Chapter 1 — Conquer the Andes
“I ’ll ride on ahead, Jill, and keep company with Carlos for
a few minutes. Our guide looks lonely.” Tim shouted to his wife,
trying to be heard above the unholy shrill wind moans. The harsh
winds swirled around their bodies, their horses and the chasms and
massive boulders of the Andes Mountains. He squeezed his horse
with his thighs, pushed his butt down into the shiny, hard leather of
his dirty brown saddle and loosened his hold on the reins.
Jill’s heart leaped as Tim’s stallion, Tortu, responded,
whinnied and galloped ahead. Tim’s backside rose and slapped
down hard against the saddle. The strength of his legs controlled
Tortu as the frisky white stallion, spotted black, trotted forward
and approached Carlos who rode Lipso, a sleek and shiny white
Argentine racing stallion. She thrilled as she watched Tim astride
Tortu. He was trim and Tortu responded to Tim’s commands as he
reined the stallion to a saunter alongside Lipso. Carlos greeted Tim
with a complimentary salute. He tipped the brim of his hat. Tim
barely saw the sparkle of Carlos’s dark eyes. He saw the honesty in
Carlos’s expression and returned his greeting with a smile.
Jill sighed with admiration at her husband and Carlos as
they walked their horses, chatted, and held their reins taut and
steady against the buffeting wind gusts. She began to survey the
mountainous terrain again.
Everything looks small in the Andes. My
eyes burn. I’m getting tired again. Fatigue. Repeating my thoughts
She smiled to herself and heaved a heavy sigh. Even Tim’s
rugged figure appears small, tiny, against the background of the
majestic Andean mountains. She admired her husband. He
designed the expedition and he chose Charles to be the guide.
Continually encouraged both Carlos and me to persist and keep
going against the harsh high mountain climate. Tim captained the
journey over treacherous mountain paths and tunnels. Now, here
we are on the Eastern slope. The Amazon. Headwaters of the
Amazon and ...
Tim adjusted his seat to become more comfortable in his
saddle. “Come on Tortu! Giddyap!”
Tortu swished his long white tail as Tim rode back toward
Jill.
“Are you OK, honey?” he shouted as Tortu swayed, his
main billowing and snapping in the strong winds. Tim’s leg
muscles seemed chiseled as he clutched Tortu’s flanks with his
thighs.
“Everything’s OK!” Echoes came back at them from all
sides.
They ducked down as if they thought the sounds could harm
them. They laughed as they sat tall in their saddles again.
“I like that little wiggle there, honey,” Tim said.
“It’s not so much a wiggle as it is fear trying to ride this
horse.”
She waved. “Everything’s fine, Tim! Really!”
“Good! Let’s keep moving!” he shouted squinting to protect
his eyes from the swirling dust that without warning blew across
the narrow mountain pass, up and around their mounts. Tim turned
and glanced backward at his wife, thrust the white scarf band
around his pith helmet away from his face, and asked, “Are you,
OK?”
He waited for her answer. She appeared tired astride her
mare, Lola where Lola’s white mane stretched out in different
directions, flapped and danced violently in response to the
changing cold Andean winds. The sound of the howling winds
wore on Tim
“I’m OK, Tim,” Jill answered, raising her voice and
coughing. She competed with the changing sounds of the afternoon
air streams. Some were high-pitched, barely audible, while others
sounded like low moans as the vicious Andean winds shifted and
flowed in all directions through mountain crevices.
During the trip she had been comfortable with her
husband’s directions. The progress of their journey pleased her and
she entertained no doubt they would be safe. She was satisfied Tim
knew how to lead an expedition, even an expedition of three
persons.
Their horseback journey over the stark, treacherous terrain
of the Peruvian Andes Mountains, caused spasms in her arms,
sharp pains in her wrists, and stiffness in her neck and lower back.
She knew she used her muscles in a different way than she had in
the past. She felt she held up well, physically, during the journey,
but her wrists had begun to ache and throb again. The biting winds
caused Jill to want to stop because of their growing intensity. The
waning strength of her arms caused her concern. It seemed like
they had been traveling a long time, since this morning. Her arms
and wrists were bothering her greatly again and now they were
chapped and growing numb.
