Tschiffely's Ride: Ten Thousand Miles in the Saddle from Southern Cross to Pole Star
368
Tschiffely's Ride: Ten Thousand Miles in the Saddle from Southern Cross to Pole Star
368eBookProprietary (Proprietary)
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Overview
Tschiffely’s 10,000-mile journey was filled with adventure and triumph, but it also forced the traveler to deal with tremendous natural and man-made obstacles, as many countries in Central America were war-torn. He traversed rivers and mountains in hurricanes and hail storms, stopping to stay the night with farmers and villagers in huts who often shared their mysterious and superstitious tales. He ate dried goats’ meat in a desolate town of Santiago del Estero, watched illegal cockfights and vicious machete battles between plantation workers in Jujuy, and was healed by an Indian herb doctor in the mountains of Bolivia for his infection after excavating graves; these obstacles have captured the hearts of people from around the world.
In addition to the remarkable details of his travel expedition, Tschiffely’s relationship with his horses, Mancha and Gato, is perhaps the most endearing element of the book, and his photos of the people and places he encountered make Tschiffely’s Ride the perfect travel companion for adventure enthusiasts.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781628733884 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Skyhorse |
| Publication date: | 09/03/2013 |
| Sold by: | SIMON & SCHUSTER |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 368 |
| File size: | 6 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
THE FIRST DAY
I propose to tell the story of the first day's trip at some length for various reasons: it naturally impressed itself on my mind as the start of a great adventure: it contained enough variety to satisfy anyone; and it may give the reader a slight idea of some of the conditions prevailing in Argentina.
Early in the morning of St. George's Day I left my hotel and drove off to the premises of the Rural Society, accompanied by my dog, who seemed to scent disaster and had to be tied to a lead before he would accompany me. Trouble began early; the horses strongly objected to being saddled, each part of the saddle seemed to annoy them more than the previous one, and for a long time we were just a whirling mass of kicking horses and cursing stable-boys. At last, however, everything was ready, and the horses, having expressed their opinions of the girths by a vigorous display of bucking, became more or less quiet. I was ready to start.
By this time some press photographers, who had in some mysterious manner learnt that I was setting out, had arrived, obviously regarding the whole thing as a huge joke. The shutters clicked, and the gentlemen of the press bowed and retired, with ill-concealed chuckles at my idiocy. I felt strongly tempted to quote to them the saying, "Let fools laugh, wise men dare and win," had not a doubt assailed me as to which of us really was the fool.
I rode Gato, he being the quieter of the two, leading Mancha, who did duty as pack-horse, and we were accompanied by a stable-boy to show the best way out of the town. This lad was mounted on a big thoroughbred which made my stocky little animals look more diminutive than ever. The dog followed, but very unwillingly. After about an hour we came to a newly-made dirt road with a wire fence on each side and my guide, having informed me that by following this I would get to the main road, returned home. His thoroughbred was steaming with perspiration while the two Creoles showed no signs of having travelled at all. Recent heavy rains had converted this road into a river of soft mud into which the horses sank deep at every step. Mancha had evidently decided that he would much prefer to go back to his stable, and I had to haul him along by main force. To make matters worse, a fine rain began to fall and, with one thing and another, I came to the conclusion that this was the worst bit of road in the world. This judgment was to be corrected by later experience.
Disaster came soon; I heard a dull thud followed by a squeal of pain, and saw the dog fly through the air and land in a pool of water, where he lay as though dead. He had approached nearer to Mancha than the latter approved of and had suffered accordingly. On examining him I found that he had received a severe blow on the hip and that his shoulder-blade was broken. Here was a situation worthy of a cartoonist's pencil. Far away from any habitation, stuck in the mud, the rain soaking into my skin, with two half-wild horses and a crippled dog: hardly an encouraging start. I did not want to shoot the dog, much less leave him where he was, and as there was about as much chance of meeting any vehicle on that road as there is of seeing Polar bears in the Sahara Desert I decided to carry him to the main road. It was no easy job to carry the heavy dog some two hundred yards, deposit him by the roadside, return to the horses and drag them along, and repeat this over and over again. At last we reached the road and I sat down to await a passing motorist. Presently a car came along and the two gentlemen who were in it readily consented to help me, and carted the dog off to a village where I decided to put up for the night. My first act on reaching there was to telephone to a friend, asking him to look after the dog, and when I returned after over three years' absence I was delighted to find him in the best of condition.
