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Cornugaya Directory 07
Page 05
On January 24th we continued our journey over horrible deep mud-holes,
which made the trail extremely dangerous. On that particular day we were
travelling over sticky soil, so that when the mules trod in the deep
holes they stuck with their hoofs and fell over, immediately struggling
wildly to free themselves. One of my men was nearly thrown down a
precipice that day, and all of us, as well as all the pack animals, had
many unpleasant falls during that march. Swampy places like that were
encountered for hundreds of metres at a time. In one place that day we
had two kilometres of continuous swampy mud. In the afternoon I had a
nasty fall, the mule rolling right on the top of me and nearly breaking
my right leg. The animal in falling had sunk its head in the sticky mud,
and was struggling madly to release itself. The animals were then
marching chest-deep in mud. In my helpless condition I tried to get off
when the animal fell, but sank up to my waist and stuck fast with my legs
in the mud. When the mule rolled over, it knocked me down on the edge of
the precipice, my leg remaining caught under the animal. Had not one of
my muleteers been by my side at the moment and rushed to my rescue, I
should have fared badly indeed.
On January 23rd we descended rapidly through beautiful forest from Camp
71, where we had halted for the night, to a large _tambo_ called Enenas,
in charge of an Italian. The place was situated in a beautiful valley
intersected by a streamlet saturated with lime. It looked exactly like
milk, and hurt your gums considerably when you drank it. The excellent
mule I was riding had unfortunately hurt one of its legs while we were
crossing a swollen torrent, where the mule and myself were nearly swept
away in the foaming current. Riding on the lame animal, which was all the
time stumbling and falling down on its knees, was unpleasant. In the
narrow trail it was not possible to unload another animal and change the
saddle, and it was out of the question for me to walk.
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