01x07 - Legend of Lake Titicaca

[bunniefuu]

More than 12,000 feet high
in the Andes Mountains,

the waters of Lake Titicaca

reveal a host of unfamiliar
sights to the men of Calypso.

Beneath its cold waters,

they search for the legendary
source of the Inca Empire,

once the most extensive
in all the Americas.

There are few places on earth
where man has not probed,

but this remote sanctuary
has been untouched,

and so the aura of
mystery clings to it.

Great fables have grown of
untapped riches in its depths.

Muffled for centuries,
each stone becomes a chronicle,

hinting at civilizations that
predate even the Inca.

Even the frog-like creatures
that inhabit its waters

are strangely unique.

Myth and mystery are
part of its heritage.

Such are the legends of Lake Titicaca.

August 14th.

Beneath the rolling waters a team
of divers explores the ocean floor.

Anchored in the swell,
the ship awaits their return.

Captain Jacques Cousteau keeps a weather
eye out as winds in the sea rise.

Underwater, the restless
storm makes little impression.

Tides and currents
replace wind and gales.

But they move in steady cycles

and the creatures of the
reef adapt to their rhythms.

I know how peaceful it is down there.

It feels like a three-
dimensional rupture.

I know what the temptation
is to forget the surface

and to swim from one
surprise to another

as erratically as jaywalkers.

Busy and amused as they are below,

they will not bother about
our growing worries above.

As it often happens
in hurricane season,

the weather has turned very quickly.

I call the divers back before
recovery becomes impossible.

They emerge from the quiet
deep to the rolling deck,

from an element through
which they can fly,

back to the world where they
are again at the mercy of gravity.

Jean-Paul, we are through
with this operation.

We should sail as soon
as possible to Peru,

because in six weeks

it will be the rainy season
on Lake Titicaca.

When we are in Matarani, here,

we load the two mini subs
and 20 tons of equipment

on a railway to cross the Andes
Mountains to the lake.

Why Lake Titicaca?

Well, of course, the name
is fascinating in itself,

but that wouldn't be enough.

For us divers,

diving at almost


is quite a challenge.

And we know nothing about the
physiology of high-altitude diving.

We know very little about the
lake itself, as a matter of fact.

The depth, the life there is,
the geological origins.

And we are also in Inca land.

It means that all around the lake,

there are giant constructions
and temples

that may very well extend underwater.

So, we are going there to
study human physiology,

biology, geology, archaeology.

And there also are legends.

It is said that the Incas,
when the Spanish arrived,

have thrown into the lake
very valuable gold pieces of art.

Who knows?

At the Pacific port of Matarani, Peru,

a special train awaits to carry 17 men,


and the two mini subs,

more than 12,000
feet up into the Andes.

Only a skeleton crew remains on board.

The others depart the
familiar confines of the ship

with mixed feelings of
anticipation and apprehension.

Zoom is left behind

for fear of his reaction to a
potentially hostile environment.

An altimeter will track the
ascent in meters of altitude.

The train climbs steeply to emerge at
the thousand-foot level on a plateau,

where the first chill air
muffles the landscape in fog.

More than four centuries ago,

the Spanish conquistador
Francisco Pizarro

cross these mountains in a
cruel and tireless search for gold.

Ultimately and tragically,
he succeeded.

His ruthless looting was a
bonanza for the crown of Spain,

at the cost of a bigger
loss for mankind.

At Pampa de Arrieros, the caravan
pauses to let the descending train pass.

We look at the Indians,
and they look back at us.

Between us, there is curiosity, but
little possibility of understanding.

We feel separated by differences

as great as the height of the
Andes and the depths of the sea.

The Incas built a vast network
of roads through the mountains,

but modern Peru has matched their
achievement in stringing railways

across some of the most vertical
real estate in the world.

The divers have done little more than
sit and watch the scenery go by,

but they notice that
even normal activities

like walking and stooping
bring lightheadedness.

Crucero Alto, little more than
a switching depot on the line,

marks the highest
point in the journey,



From here, the expedition will
drop 2,000 feet to the lake itself.

After so many mountains,
the lake looms large as a sea.



it is the highest navigable
body of water in the world.

