The Last Days of the Incas (60 page)
As the mule train of explorers entered the canyon, the noise of the Urubamba River gradually grew louder and louder:
Here the river escapes from the cold plateau by tearing its way through gigantic mountains of granite. The road runs through a land of matchless charm…. In the … power of its spell, I know of no place in the world which can compare with it. Not only has it great snow peaks looming above the clouds more than two miles overhead; gigantic precipices of many-colored granite rising sheer for thousands of feet above the foaming, glistening, roaring rapids, it has also, in striking contrast, orchids and tree ferns, the delectable beauty of luxurious vegetation, and the mysterious witchery of the jungle. One is drawn irresistibly onward by ever-recurring surprises through a deep, winding gorge, turning and twisting past overhanging cliffs of incredible height. Above all there is the fascination of finding here and there under swaying vines, or perched on top of a beetling crag, the rugged masonry of a bygone race.
Bingham was finally embarking upon what he had dreamed of doing ever since he was a young boy in Hawaii—leading an expedition into a region of the world that had been little explored, at least by scientists. As in the title of an article that he would later write for
National Geographic
magazine, Bingham was becoming ever more immersed “In the Wonderland of Peru.”
At the end of their fifth day out from Cuzco, Bingham and his team came upon the small clearing where Melchor Arteaga cultivated sugarcane. This was the same peasant who had told Albert Giesecke that high up on a nearby ridge lay extensive ruins.
We passed an ill-kept, grass-thatched hut, turned off the road through a tiny clearing, and made our camp at the edge of the river Urubamba on a sandy beach. Opposite us, beyond the huge granite boulders which interfered with the progress of the surging stream, was a steep mountain clothed with thick jungle. It was an ideal spot for a camp, near the road and yet secluded. Our actions, however, aroused the
suspicions of the owner of the hut, Melchor Arteaga, who leases the lands of Mandor Pampa. He was anxious to know why we did not stay at his hut like respectable travelers. Our
gendarme
, Sergeant Carrasco, reassured him. They had quite a long conversation. When Arteaga learned that we were interested in the architectural remains of the Incas, he said there were some very good ruins in this vicinity—in fact, some excellent ones on top of the opposite mountain, called Huayna Picchu, and also on a ridge called Machu Picchu.
Huayna Picchu, Bingham remembered, was the name the sub-prefect in the town of Urubamba had told him about when Bingham had asked him whether any Inca ruins existed in the nearby Urubamba Valley. Bingham had copied the name down in his notebook along with a note that the ruins there were better than those at Choqquequirau, which lay some thirty miles to the southwest. Now this farmer Arteaga—who wore sandals and spoke with a wad of coca leaves stuffed in his cheek—was essentially saying the same thing. Could Huayna Picchu be the location of Vitcos or Vilcabamba, Bingham wondered. It seemed doubtful. The historian Romero had told him that in order to find either city he had to travel another dozen miles further down the Urubamba River to the Chuquichaca bridge and then to turn left and head up into the Vilcabamba River Valley. Bingham looked up at the massive peak rising up before him, covered in matted, black jungle and silhouetted now against a darkening blue sky. Although it seemed unlikely that any ruins in this area could be those of Vitcos or Vilcabamba, the area was nevertheless still worth taking a look at. Tomorrow, Bingham decided, as he set up one of the two folding canvas cots in the tent he shared with Harry Foote, he would see what, if anything, lay high on the ridgetop above.
The next morning, July 24, the sixth day of their trip,
dawned in a cold drizzle. Arteaga shivered and seemed inclined to stay in his hut. I offered to pay him well if he would show me the ruins. He demurred and said it was too hard a climb for such a wet day. But when he found that I was willing to pay him a sol [a Peruvian silver dollar], three or four times the ordinary wage in this vicinity, he finally agreed to guide us to the ruins. No one supposed that they
would be particularly interesting. And no one cared to go with me. Our Naturalist [Foote] said there were “more butterflies near the river!” and he was reasonably certain he could collect some new varieties. Our Surgeon [Erving] said he had to wash his clothes and mend them. Anyhow it was my job to investigate all reports of ruins and try to find the Inca capital.
