The valley of the Urubamba, or Uilcamayu, as it used to be called, may be reached from Cuzco in several ways.  The usual route for those going to Yucay is northwest from the city, over the great Andean highway, past the slopes of Mt.  Sencca.  At Ttica-Ttica (12,000 ft.) the road crosses the lowest pass at the western end of the Cuzco Basin.  At the last point from which one can see the city of Cuzco, all true Indians, whether on their way out of the valley or into it, pause, turn toward the east, facing the city, remove their hats and mutter a prayer.  I believe that the words they use now are those of the “Ave Maria,” or some other familiar orison of the Catholic Church.  Nevertheless, the custom undoubtedly goes far back of the advent of the first Spanish missionaries.  It is probably a relic of the ancient habit of worshiping the rising sun.  During the centuries immediately preceding the conquest, the city of Cuzco was the residence of the Inca himself, that divine individual who was at once the head of Church and State.  Nothing would have been more natural than for persons coming in sight of his residence to perform an act of veneration.  This in turn might have led those leaving the city to fall into the same habit at the same point in the road.  I have watched hundreds of travelers pass this point.  None of those whose European costume proclaimed a white or mixed ancestry stopped to pray or make obeisance.  On the other hand, all those, without exception, who were clothed in a native costume, which betokened that they considered themselves to be Indians rather than whites, paused for a moment, gazing at the ancient city, removed their hats, and said a short prayer.

Leaving Ttica-Ttica, we went northward for several leagues, passed the town of Chincheros, with its old Inca walls, and came at length to the edge of the wonderful valley of Yucay.  In its bottom are great level terraces rescued from the Urubamba River by the untiring energy of the ancient folk.  On both sides of the valley the steep slopes bear many remains of narrow terraces, some of which are still in use.  Above them are “temporales,” fields of grain, resting like a patch-work quilt on slopes so steep it seems incredible they could be cultivated.  Still higher up, their heads above the clouds, are the jagged snow-capped peaks.  The whole offers a marvelous picture, rich in contrast, majestic in proportion.  In Yucay once dwelt the Inca Manco’s oldest son, Sayri Tupac, after he had accepted the viceroy’s invitation to come under Spanish protection.  Here he lived three years and here, in 1560, he died an untimely death under circumstances which led his brothers, Titu Cusi and Tupac Amaru, to think that they would be safer in Uiticos.  We spent the night in Urubamba, the modern capital of the province, much favored by Peruvians of to-day because of its abundant water supply, delightful climate, and rich fruits.  Cuzco, 11,000 feet, is too high to have charming surroundings, but two thousand feet lower, in the Urubamba Valley, there is everything to please the eye and delight the horticulturist.