We reached Arequipa, the proposed base for our campaign against Mt.  Coropuna, in June, 1911.  We learned that the Peruvian “winter” reaches its climax in July or August, and that it would be folly to try to climb Coropuna during the winter snowstorms.  On the other hand, the “summer months,” beginning with November, are cloudy and likely to add fog and mist to the difficulties of climbing a new mountain.  Furthermore, June and July are the best months for exploration in the eastern slopes of the Andes in the upper Amazon Basin, the lands “behind the Ranges.”  Although the montana, or jungle country, is rarely actually dry, there is less rain then than in the other months of the year; so we decided to go first to the Urubamba Valley.  The story of our discoveries there, of identifying Uiticos, the capital of the last Incas, and of the finding of Machu Picchu will be found in later chapters.  In September I returned to Arequipa and started the campaign against Coropuna by endeavoring to get adequate transportation facilities for crossing the desert.

Arequipa, as everybody knows, is the home of a station of the Harvard Observatory, but Arequipa is also famous for its large mules.  Unfortunately, a “mule trust” had recently been formed—­needless to say, by an American—­and I found it difficult to make any satisfactory arrangements.  After two weeks of skirmishing, the Tejada brothers appeared, two arrieros, or muleteers, who seemed willing to listen to our proposals.  We offered them a thousand soles (five hundred dollars gold) if they would supply us with a pack train of eleven mules for two months and go with us wherever we chose, we agreeing not to travel on an average more than seven leagues [2] a day.  It sounds simple enough but it took no end of argument and persuasion on the part of our friends in Arequipa to convince these worthy arrieros that they were not going to be everlastingly ruined by this bargain.  The trouble was that they owned their mules, knew the great danger of crossing the deserts that lay between us and Mt.  Coropuna, and feared to travel on unknown trails.  Like most muleteers, they were afraid of unfamiliar country.  They magnified the imaginary evils of the road to an inconceivable pitch.  The argument that finally persuaded them to accept the proffered contract was my promise that after the first week the cargo would be so much less that at least two of the pack mules could always be free.  The Tejadas, realizing only too well the propensity of pack animals to get sore backs and go lame, regarded my promise in the light of a factor of safety.  Lame mules would not have to carry loads.