The next job was to look for board and lodging for the horses. One would imagine this a simple matter so near to the capital, but it was no such thing. All available stabling was occupied, but at length I obtained permission to leave them at the Police Station for the night, and having, after a lengthy search, purchased a bale of hay, and carted it on my back to the corral, I was free to look after myself. Accordingly I had a fairly respectable dinner and retired to bed, fondly imagining that my troubles were over for the day. The hotel was of a pattern almost universal throughout the Camp towns, as country towns are called in the Argentine. The rooms are built round a square patio, or courtyard, and have large double doors but no window, consequently no through ventilation. Each room has two, three, or four beds, and happy is the man who gets a room to himself. I was not happy, for I had hardly retired when another man was shown in, and shortly afterwards two more. As is the custom of many of the lower class Argentines, my companions insisted on the doors being shut, thus cutting off all ventilation, while to make matters worse the two last comers started to smoke, dividing their time impartially between puffing and spitting. At last with many grunts and groans they composed themselves to sleep.
I was just about to do the same when I felt — something. At first I took no notice, but when that something began to multiply itself by hundreds I got up and struck a match. My bed was like some plain during army manoeuvres — regiments, army corps, marching to and fro and scuttling to take cover from the light. I switched on the lamp and hurled the mattress on to the floor, awakening one of the sleepers in so doing. He was interested and even amused at my excitement, and assured me that the "bichos" were quite harmless, and that I was very "delicado" to make such a fuss. After a strict search into dug-outs and trenches in the frame I lay down on the wire and slept, disturbed only by a few individual attacks and by the snoring of my sleeping companions.
CHAPTER 2TOWARDS ROSARIO
Once the city bounds are passed the traveller finds himself in the wilds, the dividing line being very slender. This can very easily be understood when the relation of population to area is considered. The area of the Argentine Republic is roughly 1,200,000 square miles; the population is eleven and a half millions, of which two and a half millions are in the city of Buenos Aires, Rosario holding another half million.
Between these two towns (180 miles) and indeed right on to the Andes the country is dead flat. As far as the eye can reach there is nothing visible but large herds of cattle grazing in the potreros (paddocks), or vast expanses of crops, chiefly wheat and corn. Wire fences and windmills are everywhere, trees being conspicuous by their absence, except round the estancia houses and in a few isolated patches of "monte" (scrub). The roads are either very dusty or very muddy, being simply dirt-tracks bordered by wire fences and running dead straight from one right-angled turn to the next, a curve being practically unknown. In the neighbourhood of a village skinny horses and cows belonging to the poorer inhabitants pick up a scanty living from the grass on the roadside, and if an animal dies on the road it is left to be devoured by chimangos (a kind of hawk) or stray dogs.
During the harvest season one frequently sees grain-carts, with enormous wheels up to ten feet in diameter, drawn by an unlimited number of horses. The official team of six or eight is arranged in a fan-shape formation, but when the roads are heavy as many extra horses as are available are attached to any part of the vehicle to which a rope may be tied, the other end of the rope being fastened to the cinch of the horse. It is heavy work for the animals, but they are for the most part willing labourers.
The further I went from Buenos Aires the worse became the roads. Constant rain had reduced them to soft mud, and progress was necessarily slow. The pack-saddle was constantly slipping; the only sounds to break the monotony of the splashing horses through the mud were the blasphemous screech of a prairie-owl sitting on a fence-post and the whistle of the wind through the telegraph wires. Occasionally, to my astonishment, an automobile would come plodding its way through the mud, and more than once I was asked to assist in pulling one out of a mud-hole, a request I was obliged to refuse as my horses were not accustomed to such work. I grew to hate automobiles. The drivers showed very little consideration for me and seemed to delight in seeing the horses rear and plunge when they passed us. Being only human, I must confess that while driving about in a comfortable car I hold other views about them, but I am speaking here from the point of the horseman.