At Tiahuanaco, a few miles
from the shores of Titicaca,

lies one of the few
restored ancient ruins.

Archaeologists can discern traces of at
least five civilizations in these stones,

four of which predate the Incas.

Much of the art and achievement
popularly attributed to the Incas

was actually contributed by the
various peoples they replaced.

Like the Romans, their skill lay
in conquest and organization.

But none of these civilizations
ever developed a form of writing,

and only scattered remnants of carved
rock remain to hint at their glories.

Lake Titicaca forms part of the
boundary between Peru and Bolivia.

From the Peruvian port of Puno,

the expedition crosses to the
town of Copacabana in Bolivia,

which will be its base of operations.

The diving saucers
excite the curiosity

of the normally reserved
mountain people,

who immediately declare a
holiday and insist on a fiesta.

In a combination pagan rite
and Christian ceremony,

the saucers are blessed
and prepared for baptism.

The costumes, made for a
dozen different celebrations

and dredged out for the affair,

represent the Indians'
interpretation of church holidays

imposed by Spanish missionaries.

Few remember their original
meanings and few care.

Religion in these isolated communities

means more than the periodic
observance of biblical events.

It provides welcome breaks
in a routine existence.

Eager to get on with their work,

the crew finds it impossible
to shortcut the festivities.

All rituals, down to the symbolic
dipping of the saucers,

must be completed first.

Aboard the barge that will
serve as our diving platform,

we have a new sense of apprehension.

Loading our equipment took
immense physical effort.

At this altitude, even minor
jobs leave us exhausted.

The lake seems endless.

The surface is foreboding

and our worries about high
altitude diving are magnified

by the plight of the cormorants.

In the thin air of Lake Titicaca,

normally graceful cormorants
struggle to lift off the water.

Off the tip of the
Copacabana Peninsula

lie the once sacred islands,

the most likely spots
to begin explorations.

Though the air temperature
is a brisk 50 degrees,

Cousteau finds the effects of the
sun doubly intense in the thin air.

Lake Titicaca sits in a pocket
carved out by glaciers.

Its water level rose and
fell with each ice age.

Fed by the snows of the Andes,
the lake has no outlet

and today its level
is slowly rising again.

It is possible that some of the
ruins of the sacred islands

have been submerged.

Cousteau cruises the shore seeking
probable points of extension.

Aboard the barge, the crew
prepares to conduct a test dive

to determine how the
altitude will affect their ability

to perform tasks under water.

But the compressor experiences
altitude problems of its own.

The air does not provide sufficient
oxygen for the motor to catch.

The solution is to feed pure
oxygen into the carburetor.

Delemotte and Deloire
will be first to dive.

They have dressed slowly

because even the normal routine
of putting on equipment is difficult.

Before a man can move
about with ease,

his red corpuscle count,
lung size and metabolism

must be altered.

But it takes three generations for
the human body to adapt in this way.

We will film the exploratory dive

to check the reactions of the divers

as well as the visibility
below the surface.

Our greatest worry now is that
exhaustion may overtake the divers.

On the surface, atmospheric
pressure was little more

than half that at sea level.

A lungful of air provided
only half the oxygen.

As they reach the depth of 15 feet,

the air they breathe from the regulator
is back at oceanlevel pressure

and they receive a normal
amount of oxygen.

As they sink slowly,
their fears dissolve.

An underwater meadow of lush
greenery stretches out on every side.

Because the sun is almost unfiltered
by a very thin atmosphere,

its radiation penetrates deeper in
Lake Titicaca than in lower lakes.

Under the vegetable carpet,

the bottom is made of mud
and silt several yards thick.

The lake is reputed
to be rich in fish,

but the divers find scant evidence
of the schools they expected to see.

As soon as they return to surface,
the men are plagued again by exhaustion.

We are pioneering a new field,
high altitude diving.

It has its new rules

that our physiologists have
developed theoretically in Marseille

and that we must verify in the field.

To avoid decompression
accidents called the bends,

decompression stops must be made
on the way back to the surface.

In the sea, these stops are made
at the depth of twenty feet

and then again at
the depth of ten feet.

Here in the straddle lake,

the stops were set higher
at twelve and six feet.

