, as long as it’s just road signs and not hitchhikers. A mile down the road we make out a gas pumping station -- a large modern building, shiny steel and tubes, emitting a continual low roar. We decide to hitch from there so we shoulder our packs and walk towards it. The clear air and lack of reference points make it difficult to judge dis- tances. What we thought a mile turns out to be closer to three. We put down our packs. Ian goes into the pumping station to refill our water bottle. The road is completely deserted. Ian returns and we sit by the side of the road and have a drink. Well OK. There’s no traffic about. Still, sooner or later something will turn upandit will be going to Calafateas there is no where else to go. And it will stop. It’s that sort of road. So, plenty of time to rest and think about life. It starts to drizzle but nothing comes of it. Discrete little rain storms potter around but none come near us. The sky is all subtle shades of light and cloud. Now where I come from, the sky and the land are the same size. They fit together. But out there the sky is a huge dome, far too big for the ground beneath it. The clouds are too large as well, as if seen through a telescope. A couple of pick-up trucks pass in the opposite direction. Nothing going west. Still, it’s better to be stuck in the middle of nowhere than stuck on the edge of town. I walk away from the road a hun- dred yards or so. Itis like walking into the sea. The land is flat for miles around, covered in a heather-like plant, blue- green to the horizon, No trees, no hills, A steady breeze blows, making waves and ripples in the heather. We’re having doubts. On Ruta 3, we can see traffic. Every five minutes or so a vehicle passes by on its lonely way south. But on our road, nothing. Unless we get a lift soon we won’t be getting to Calafate that night, and we have no food left. The alternative is to walk back to the main roadandcatcha lift down to Rio Gallegos. From there, we could visit Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales and Rio Turbio and, later on, head up to Calafate. We decide to wait another hour. The hour passes. A pick-up truck specds by going the other way. Finally, we trudge back to Ruta 3, but just as we reach the junction, two pick-up trucks go past, heading west. One stops. He is only going to a nearby estancia. We walk over to a sign,*‘Rio Gallegos - 188km’’ and put down our packs. Unless we get a lift soon we won’t be getting to Calafate that night, and we have no food left. Standing ona slight curve in the road, we have a clear view straight north. Lorries and cars can be seen several minutes before they reach us, appearing as little specks on the horizon and slowly getting larger as they come closer. Finally, we jump up, start thumbing and then they are past us, slowly becoming specks once again. I look north along the empty road. Ian sits a few yards away, speaking into his mini tape recorder, catching up on his diary. The wind gusts around us, colder now that the sun is low in the sky. Now and then, a vehicle sweeps past. Ian decides to record for posterity the sound of a lorry ignoring us. Soon one appears and comes thundering towards us. It’s all on the cassette: the wind, the approach- ing growl of an engine, the roar as it passes, the sound of someone shouting and the sound of running feet. Wesithigh in the warm cab, watching the world go by. Our large modern lorry is taking a load of cement south. Our driver is from Buenos Aires. He pulls out a photo of his wife and baby girl and tells us his story. He had gone to B.A. as a ‘hipi’ where he met this girl from a rich family. She became pregnant. They got married. Now, he works for her father - - a hippy no more. The sun sets as we talk away the miles in the long summer twilight. Every bul- let-riddled green road sign we pass shows we have a few less kilometres to Rio Gallegos. The countryside grows grassier and greener. A few spots of rain hit the windscreen, We climb down by a bridge over the River Gallegos, about 10 miles short of the town itself. We’re walking along the empty road in the darkness under a slow drizzle. A minute later a car stops. We stow our packs in the boot, next toa large, wet, shiny fish. The driver doesn’t have much to say. Most of the time, the only sound is the slap, slap, slap of the windscreen wipers. By the time we reach the outskirts of Rio Gallegos, the rain is pouring down. He drops us offat a round- about on the ring road. It is nearly mid- night; deathly dark, the road covered in puddles as black as the sky. We start walking. Tramping along the deserted streets, we follow our noses, splashing through the darkness trying to guess the way. Eventually we reach the centre of town. The first hotel is too expensive. We find another and walk up a staircase to the reception desk. Yes, they have a room. That'll be $10 each, a price we can just about afford. We take it. Soon, our wet clothes, rucksacks, boots and musical instruments, are all spread out to dry. The rain spatters on the window while we sleep the deep sleep of the footsore and road weary. When we wake up, the sun is shining. The roads are already dry. We go out, find a supermarket and buy bread, milk and biscuits. A quick breakfast in our room, then we pack our bags and walk back out to the ring road. A brisk wind blows the sunshine in our eyes. We reach the roundabout where Ruta 3 heads south and start thumbing. Minutes later, a big white pickup truck stops. We put our stuff in the back and climb in the front. The countryside is SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 47 green and flat like my map, sprinkled with sheep and a few farms and houses. Conversation hasn’t progressed much beyond, “‘Where’ve you been? Where are you going?’” when we come to a police post. Our man is only going a few miles further on, so he drops us off here. Inside we hand our passports over for inspection. Everything is OK so we go back outside to wait by the chain strung across the road. A lorry with Chilean plates pulls up. The driver, a young bloke, jumps down with a wad ofpapers in his hand. Helooks over atus as he walks into the police post. We wait hopefully. A few minutes later he reappears. “*Any chance of a lift to Punta Are- nas?’’ Jan asks. ““No, but I can take you as far as the border,”’ he replies and climbs back into his cab. We get in, jamming in our bags and the guitar by our feet. A policeman drops the chain. Our lorry rolls forward and over it. The road stretches out ahead once more. I ask the driver where he has come from. “‘Santiago,’’ he replies, jerking his thumb at the trailer behind us, ‘‘with a load of electrical goods.”” “*Is itunusual to do such along trip?”’ lask, surprised at the distance. He smiles and shakes his head. “‘No, I do this run a lot. Not just to - Santiago, I go up to La Serena, Antofagasta, Iquique...’’ I am even more surprised. Iquique is 3000 miles away. It must be closer to Bogota than Punta Arenas. Iask him how long it takes to drive down from Santiago. “Four days,’’ he replies, ‘‘it’s a fairly good road all of the way.’” Nearly everybody thinks that his life is normal and ordinary. Still, it’s odd how matter-of-fact he is about going back and forth across halfa continent. The tarmac ends and the road turns into a narrow track of packed earth. The sun has gone in a while ago. Now clouds thicken and darken, the wind picks up and rain pours down. It slaps the windscreen and as the lorry bumps and jolts along, it turns to hail, rattling down on the cab roof. Then, as suddenly as it came, it blows over leaving behind an overcast sky dripping 48 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER on a damp gray-green land inhabited by damp grey sheep. We stop on the Argentine side and go through the usual formalities. A mile or so further on we reach the Chilean post, sitting in the emptiness like a lost petrol station. The lorry pulls in and we say goodbyeto thedriver. Border police stamp our passports and check our bags for illicit fruit or cheese. We chat up a Ger- man hitchhiker. He’s been waiting for several hours. No lorries have come through. “‘Come to Chile’ tourist post- ers plaster the walls. A few officials hang around, We wait for two or three hours. It’s quiet —just a few cars going through. A bus heads into Argentina and the po- lice, customs and Ministry of Agricul- ture men havea busy few minutes check- ing all the bags and papers. Ian decides to record for posterity the sound of a lorry ignoring us. A bus pulls up, coming from Argen- tina. All the passengers climb down with their luggage. A Chilean customs official comes by and suggests we have a word with the driver, pointing toa man show- ing apassenger list toa policeman. When he’s free, we approach. ‘“No problem,”’ he says. “‘No problem at all.’” We climb aboard the bus with the other passengers and are shown a pair of vacant seats. The bus has come a long way, from Osorno, I think. It is full of Chilean parents all trying to keep small children amused. And so we travel the last hundred miles basking in the lap ofmodest luxury, savoring a complimentary plastic cup of coffee, a complimentary small piece of cake, while a television above our heads shows The Thornbirds dubbed into Span- ish. Through grassy moorland, with just a few wind-bent trees, we roll towards our first glimpse of the Magellan Straits. Small ships rock off shore, caught in splashes of sunlight; beyond, Tierra del Fuego. As we approach Punta Arenas, the driver’s mate comes down the aisle. “*Two thousand pesos,”’ he says in a low voice while he collects the plastic plates and cups. We pay happily. It is only a fraction of the price of a ticket from Rio Gallegos. A cheap ride for us. Beer money for the driver and his mate, There’s no bus station in Punta Are- nas. Instead we stop in the plaza. It’s about 8 p.m. but still light out. We shoul- der our rucksacks and walk the five or six blocks out of town, looking for a nice hospedaje. On the way we bump into a couple of French-Canadian girls we met earlier on the boat to Chacabuco. We stand on the street corner in the evening sunlight, swapping stories and trying to remember names. Up the hill, we find a bed-and-breakfast. It’s run by a little old lady who welcomes us in and shows us into a warm, clean, cosy room. After a wash and brush up, we go out to eat. The cost of living is much lower in Chile. We can afford to eat in a restaurant. The next morning there’s hot water to shave and shower with. The sun shines through net curtains to fall on a large dining table with china cups and plates, a vase of flowers, cups of tea, homemade scones, butter, rhubarb jam. Traveling is all very well, but arriving can be nice too. o Flamingo information wanted Wildlife photographer producing book on flamingos of the world wants to hear from SAEC who have information about flamingos or people that interact with them in South America. I have been to Laguna Colorada and worked with Uru Morata and Chipaya Contact; Michael Wickes Wild World Productions P.0, Box 3313 Hailey, 1D &3333 Phone/FAX (208) 788-4888 THE INCAS Pi ey ee One bee Wee Vi During the summer of 1996, Wilderness Travel will proudly host a special travel event: the Incas, a 2-day symposium and tour program featuring the most renowned Inca authorities in the world—along with legendary explorer, Gene Savoy. GUEST SPEAKERS GENE Savoy Susan NIves, Pu.D. BRIAN Bauer, Pu.D. JorGe FLores Ocuoa, Pu.D. GorDAN McEwan, Pu.D. JEAN-PIERRE PROTZEN, PH.D. CUZCO, PERU: JULY 12-13, 1996 Wilderness Travel 801 Allston Way, Berkeley, CA 94710 . 