Miles away from the next village I was caught in a heavy storm and was very pleased to arrive at a small wayside ranch where guests were received. The horses were turned loose in a good field and with feelings of relief I went inside to shelter and warmth. This ranch, or hut, was a small two-roomed place and several men were inside drying themselves at a good fire. When I had introduced myself in the proper manner, i.e., by shaking hands with everyone, I was given a seat near the fire and presented with a "mate." This is a pear-shaped gourd with an opening at the narrow end, which is half-filled with "yerba" (Paraguayan ilex tea) and filled up with hot water. The resulting infusion is sucked up through a metal tube (bombilla). It is very refreshing and stimulating and is the national drink. No peon starts his day's work until he has had three or four mates, which, with a piece of "galleta" (hard biscuit), keep him going until he has had his breakfast, which is taken about midday. Only one mate is used for a party; the host usually takes the first brew which is supposed to be inferior to the others, and is sometimes just sucked up and spat out; it is then refilled with boiling water and handed to the first guest, and so on until it becomes too weak. It is surprising how long one charge of yerba will last. To a stranger the idea is a bit repugnant at first, but one gets used to it in time, and to refuse to participate would be considered an insult.
There was also an "asado" to be eaten. This is a strip of meat, preferably the ribs, stretched on a wire or a kind of spit and roasted slowly over the ashes. When properly cooked — the natives are nearly all experts at the job — it is most delicious. Forks are not considered necessary, the fashionable way to eat it being to take one end of the portion in the left hand, grasp the other with the teeth, and then cut a mouthful off with a knife.
The fireplace was extremely primitive and the room was full of acrid wood smoke which made my eyes smart and brought me to tears.
We all slept in the same room and as there were no beds, which perhaps was just as well, we made ourselves comfortable on the floor with the help of our saddles, the saddle-cloths and sheepskins making a comfortable couch and the saddle doing duty as a pillow.
The type of saddle used in the plains of Argentina is different from that used in the mountain districts, the saddle proper being formed of two pads connected by strips of hide, and so formed that when it is placed on the horse it presents a flat surface. First of all one or, more usually, two saddle-cloths are placed in position, then comes another of leather; on this is placed the saddle and the whole secured by a broad cinch of raw hide, sometimes as much as a foot in breadth. Over these are placed sheepskins, and finally a covering of soft leather — the best are made from the skin of the "carpincho" or water hog. These are fastened down with a narrow over-cinch. This gives the rider the appearance of a man sitting astride a dining-table, but yet the gaucho of the pampas seems very comfortable in this strange saddle.
I slept very soundly that night and next day proceeded on my journey.
After this one day was like another; there was nothing to be seen but flat country, the only thing to break the monotony being a very occasional "boliche" or wayside inn. Here, although often there is no other house in sight, are usually to be found a few people buying household necessities, chatting over a glass of wine, or playing "bochas," a game resembling bowls, except that the bowl is thrown instead of rolled.
Every man wears a wide belt into which is stuck, at the back, a large sheath knife; the more silver there is about the belt the greater the owner's pride. These knives are not primarily for fighting, as some people imagine, but for killing and skinning cattle, repairing leather, cutting the meat at meals. It is an uncommon thing to-day to hear of a serious fight, and if knives are drawn it is usually out of bravado. Occasionally real harm is done, and to prevent this there is a law that every man on entering an inn must hand over his arms to the proprietor. This law is more honoured in the breach than the observance and sometimes when the news arrives that a policeman is approaching there is a scramble to hand over weapons before his entrance. When a fight does occur the landlord is held responsible.
In the villages the two places where people assemble are the station and the "almacen." In the outlying districts, where a train passes perhaps once in two or three days, the whole population turns out to greet it. In the almacen — the word really means a store — almost anything can be obtained, and it is the news centre of the district. As long as it is open there will be horses tied to the posts outside, patiently waiting for their masters who are inside making purchases or having a game of cards over a drink and, of course, gossiping. The acknowledged king of the place is the local "comisario" (chief of police). A "vigilante" has to be on the platform when the train is in and the rest of his time is usually spent round about the almacen. Although people spend a long time over their drinks they really do not drink very much. There is very little drunkenness among the Argentines, except in the north where possibly a large strain of Indian blood may have something to do with it. Outbursts take place occasionally, especially when an unprincipled dealer has diluted a jar of wine with two or three jars of water and then fortified the mixture with a bottle of "caña" (spirit made from the sugar-cane) in which tobacco has been steeped. This concoction has a punch more powerful than Dempsey's best and is the cause of a lot of trouble. Even if the victims do not get into a fight, they are totally unfit for work the next day.