Contrary to Bingham’s account, however, Foote’s job was to make collections of insects and mosses, not to look for ruins. The physician, meanwhile, who was in charge of keeping the expedition members healthy, was also working as a physical anthropologist and had been making photographic studies of native physiognomy. He wanted to remain in camp and develop some of the photos that he and other members of the expedition had taken. It was Bingham’s self-appointed job, and Bingham’s alone, to search for lost Inca ruins. Sitting inside his tent on his cot as a light rain fell, Bingham took out his small notebook. At the top of an unmarked page he wrote down “July 24” and below this, two names: “Maccu Picchu” and “Huaynapichu.” These were Bingham’s twin objectives for the day.
Around ten o’clock that morning, Bingham and Arteaga, who wore dark pants, a jacket, and a pointed hat, along with Sergeant Carrasco, who wore a dark military uniform with a row of brass buttons and a wide, flat-topped hat, set out upon the dirt road and then began clambering across a makeshift bridge of four slender logs that spanned the Urubamba River. Arteaga and Carrasco each crossed the bridge “native style,” walking upright, carrying their shoes, and gripping the flexible logs with their bare feet and toes; they then waited patiently on the other side for the North American
doctor.
Wearing a broad-brimmed hat, khaki trousers, leather boots with knee-high leggings, and a jacket crammed with odds and ends, Bingham didn’t trust his balance on the logs. Instead, the esteemed director of the Yale Peruvian Expedition sheepishly crawled after his companions, crossing the unsteady bridge on his hands and knees.
For the next hour and a half, the three men climbed up a steep foot trail that wound up the side of the mountain through cloud forest vegetation, with low clouds ringing the nearby peaks and with the winding, blue-green Urubamba River becoming smaller and smaller below them. When they finally reached the base of a ridgetop that formed a saddle between two peaks, Bingham was surprised to find the ridge already
inhabited by three peasant families, who leased their land, it turned out, from Bingham’s guide.
Shortly after noon, just as we were completely exhausted, we reached a little grass-covered hut where several good-natured Indians, pleasantly surprised at our unexpected arrival, welcomed us with dripping gourds full of cool, delicious water. They then set before us a few cooked sweet potatoes…. Two pleasant Indian farmers, [Anacleto] Richarte and [Toribio] Alvarez, had recently chosen this eagle’s nest for their home. They said they had found plenty of terraces here on which to grow their crops, and they were unusually free from undesirable visitors…. Richarte told us that they had been living here four years. It seems probable that, owing to its inaccessibility, the canyon had been unoccupied for several centuries, but with the completion of the new government road, settlers began once more to occupy this region. In time somebody clambered up the precipices and found on these slopes, at an elevation of 9,000 feet [
sic
] above the sea, an abundance of rich soil conveniently situated on artificial terraces, in a fine climate. Here the Indians had finally cleared off and burned over a few terraces and planted crops of maize, sweet and white potatoes, sugar cane, beans, peppers, tree tomatoes, and gooseberries.
From the hut where they were sitting, Bingham could see no signs of Inca ruins, although the view of the surrounding peaks and distant mountains was stupendous. Clouds hid many of the nearby peaks, alternately revealing and then obscuring the sun. Bingham continued:
Without the slightest expectation of finding anything more interesting than … the ruins of two or three houses such as we had encountered at various places on the road between Ollantaytambo and Torontoy, I finally left the cool shade of the pleasant little hut and climbed farther up the ridge and around a slight promontory. Arteaga had “been here once before,” and decided to rest and gossip with Richarte and Alvarez in the hut. They sent a small boy with me as a “guide.” The Sergeant was in duty bound to follow, but I think he may have been a little curious to see what there was to see. Hardly had we rounded the promontory when the character of the stonework began to
improve. A flight of beautifully constructed [stone] terraces, each two hundred yards long and ten feet high, had been recently rescued from the jungle by the Indians. A veritable forest of large trees which had been growing on them for centuries had been chopped down and partly burned to make a clearing for agricultural purposes. The task had been too great for the two Indians so the tree trunks had been allowed to lie as they fell and only the smaller branches removed. But the ancient soil, carefully put in place by the Incas, was still capable of producing rich crops of maize and potatoes. However, there was nothing to be excited about. Similar flights of well-made terraces are to be seen in the upper Urubamba Valley at Pisac and Ollantaytambo, as well as opposite Torontoy.
Bingham knew very well, however, that at both Pisac and Ollantaytambo not only were there “similar flights” of giant terraces, but that extensive and rather spectacular ruins of perfectly cut stones lay nearby. In addition, near the terraces of Torontoy, Bingham had found “another group of interesting ruins, possibly once the residence of an Inca noble.” Bingham had further been told by a number of different sources that there were ruins up here; he must have known, therefore, that significant ruins were probably located nearby.