1-800-368-2794 SAEC PowerCard® Sure, we're flush. Now. The re- newal mailing kicked in with en- couraging results and, well, we're still in business. The trouble with renewal mailings, though, is that they cost money. And it's not just what we have to shell out to Eagle Envelope Company for printing the envelopes and flyers, to the U.S. Post Office for mailing, to Challenge Industries for labelling, stuffing, sorting and bundling the envelopes, and all that. No, it's the horrendous mental costs that do us in, the fearful emotional drain. Yes, the weeks of anguish. Look at it this way. A renewal mailing is really a vote of confidence. Four times a year we have to put ourselves on the line. And every time, wecan't help wondering, ‘‘Is this the end of the Club? Will the mem- bers come through one more time? Can we trust the members to keep us afloat for another year?’ God, it's awful. Unnery- ing, really. It's not uncommon for the staff to crack under the strain and run shrieking into the woods. It's hell. What- ever the results, good or bad, every re- newal exacts a horrible toll. You just never know. Okay, so it worked this time. But where do we go from here? How to make best use of the latest reprieve and spend the money wisely? Well, we've been thinking about this. The answer? Improve services. But how? The membership card! It may be a small thing --a membership card. Up till now, it's been, well, just a membership card. Of course, we tout it as the one and only ‘‘laminated, rabid-bat-spittle-proof card guaranteed to trip any lock in the Third World, smooth away the odd nick in soap sculptures, putty little holes or scale small trout.’’ But, when all's said and done, it's really only a membership card, it's inestimable value essentially symbolic. But times are changing. The future's uncertain. Remember ‘‘Osborn Comput- ers?’’ Long gone. Dead. Bellied up along with countless other companies -- one- year wonders. But not the South Ameri- 50 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER can Explorers Club or, at least, the Club's Allied Chip & Transistor Development Division. That's right. Whatever hap- pens, members can be sure that their staff at the South American Explorers Club is tirelessly surfing the technological seas, making it out there on the cutting edge shoulder to shoulder, neck to neck, with the silicon big boys. Justa chip off the old chip, you might say. Out where? In Cyberspace. That's what we call it anyway. Bill Gates and us. Well, you've probably been hearing about Animated Offices and Personal Data Assistants (PADS) -- Sony's Magic Link®, Motorola's Envoy®, Apple's Newton®, Fujitsu's PogetPad®, Psion's Palmtop®. Sure, but have you heard about the SAEC's PowerCard®? No? Well, next to the SAEC's PowerCard®, all the rest are hulking, bulky, outdated, technological dinosaurs, stillborn on the drawing board, dead in the egg. True, right now, your old membership card only gets you into the Clubhouses in Ithaca, Quito and Lima. But we're talk- ing Carreterra Informacion, That's In- formation Highway to you. Three years from now, well... maybe a little longer ... things will be different. Yeah? How? Just the other day, we got a fax from Klaus Hintig in Wiesbaden. Klaus wanted to know why he couldn't just give us his credit card number so we could deduct his membership dues every year. Could we do that? Well, no. But it got us to thinking. Think of all the trees we'd save if we could do that. Trees? Hell. More important, think ofall the money we'd save, if every year we could just press a button and dock... er.. hit up, that is, soak, what we mean to say is, you know, electronically withdraw membership dues froma member's bankaccount. Oh splendid miracle of the modern world! Oh blessed Visa, mighty MasterCard, delight- ful Discover Card. No more mail- ings. No renewal notices. No messy little checks or deposit slips. No return envelopes. No annoyed or irritated members. Nonothing. Just the sweet hum of a computer engaged in the smooth, silent, elegant transfer of small (or maybe not so small) sums of money into the Club's swelling coffers. Members of the South American Ex- plorers Club would, we think, applaud such an efficient system designed, as it is, with their convenience and comfort in mind. Then too, it happens now and then, (not often, happily) that a member, for one reason or another, forgets to renew. This is rare but it's safe to say that when it does happen, such a member would welcome a timely reminder of his/her annual obligation. Well, it so happens that we've just made a breakthrough. It's still a secret how it's done but we can, at least, let you know that we've discovered a way to jog the member's memory, long distance. Our engineers have succeeded in getting atest membership card to heat up by remote control. It's not far off, months away really, when we can get a members's attention half way around the world. The membership card of a mem- ber forgetting to renew would slowly warm up and, if this gentle reminder were callously ignored, could ultimately heat up to inflict a third-degree burn or even a painful, rectangular brand. This would certainly grab his/her attention. So. Clearly, we expect automatic yearly deductions of membership ducs will meet with membership approval. Other features of the PowerCard®, how- ever, might possibly arouse some short sighted opposition. For example, would members know how to fully appreciate the advantage of a high-tech member- ship card that would let them change, update or even addany number of canned codicils to their Last Will and Testament anywhere, anytime? The advantages are clear. It's one thing to draft a will in the artificial surroundings of a lawyer's of- fice. But you can only know your true last wishes when disaster strikes, when you're looking death right in the eye. We won- der sometimes here at the Club how many last wills would have been changed in the final hour if members had had this feature built into their membership cards. How many wives, husbands, even chil- dren would have been cut out of the will at the crucial hour? We think it can be safely assumed that the South American Explorers Club would have been the rightful recipient ofinnumerable bequests if only a member had had the freedom to express his true will at the decisive mo- ment. Now, with his/her PowerCard®, he/she will. Furthermore, to make sure a member's will finds appropriate expres- sion at the eleventh hour, we're working on software that includes a default mode whereby failure to confirm designated beneficiaries on a regular basis will auto- matically rewrite, sign, witness and notorize the will leaving everything to the Club. Also, with a little tinkering and an- ticipated breakthroughs in mirco-cir- cuitry, every SAEC PowerCard® will soon double as a global positioning sys- tem (GPS). The advantage of knowing the whereabouts of members at all times ispotentially invaluable, information that might be divulged or denied to a curious spouse for a small, additional fee. Need we add that the SAEC Power Card® will monitor the health of mem- bers, allowing the Club to track heart- beat, body temperature, enzyme levels, blood sugar, cholesterol buildup, blood pressure, etc. Plugged into the Club's mainframe, the Club will monitor a member's physical condition twenty-four hours a day. In case of system failure (the member's, not the computer's), a list of local doctors, specialists, medical equip- ment and supplies, etc. can be down- loaded at a moment's notice. At the same time, light planes operating in the area can be located, pilots pinpointed, contact made, and medevac procedures initi- ated. Our members' health is the Club's first concern. Members can rest assured that access to information of this nature will remain confidential. Nonetheless, if it turns out that an individual is comporting him/ herself more like a couple than an indi- vidual, he/she will be asked to upgrade his/her membership to a Couple Mem- bership. Membership classification (Single or Couple) can be determined not merely by noting increases in body tem- perature but by monitoring nocturnal exertions, hormonal fluctuations, respi- ratory rates (panting), andaudible groans. It's anticipated that the PowerCard® will, before long, support even more sophisticated interactive communication between club and member. Indeed, the applications are staggering, even infi- nite. Yeah? Like what? Of literally countless examples, let's take one. Imagine, if you will, a member gripped in the icy clutches of panic, frantic with fear, dangling froma frayed rope, blasts of wind beating his/her body against the rock face ofan Andean moun- tain. Then, behold. Instant peace of mind as he/she pulls out his/her PowerCard® from a handy scarf pocket, and dials up a soothing voice of either gender. ‘‘Hello there. Thank you Hilda Smithers - Member #21468-42 for call- ing. How can I help you? I am your knowledgeable mountain guide, Rodrigo/ Maria, at your service.’’ Rodrigo/Maria will then walk the member through the crisis, so to speak, dispensing a kind word here, a stern caution there, tough love or soothing support whatever the situation demands based on a screening of the member's brain waves and other physical data. Such a card might well save your life but if not, it will certainly make location and recovery of your mortal remains easier, since it will emit a signal much like the black box on a downed airplane. At the same time, a member anticipating a terminally dire outcome can call up a detailed outline of his/her body and, using an attached stylus, designate or- gans tobe donated. Iftime permits, he/she can also record a short farewell message to loved ones or select something appro- priate from a list of Hallmark-approved final wordsand phrases. That's the SAEC PowerCard®, only available from the South American Explorers Club. Research on such projects as the PowerCard® and the still secret Club Pacemaker/Personal Masseuse/Masseur® and the SAEC Universal PogqitBirder® would not be possible were it not for the magnificent generosity and foresight of those very special members who give above and beyond the requirements of mere SAEC membership. This time around, we'd like to thank the following esteemed contributors: Contributing Peter Ackroyd, Rosemary A. Ames, Eddy Ancinas, Karen Angel, Glenn Austerfield, Jerry Azevedo, Bill and Diane Bain, Christina Bird, Dr. Henry R. and Jennifer Bishop, Bill Blaskovich, Naomi Lee Bloom, Leon Cejas, Claudette Kekmper Columbus, William Cooksley, Robert D. and Joyce Daniels, Bruce Davis, Douglas Day, Lawrence C. Donovan, Lonnie R. Dunham, David and Audry Fielding, Jan Frederick, Michael Freire, Bob Friede, Stephen Frischmuth, Glan Gaskins, Allen Gerrard, Jeffrey W. Girard, Robert Haag and Jacqueline Luthi, George Waverly Hall, Armin Hass, Ron Hasz, P.D. Hulce, David Hunt, Tom Hunting- ton, Peggy Inman, Dorothy Joba, Stan C. Kimer, Thomas Kreeger, David Landes, Alan Leary, Bryan Lewin, Johannes Lisiecki, Kirk Mayer, John R. McCain, Bess McCarthy, William J. McGovern, Jr., Art Milch, Gloria Montoya, Sascha Nielsen, Jane Paradise, John B. Parrish, OlafS. Petersen, Yanik Perigny, Virginia Picht, Mark Ratner, Dr. Gale Raymond, Pedro D. Relyea, Peter Robertson, Jean and Marjorie Robinson, Sybil Rogert, Nick Roncone, Jeff Salz, Sebastian Shapiro, Terry Simonitch, Danny Sorrells, Gordon Spingler, P.L. Swift, Robert Teetshorn, Mason Thatcher, Fred Thomp- son, William J. Towles, John C. Vredenburgh, Roger Waterman, Joseph Weingart, Katherine F. Wheeler, Yassi Yassemi, Lester G. Zeihen. Continued next page Supporting Mason E. Byles, John Dragisic, Clive Giboire, Karl Hartkopf, Elizabeth Hessinger and Rich Young, E. Fletcher Hosmer, Marie