78 



MATICHACRA. 



there was no gold in it ; but Lieutenant Maury, who examined some 

 that I brought home with a powerful magnifier, has declared that there 

 was. The mountains have an exceedingly metallic appearance, and 

 the woman said that there were still in the neighborhood traces of the 

 mining operations of the Spaniards. 



About a mile and a half above Matichacra commenced the steep 

 regular descent of the mountain range, and from just above it we 

 could discern where the valley debouched upon an apparent plain, 

 though bounded and intersected by distant mountains, bearing and 

 ranging in different directions. This place we judged to be the 

 "Montana. 1 ' We stopped an hour at Matichacra, (Gourd Farm, 

 from half a dozen gourd vines growing near the house,) and made a 

 chupe with a leg of mutton we had bought the night before at Palca. 

 We saw a few patches of Indian corn on the side of the mountain 

 opposite, and the tops of the mountains are clad with small trees. We 

 passed on five miles further, and camped on a level plat near the banks 

 of the stream, with bushes and small trees growing around us. 



June 18. — This was the longest and hardest day's ride. The road 

 was very bad ; rocky and rough where it descended the river, and 

 steep and difficult where it ascended the mountain side. We thought 

 that the engineer who planned and constructed the road had frequently 

 "taken the bull by the horns," and selected the worst places to run his 

 road over ; and that he would have done much better had he occasion- 

 ally have thrown a bridge across the stream, and led the road along the 

 flank of the mountains on the other side. In seven and a half miles 

 we arrived at Utcuyacu. (cotton water,) the first hacienda where we 

 saw sugar-cane, yucca, pine-apples, and plantains. It had just been 

 opened, and nothing yet had been sold from it. 



The road, by which we had descended the valley of Chanchamayo, 

 turned at this place sharp to the right, and faced the mountains that 

 divide this valley from that of the Rio Seco. We were near the 

 junction of the two valleys, but a rock had fallen from the hills above 

 and blocked up the road on which we were travelling, so that w T e had 

 to cross the mountain on our right and get into the other valley. The 

 ascent was steep, and trying to man and beast. It is called the " Cuesta 

 de Tangachnca," or "Hill of take care of your hat," and is about three 

 miles in length. The road, after passing through a thick forest, brought 

 us out upon a bald eminence, the termination of the spur of the Andes 

 that divides the two valleys. The rivers Seco and Chanchamayo unite 

 at its base and flow off through a valley, rapidly widening out, covered 

 with forests, and presenting an appearance entirely distinct from the 



