Our third camp was on the south side of the lake.  Near us the traces of the ancient road led to the ruins of two large, circular corrals, substantiating my belief that this curious roadway was intended to keep the llamas from straying at will over the pasture lands.  On the south shores of the lake there were more signs of occupation than on the north, although there is nothing so clearly belonging to the time of the Incas as the ashlars and finely built wall at Incahuasi.  On top of one of the rocky promontories we found the rough stone foundations of the walls of a little village.  The slopes of the promontory were nearly precipitous on three sides.  Forty or fifty very primitive dwellings had been at one time huddled together here in a position which could easily be defended.  We found among the ruins a few crude potsherds and some bits of obsidian.  There was nothing about the ruins of the little hill village to give any indication of Inca origin.  Probably it goes back to pre-Inca days.  No one could tell us anything about it.  If there were traditions concerning it they were well concealed by the silent, superstitious shepherds of the vicinity.  Possibly it was regarded as an unlucky spot, cursed by the gods.

The neighboring slopes showed faint evidences of having been roughly terraced and cultivated.  The tutu potato would grow here, a hardy variety not edible in the fresh state, but considered highly desirable for making potato flour after having been repeatedly frozen and its bitter juices all extracted.  So would other highland root crops of the Peruvians, such as the oca, a relative of our sheep sorrel, the anu, a kind of nasturtium, and the ullucu (ullucus tuberosus).

On the flats near the shore were large corrals still kept in good repair.  New walls were being built by the Indians at the time of our visit.  Near the southeast corner of the lake were a few modern huts built of stone and adobe, with thatched roofs, inhabited by drovers and shepherds.  We saw more cattle at the east end of the lake than elsewhere, but they seemed to prefer the sweet water grasses of the lake to the tough bunch-grass on the slopes of Sarasara.

Viscachas were common amongst the gray lichen-covered rocks.  They are hunted for their beautiful pearly gray fur, the “chinchilla” of commerce; they are also very good eating, so they have disappeared from the more accessible parts of Peru.  One rarely sees them, although they may be found on bleak uplands in the mountains of Uilcapampa, a region rarely visited by any one on account of treacherous bogs and deep tams.  Writers sometimes call viscachas “rabbit-squirrels.”  They have large, rounded ears, long hind legs, a long, bushy tail, and do look like a cross between a rabbit and a gray squirrel.

Surmounting one of the higher ridges one day, I came suddenly upon an unusually large herd of wild vicunas.  It included more than one hundred individuals.  Their relative fearlessness also testified to the remoteness of Parinacochas and the small amount of hunting that is done here.  Vicunas have never been domesticated, but are often hunted for their skins.  Their silky fleece is even finer than alpaca.  The more fleecy portions of their skins are sewed together to make quilts, as soft as eider down and of a golden brown color.