Javins, Christopher Kennan, Vince R. Lee, Janina G. Liskevicius-Levanas, David L. Robertson, Nancy Jean Robertson, Markien Rongen. Life B. Brent Black, Paul T. Carroll, Xanthe Cobb, Ivan W. Dodson, Csaba Gabor, Mark Lowry, II, Michael Tomkinson, Ashley and Ivy White. Lima News It's been changeover time here in the clubhouse. After a year of sterling ser- vice in joint command of operations, Jane has decided that the ‘City of Kings’ is no longer big enough for her. She's moved to Quito to help out the sister club for now, where I'm sure her expertise will be much appreciated by Sheila during Melanie's absence, as will her supper speciality, ‘Gnocchi a la Limeiio’! We are now being ably assisted by Bill Glick, who was foolhardy enough to offer his services at just the right time. He's prov- ing to be a real asset to the club and I'm glad to be working with him. Elsewhere, Wilderness Travel orga- nized an archaeology conference in Chiclayo as a means of attempting to re- awaken people's interest in Peru and as a benefit for the excellent Bruning Mu- seum. Archaeologists involved in the 4- day conference included club members Vince Lee (I promised not to let on that the hotel barman knew Vince's room number by heart!) and Johan Reinhard as well as a host of bright lights in the ruins world such as Thor Heyerdahl, Walter Alva and Federico Kaufman-Doig amongst others. Wilderness is planning a similar conference for next year to be focused specifically on the Incas and to be held in Cusco. Contact them directly for further details. And further news on airlines is that ALL major airlines are now offering discounted prices on flights for tourists inPerubutit is still cheaper to buya ticket outside of the country. Finally, club members who come 52 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER through Lima after theend of July (clutch- ing the inevitably huge handcarry and cans of draught Guinness, hopefully!) will notice a certain difference in the appearance of the building. After months of warnings, it happened that we were fined $100 for not painting the facade, so we've finally given in and opted for a tasteful lucuma (a dark yellowish- coloured Peruvian fruit) and pine green scheme to decorate the outside. Excla- mations of disgust WILL NOT be toler- ated. However, club members passing through around mid-August should be aware that we intend to pressgang the willing and the not-so-willing into help- ing paint the inside of the glorious mother club. We will provide the beer - you provide the artistic ability. - Richard Quito News Melanie has abandoned us for her summer exploits back in the States. But she has been faithfully covered by Sheila who is recently back from a stint at home recuperating and getting a dose of all those good things from homebefore com- mitting herself for the next 18 months. Frank, the bald and very charming British computer man, has joined us. The poor man is suffering, surrounded by whiners every time we can't figure the computer out. He'll be with us until Au- gust. We're hoping he'll give us a crash course, although Melanie was beginning to type with more than two fingers by the time she had left. We might actually make the 20th century before we slip into the 21st. Tabitha, another Austin connection, is here for the summer. We're cranking into gear for the summer and it's already beginning to fecl like Monday every day of the week. Some may say that we now have a healthier Anglo-American mix. But what's the point when everyone here loves marmite. This could be crisis time. Anyone wanting to appease us can bring a jar or two down. A great thing is happening in the Cotopaxi province that is sure to open up one of the prettiest areas in Ecuador. The BLACK SHEEP INN, a small friendly hotel started in March by members, Mich- elle Kirby and Andy Hammerman. It's located in the town of Chugchillan fifty miles southwest of Quito on the Western Cordillera of the Andes. A great hike or bike ride from Zumbagua after the Satur- day-morning market. The crater Lake Quilotoa is on the way and Chugchilan is a good area to base for day hikes. If gorgeous scenery doesn't do it, how about that Swiss cheese factory that rivals Wisconsin's finest. - Damaris and Melanie Members While glutted with trip reports on the Inca trail, Iguagu, and the Galapagos Islands, we are still in need of up-to-date trip reports in less-traveled areas like: French Guiana, Guyana, Suriname, Bra- zil, Venezuela, etc. Reports of first- contact, discoveries of lost cities, Inca treasure, new species identified, first as- cents up unconquered peaks or sightings (with photographs) of El Gran Mono welcome, especially if typed. Please call or write to: 126 Indian Creek Rd, Ithaca, NY 14850. Tel: (607) 277-0488 for blank trip report forms. Edwin T. Culberson, first motorcy- clist to ride the entire main route of the Pan American Highway between Alaska and Argentina, died of Lou Gehrig's disease in San Antonio, Texas on January 4, 1995. The 65- year old retired U.S. Army colonel required three years to complete his record-setting 47,000-mile run, which included a passage through the only remaining break in the High- way -- the Darien Gap jungle region on the Panama-Colombia border. A Chief Instructor for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, he trained Peace Corps Volunteers to ride in Latin America, Africa and the Caribbean, and led motorcycle tour groups into Mexico and Central America. He was a frequent contributor to motor- cycle publications and authored the book Obsessions Die Hard -- Motor- cycling the Pan American Highway's Jungle Gap. Tropical Tribune “*Well, if animals don't have rights, they really should. I wish people would just leave them alone. I like animals.’’ That's the kind of hard-hitting, pull- ing-no-punches, interview you can ex- pect to find in the Tropical Tribune put out by the sixth graders of the J.C. McKenna Middle School of Evansville, Wisconsin. Now, in its fourth year of publication, the Tropical Tribune has been raising money to protect the rainforest with staff- written pieces such as ‘‘The Flooded Rainforest and What It Holds,’’ Mrs. Lawlor'sThird-Grade Class Rainforest Protectors,”’ My Interview with Mr. Kelly and Mr. Beedle,”’ and ‘‘Giant Ground Sloth Haunts Brazil.”’ The sixth-grade students have been studying tropical rain-forests since 1988. The Tropical Tribune is the only middle school, all-student-written publication in the country devoted exclusively to rainforests. Subscribers to the Tropical Tribune include middle schools in all fifty states and also in Canada, Australia, Puerto Rico, Peru, Gambia, Belize and Costa Rica as well as well-wishers, con- servationists, ecologists and adults. Stu- dents as far away as Australia have ap- peared in the pages of the Tropical Tri- bune which now boasts a circulation in the thousands. One of the most popular goals of the Tropical Tribune is to finance the pur- chase of rainforest reserves. To this end, the newspaper publishes a list of recom- mended save-the-rainforest organiza- tions. These include the Jatun Sacha- International Children's Rainforest, Bolivia's Amboro National Park, Costa Rica-Monte Verde, First International Children's Rainforest, and others. A subscription for two big winter and spring issues to the Tropical Tribune can be had for $2.00. To subscribe, write the Tropical Tribune, J.C. McKenna Middle School, 307 South First Street, Evans- ville, WI 53536. Checks should be made out to the J.C. McKenna Middle School. Patrons may make larger donations. New Cordillera Real Map Member Liam O'Brian will be pub- lishing a four-color 24 by 42 inch map of the Cordillera Real. Publication is set for July 1995. We haven't seen any copies yet but expect to have this map for sale in the near future. New World Order Ofall the many excellent trip reports streaming in to the Club from all corners of South and Central America, a few stand out above the rest -- trip reports par excellance, trip reports magnifique, trip reports extraordinaire! So great are these trip reports that the Club feels they deserve recognition of sorts. And since we have these twenty- odd extra sweatshirts in a box down- stairs, well, we thought we'd create the Illustrious Order of Distinguished Trip Report Writers and give members of this exclusive and select group a sweatshirt in licu of something more costly. We've already sent sweatshsirts to Jerry Azevedo andR.N. McLean for their contributions. That leaves eighteen sweatshirts. When they're gone, we'll probably dissolve the order or possibly think about continuing it but conferring T-shirts instead of sweatshirts. If you wish to be nominated for the Order on the basis of past trip reports or current submissions, please let us know. Speaking of trip reports, itso happens that we still have 200+ copies of Gerry Leitner’s superb Travel Companion Ar- gentina which was, alas, printed in 1990 and is going out of date. This being the case, the Club is prepared to give any members writing especially good trip reports on Argentina, particularly if such trip reports are presented in a legible script, or even better, typewritten. Fur- thermore, now that we think about it, the Club might even consider giving the book to members fortrip reports on coun- tries adjoining Argentina or in special cases, countries not adjoining Argentina but below Texas. Now before you dash off any old trip report from memory to get a free book, be advised it's not free. No matter how good the trip report, no matter that it's type- written, etched in copper plate on expen- sive vellum, no matter what, to get a book, you'll have to cough up four bucks. Four bucks? Oh stop whining. Hell, the book weighs a pound and a half. It costs three bucks for priority mail and at least 50 cents for the jiffy bag and a lot more than that for the time and effort to send it out. Anyway, we usually sell the book for $15.00 to members and that's the sale price. It's worth a lot more, even though it is going out of date. Can you get this book for an earlier trip report on Argentina, a trip report on a country adjoing Argentina or a trip report on a country below Texas? We frown on this. Still, if you want to make a federal case out of it, kick up a storm, threaten the Club, that sort of thing, we'll talk. Give us a call. Just take note. You're in the wrong and to geta free book (yes, we know, but it's a/most free), try to be civil because we don't have to do nothing. Yerba Mate Hard to believe but here it is, La Cebada, a newsletter devoted solely, yes that's what we said, exclusively to Yerba Mate and the many fascinating aspects of this delightful tea from S. A.: its history, production and commerce; the variety of drinks made from Yerba; and its signifi- cance in the folklore of the region. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 53 Each issue contains a list of refer- ences intended to aid other materos in their studies of Yerba Mate. The first issue appeared on August 19, 1994, featuring a lead article, ‘*What is Mate?’’ with such followup pieces suchas “‘Botanist Imprisoned for Conducting Yerba Studies,’’ and “‘Launching Yerba Mateinthe U.S.’’