Jill felt better knowing she, her husband, and Carlos were
close to the end of this difficult journey. All of Tim’s suggestions
had benefitted the expedition. His directions guided them over
narrow mountain goat paths, wider ancient walkways that looked as
though they hadn’t been used for hundreds of years. She noted
walkways laid with worn, foot square, stone slabs and also roads
that were safer, wider, and more comfortable for travelers. She
judged these roads were about eight feet wide. These paths along
with other roads, wide enough to allow two-way passage of horse
or mule packs, or horse and llama caravans moving in opposite
directions, had indeed proven to be a short route.
How did Tim
know? A good guess? Maybe he recalled directions from stories his
father told him. Even Carlos admitted Tim’s guesses were better
than his own. Suddenly she noticed that Tim’s and Carlos’s
mounts were on the downgrade. She followed slowly as the men
guided their horses and led the mules and llamas down into a stark
valley down the eastern slope of the Andes in this spring season.
They guided their mounts in the direction of what Tim
hoped would be the enchanting mystical Palaqua--the land, empire,
and civilization known to Tim’s father, Timothy Dexter. He had
spoken to his son about those days and times and mysteries, in the
most reverent terms, so many times, when Tim was growing up.
She surveyed the valley, the stretch of gray mountains, the barren
appearance of the valley slopes, foothills, and rock strewn floor.
The directions appeared to be correct. At least Tim brought
us through the treachery of the Andes. And, there were those who
thought the path didn’t exist. Strange! People that have lived in
Peru for years didn’t know about the path through the mountains.
She coughed and squinted protecting her face against the winds.
Although there is no sight, yet, of the city called Palak. His father
taught him well. I hope so. I don’t see anything except desolation.
She frowned then sighed as she pulled her khaki jacket
collar around her neck. The roughness under her chin had become
sore, and it annoyed her down the side of her neck and chest.
Chapped again. It hurt. Her skin needed balm. She noted the bleak
afternoon scene as it spread out ahead of the them, with small
clusters of fog banks puffing up, in different areas. She continued
following Tim and Carlos and giggled at the sight of the slowly
bouncing rumps of the stallions and mules ahead of her. The llamas
moved as though indifferent to the steep slope. She looked first at
Carlos’ Lipso--shiny white and then Tim’s Tortu.
Tortu is
handsomely spotted, she thought.
Although, Carlos’ Lipso is indeed
a beauty. Big rear-end though. She laughed then giggled aloud.
She told herself she had really grown tired.
The majestic loping of the tan and white llamas, with their
wide but calm saucer eyes serene countenances that lasted forever,
caught Jill’s attention. They chewed grass continuously.
She looked ahead, past the llamas, at the men as they
proceeded downward. She marvelled at how the horses stepped
over large rocks.
Tim entered another wide tunnel with Carlos close behind
him. The path through the tunnel impeded easy passage because of
white and gray Andean mountain rocks of all sizes, strewn in front
of them. Scatterings of wild grass pushed up through the dry
cracked hard dirt of the passageway. Jill hesitated and for the first
the first time apprehension engulfed her body. She shivered, and
without thinking, squeezed inward on her saddle, using all her leg
strength, and tried to make Lola and her body one.
Chapter 2 — Memories of Legends
She stared at the back of her husband as he guided Tortu
over large and small rocks. His tan pith helmet added to the
elegance of his appearance as wind gusts lifted and flung the
helmet’s long white sash around his head. It snapped and fluttered
wildly in all directions and in unison with Tortu’s long white mane.
