Three hundred miles and more from Chimborazo
one hundred miles from the snows of Cotopaxi
in the wildest wastes of Ecuador’s Andes
cut off from all the world of men
there lies the mysterious mountain valley
the Country of the Blind
Long years ago, that valley was open to the world
men came through frightful gorges and over an icy pass
from there they could get into the valley’s equable meadows
and men did indeed come to the valley this way
some families of Peruvian half-breeds came
they were fleeing from the tyranny of an evil Spanish ruler
Then came the stupendous outbreak of Mindobamba
it was night in Quito for seventeen days
and the water was boiling at Yaguachi
the fish were dying as far as Guayaquil
everywhere along the Pacific slopes there were land-slips
and there was swift thawings and sudden floods
one whole side of the old Arauca crest slipped
it all came down in a thunderous moment
this cut off access to the Country of the Blind for ever
the exploring feet of men wondered that way no more
But one of these early settlers happened to be close by
he was on the other side of the gorges that day
the day that the world had so terribly shaken itself
he had to forget his wife and his children
and he had to forget all his friends and possessions
and he had to start life over again
a new life in the lower world
but illness and blindness took hold of him
and he died of punishment in the mines
but the story he told begot a legend
a legend that lingers to this day
and it travels the length of Andes
He told of his reason for venturing back from that fastness
the place into which he had been carried
he had been taken to that place as a child
lashed to a llama, beside a vast bale of gear
He said the valley had all that the heart of man could desire
sweet water, pasture, an even climate
slopes of rich brown soil and tangles of a shrub
he spoke of bushes that bore an excellent fruit
on one side there were great hanging forests of pine
the pine had held the avalanches high
Far overhead, on three sides, there were vast cliffs
they were of a grey-green rock
and at the top there were caps of ice
but the glacier stream came not to them
it flowed away by the farther slopes
and only now and then huge ice masses fell
In this valley it neither rained nor snowed
but the abundant springs gave a rich green pasture
their irrigation spread over all the valley space
The settlers there did well indeed
Their beasts did well and multiplied
only one thing marred their happiness
And it was enough to mar their happiness greatly
A strange disease had come upon them
it made all their children blind
He was sent to find some charm or antidote
a cure against this plague of blindness
so he returned down the gorge
but not without fatigue, danger, and difficulty
In those days men did not think of germs
sin explained why this had happened
this is what he thought too
there was a cause for this affliction
the immigrants had been without a priest
they had failed to set up a shrine
this should have been the first thing they did
He wanted to build a shrine
a handsome, cheap, effectual shrine
he wanted it to be erected in the valley
he wanted relics and such-like
he wanted potent things of faith
he wanted blessed objects and mysterious medals
and he felt they needed prayers
In his wallet he had a bar of silver
but he would not say from where it was
he insisted there was no silver in the valley
and he had the insistence of an inexpert liar
They had collected their money and ornaments
he said they had little need for such treasure
he told them he would buy them holy help
even though this was against their will
he was sunburnt, gaunt, and anxious
he was unused to the ways of the lower world
clutching his hat feverishly he told his story
he told his story to some keen-eyed priest
he secured some holy remedies
blessed water, statues, crosses and prayer books
and he sought to return and save his people
he came to the where the gorge had been
but in front of him was a mass of fallen stone
imagine his infinite dismay
he had been expelled by nature from his land
But the rest of his story of mischances is lost
all we know of is his evil death after several years
a poor stray from that remoteness!
The stream that had once made the gorge diverted
now it bursts from the mouth of a rocky cave
and the legend of his story took on its own life
it developed into the legend one may still hear today
a race of blind men “somewhere over there”
the little population was now isolated
the valley was forgotten by the outside world
and their disease ran its course
The old had to grope to find their way
the young could see a little, but dimly
and the newborns never saw at all
But life was very easy in the valley
there were neither thorns nor briars
there were no evil insects in the land
and there were no dangerous beasts
a gentle breed of llamas grazed the valley
those that could see had become purblind gradually
so their loss was scarcely noticed
The elders guided the sightless youngsters
and the young soon knew the whole valley marvellously
even when the last sight died out, the race lived on
There had been enough time to adapt
they learned the control of fire
they carefully put it in stoves of stone
at first they were a simple strain of people
they had never had books or writing
and they were only slightly touched by Spanish civilisation
although they had some of the Peruvian traditions and arts
and they kept some of those philosophies alive
Generation followed generation
They forgot many things from the world
but they also devised many new things
the greater world they came from became mythical
colours and details were uncertain
and reference to sight became a metaphor
In all things apart from sight they were strong and able
occasionally one with an original mind was born to them
someone who could talk and persuade
These passed away, leaving their effects
and the little community grew in numbers
and their understanding of their world grew
and they settled social and economic problems that arose
Generations followed more generations
fifteen generations had passed since that ancestor left
the ancestor who took the bar of silver
the ancestor who went to find God’s aid
the ancestor who never returned to the valley
but fifteen generations later a new man came
a man from the outside world
a man who happened to find the valley of the blind
this is the story of that man

He was a mountaineer from the country near Quito
a man who had been down to the sea
a man who had seen the world
a reader of books in an original way
an acute and enterprising man
he had been taken on by a party of Englishmen
they had come out to Ecuador to climb mountains
he replaced one of their guides who had fallen ill
He had climbed many mountains of the world
and then came the attempt at Mount Parascotopetl
this was the Matterhorn of the Andes
here he was lost to the outer world
The story of that accident has been written a dozen times
Pointer’s narrative is the best account of events
He tells about the small group of mountaineers
he describes their difficult and almost vertical way up
to the very foot of the last and greatest precipice
his account tells of how they built a night shelter
amidst the snow upon a little shelf of rock
he tells the story with a touch of real dramatic power
Nunez had gone from them in the night
They shouted, but there was no reply
and for the rest of that night they slept no more
As the morning broke they saw the traces of his fall
It seems impossible he could have uttered a sound
He had slipped eastward
towards the unknown side of the mountain
far below he had struck a steep slope of snow
and he must have tumbled all the way down it
in the midst of a snow avalanche
His track went straight to the edge of a frightful precipice
and beyond that everything was hidden
Far below, and hazy with distance, they could see trees rising
out of a narrow, shut-in valley
the lost Country of the Blind
But they did not know it was the Country of the Blind
they could not distinguish it from any other narrow valley
Unnerved by this disaster, they abandoned their attempt
and Pointer was called away to the war
later he did make another attempt at the mountain
To this day Parascotopetl lifts an unconquered crest
and Pointer’s shelter crumbles unvisited, amidst the snows
And the man who fell survived…