. The ongoing column ‘“‘KA'A NE'ENGATU,”’ The Herb Speaks in Guarani, promises to be a reader fa- vorite. “*Mateamos,”’ for those in the know, means let's drink mate. We didn't know this until we started reading La Cebada, nor had we ever heard of the 1900 publication "Yerba Mate Tea: The History of Its Early Discovery in Paraguay, Its Preparation in that Coun- try and in Brazil and Its Introduction into the United States. Yes, yes, of course you want to know more about La Cebada and how you can subscribe. Just write Bill Ancker, PSC 20, Box 482, APO AA 34020. \ The Black Sheep Inn Haspedaje Chugchildn CIA. LIDA. Chugrhilén de Moreta, Cotopaxi, Ecuador NOW OPEN - Come Visit Us Michelle Kirby & Andres Hammerman - Proprietors Material for Jackets with Ethnic Designs: in natural colours or cochineal dye — ~ Av. de Diclembre 1921 y Baquerizo near Baca Ortiz Heap. a4 Tel. 601-883 Fax (883-2) 668-447 P.O. Box 17-07-8819 wr Quite - Ecuador The widely-acclaimed Trade & Travel Handbooks enjoy an unrivalled reputation. From the classic South American Handbook to the latest on East Africa, they cover over 120 countries, dependencies and dominions. Bound to last the trip, these annually updated practical guides are essential companions for all travellers. Catalogues available Distributed in North America by Passport Books 4255 West Touhy Avenue Lincolnwood Illinois 60646 - 1975 Tel (708) 679 5500 Fax (708) 679 6375 Trade & Travel Handbooks An award-winning series 6 Riverside Court Lower Bristol Road cong 3Dz 4a TRADE & TRAVEL | mil Tel 01225 469141 Khardbaoks Fax 01225 469461 Dear Club, In response to Tom Reidy's comments in the South American Explorer No. 40, I have begun an inquiry into ‘“The Last Days of Moritz Thomsen.’’ Though I've only just begun, it already prom- ises to be a fascinating journey. At this stage, Iam developing leads. I would appreciate hearing from anyone who was close to or in communication with Thomsen during the final years of his life (after the trip he wrote about in The Saddest Pleasure), knew someone who was, or has other related information. - Mark Lowry II Department of Geography Western Kentucky University Bowling Green, KY 42101 Dear Club, ; In reading your ‘“Membership Ser- vices’’ handout, I noticed some informa- tion regarding maps. I have some infor- mation to share with you and also a couple of requests. Information: Rector Press Are you aware of an organization called Rector Press? I have received their Fall 1994 Catalogue. It is interesting to note they appear to be capable of " resourcing former U.S.S.R. topographi- cal maps for many places in the world. I presently have a request into them re- garding parts of Central and South America. I note with interest that they can provide complete topographical maps of Cuba, for instance. The contact infor- mation is: Mr. Lewis B. Sckolnick Rector Press Ltd. 130 Rattlesnake Leverett, MA 01054-9726 Tel: 413-548-9708 Fax: 413 367-2853 Request #1: Information or where- abouts of Topographical and/or soil maps and/or land use maps. I am interested in these maps for certain coastal areas of the following countries: Mexico, Guatemala, Hondu- ras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Panama, Ecuador, north eastern Brazil, Suriname LETTERS and Guyana. Iam aware that most people are familiar with topographical maps. But that is not necessarily true with soil and land use maps. As one would imag- ine, soil maps define the soils in a given area. More importantly, these maps are generally accompanied by a detailed writeup of the soil samples taken, etc. It is common to also show watersheds in this material. Land use maps generally use a legend of some kind to define the economic and social use of land areas in a given area. For example: these maps might indicate agricultural areas and their type of production, national lands, forest and game preserves, etc. Any information that you might have along these lines would be appreciated. If you have one-of-a-kind documents of this nature, we would be willing to pay all costs associated with reproducing the documents. Request#2: Temperature and Precipi- tation Information I am interested in temperature and precipitation information for the same coastal areas of the above-mentioned countries. Ultimately, I suspect that I will have to ferret out the meteorological stations in each of these countries and then narrow it down to specific informa- tion gathering stations. Ideally, I would like 40-years records of month to month temperature and precipitation informa- tion. - Bob Hansens 1221 Abrams Rd, Ste 315 Richardson, TX 75081- Dear Club, Your pleas for membership renewal (SAE #40, pp 51-52) have left my wife and me in schizophrenic denial. How could we be so remiss as to allow our- selves to lapse into... gag! gag! ... a Generation X insalubrious state of mind, knowing full well that our one and only favorit-est organization in the whole wide world is in need of our continu- ing support . . . ie., "The bucks" to continue our membership. After reading about your con- cern that this "alleged" institu- tion, Friends of Tibet, is some- how making money hands over fist, I sprinted for my checkbook in an attempt to solidify our relationship with SAEC. Heaven forbid I should get a summons from ‘‘FOT”’ seeking a contribution. It is quite obvious from your article that*‘FOT”’ is successfully solvent and is in no need of continuing support. My money goes to you guys . . . the really poor. I've always championed the under- dog. Besides, somehow I can't really visu- alize the following sign attached to some obscure outpost . . . South American Explorers Club Tibetan Annex I guess youcould call us "contrarians". Our money’s with the SAEC, sink or swim. Please accept the enclosed check for $115.00 to continue our unbroken relationshp. Besides, I need another T- shirt anyway. - Patrick Swift Kathy Malan Please call or write to us to inform of address change three to four weeks PRIOR to move, to ensure uninter- rupted delivery of your magazine. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 55 PERU’s MANU NATIONAL PARK... Join the top guides in the world’s richest tropical wildlife reserve. Write us: P.O. Box 606 Cusco Peru Fax: (84) 236706 Tel: (84) 226671 Canopy Exploration in the Peruvian Amazon xperience an exciting new way to explore the Amazon rainforest. Ascend high into the jungle treetops with the use of rope systems specially designed for canopy movement. + Hike through lush jungle * Cance remote tributaries + Discover exotic wildlife Join our experienced naturalist guides for high adventure. F G Cre expeditions Group rates avail. 1-800-400-2609 P. O. Box 49724, Atlanta, GA 30359 CUSTOM ADVENTURE TRAVEL Specializing in tropical America. River expeditions in the Amazon Ba- sin. Horseback trips in El Chaco. Treking in the Andes. Birding in the Pantanal. Cultural experiences with remote tribes - Mam, Ixil, Mayoruna, Remos, Aymara. Wilderness camp- ingand fishing. Custom photographic expeditions. Experienced guide. Per- sonalized Service. Wildman Adven- tures, 17554 300th St., Onamia, MN 56359. Tel: (612) 532-3768, Fax: (612) 532-4842 56 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER Ha Best aie III " FER YOU: is * OFFICIAL DIPLOMAS * individual Classes : * University Educated Teachers * Audiovisual Methods * international Student Card (Isic) * Selected Ecuadorian Families * Cheap tours to Galapagos * Tours around Ecuador * Malling, Fax service: * international calls Addrees: 718 Jorge Washington St. and Amazonas Ave., Bullding Rocafuerte, Washington Block 3" floor. PHONE & FAX (593 2) 504 654 P.O. BOX:17 21 1245 Quito - Ecuador Always The Best!!! ALI SHUNGU HOTEL RESTAURANT A Secure & Comfortable Refuge with Beautiful Mountain Views & Friendly Service, Just 4 Blocks From the Indian Market we we Gourmet Vegetarian Dishes / Excellent Meats 24 Hour HOT WATER / Orthopedic Mattresses Breakfast & Classical Music Vireplace | Garden / Patio Live Folklore Music / Book Exchange Tour Information wae Calle QUITO con QUIROGA 06-920750 OTAVALO, ECUADOR Highlights of Los Andes bs » Bolivia a wise decision ROSARIO * * * Ph. 369542 - 325348 - panes s: Illampu 704 - P.O. Box 44 a, Machu Picchu FAX 591-2-375532 - La Paz - Bolivia with TURISBUS MANU NATIONAL PARK AN AMAZON BIOSPHERE RESERVE “TAKING A GUIDED TOUR THROUGH EDEN" -Time Magazine- Birdwatching - Canopy Climbing - Mountain Biking; - River Rafting 1995 Fixed departure dates: Second Sunday cf every month 8 days/7 nights tip For detailed information on prices and itineraries contact: MANU NATURE TOURS AND MANY LODGE Av. Sol 582, Cusco—Pert Ph: 051 84 224384, Fax: 051 84 234795 THY WILL BE DONE - The Conquest of the Amazon: Nelson Rockefeller and Evan- gelism in the Age of Oil Gerard Colby and Charlotte Dennett HarperCollins $35 The barely manageable title of Thy Willbe Done.... , doesn't even give you an idea of the breadth of this 960-page opus. But here also is the political history of Latin America in this century; the development of the Central Intelligence Agen- cy; the growth of American com- panies abroad, particularly the Rockefellers’ Standard Oil of New Jersey; creation of mis- sionary settlements among iso- lated jungle tribes; overview of the Cold War; Bay of Pigs invasion; overthrows of governments engineered by secret coalitions of the CIA, state department and missionaries; examina- tions of U.S. presidencies; development of the Green Berets for counterinsurgency operations in the Third World; rise and fall of Che Guevera; the Vietnam War; assassinations, massacres --and the lives of two men: Nelson Rockefeller and William Cameron Townsend. Is this book bulky and unwieldy? Definitely. Is it a sprawling mess? Not in the least. Thy Will Be Done is a wholly absorb- ing explanation of the economic, politi- cal and military forces in the U.S. that dominated the control of Latin America's natural resources and stifled social and political development. While the rewards were reaped north of the Rio Grande, nations were raped south of it, as if Manifest Destiny and the invading American filibusterers of a bygone decade were now invoking de- mocracy as a thin veil to continue domi- nating and exploiting Latin America for profit and asa shield from Communism. Rockefeller, one of the most powerful and influential capitalists and public ser- vants of the century who eventually be- came vice president under Gerald Ford, was the country's preeminent expert of Latin American affairs through several administrations because of his experi- ence with Standard Oil's extractive op- erations under the Creole Oil banner in several Amazonian nations. Townsend, the founder of Wycliffe Bible Translators and the Summer Insti- tute of Linguistics in Oklahoma -- the two most widespread missionary organi- zations to Indians in Latin America since the Jesuits centuries ago -- was inspired throughout his life to bring the word of the Bible to rainforest tribes in their own languages. To this end, his zeal was unflagging, no matter whether the Indians wanted conversion or not, whether or not his missionaries brought diseases and dog- mas that destroyed their immune and cultural belief systems. Collusion with CIA operatives to overthrow governments and to acquire valuable light airplanes, mainly Helio Couriers, needed for travel in the vast Amazon, became a part of his activities. Although a few books have been published in England by Zed Books about the wrongheaded methods of American missionaries in the Latin tropics, no previous big American book has challenged the subject as head-on as the ironically titled Thy Will Be Done. The enormous task of explaining the complications and cross-connections between Rockefeller's work and Town-send's and the machina- tions of government actions in between that led to the burn- ing of forests and eradication of indigenous peoples is accom- plished by the authors in crisp style. Dozens of books in the last two decades have explained as- pects of Amazonian destruction. But never has one book takenon the task of explaining the whole picture. Colby and Dennett lean only slightly in the direction of advocacy journalism, preferring most of the time to let events and the facts themselves bring illuminations and ironies to the surface. There are descriptions of massacres -- machine-gunnings and bombings of isolated tribes so their lands could be stolen -- and other mass- death offshoots of American extractive developments such as when an oil slick created by sloppy Creole Oil wells on Lake Maracaibo caught fire and killed more than 2,000 Venezuelans, or when more than 200 peasant miners were ma- chine-gunned in Bolivia for protesting low wages. Thy Will Be Done is an enlightening and explanatory history and a sad and sobering examination of the uses and misuses of American might and evan- gelical righteousness. . ~ Jerry Roberts Torrance, CA The Fever Coast Log GORDON CHAPLIN Simon & Schuster Gordon Chaplin and Susan Atkinson sailed their motorsailer, Lord Jim, along the gulf coast of Central America from the Yucatan peninsula to the Panama Canal, in searchof*‘seediness’’. Chaplin describes the journey unpretentiously, in a way that will keep your interest late at night and make you wish you had been there. Chaplin is a descendent of Frederick Catherwood, the obscure nineteenth cen- tury artist who accompanied John Lloyd SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 57 Stephens on his explorations of Central America and illustrated Stephens’s books. Chaplin’s goal was to retrace part of Stephens and Catherwood’s route, and to find ‘‘stories that would be good enough to help me remember who I was.”’ By putting in at small seedy villages along the fever coast, Chaplin met some interesting people, and indeed found some very good stories. He tells of Steadman Fagoth, the rebel Miskito leader; Charlie Tuna, the friendly pedophile; and many other interesting characters too strange to be invented. Did Chaplin remember who he was? Near the end of the book, he writes, ‘‘Among other things, an eleven-year- old boy in Bluefields, Nicaragua (the seediness capital of the world), had told me my name and my vocation.’’ That, perhaps, is a good start. - Richard Halliburton Streets with no Names STRYKER MCGUIRE Atlantic Monthly Press Stryker McGuire was a journalist in Mexico and Central America for Newsweek. He covered much of the vio- lence in Central America during the 1970’s. In June, 1987, he took a leave of absenceand spent about eighteen months driving through Central and South America with his companion, Judith Jedamus. This book is (presumably) a record of that trip. In his introduction, McGuire writes, ‘I did not want my book to become a lecturer’s podium from which to broad- cast sweeping generalizations and con- descending homilies about our Ameri- can neighbors. I wanted to give a sense of what it is like to wander into a strange place and learn about it.’’ He failed at both goals. When writing about the countries he had covered for Newsweek, McGuire spends more time reminiscing of his years in the field than in describing his experiences and impressions during the trip itself. The histories are uncritical and superficial. There is sometimes an annoyingly arrogant “‘I was there’ atti- tude about important events, but little about his experiences. 58 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER The chapters on countries he had not previously seen are no better. They are mostly capsule histories, with no more depth or insight than the usual tourist guidebook histories. Again, there is little personal experience, and what thereis, is not particularly interesting. The writing is disjointed, jumping, seemingly at random, between past, present, and future. For example Chapter One, ‘‘Leaving’’ begins in Ecuador. I learned little from this book, nor was I entertained. This is a boring book. Spend your time and money elsewhere. - Richard Halliburton Western Connecticut State University Amazon Dream ROBERTA ALLEN City Lights: San Francisco, 1993 181 Pages; $9.95 paper In 1987, Roberta Allen, a 41-year-old New York artist and writer, visited the Peruvian Amazon. Her official purpose was to buy Shipibo pottery, but her real mission was to see and feel the vibrancy of the Amazon before it was irretrievably altered by the advance of civilization. She came seeking “‘to experience life in its raw state,”’ only to find rawness of a sort that nature did not intend -- the kind that “‘results from thoughtlesstampering with ecology.”’ But she has not written a polemic; her ecological laments become incidental to her deeper journey of discovery. She has written an absorbing, almost poetic ac- count of what the Amazon is like, as only an outsider is capable of doing. She sees life-affirming patterns behind the sur- face discomforts: I see all the opposing qualities of life locked together in an inextricable em- brace. I see weakness and strength, soft- ness and hardness, roughnessand smooth- ness, darkness and light. These vines and leaves and branches show me more pos- sibilities for life than I ever imagined. The Amazon is my model. I see birth and growth and renewal. I see how what is old and dead contributes to the living. Like the forest reaching out for light, I am reaching out, embracing alll see and feel. Allen senses her cultural distance most acutely during her visits to Shipibo vil- lages, where she feels that her mere ““presence chips away at their world,”’ and where the Indians see her only for the gifts and money she brings. She is no more than an intruder like the missionar- ies, who disrupted the Indian's harmony with nature by creating in them a need for material goods. She graces the reader with an endless store of evocative meta- phors that capture the stranger's sense of alienation in a strange land, as when, upon entering a village, she feels the “blinds being drawn. As happens with amazing frequency on these trips among the primitive, Allen Tuns into uneducated peasants with as much political insight as any professor. Hence this poor man's diagnosis of Peru's ills (and, by extension, all of Latin America's): **Lima takes from thejungle, but gives nothing back. We make Lima rich with lumber and oil, but we see none of that money. Weneed schools, hospitals, roads. But officials fill their pockets with our taxes.”’ He pauses fora moment. ‘“This doesn't matter to you,’’ he says, smiling, but there is an unpleasant edge in his voice. “*You live in a rich country. You come here on vacation. You forget about the jungle when you go home.”’ “*T care what happens here,”’ I say to him, but he is not convinced. While Allen has a keen eye for the Amazon's harshness, she is no Paul Theroux. She has real respect and even affection for the physical and psychic barriers between her world and the alien one she has chosen to visit. She suffers and, indeed, savors it all without conde- scension or complaint. Unlike most Amazon travel narra- tives, this one is not plot-driven. It does not depend on the obligatory series of impossible descents through rapids, bouts with malaria, encounters with piranha or snakes or possibly hostile Indians. But the book is just as compelling as the best of those more traditional adventures. Its rewards are in the cumulation of small insights, beautifully expressed. -Art Milch Cinnaminson, NJ CLASSIFIEDS: The first 25 words are free to Members; each addi- tional word is 25 cents/issue. Subscribers/non-Members, 25 cents/ word. Send payment with copy. Ads for Number 41 must be received by October 30, 1995. RESEARCH LOOKING FOR LOCALITIES ANYWHERE IN S.A. to collect large quantities of fossils, such as fish, trilobytes, petrified wood, leaves, vertebrates, ammonites, etc. Also interested in decorative minerals. Contact: Jacques in Canada, FAX 403 243-3959 and leave phone number. I will call you back. (42) RAINFOREST PHOTOS WANTED: Inneed of various colorimages of flora, fauna and indigenous peoples of the tropical rainforests for CD-ROM educational title. Contact: Michelle Benoit, 3213 B Street, San Diego, CA 92102 or (619) 239-9412 before J 31, 1995. AUTHOR INTERESTED IN INFORMATION, "Cuentos,” books or stories pertaining to the supposed whereabouts of El Dorado, gold fields or lost Inca mines. Profit sharing in the venture ifaccepted, acknowledgment & credit forall information published. Ric Polansky, Apartado 734, Playa Mojacar, Almeria 04638, Spain. HAWK, EAGLE AND FALCON MIGRATION research. Need in- formation on sites for watching migrating raptors in S.A. Keith Bildstein, Hawk Mountain, RR 2 Box 191, Kempton, PA 19529. (215) 756-6961, MACHUPICCHURESEARCH - I'm compiling data on spontaneous spiritual awakenings at sacred sites, Share your story - write Kathy Doore, P.O. Box 14033, North Palm Beach, FL 33408. «k) ANCIENT MAYAN BALL - Looking for a replica of the ball used in the ancient ritual ballgame and any information on the game, Other South American ballgames. Not soccer. Contact: Dr. Ken Swalgin, Box 222, Penn State University, York, PA 17403. Tel: (717) 771-4037, Fax: 771-4062, COMPANIONS WANTED WOW! WOWA'S - Worldwide Women Warriors seek magnificent counterparts, Sisters of spirit intent on selfcvolution seek men who are capable of taking care of their own lives, traveling for extended periods of time and cultivating 6 compassionate and understanding nature. Contact: Kathy Doore, P.O. Box 3183, Palm Beach, FL 33480, COMPANION TO CHILE, Peru and Ecuador wanted for | year from Nov’'95, Contact: Paula Brown, 18 Clipstone Rd West, Forest Town, Mansfield Notts NG19 OAA, United Kingdom. (42) GUIDES ECUADOR - Xavier Herrera. Mountain guiding services with a personal touch, Tel; 593-2-552-505. (44) EXPERIENCED QUALIFIED GUIDE offers special interest tours: archacology, culture, mysticism, anthropology, eco-tourism and UFO phenomenon. Also tours of Lima, Spanish tuition and information via Internet. $6/hour. Contact: Tino Guzman via modem or telefax (51-14) 295779 of c/o SAEC, Casilla 3714, Lima 100, Peru. Tel: (5114) 4250142, (43) BOLIVIA: DayGui Tours, Calle Sagamaga 177, Casilla 3041, La Paz, ‘Tel: 591-2-390333. Guillermo Acurana gave excellent service at low- est prices for our mountaineering trip. Jim Dennis, Albuquerque, NM. UNIQUE SMALL GROUP TOURS to S.A. and beyond. Peru, Bo- livia, Argentina & Venezuela upcoming, Phoenix Antiquities Re- search, Box 133, Cummington, MA 01026. (413) 634-5400. CLIMB ECUADOR. Trekking/climbing with experienced, registered guide. Contact: Cosme Leon, Urb, Jardines de Giranada #241, Quito, Ecuador, Tel (593-2) 603-140, For Detailed info: Betsy Dolge, (203) 972-7588 PATAGONIA, a land of adventure. Trekking and expeditions. Con- tact: Janko Gorse, Monsefior Juan Hladnik 4125, (1826) Remedios de Escalada, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tel-FAX: (54-1) 202-2890, PEDAL ANDES Mountain Bike Touring Co. Experienced cyclists, knowledgeable on Ecuador's back roads. Can offer custom tours from 2-12days. Anadventure waiting tohappen. Write for more info: Pedal Andes, POBox 21-431, Quito, Ecuador, Email-pedal@explorer.ecx.ec VASCO HNOS TRAVEL AGENCY offers specialized tours to the Ecuador jungle, trekking in Llanganates Mountains, national parks, Tivers, lagoons, horse tours and trips into the protected rain forest *"Venecia,” with the Vasco Bros. and Juan Medina, guides, Recom- mended by SA Handbook. Flex itinerary, For more info - PO Box 19- Ol Balos, Ecuador. Tel: 740-017. YAWA JEE Indigenous Foundation. Biological/cultural conserva- tion. Ethnobotanical research with Shaman. TSANTSA jungle schooV trekking. Project brainstorming. Bailos, Ecuador. Tel: 593-03-740957; Fax: 593-03-740044. ee a BOOKS, MAPS, VIDEOS, MUSIC SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORATION, Archaeology, Art & Esoterica. Free listing. Phoenix Antiquities Research, PO box 133, Cummington, MA 01026, Tel: 413 634-5400, CLASSIFIED 7 is? THE CHRONICLE OF AKAKOR by Karl Brugger. Softcover, 232 pages, $22.95 postpaid from Phoenix Antiquities Research. PO Box 133, C ington, MA 01026. Tel: 413 634-5400. (ul MEXICO, CENTRAL, SOUTH AMERICA - Art, archaeology, early travels, Indians, out-of-print books. Free Catalog. Flo Silver Books, 8442 Oakwood Court North, Indianapolis, IN 46260. THE WHOLE TRUTH. Glassman’s BELIZE, COSTA RICA, GUA- ‘TEMALA guides, Panet's HONDURAS AND THE BAY ISLANDS. Available from the Club, or 800-833-0720, ext 24 (US/Canada) ANGLING AND HUNTING BOOKSOURCE. Used, mre, out-of- print. By appointment & mail order, write or call for listing. John B. Kline, 1270 26th St., Boulder, CO 80302-6802, (303) 444-3388, LATIN AMERICAN BOOKS, travel exploration, history, politics — Free list of 700 titles. Jan Szelag, Technical Services, GSO/URI, Narragansett, RI 02882, USA. ACCLAIMED ON-LOCATION recordings: Mexico, Guat., Bolivia, Bali, $7.95 each. Earth Series Cassettes. 