We scrambled along through the dense undergrowth, climbing over terrace walls and in bamboo thickets where our guide found it easier going than I did…. Then the little boy urged us to climb up a steep hill over what seemed to be a flight of stone steps. Surprise followed surprise in bewildering succession. We came to a great stairway of large granite blocks. Then we walked along a path to a clearing where the Indians had planted a small vegetable garden. Suddenly we found ourselves standing in front of the ruins of two of the finest and most interesting buildings in ancient America. Made of beautiful white granite, the walls contained blocks of Cyclopean size, higher than a man. The sight held me spellbound…. I could scarcely believe my senses as I examined the larger blocks in the lower course, and estimated that they must weigh from ten to fifteen tons each. Would anyone believe what I had found? Fortunately, in this land where accuracy of reporting what one has seen is not a prevailing characteristic
of travelers, I had a good camera and the sun was shining.
For the next five hours, Bingham followed the boy along the ridgetop, examining ruin after ruin. With his Kodak camera and the folding camera tripod he had brought along, Bingham began snapping the first photos of the site that would later become a household name: “Machu Picchu,” or “Old Peak.” Always meticulous in his habits, Bingham was careful to jot down notes and descriptions of all of his photos:
Some structures of stone laid in clay. Others nicely squared like Cuzco. Niches nicely made like Ollantaytambo. Cylinders common inside and out. Better fashioned than those at Choq…. Views on both sides. Whole place extremely inaccessible.
Similar to his experience at Choqquequirau, Bingham discovered that he was not the first explorer to visit the ruins at Machu Picchu. On the wall of one of the Inca temples, in fact, Bingham soon discovered that a previous visitor had scrawled his name with what looked to be charcoal, along with a date:
Lizarraga, 1902
Whoever this person Lizarraga was, he had obviously visited the ruins of Machu Picchu nine years earlier. Bingham carefully jotted down the explorer’s name, then continued taking notes, snapping photos, and making a rough sketch of the site. At around five in the afternoon, Bingham, Sergeant Carrasco, and Arteaga left the peasant’s hut and began making their way back down to the valley floor, moving much more rapidly now as they were aided, not hindered, by gravity. Back in camp, Bingham went inside his tent, then came out and paid Arteaga with a shiny silver sol. As the sun sank and the expedition members prepared for dinner, high above them, beside the ruins of an ancient and unknown Inca city, peasant families cooked pots of stew inside their huts, using dried wood for kindling and letting the smoke percolate through the grass roofs of their homes, much as the Incas who had inhabited this ridgetop had done some four centuries earlier.
Despite his later claims that he had immediately
recognized the significance of the ruins at Machu Picchu, Bingham was actually disappointed that the ruins he had just discovered were not the ones he had been searching for. Comparing what he had seen up on the ridgetop of Machu Picchu with the various clues he had culled from the chronicles of Calancha, Ocampo, and Titu Cusi, Bingham found little in common between the ruins he had just visited and the chroniclers’ descriptions of Manco Inca’s two lost cities.
When I first saw the remarkable citadel of Machu Picchu perched on a narrow ridge two thousand feet above the river, I wondered if it could be the place to which that old soldier, Baltasar de Ocampo, a member of Captain Garcia’s [de Loyola’s 1572] expedition, was referring when he said: “The Inca Tupac Amaru was there in the fortress of Pitcos [Vitcos], which is on a very high mountain, whence the view commanded a great part of the province of Vilcapampa. Here there was an extensive level space, with very sumptuous and majestic buildings, erected with great skill and art, all the lintels of the doors, the principal as well as the ordinary ones, being of marble, elaborately carved.” Could it be that “Picchu” was the modern variant of “Pitcos”? To be sure, the white granite of which the temples and palaces of Machu Picchu are constructed might easily pass for marble. The difficulty about fitting Ocampo’s description to Machu Picchu, however, was that there was no difference between the lintels of the doors and the walls themselves. Furthermore, there is no “white rock over a spring of water” which Calancha says was “near Viticos [Vitcos].” There is no Pucyura in this neighborhood. In fact, the canyon of the Urubamba does not satisfy the geographical requirements of Viticos. Although containing ruins of surpassing interest, Machu Picchu did not represent that last Inca capital for which we were searching. We had not yet found Manco’s palace.