Jill was in love with her husband. They had been married for only
four weeks, although they had known each other for nearly four
years at DeLong University. She was captivated by his tan outfit:
safari jacket with six pockets, his form fitting safari walking shorts,
knee-length ribbed stockings, and ankle high mountain hiking
boots. She was aroused by the strength of his thin yet well-muscled
legs as he rode slowly ahead of her. She saw his physical strength
even through his thin appearance. Even though she believed his
shorts to be too tight fitting, she wanted to see him that way. And
she remembered that only this morning, he had promised they
would be alone tonight in their tent. His tone told her of his
necessity. Her love for him told her Tim needed her embraces,
desired to comfort her and be comforted, especially tonight, on this
expedition, an emotional journey for both of them. And she needed
the strength, caress, and comfort of his body next to her. Tim had
understood their mutual request. She chose to imagine his smile
again and again as they proceeded through the long tunnel, and the
thought never left her that Tim was troubled about some aspect of
the expedition. Deeply troubled and she didn’t know his concern.
Tim trotted Tortu quickly forward and reined his head back
then broke him into a walk behind Carlos. Carlos turned and
smiled at Tim, then looked backward past him, to check on Jill,
and winked, telling Tim that everything was proceeding as
planned. Carlos and Jill waved at one another.
He shouted.
“ Hacemos progreso bueno -- We’re making
good progress.”
Carlos’ Spanish is so formal, she thought . She smiled and
nodded, indicating to Carlos she understood him.
“ Se satisfago con esta excursión -- I’m satisfied with this
trip.” He stared at Tim waiting for a response.
“¿Cómo acerca de
ti? -- How about you?” He adjusted his shorts, pulling them away
from his hips.
“ Si, Carlos, soy muy satisfecho -- Yes, Carlos, I’m very
satisfied,” Tim replied.
They exchanged smiles again. Tim and Carlos turned and
faced forward as they settled his seat into their saddles. Tim turned
again and waved at Jill. She smiled encouragingly and nodded. All
was well.
The three explorers continued their trek through the strange
tunnel. Each of them held interesting thoughts.
Tim speculated with the idea: the tunnel is not a natural
formation. It is man- made. Very old. Smooth walls. What did the
ancients use as tools to bring about these smooth wall surfaces?
Seems as though my father mentioned passageways that look pretty
much the same. Could this be one of them?
Jill enjoyed her thoughts. She marveled at the way nature
might have made a natural passage. But why? Perhaps the
industrious Inca or the ancient Michu constructed this tunnel.
Maybe another civilization we don’t know existed constructed these
tunnels. Were they only passageways or were they used for other
purposes. Anyway, at one time they must have been exceedingly
beautiful. If we could only see what the ancient ones placed on the
worn blocks. Pictures? Writing? Secrets?
Carlos thought about many events in his life. For one thing,
he tried to recall his grandfather’s stories about those ancient
people. He remembered, from his childhood, he admired these
ancient Peruvians who were masters at constructing roads, huge
buildings, temples, art treasures and jewelry, and sturdy dwellings.
He was impressed by the walls of the tunnel, the magnificence of
the effort, and also recalled his grandfather not wanting to speak of
a dark side to these ancient groups of people. He recalled his
grandfather’s hesitation and strong caution all too well.
Tim thought about the expedition. He was pleased with
Carlos’ performance, not only as a guide but as a fellow member
of the arduous journey. He was comfortable with Carlos’
companionship, from the start of this expedition, even though they
had been strangers before the meeting in Perlious. Ah, Perlious!
Tim was warmed by the memory and smiled to himself as he
recalled the small Peruvian town. That tiny and lively port city on
the Pacific Ocean. He could hear the waves crashing against the
beach. Carlos came recommended as a guide. Of course he could
lead a small party up and over or through the high Andes from the
west coast of Peru to the source of the Amazon and the legendary
Palaqua, if it exists ... but it doesn’t exist.
The End of The Excerpt of
Ivy Walls, The Prelude
Order the complete twenty chapter novel
of this new spiritual adventure
of ancient civilizations and secret legends.
From the author: Richard Leland.
California residents: Send check or money order for $24.00 + $2.39 State Tax or $26.39 total.
Other readers: Send check or money order for $24.00 total and receive your downloaded version to read on your browser.
Send check or money order payable to Richard Leland's agent:
Richard L Swift, agent for
514 West Front Street
Covina, CA 91722
email:
leland@sowest.net