1921 Walnut No. 1, Berkeley, CA 94704, Free Catalog. LATIN AMERICA fiction and non-fiction, State interests for free catalog from K. Franger Books, 3080 McBride Avenue, Surrey, B.C., Canada V4A 3H1 THE BLOOMSBURY REVIEW, a Book Magazine for discriminating feaders. Reviews, interviews, essays, poetry and more. Send $18 for 8 issues (one year), or $3.50 for a sample copy to; The Bloomsbury Review, 1028 Bannock St., Denver, CO 80204 USA. TRAVEL BOOKS: We have America’s best stock of books/maps on Central/South America & Caribbean. Write for free list NOW! World Wide Books, 736A Granville Street, Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1G3 Canada, UNUSUAL BOOKS and expeditions. Write for free catalogue on lost cities, jungle tribes, adventures, and more. Adventures Unlimited, Box 22, Stelle, IL 60919. OUT-OF-PRINT AND RARE BOOKS. Travel, natural history, ar- chacology, history and many other subjects of Latin America. Free catalogs. HOWARD KARNO BOOKS, P.O.Box 2100, Valley Cen- ter, CA 92082-9998, (619)749-2304, CENTER FOR ARCHAEOASTRONOMY Box X, College Pk, MD 20740. Journal with news, expedition reports, articles, reviews, con- ference reports. $20/year person, $30 institutions. Outside US add $3 PO Box 1044, Austin TX 78767. SPANISH IRREGULAR VERB DICTIONARY. Full conjugations with English translations for each form. $10.95 postpaid, Ramén Starr, 5951 Birchwood Dr, Tampa, FL 33625-5684 (ul) TRIPS THE ANDES AND PATAGONIA - Our specialty - 18 years expe- rience. ACONCAGUA EXPEDITIONS, technical and non-techni- cal routes and our NEW Summit Climb and Traverse. MT. VINSON, ANTARCTICA, December 1995. BOLIVIA, ECUADOR, AND TOWERS OF PAINE Climbing Expeditions. THE FRENCH and SWISS ALPS, The Eiger, Matterhom & Mont Blanc, CUSTOM TRIPS, ANDES and PATAGONIA Rodrigo Mujica, AMGA Certified Alpine Guide. AVENTURAS PATAGONICAS, P.O. Box 2071, Valdez, AK 99686, Tel: (907) 835-4976, Fax: (907) 835-5264. (44) GALAPAGOS ISLANDS 5 or 7 days cruises. Economic rates ELINATOUR. Phone (593-2) 525352/542814, Quito, Ecuador. Indi- viduals and small groups. Charters (4-8-10). FAX (593-2) 437189. MOUNTAINEERING, TREKKING, MOUNTAIN BIKING. Expe- ditions to all areas of the Andes. Details from John Biggar, 53 Castle St DGé6 4JD, Scotland. +44 1557 331747.SOUTH- ERN CHILE & ARGENTINA: December 1995 - January 1996. Southeastern Peru, Bolivia & northem Chile: November - December 1995, Cary your own pack on walks of up to 9 days. Spanish- speaking organizer. Willis's Walkabouts, 12 Carrington St, Millner NT 0810, Australia, Fax 01 1-61-89-852355. PERUVIAN AMAZON RAINFOREST EXPEDITION: Unique one- week Amazon adventure on thatched-roof expedition boat. Piranha fishing, hiking, canoeing, camping, and more. Write for flyer: Orlando Hoyos, 8 Eden St, Chelsea, MA 02150. Tel: (617) 889-0740. SAIL BELIZE/GUATEMALA aboard "Jaunita". Remote Islands! Jungle Rivers, $75 a day per person. Captain/crew - Timeless Tours, 2304 Mass Av, Cambridge, MA 02140. Tel: 1-800-370-0142. EMERALD FOREST EXPEDITIONS offers specialized excursions into the Ecuadorian rainforest with an experienced, knowledgeable guide. Contact: Luis A. Garcia, P.O. Box 247, Tena, Ecuador. BOLIVIA- 10-DAY RIVER TRIPS through beautifull northem Boliv- ian rainforest in touring kayaks. No experience necessary. Write: Rainforest Expeditions, P.O. Box 2242, Nevada City, CA 95959, Tel: (916) 265-0958. (ul) AMAZON ADVENTURE. Swim with dolphins and piranha, dis- cover incredible plants and animals, visit shamans, hike, camp--and more! For 13 years we have been leading small, highly individualized trips to ourremote lodge in “The Green Paradise ofthe Amazon." This is truc eco-tourism (see Cultural Survival Quarterly, Spring, 1992), Our large native staff offers each traveler a chance to customize his or her trip, from motorboat sightseeing to jungle survival. We think we're the best because it's all we do! Two weeks, $1425 total, plus airfare. Tun Woodruff, Amazonia Expds., Inc. 2 Madera, San Francisco, CA gqvo7catsy2e2-tg27, SOUTHERN CROSS ADVENTURES - your travel specialist in Cusco and the Peruvian mountains. Let us know about your travel plans. Contact us before you go: PO Box 612, Cusco, Peru. Tel: 0051- 84-237649 - 223746. FAX: 0051-84-239447 or visit us in Cusco: Plaza de Armas - Portal de Panes 123-Ofic, 301 ARGENTINA'S THOUSAND WONDERS: Treks thru pristine Salta and Jujuy amidst exuberant fauna & flora, living with Indians. No cholera of terrorists, just peace! Write; PUNA, Braquiquitos 399, (4400) Salta RA, or call: Luis Aguilar at (54) 87217030. EXPLORE UNSPOILED JUNGLES with Viajes Cambio C.A, Honduras’s adventure travel specialists. Dugout canoes, Indian natu- ralist guides. Cambio C.A., (Dept. SA), Apartado 3040, Tegucigalpa, Honduras, FAX 011-504-44-4045, VENEZUELA, Amazonas Federal Territory. Rainforest, llanos, and Orinoco River, day tours and longer excursions. We are the oldest tour company in the region, Write for more information: Pepe Jaimes, TOBOGAN TOURS, Av. Rio Negro #44, Puerto Ayacucho, Territorio Federal Amazonas, Venezuela. Tel: (048) 21700 or fax (048) 21600. THE CERRO GOLONDRINAS CLOUDFOREST RESERVE, ECUADOR Invites you on a 5-day walking trek through the Andean Highlands, West of El Ange! (4200m) down to the village of La Carolina (1000m) on the [barra - San Lorenzo railway line, The journcy takes you through 3 different ecosystems: from the desolate paramo with its *freilejones’ , through the cloudforest, to the subtropi- cal. Horses carry your luggage, local farmers welcome you into their houses and prepare the meals, Group: 6-8 people. Leaves every from the 5-day trek, 1400 ha of forest have been purchased throughout the area. The target is to preserve 25000 ha around the mountain in the next 5 years. This represents a lot of work: scientific research on Golondrinas’ unique habitat, setting up tree nurseries and a permaculture model farm, developing educational programs, building jungle lodges, improving trails, etc. Both long and short term VOL- UNTEERS with a good knowledge of Spanish are welcome. Write for application form, Looks for people with moncy and an ecologically inspired business mind to invest in this Conservation Project. Invest- ment can be in the form of a shareholding in the ecotourist organiza- tion orin setting up your own ecobusiness in the area (orchid farm, tree nursery, tourist lodge, etc.) in conjunction with the structuring of the Golondrinas Cloudforest Reserve. For information contact: Cerro Colondrinas Cloudforest Consrvation Project, Coord. Piet Sabbe, c/o Calle Isabel La Catélica 1559, Quito, Ecuador. BELIZE! Explore jungles, Mayan ruins, and remote tropical islands. Diveand snorkel on the Western Hemisphere's largest reef: TRAVEL BELIZE LTD. (303) 494-7797 or 1-800-626-3483. NEW! FREE! EXCITING! Want to get into the Andes? MOUNTAIN MADNESS guides have Andean i since 1979, MOUN- TAIN MADNESS 7103 Calif. Av SW, Seattle, WA 98136 (206) 937- 1772, FAX 937-1772. ADVENTUROUS BACKCOUNTRY TOURS of peacefiul, spectacu- lar Costa Rica. Inn to inn via roads, trails, and ox paths. Support vehicle. Our grand tour includes three momings of intensive conver- sational Spanish classes. (optional) departures November- Apmil. Bear Creek Mountain Tours, 199] Bear Creek Road; Kerrville, TX 78028 (512) 367-4390 (800) 842-8202. SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 59 PERU, ongoing South Coast Archacology, Nasca-Inca occupations. Institute for Peruvian Studies, 9017 Feather River Way, Sacramento CA 95826. (916) 362-2752. CULTURAL ADVENTURE & ADVENTURE PROGRAMS IN S.A. ~ Vagabond Travel, Andes, Amazon, Coastal Desert. Call Cecilia, our Peruvian Agent for expert trip planning! Mon.-Wed.-Fri. 10 A.M. - 4 P.M. MST. (303) 443-0660. CROSS THE ANDES ON HORSEBACK ~ Raft the Tono River or join us for other unusual adventures. Call for Catalog. Southem Cross Expeditions (800) 359-0193. BELIZE: 4 days down a gentle river through e virgin rain forest, plus two days ona barrier reefisland. Howler Monkeys, Jaguars and more. M River 660-7777. UPPER AMAZON. Travel by double-deck River Boats, thatched- PROFESSIONAL TOUR-GUIDE and driver 24 years experience and expertise in South and Central America incl. Mexico. My services are offered for anyone who needs a real professional. I speak fluent Spanish; Portuguese; Italian and English. Please call any time to:(213) 462-2977 or FAX (213) 469-5854. BIRD WATCHING TRIPS. Venezuela, Guyana, Costa Rica, Trinidad. Eight to fifteen days, 225-550 species seen per trip. Experienced birding guide, comfortable conditions (no camping), small groups. $1,195and up. Neotropic Bird Tours, 38 Brookside Av, Livingston, NJ 07039. Phone 800-662-4852. Send for brochure or call. PERU: MAGICAL JOURNEY - Celebrate our eleventh year of authors of Pachamama's Children, Mother Earth and Her Children of the Andes, in Peru. Llewellyn Publishers. Machu Picchu, Amazon rainforest, Ancient Ceremonies, Healing Meditations and much more. Brochure; Magical Journey, Box 3239, Santa Barbara, CA 93130; Tel: 596 1393; Fax: 682-8440. &) HOTELS, LODGING POSADA ZUNAC. Wanttoget away fromitall? We'rein the highland = Baflos, call Gonzalo or Monoica, (03) 740-501. (44) BEAUTIFUL NEW HOTEL IN COROICO, BOLIVIA overlooking the hush Yungas. Delicious vegetarian food. Great place to end up after the Choro trek. Hotel Esmeralda. (43) BED AND BREAKFAST in Bafios, Ecuador. We offer you a com- fortable and clean bed with feather mattress and hot water. Double room just US$12. Includes cont. breakfast. Tel: 03-740-309. STOP BYTHE PLAZA CAFE on the Plaza de los Ponchos for coffee, salads, sandwiches or full a is carte menu, in a cosy comfortable eee we dauerab one for members. Plaza Cafe, Otavalo, Ecuador, FAMILY STAY IN QUITO. Dr. Cecilia Rivera, pediatrician, special- izing in natural medicines and foods. Two blocks from Chub! Salazar 327 y Mallorca. Tel: 548-006 or 569-961. THE FINEST FACILITY IN THE IQUITOS PERU AREA. The Acosta Hotels and rain forest Lodge on Zungaro Cocha. Suitable for Peru. Tel 094 73198 F FAX 094-232499 GUACHALA, A MAGNIFICENT 16TH CENTURY HACIENDA, set in 136 hectares of farm land and forest. Rooms with private bathrooms, restaurant, solar-heated pool, horseback riding, tours to Cayambe refuge. Mountain bike tours can also be arranged. Reserva- tions; Reina Victoria 1138 & Foch, Quito, Telefax (593-2) 563-748. Toll free: 1-800-451-6034, SANTIAGO. Stay in home of American living in Chile. Lovely house, spectacular view in hills above smog. Private/shared bath, hot water, pool, phone, garden, breakfast. $25sgl, $30dbl. FAX 00562-242-3052. Phone 00562-215-1979. Los jos I 17-B, iago 10. CAFE CULTURA, BANOS: Beautiful colonial