The weather continued abominable, but fortunately I was in no hurry, for I had calculated on reaching the Bolivian border in August which marks the commencement of the dry season. I slept under cover whenever possible and was usually fortunate. One evening I arrived at a monastery and as it was getting late decided to try my luck. Having knocked at the door and been duly inspected through a small window, I was admitted, and found myself in an Irish community. Father Superior O'Connor made me welcome, my horses were cared for, and the Brethren showed me the greatest hospitality. We all sat down together at the supper-table but, to my dismay, I found I was the only one eating. It was a fast day, but nevertheless the good monks made me an excellent dinner, after which I was conducted to a comfortable guest-chamber, where I slept the sleep of the just until 6 a. m., disturbed only by the chanting of the Brethren while celebrating Matins in the small hours. When I left after breakfast I was given a cordial send-off by the entire community. I shall always have a soft spot in my heart for these kindly brothers.
At last we arrived at Rosario. Heavy storms forced me to postpone our departure for some days, and the newspapers began to hint delicately that I was getting cold feet. As a matter of fact I had plenty of time and to spare to reach Bolivia in the dry season, and there was no sense in getting unnecessary wettings; there would be plenty of unavoidable ones later.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Tschiffely's Ride"
by .
Copyright © 2013 The Estate of A. F. Tschiffely / The Long Rider's Guild.
Excerpted by permission of Skyhorse Publishing.
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Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
PREFACE TO THE 80TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION,
FOREWORD,
INTRODUCTION,
THE FIRST DAY,
TOWARDS ROSARIO,
THE ROLLING PAMPAS,
THE DESOLATION OF SANTIAGO DEL ESTERO,
TUCUMAN, THE ARGENTINE EDEN,
ENTERING THE ANDES,
PREPARING FOR ROUGH MOUNTAIN TRAVEL,
THROUGH MIGHTY QUEBRADAS AND OVER WINDSWEPT,
MOUNTAINS TOWARDS THE BOLIVIAN BORDER,
INTO THE LAND OF THE QUICHUAS,
A LONG FORGOTTEN SPANISH GOLD TRAIL,
POTOSI, THE OLD MECCA OF GREEDY SPANISH,
CONQUISTADORES,
AMONG THE AYMARA INDIANS,
TOWARDS LAKE POPO,
OVER THE VAST AND BARREN BOLIVIAN ALTIPLANO,
TOWARDS LA PAZ,
LA PAZ : THE HIDDEN CITY,
TITICACA, THE SACRED LAKE,
ON PERUVIAN SOIL,
TOWARDS THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF THE MIGHTY INCAS,
GLORIOUS OLD CUZCO,
INTO THE HEART OF THE ANDES,
CIVILISATION AGAIN,
LANDSLIDES, A DETOUR AND A MOUNTAIN STORM,
A FAMOUS INDIAN MARKET — THE ROOF OF THE WORLD — DOWN TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN,
LIMA, THE STATELY OLD CITY OF KINGS,
THE SANDY DESERTS OF THE PERUVIAN COAST,
THE HIGHLAND OF ECUADOR,
QUITO,
CROSSING THE LINE,
COLOMBIA,
A LONG AND EVENTFUL SIDE-TRIP TO BOGOTA,
THE GREAT SWAMP BARRIER,
MAGDALENA, THE RIVER OF MUD AND CROCODILES,
ADIÓS SOUTH AMERICA!,
MANCHA SUFFERS A SLIGHT ACCIDENT,
WESTWARD HO!,
INTO THE GREEN LABYRINTH,
AN UNMARKED BORDER IN THE MIDST OF JUNGLES,
CLIMBING UP TO "THE MIDDLE OF THE WORLD",
CIVILISATION ONCE MORE,
SIDESTEPPING A REVOLUTION,
SAN SALVADOR,
GUATEMALA, THE LAND OF THE QUETZAL,
GUATEMALA CITY,
OLD GUATEMALA,
VOLCANIC REGIONS OF SINGULAR BEAUTY,
TOWARDS THE MEXICAN BORDER — A GLORIOUS,
VIEW — DESCENT INTO STEAMING TROPICAL LOWLAND,
THE LAND OF THE CHARROS,
A DIFFICULT STRETCH,
OLD TEHUANTEPEC,
OAXACA,
IN THE SIERRAS,
MEXICO CITY,
THE MEXICAN MESA,
OVER BARREN PLAINS TOWARDS THE RIO GRANDE,
TEXAS AT LAST — AND VICTORY,
BUSY DAYS,
FAREWELL, U. S. — BACK TO THE PAMPAS,