Our new decompression tables
for Titicaca have proven safe.

Dr. Jacques Tassi submits the divers
to a thorough re-examination.

Physically they do not
seem to have suffered.

Working under water
proves less exhausting

than working on
land at this altitude.

But he fears the men may be
unable to maintain a balance

and rules that their workload
be reduced by forty percent.

The island of the sun and
the island of the moon

apparently once played key roles

in both the religious and
secular life of the Incas.

Half buried foundations
literally cover the sun island.

And on the moon stands the quarters
of the Vestal Virgins, the Incas' harem.

Archaeologists feel both islands
were probably larger at one time.

Dumas, an authority on archaeology,

marvels at the engineering skill

which set huge blocks
of interlocking stone

with such precision that a razor
blade cannot slip between them.

After calculating where underwater
extensions are likely to be found,

the divers follow a course that takes
them through the waving totora reeds.

The rubber zodiac can
swim over the reeds,

but the outboard small
propeller becomes badly snarled.

Jean Rian pushes through a
sea of algae, seeking an opening.

Growing in jungle-like profusion,

the reeds threaten to
entangle him as well.

But the heavy growth also provides

what is to be their most efficient
means of transportation.

Mechanization has
its place on the lake,

but Indian ingenuity
provided the best method of

navigating the reeds centuries ago.

The canoes, made of the
same reeds lashed together,

draw bare inches of water.

Dumas comes upon a huge
monolith at the water's edge.

Its surface worn,

it seems nevertheless to have
once been cut and shaped.

Behind it, other cut stones lead Dumas
to the discovery of a carved snake.

It's eyes protuberant, its coils
disappearing into the flat rock.

Dumas follows the trail across
the narrow point of land,

to where it meets the water again.

The walls are probably extensions
of the ruins found on shore.

The gradual rise of
the water cover them.

Long ago they were evacuated and
stripped of their valuable artifacts.

They stretch out toward the
deep reaches of the lake

and back to the dim reaches of history.

Said to have once been
sheathed in gold,

they gave rise to legends
of submerged treasure.

Now ironically, the same stones shatter
forever the legends they inspired.

But for the first time, a total picture
of the Incan ruins can be drawn.

Perhaps these walls enclose the
temple of the sun god himself.

Perhaps these stones
echoed to the laughter

of the Inca's favorite concubines

before the invasion
of the conquistadors

put a stop to all joy.

And perhaps beneath
the rocks and the mud

lie other secrets still
waiting to be disclosed.

For the people of the lake,

everything they don't
understand is Inca.

They can provide little
useful information,

but they direct the divers
to the old man of the lake.

Born on the island of the sun,

he has lived on these shores
for all of his 86 years.

Between bites of mildly
narcotic cocoa leaves,

he tells of a tunnel that stretches
from the lake to Cusco,

ancient capital of the Incas.

Oh yes.

An underground and underwater tunnel,



We've heard such things.

Also, we heard that there was a

seven or eight mile long gold
chain at the bottom of the lake.

Such legends we've
heard and investigated,

but they're never there.

The water is generally clear,
offering visibility of at least 60 feet.

But the bottom is often a mess
of thick reeds and piled stones.

Covered with algae

and almost indistinguishable
from the surrounding rocks,

what appears to be pieces of
pottery catch Jean Rian's eye.

Pottery shards are to archaeologists
what nuggets are to prospectors.

I have found earthenware jugs
on many expeditions in the past.

We know at first only that the
pottery is primitive in design.

Experts will affix the
date and place of origin

and thus bring meaning
to the discovery.

Simple artifacts often give a
better picture of ancient times

than ornaments left
in the tombs of kings.

As explorations continue, the absence
of fish becomes more noticeable.

It is known that fish form a mainstay

in the diet of the people
who live on the lake.

Diver Rian decides to investigate one of
the floating villages of the Uru Indians.

The Uru's once flourished at Titicaca,
but now number less than 200 people.

And although they literally
live on the water, they fear it,

believing anyone who
falls in will die instantly.

The islands that support
the Uru villages

float on the surface of the lake.

They are built of layers of totora reed.

As the bottom layers rot,
fresh reeds are spread on top.