house with garden/ belcony,hammock/English Books and magazines/ friendly atmosphere. Café serves very special breakfasts. Call Owen or Stephanie: (03) 740- 419, THE MAGIC BEAN - Restaurant, coffee house and hotel. Great location, comfortable, clean. Close to all the good restaurants and shopping. In the new town. Friendly, helpful American-owned, lo- cated at Foch 681 y Juan Leon Mera. Tel: 566 181. Shared rooms and bath $7 pp, double with private bath $20. CAFE CULTURA, Quito. Rightin the centre of the new town at Reina Victoria y Robles - # beautiful old colonial house with 16 rooms (all BELIZE! Explore jungles, Mayan ruins, and remote tropical islands. Diveand snorkel on the Wester Hemisphere's largest reef: TRAVEL HOSTAL FARGET - Santa Prisca y Pasaje Farget 109, (La Alameda Sector) Tel: 593 2 570066, FAX: 593 2 570557. Quito, Ecuador. In the heart of the city, a few blocks away from major museums, convents, and churches, as well as the best folklore shops. Single room US$12, double for couples $15, and multiple rooms. Hot water, kitchen SAMAIPATA - BOLIVIA, cottages, camping, restaurant, swimming, pool, tennis, paddle, ete. Resort located in the foothills of the Andes. Surrounded by beautifill mountains. Near archseological mins & largest national park. Prices from $12,00/4 person cottage, camping $1,00/person. Achira Kamping, Casilla 1020, Tel: 591-352-5777, FAX 591-352-2667, Santa Cruz - Bolivia. WHEN ON YOUR WAY to hike the Inca Trail, Machu Picchu, or the Sacred Valley, make a stop-over at the ALBERGUE im Offantay- tambo, y Cusco, Peru. A delightful, relaxing, family, farm-house. $8 p/n, meals available. Can make yourreservations in Cusco.Tel: 233350/ 235674, FAX 238911. qa) EDWARDS INN-Excellent location in Huaraz for a pleasant stay: panoramic view, double/multiple rooms, double beds, continuous hot water, private/shared bath, dimbing/hiking information. Av. Bolognesi #121, Huaraz, Ancash, Peru. Tel: 722692. Qe) LA CASA AMARILLA, Banos, beautiful bed and breakfast, 20- minute walk on the road to Runtun. Great views over Bailos, $8 pp double, $12 inc. breakfast. Email: CCX.60 LA CASA de ELIZA - Isabel la Catdlica 1559 (La Floresta), Quito, Ecuador, Tel: $93-2-226602. For only USS6 a night, a fiendly place to stay in Quito. Kitchen and laundry facilities, hot water and just 2-mins walk from the Quito SAEC Clubhouse. The owner, Eliza Manteca, is adevoted environmentalist and initiated the development of the Cerro ECUADOR’S FIRST Bed and Breakfast welcomes you. CASA NAHUAZO in Bajios on the volcano. offers comfort, quiet, friendly atmosphere, personal attention. Via al Salado, Tel: 740- 315. ALANDALUZ -- Ecological Tourism Centre. This centre works with Organic/Biodynamic Agriculture, Appropriate technology/Architec- ture. Excellent homegrown food. A rarity and a treat! Puerto Rico, i, Ecuador. OTAVALO, ECUADOR - 4 blocks from Indian market, 24-hour hot water, orthopedic mattresses, fireplace, live folklore music, garden/ Patio, book exchange, tours, breakfast & classical music, vegetarian & WHEN IN SANTIAGO, CHILE, stay at my house; US$8 per night. CASAPAXI, Llico 968. Pieter Van Bunningen, Tel: 5229947. One block cast off METRO Departamental. iy) EXPLORER’S INN. World records: 573 species birds, 1,150 butter- flies, 103 dragonflies. In the Tambopata Nature Reserve, Puerto Maldonado. For reservations and information contact Penivian Sa- fari, Garcilaso de ls Vege 1334, Lima. Tel: 31-6330, Fax 051-14-328866. COSY APARTMENTS ina private house. Family atmosphere, com- fortable, safe, nice and quiet location. Very friendly, owner. Price from $15-$30 p/n per apartment. With cooking and laundry facilities. Please contact Jose Luis for reservations. Fr. de Paula Ugarriza 727, Miraflores, Lima 18, Peru. Tel (51-14) 441015. Fax: (51-14) 467177. ARTS/CRAFTS T-SHIRT -MONILU STORE, Mercedes Cardenas, We offera variety of designs and colors in T-shirts. 100% cotton. Also Artesania. Address: Rocaforte 275 y Alfaro, Bafios, Ecusdor. (4) ARTESANIAS WARA-selectartesania from a knowledgable Aymara woman. A good selection of textiles and clothing. Exporters. Also a ee ee (43) iL weavings and dolls, all crafted by the Conterén family in whose home one can watch weaving demonstrations, Visit us at the main plaza in Thuman, 5 km north of Otavalo, Imbabura, Ecuador. AMAZON ARTS. High quality imports and Peruvian handicrafts. Specializes in Shipibo, 1318 West 135 Drive, Westminster, CO80234, Tel: (303) 457-8390. RAIDERS OF THE LOST ART. Tribal artifacts, textiles, weavings, alpaca rugs, crystals, spheres, amethysts, wholesale. 2321 NW 66th Ct, Gainesville, FL 32653, Tel: (904) 335-4152 or 1-800-527-4367. SENECA ARTS represents native Latin American naif and primitive i slides/photos and questions Sedgwick Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10463. (212) 884-8698. GUATEMALAN IMPORTS. High Quality gifts and accessories handcrafted by the highland Maya. For free catalog, send a big SASE with 45 cents postage to: TARAMASCO Imports, 1614 Landquist, Encinitas, CA 92024. MAROTI-SHOBO COOPERATIVE. Shipibo & Conibo Indian Art of Peru's Jungle. Traditional Ceramics & Textiles. Write: Maroti- Shobo, Casilla 60, Pucallpa, Peru, ot Telex PERU attention tel: 6551. ARTE DO BRASIL is a profit-sharing enterprise with a women's cooperative handicraft group in Brazil. Brochure, send long SASE to TW3 231d NE, Seattle, WA 98115 USA. LANGUAGE RAINBOW SPANISH CENTER. Highly recommended individual classes or groups. Member discount. Armero 749 y Sta Rosa, Quito, Ecuador. Tel: 548-519. FAX 440 867. SPANISH LESSONS IN LIMA, PERU at $US) an hour. Also, ifyou need a Spanish-speaking person, leave your name and phone number at 42-6918 and I will call you back. DESIGN-IT-YOURSELF Spanish study in Ibarra, Ecuador, Family living, individual instruction, study/tour options. Nancy Grona, PO Box 100, Manchaca TX 78652, 512/282-1987. E-mail: Imbabura@aol.com. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED: Spanish School in Quito, 1245 Garcia Moreno and Olmedo, 2nd Floor. One-to-one teaching, any level, great people, US $2 per hour. Offer accommodation with Ecuadorian families. Call 01 | 593 2 213 992 (9 to 6 EST) or just drop in. Susanne Teltscher. Leam Spanish and Vecacion: In Cuemavaca, Mexico. Intensive Spanish classes, 2 weeks $270. Live with Mexican family or dormi- tory, $9.00-22.00/day. Contact: Experiencia School, Patricia Damron, POB 1812, , TX. 79821. Phone/FAX (915) 886-4802. (43) SPANISH IN QUETZAL TENANGO, GUATEMALA. Individual- ized instruction, family living. Daily activities: excursions, fieldtrips, tainforest lectures, lessons. CASA de Espafiol Xelaji, 1022 St. Paul Av, St. Paul, MN 55116. Phone/FAX (612) 690-9471. SPANISH FOR TRAVELERS -— Practical intensive Spanish course for one or four weeks in Huancayo, Peru. Individual or small groups; families. Weaving and pan-flute lessons can be arranged. Contact: Beveriy Stuart de Hurtado, Apartado Postal 510, Huancayo, Peru. Tel: (064) 237-063 or 222-395. @ HIGHLY RECOMMENDED: Spanish School “Mitad del Mundo” in ETC, THE BLACK SHEEP INN, Chugchilin, CARETAKER WANTEDto take responsibility for small hotel high in Andes, Spanish + flexible schedule a must, 2 months or more. Send resume to The Black Sheep inn, 05-01-240, Ecuador. 44) COUPLE PLANNING TO MOTORCYCLE from Venezuela along north coast to Guyana, Suriname and cross Amazon to Belem. Very little roed information avaailable. Lots of gaps on the map. Leaving Nov, 1995. Would appreciate any info. Anne Poe, 8404 Sunnyside Rd, int, ID $3864. (41) OLD BOLIVIAN POSTCARDS WANTED. Secking to purchase early 1900s postcards (chromoliths or photo cards) from Bolivia. Call or drop mes note ~ tell me what you have. Daniel Buck, 100 Tenth St. SE, W: DC 20003. Tel: 202-544-6541; FAX: 202-544-6556, BOOKLET ON ACONCAGUA. Aconcagua 93 - Detailed sccount of pep tebe psa hay er gen a E Groschell, East Helena, MT 59635, (406) 227-6313 GPS. Magellan NAV 5000 D Global Positioning System. Gives latitude, longitude, altitude. Rugged casing. Floats. Instruction book- Jet. $450 or best offer. Greg (617) 926-5349. LICENSE PLATES WANTED: South and Central American auto- bile ; {by collector for educational display, Will pay $10 each for plates in good condition. Contact: Tim Stentiford, 25 Chattanooga, San Francisco, CA 94114. (415) 648-7785. EXPLORERS TRANSPORTES. WE RENT: buses, 4-wheel drives, pick-ups with or without driver, to explore the jungle, the mountains or the coast of Peru. We information, equipment and maps. Contact us: Piateros 354-A, Cusco. Tel: 0051-84-233498. PHOTOGRAPHER, COPY EDITOR: Experienced rain-forest pho- tographer, articles editor, seeks expedition service in Amazon eres. SAVE BIG MONEY to many destinations in Latin America — Fly as 2. courier! Quito $200 r/t; Panama, Guatemala $150 r/t, Santiago $350 aft, and many others available in TRAVEL UNLIMITED, 8 monthly newsletter of world-wide rock-bottom air travel as a courier. Send $25 ign) or $5 single issue to: Box 1058, MA 02134-1058. NAVIGATORS! HP-28S or HP-48SX calculator will maintain dead- your celestial sights to fix. Calculator, plus the Air/Nautical Almanac, and program does it all. Send choice of program and US$18 per program to 126 Indian Creek Road, Ithaca, NY 14850 Includes instructions. BELIZE LTD. 494-7797 of 1-800-626-3483. : 60 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER TROUT-Chile. Please send info on locations and tackle(fy), Planning one-year stay. Greg McMillan, Gillis Cyn. Rd. Cholame, CA 93431. TEACH IN SOUTH, CENTRAL AMERICA: For lists of openings in —LumsCwmuanmen Discounts, si rary ont ey tact: ASATEJ, Florida 833, Piso 1 de 104 (1005) Buenos Aires, Argentina. Telex: 18522 CECBA-AR, FAX: 54-1-334-2793. HANDCARRIES WANTED: Don’t go to Lima or Quito empty- magazines, room, South American Road, Ithaca, NY 14850; Tel: (607) 277-0488, FUNDACION JATARI: Andean Education and Research Founda- nity development and provide HORSEBACK RIDING IN THE PERUVIAN ANDES Ararely travelled trek by horseback to the majestic mountain, SALCCANTAY. A wonderful opportunity to combine an adven- ture In nature with time at MACHU PICCHU. All service are offered to make your journey to Cusco, Machupicchu and the surrounding area enjoyable and safe. SOUTHERN CROSS ADVENTURE Casilla Postal 612 CUSCO - PERU Toll. 0051-84-237649 Fax 0051-84-239447 SARARI ECUADOR JEEPS FOR EXPEDITIONS Based in Quito, Ecuador, we provide a4 wheel drive transport service to get you and your gear to anywhere you want to get to. in addition we can provide help with ideas, planning logistics and bookings. we are particularly interested in the more unusual places, Indian communities, fiestas, birding and hiking. FOR MORE INFORMATION CONTACT US, OR CALL BY - WE'LL BE PLEASED TO SEE YOU CALAMA 380 Y JUAN LEON MERA P.O. BOX. 17-11-6060 TEL AND FAX: 593 2 552505 QUITO, ECUADOR to support research, commu- provide scholarships to Contributions are tax-deductible. Write: Fundacion Jatari, 1113 Guerrero St., San Francisco, CA 94110. Vvvvvvrvryvy Spanish & More Language Programs in Argentina « Costa Rica + Ecuador Guatemala + México + Venezuela * Learn Spanish the RIGHT way FAST * For all ages and all levels * Teacher discounts and Executive Programs » Leisure (ruins, rainforest, beaches. . .) ay AmeriSpan Unlimited THE GAIOGE BETWEEN CULTURES Call for free information 1-800-879-6640 P.O. Box 40513 Phila., PA 19106 THE LIMA TIMES Every Month. . . Keep in touch with what’s up in Peru A Peruvian Times Publication Psj. Los Pinos 156, Suite B-6 Lima 18, Peru. Tel: (014) 472552 Fax: (014) 467888 Rooms from $7 Hot Water Typical Neo-colo- nial house in center near SAEC Cheap Restaurant HOSTALAR A DE LAS ARILS Jr. Chota 1454-1460 Lima, Peru Tel: (511) 4330031 THE HOTEL VALLE SAGRADO Comfortable, large rooms surrounded by gardens Good home-style Cusco cooking Central location in Urubanba, with daily rail and bus connections to Cusco and Machu Picchu Swimming pool, mountain bik- ing, horse riding and rafting SAEC members 15% discount Reservations in Urubamba Tel: (5184) 201116, 201117 Fax: 201071 Guachala, a magnificent 16th century hacienda set in 186 hectares of farm land and forest. 