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National Geographic : 1950 Oct
Contents
Peru, Homeland of the Warlike Inca At the guesthouse the food prepared by Letitia Pinedo, the cook, was delicious, although we were told she was "not feeling well." Next day we learned the reason. About 2 o'clock in the morning a subdued commotion overhead roused us briefly, but we soon went to sleep again. At breakfast the manager was smiling. "Last night the cook had a baby girl," he announced. "The first baby of modern times to be born on Machu Picchu! Her name is Domitila Estanislao Incacahui Pinedo." After breakfast the next day Fra Juaniz, who had rejoined us, Oscar Gonzales, and I climbed several hundred feet above the city and surveyed the ruins from high up the slope of Machu Picchu Peak. From an ancient cemetery we had an impressive view of the entire city (pages 456-7). Machu Picchu is famous for lighting effects. Because of peculiar climatic location on the edge of the tropical zone, the city might be said to stick up into the Temperate Zone, while the lower slopes are in the Tropics. A Night on the Mountains A night on Machu Picchu is never to be forgotten. As the huge red sun rushes down beyond the rim of western peaks, the ancient granite gables and towers fade from gold to black, and clouds brush the tips of neighboring mountaintops. Unfamiliar night smells of tropical vegetation float upward from the canyon, and, as the skies clear, the world is filled with strange stars unseen in North American latitudes. Beyond the black saw toothed outline of the Inca citadel blazes the Southern Cross. In the morning the cooler air above the canyon is warmed by the rising sun and lifts to make way for the humid air below. As this moisture-laden air ascends, it cools and condenses, so that observers at Machu Picchu look out horizontally upon mysteriously form ing clouds which take shape before their eyes, shift, rise, and disappear above the airy peaks. Literally, the acme of a visit to Machu Picchu is the climb to the tip of Huayna Picchu, the sharp peak which dominates the city. I was determined to stand on the very tiptop. Oscar had climbed it once before, so he led the way. Beyond the main part of the city and the base of the peak lies an area of junglelike growth through which we had to fight our way to the narrow ridge between the two. Here we stumbled over more ruins still uncovered and unsuspected by the average visitor. Among the scattered stones grew tall grasses which hid sudden pitfalls. Vicious-looking red and black millepedes more than six inches long were everywhere underfoot. Afterwards I learned that this area is a favorite of the dreaded fer-de-lance and bush master, as well as the lethal coral snake, all of which strike without warning. Luckily I saw nothing of them. Orchids of many varieties were always just out of reach. Stout Wire Aids Climbers Some unknown but considerate person had rigged a stout wire along the sharpest edge of the narrow knife edge to Huayna Picchu. Without this the way would be almost im passable. A drop of hundreds of feet is on either side. From there on, however, the climb is just hard work. From any distance the clifflike sides of the peak look sheer, but a tiny trail has been there since Inca times. This narrow path zigzags upward so steeply that in some places a rock, dislodged from the bend above, will clear the trail below and fall clean for hundreds of feet. The trail was so overgrown with grasses and ferns that often we had to feel our way. Several times it narrowed to a foot in width while climbing steeply. Even this scant foot hold was sometimes lacking where small cave ins had caused V-shaped apertures fringed with long grasses. We cut long sticks and prodded before us like blind men. During frequent stops for breath I saw many forms of bird life. I recognized tanagers and flycatchers and numerous swifts. One soft gray fellow with a black head Oscar iden tified as a grosbeak. "The fertile Urubamba Valley is a natural habitat for birds," said Oscar. "Even from North America they fly over Machu Picchu." Dangling at 1,500 Feet The trail higher up was bare and moist. Suddenly I slipped. Strangely enough, I wasn't scared. Somehow, as I started over the edge I grasped a thick tendril and found myself sitting with feet dangling out over nothing. Beneath my soles swirled empty space for at least 1,500 feet. Far below curved the Urubamba. I looked up into Oscar's pasty face, and it was then that I felt fear. After I cautiously regained my feet and paused to overcome my shakiness, we went on. Two hundred feet from the top came a surprise. Here, at one of the steepest parts of the climb, just when I wondered where the
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