Our pack animals arrived at Guarina about 7 p.m., and we very soon had our things unpacked and occupied our beds, knowing that a pretty early start would be made in the morning.  The night passed uneventfully, and at daybreak we got under way, bound for Achicachi, about five leagues off.  There is still a road for vehicles to this town, and keeping along the shores of Lake Titicaca, we reached this larger Indian town about 9 a.m.  The population was about 5,000 Indians, but it is a very uninteresting, bleak spot, and we only remained long enough to have a square meal, which we were again fortunate enough to have provided for us by the reigning magistrate.  That over, we then dispatched our coach on its return journey to La Paz, and thought of our other means of transport for the forward journey.  Good mules we had sent ahead, and were now awaiting us saddled and ready, and we at last got started on this the more arduous part of our journey inland.  Our destination for the night was Gualata, a small holding belonging to my fellow-traveller, and we reached it at about 1 o’clock, having climbed probably 2,000 feet higher up the mountains.  Cultivation of cereals and potatoes is carried on on a limited scale, owing to the altitude, and taking it all round, the house, although comfortable enough, was situated in about as bleak and bare a spot as it is pretty well possible to imagine.

Nevertheless, it was peopled by about sixty Indians, who turned out in true Indian style in their beautifully coloured robes and making horrible discordant noises which were intended for music—­all, of course, to show their appreciation of their “patron.”  Here, of course, we got all we required, and as there were any amount of fowls to be had, our bill-of-fare improved in accordance.  There was nothing to do specially, and we did not feel inclined to move about much at this elevation above the sea, so we were quite pleased when bed-time came round, and without any ceremony each retired to their respective couches on the floor.  Owing to excessive cold, however, sleep was out of the question, and it was a relief when day dawned on May 22nd.  After refreshing ourselves with a cup of tea we set out for Sorata, distant about six leagues.  Travelling was now much slower as the roads were very bad, and in some places very steep and covered with loose stones.  This made the foothold bad for the mules, but we trusted to the useful animals entirely, letting them go along on a loose rein to choose their own footing, which they did very successfully.  We passed the Indian village of Illabaya, perched on the side of a hill, and all plotted out in small squares for the cultivation of vegetables, etc., of which we bought a supply for our own use.  The highest point we passed was over 14,000 feet, and then began the gradual descent into the pretty little town of Sorata, 6,000 feet lower down.  The path was not of the best, and the pace was very slow; but the scenery was quite refreshing compared with what we had already passed through.