1 Rooms with private bathrooms ~- Bar-Restaurant c—3| Hosterla | Guachala Latitud 0° Cayambe, Ecuador Reservations: Quito: Reina Victoria 1138 & Foch Tel/FAX: (593-2) 563-748 Toll free in USA & Canada: 1-800-451-6034 La Bella HOSTAL TORREBLANCA Av. Jose Pardo 1453 Miraflores, Lima, Peru TEL: 473363/479998 FAX: 473363 ~ Solar-heated pool - Horseback riding - Tours to Cayambe Refuge Located 100m from Costa Verde Beach Carpeted Bedrooms with TV/Cable Phone & Private Bathroom Excellent Service RATES: Single US26 Double US39 Triple US47 Includes continental breakfast and taxes SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER 61 2” SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORERS CLUB The South American Explorers Club has offices in Ithaca, NY (USA), Lima (Peru), and Quito (Ecuador). Ithaca Office: 126 Indian Creek Road, Ithaca, NY 14850, Telephone (607) 277-0488. Peru Clubhouse: Casilla 3714, Lima 100, Peru (Street Address: Avenida Republica de Portugal 146, Brefia, Lima), Telephone (5114) 25 01 42. Ecuador Clubhouse: Apartado 21-431, Eloy Alfaro, Quito, Ecuador (Street Address: Toledo 1254, La Floresta, Quito, Telephone (5932) 566-076. Clubhouse hours are 9:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. weekdays. AIMS AND PURPOSES: The South American Explorers Club is a non-profit, non-political, non-sectarian, scientific and educational organization founded in 1977 for the following purposes: @ Toadvance and support all forms of scientific field exploration and research in South and Central America in such areas as biology, geography, anthropology, and archaeology, as well as field sports such as whitewater running, mountaineering, caving and others. © To receive contributions for the support of scientific research and exploration that comes within the Club’s range of interests. @ To further information exchange among scientists, adventurers and travelers of all nations with the purpose of encouraging exploration throughout South and Central America. © To collect and make available reliable information on all organizations in South and Central America which offer services to scientists, adventurers, and travelers. @ To awaken greater interest in and appreciation for wilderness conservation and wildlife protection. THE SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER MAGAZINE: The South American Explorer is the quarterly journal of the Club. We are interested in receiving accounts of scientific, adventure, and sports activities in South and Central America. Articles on historical exploration, biographies of South American explorers, and evocative descriptions of unusual places are also of interest. Write us for more guidelines, MEMBERSHIP SERVICES: The following listing is partial; a complete listing of membership services is available on request. 1. Members receive four issues of the South American Explorer. 2. The friendly, knowledgeable Club staff will help Members plan trips and expeditions by phone, mail, or in person. Advise us when you plan to travel, for how long, budget, interests, number in party, and desired transportation. The more specific the questions, the better the answers. The staff may be called upon for help with emergencies or when problems arise. Club members receive discounts on books, tapes, handicrafts, T-shirts, maps, etc. The Club can receive money or goods for research and allocate these to worthy projects. Donors receive a tax deduction. . A wide variety of information sources and research facilities related to South America are available: a e Trip Reports: written by Members for Members, these are the Club’s greatest resource. They are the most up-to-date source of specialized =, information on just about any topic—scaling Aconcagua, Lake Titicaca, butterfly collecting, the Galapagos, teaching English, the Inca Trail, etc. For a complete listing, call or write the Ithaca office. To order reports without a listing, just let us know what you need. There is a per page charge for photocopying plus postage and handling. Library: Wide range of reference books, maps, magazine and newspaper articles, and reports in English, Spanish, and Portuguese. “= @ People: A network of knowledgeable people for specialized information, research assistants, and travel companions. 7. The Lima and Quito Clubhouses will store and help sell equipment, accept mail and telephone calls, exchange books, help with hotel and plane reservations in Quito and Lima, and much more. The Clubhouses are your home away from home. Anaw ta Ew... 7) Velie MEMBERSHIP CATEGORIES: All membership dues/donations are U.S. tax-deductible. Residents outside the U.S. (including Canada and Mexico) add $7 for postage. Regular Membership (US$40) or Couple Membership (US$60). Entitles you to four issues of the South American Explorer, a Membership Card, discounts, use of information and trip planning services, equipment-storage, etc. Contributing Membership (US$75). Regular Membership benefits plus a free Club T-Shirt. S\ Supporting Membership (US$150). Regular Membership with the following benefits: Exploring South America, a Club T-Shirt, and two gift subscriptions for friends. Life Membership (US$750). Regular Membership benefits for life, plus your choice of any book we sell, a Club T-Shirt, the last 15 back issues of the South American Explorer magazine (a full set is no longer available) and ten gift subscriptions that may be conferred by the Life Member at any time. Afterlife Membership (US$7,500). All the benefits of Life Membership, an SAEC T-Shroud, and, of most importance, gratitude in perpetuity. Subscription (US$22 one year, US$35 two years). Receive four issues of the South American Explorer only. Subscribers are not entitled to Membership discounts or Club services. nic 62 SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORER ra rere eee ee Oe eo eee eee ee ee Oe eer ee ee eo — ee oe so — Ee ee - - — Oe ss — i KO -: OS ss se ss: ee oe — ee —— _—_"* Order Form Visa, Discover and Mastercard Customers call 1-800-274-0568 If calling for information only, please call (607) 277-0488 Membership Give the gift of Membership to a friend, to yourself, or to your whole family. See page 54 for a partial list of benefits. All members outside the United States (including Mexico and Canada) add US$7.00 for postage. Regular US$40 Contributing $75 Supporting $150 Life $750 Afterlife $7,500 Subscription $22 Couple US$60 [1] Couple $115 O Couple $225 ( Couple $1,150 [] Couple $10,000 [] Twoyears $35 C] OOooOooO Note: Subscribers do not receive Membership dis- counts or use of Club Services. POSTAGE AND HANDLING Domestic Orders Note: Do not include membership fees or tax in total to which shipping is applied. We ship UPS when possible. USS$5 & under ... $2.00 $75.01 to $100 .,. $7.50 $5.01 to $10....... $3.00 $100.01 to $150 . $9.00 $10.01 to $25..... $4.00 $150.01 to $200 $11.00 $25.01 to $50..... $5.50 $200.01 to $250 $13.00 $50.01 to $75 ..... $6.75 Over $250 ......... $15.00 ipping to more than one address, add $2 to Postage be ‘Hand rn Air Delivery by UPS Blue fetes or by First Class to Alaska, Hawaii, and Canada, add $8. Next Day Air (Continental U.S. only), add $12. Allow 10-14 days for delivery in the U.S, Foreign Orders If your order is to be sent outside the U.S. and you are paying by Visa or Mastercard, specify air or surface mail, and we will add the correct amount to your credit card. Ifyou _ send your order, and we will advise you of the total postage charges so you by check. Forei peed lee ier kan bein U.S. Sends dtawn ona bank with a U.S. office. To help us serve you better... Certificates are available in any denomination; US$10.00 minimum. The Fine Art of Giving Send a Gift Membership, merchandise, or free catalog to the person of your choice, Sim ly specify their name, address and the items you want shipped in the "Ship to" section to the right. SS EL AE AN PES a a a ee 4 | Quantity Item # Item Name Price : | | | | | | | | | Subtotal ! 7% Sales Tax (New York residents only) | Postage and Handling | * Membership | Se. Gift Membership | appropriate boxes: TOTAL USS CINew Address | (J) New Member or Subscriber | O Renewing, Membership # (1) Don't exchange my name with other organizations Visa/Discover/Mastercard (for orders of US$15 or more): ! Number: | Expires: Signature: : Or call 1-800-274-0568 7 Ordered by: | Address: 7 City/State/Zip: l Telephone: | | Ship to: (only if different from ‘“‘Ordered by” above) | Name: | Address: | City/State/Zip: | Items: ! For New Members: : Profession/Interests: | | Send eet in U.S. dollars drawn on a U.S. bank to | South American Explorers Club, 126 Indian Creek Road, Likace; NY 14850 | | ae a a Nh ea af South American Explorer 63 Mastering Spanish I &II Mastering Portuguese I Want to speak Chinese, Sanskrit, Aramaic, Urdu? Forget it. They're abominably difficult and you don't have the time. Spanish and Portuguese, on the other hand, are learnable, especially with these highly acclaimed language courses devel- oped by the Foreign Service Institute to train diplomats and lesser officaldom. It was money well spent. The Mastering Spanish I and the Mastering Portuguese I courses consist of twelve 90-minute cassette tapes. Mastering Spanish I comes with a 704-page book and Mastering Portuguese I comes with a 621-page book, both virtually guaranteed (well, not actually guaranteed) to help you reach fluency in the shortest possible time. As a taxpayer, you've already paid for these excellent courses once. Now, for an addi- tional , modest surcharge, you can buy the best courses available for the serious student desirous of building verbal fluency. Mas- tering Spanish II is a continuation of the extremely popular Mastering Spanish I. Again developed by the Foreign Service Institute, it consists of twelve 75-minute cassettes plus a 703-page book, for enlarging vocabulary, improving pronunciation, honing conversational skills and achieving fluency. All cassettes feature native speakers. With these wonderful languages courses you can ‘‘Go Native,’ hold down sensitive undercover jobs, and translate technical tracts. Best of all, you'll be able to warble sweet nothings into the receptive ears of adoring mates, sweet nothings like, ‘‘Nada dulce, nada dulce, nada dulce,’’ or ‘‘Before I picked up Mastering SpanishI, all Icould say was, ‘San Diego, Los Angeles, Las Cruces | | ——— SOUTH AMERICAN EXPLORERS CLUB 126 Indian Creek Road Ithaca, New York 14850 ADDRESS CORRECTION REQUESTED Now available in CD. Call us for details. and frito bandito’.’’ Learn Spanish now with Mastering Spanish I and don't stop with the job half done when there's Mastering Spanish IT. Or learn Portuguese with Mastering Portuguese I. Think how they'll feel in Brazil when you say, ““You call this a carnival?’’ Total fluency is now enticingly within your grasp. Reach out and Mastering Spanish I or II or Portuguese I can be yours while supplies last. Are supplies short? Well no, but you never know. $79.95{|Members $75] Mastering Spanish I, Item #357 $79.95{[Members $75] Mastering Spanish II, Item #185 $79.95[Members $75] Mastering Portuguese I, Item #364 SE Non-Profit Org. U.S. POSTAGE PAID Permit No. 112 Ithaca, NY 14850