As a kid I always wanted to go on adventures. I
lived in a suburb, then an exerb, then another – more remote and older – exurb.
We’d play in the woods and explore them, though we knew that on the other side
of the woods was another development just like ours. Knowing that your
adventures are limited to the area in-between doesn’t diminish the sense of
adventure, not even in hindsight. There was something legitimately revelatory
in finding the plywood shacks that older kids used for chewing tobacco and
looking at dirty magazines. Even more exciting was finding the remains of old
buildings that had fallen out of use when the farmland (it’s always farmland)
was converted into a development.
Yet, the legitimacy of those childhood adventures
doesn’t diminish the experience of finding archaeological sites at the edges of
Peru’s rural valleys.
Today I took a trip up to Yaután. I’d always wanted
to go there, as it seems my years of experience in this part of Peru are pretty
concentrated in the provincial city of Casma itself. The trip to Yaután and,
ultimately, the sites of Palka and its neighbors highlighted for me all the
wonderful things about Peru, Peruvians, and Peruvian exploration in search of
archaeological sites.
Last night as I did a turn around Casma, I checked
in with the ‘colectivos’ that run to
Yaután. Colectivos are semi-private
autos that do fixed runs between small towns. They usually hold 4 passengers,
plus the driver, and can range in quality from later-model Toyota wagons to
very early Mopar vehicles. When they’re full, they go. The fare (pasaje) is cheap and – increasingly –
posted in the windshield. The colectivos
(which also refers to the vehicle, not just the service) get filled up by
callers barking out the destination. They’ll identify people, point at them and
call out – inquisitively – “YAUTÁN!”
As a gringo,
this technique always tips me off as to where people think I fit in. Callers
often look at me and holler, “Huaráz!,”because Huaráz is the mountain sports
capital of this area (and maybe all of Peru).
Last night I conversed with the colectivo caller and he explained they run from 4am to about 9pm
back and forth to Yaután. I said I wasn’t going that night, but would the next
day. Well, today he remembered me. I walked up and he said “Ya vez? Yaután!”…
“See! Yaután,” ‘cuz he knew I’d return. However, I needed some AA batteries and
asked when we’d be leaving “ahorita!”
he said. I always understand ahorita
to mean, ‘in a couple minutes.’ It’s the Peruvian version of the proper usage
of ‘presently’ in English.
I said I needed some AA batteries, would get them,
and then return. But another caller resting on a bench in the colectivo garage corrected me. “En Yaután también hay!” It’s
hard to explain the charm of this phrasing. To me it translates pretty directly
as “They got’em in Yaután, too!” But the light sarcasm floating over the
totally factual – and helpful – statement defies easy appreciation. The resting
caller was right, they have AA batteries in Yaután. I wanted to get there and
so did the 3 other guys waiting in the wagon to hit the road to Yaután.
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The road to Yaután cuts in between the two branches
of the Casma River. The south branch is properly called the Casma River and the
north branch is the Sechin River. They meet about at the town of Casma and then
flow past the Port of Casma into the Pacific Ocean.
The road between these branches cuts between a
series of large, rocky, and almost completely barren mountains. The landscape
is lunar or Martian in appearance: authentically extraterrestrial. Of course,
this is because it really is an extra
terrestrial landscape. It was formed under the ancient shoreline by volcanic
activity and gradually elevated by tectonic uplift. These geologically recent
origins also explain the distinctive pointy peaks of these Andean foothills,
and probably why there are so many large rocks on top of granitic bedrock. All
the sand was washed away by the ancient ocean or blown away by more recent
winds. Indeed, there are some ancient fossils of bivalves in the hills, but
very few plants in between Casma and Yautan, which is to say cutting between two
sets of these mountains.
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| Eastward view of the mountains between the Sechin and Casma Rivers, between Casma and Yautan |
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Peru might be a small country, but Peruvian downs are definitely small towns. After only a little discussion about what I, a gringo, might be doing in Yautan, it turned out that the director of public relations was in the front seat of the colectivo. He was eager to help me find my way to the archaeological sites in the area, especially Palka. He explained that from the Plaza de Armas - the obligatory central square in every Peruvian town - I could take a mototaxi to the dirt path down the valley that would take me to Palka. He helped me find the taxi and off we went.
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| Yautan's Plaza de Armas |
Now, I wasn't particularly interested in Palka. I know it's a very old site (i.e. Formative or Pre-Ceramic, ca. 2000BC or older). I also knew that the university in Huaraz had been doing projects there and found a Middle Horizon (ca. AD 500) settlement there, too. However, I reasoned that if there were an archaeological site in easy reach, there would be a path, too. Usually the sites are perched on the border between the cerros and the agricultural land and linked by worn footpaths. I could go check out Palka and then continue on looking for the archaeological sites that I'm interested in, which date to about AD 1000-1500.
I found Palka and a pathway that I followed westward for a while. There were indeed some other archaeological sites, but I won't comment on them here. Instead, I want to comment on some unexpected finds.
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| Main temple terraces and mound at Palka (middle ground). Notice that it mimics the mountains in the background |
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On my way down from the walk through Palka's trails, I noticed a series of aluminum cans filled with charred corn fiber. At first, I thought these cans were used to create smoke for harvesting honey from any one of the many beehives that are found around these sandy, rocky cerros. However, many - if not all - of these cans were arranged along the trail, as if to illuminate it.
Why would someone be illuminating a trail to an 'unimproved' archaeological site? My guess is that there are rituals of some sort that take place here at night. Archaeological sites remain important places for modern rituals ranging from the occult to overt nationalist purposes (e.g., Evo Morales being sworn in at Tiwanaku, Bolivia and Alejandro Toledo and his wife holding important political events in Cusco's sacred sites).
I wish I could have done more investigating of this mystery. On the one hand, I fully recognize and appreciate non-academic uses of archaeological sites. I think it's essential that archaeologists not monopolize the use and interpretation of sites. On the other hand, if I knew who was doing what out there, I might be able to provide some pointers on safe and sustainable practices for preserving the site for continued and future use by academics and non-academics alike.
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Archaeology, like any job, can lose its joy rather quickly. The most romantic notions of archaeology are pretty well wrecked as soon as you start that umpteenth day sifting sand for the same small scraps of broken ceramic vessels. The first time you run a project, you get a crash-course in endless acid reflux. Archaeology becomes a series of frustrations with broken equipment, bureaucratic barriers, and bundles of paperwork - much of it of your own making.
Yet exploration of millennial archaeological sites reminds me of the thrill of adventure. It feels like real exploration, real adventure. It really does.
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| Looking north over the Palka River/Rio Grande, 19 July 2014 |
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