Though they tend fires carefully,

stray sparks occasionally
ignite the dry reeds,

and the population
takes to the canoes,

waits until the fire burns
itself out in the lake

and builds another village.

To a superstition-ridden people,

Rian represents the incomprehensible
world of modern society.

Until recently, the Uru's
would not even allow

photographs to be
taken of their faces,

sharing a belief common
among primitive people

that by capturing images,
the camera was capturing souls.

Rian serves as an
effective distraction,

allowing us to film the Uru
village with relative freedom.

Cormorants abound in the village.

Though they are used in
other lands for fishing,

the Uru's raise them
like chickens for food.

Were modern education more effective,

Rian might have missed
his most significant find.

On his walk, he has
seen items of pottery

identical to the samples
taken from the lake.

Rian leaves the way he came.

Perhaps a generation from now,

mothers will persuade
children to eat their suppers

before the black and yellow devil
emerges once more from the depths.

One by one, ancient cultures have
taken root here and passed on.

They have left behind
mysteries to be solved

and a pervasive sadness at their loss.

For four weeks, the divers have scouted
the lake bottom as far as they could.

Final scrutiny of the deep pools
will be left to the mini subs.

As these are prepared,

the divers begin investigations
on the animal life of the lake.

Even the animals here
are touched with mystery.

So it acts like a frog,
it looks like a toad.

We have met them everywhere under
water but never on the surface.

Bearing the unwieldy scientific
name telmatobius culeus,

or a bag that lives in the marsh,

These toads are unique
to Lake Titicaca.

Most toads are amphibious.

They must surface to breathe

and live as much of their
lives out of the water as in.

In telmatobius culeus,

the lungs have atrophied
past the point of use.

Yet none possess gills like fish.

They breathe instead through
bag-like folds of skin.

Minute capillaries in the skin take
oxygen directly from the water.

The question remains.

What drove our friends to
this underwater existence?

It is probable that the
thin air of the Andes

did not supply enough
oxygen for their small lungs.

So they became aquatic.

The toads spend most of their time

in the protective growth
on the bottom of the lake.

Eternally submerged and voiceless,
they cannot croak.

Without a mating call,
they perform a mating dance.

Two by two in delicate pantomime.

There is still another
puzzle in the lake.

We come across scores
of dead or dying fish

scattered among the weeds.

Some appear bloated, some misshapen.

None seems to have
been k*lled for food.

We know that toads feed mostly on
water insects and tiny mollusks,

nothing approaching the
size of fully grown fish.

The water birds, which flock
on the shores of the lake,

swallow their dinners whole.

None of these could account
for the mass slaughter

such quantities of dead fish indicate.

To solve the riddle,
we collect specimens.

They will be sent to the
Oceanographic Institute in Monaco

for autopsy and analysis.

Whatever is k*lling the fish,

the ecology of the entire lake,

including the life
of the Uru Indians,

will be seriously affected
unless it is stopped.

The incredible number of toads
encountered prompts further study.

A representative census of their
population in Lake Titicaca.

Since there is no part of the lake
where divers did not find toads,

Cousteau directs the crew to mark
off an area of roughly one acre.

The men will collect every
toad inside the lines,

count the catch,

and multiply to arrive at a rough
estimate of the total number.

For the toads seem to
constitute a settled community

with no natural enemies
and no place else to go.

Left too long out of water,
the toads, like fish, will die.

But collection proceeds rapidly.

The animals' dimensions are surprising.

Stretched out, they average
two feet in length,

with feet and legs almost
twice as long as the body.

They weigh up to six pounds.

Selected specimens will be forwarded
to the Institute in Monaco

for further study.

There is no indication that
the toads have ever been used

as a food source at Lake Titicaca.

But with the fish
population dying out,

they may provide a
fresh source of protein.

Telmatobius culeus does not possess
a uniform pattern of color or design.

Each toad is an individual, bearing
its own unique set of markings.

As the census complete,
Falco releases the toads.

The final count, 200.

The estimate of Lake Titicaca's
total toad population, one billion.

Eager to join his long-time friend
in another underwater expedition,

Dr. Harold Edgerton arrives from MIT

and quickly readies his
special sonar equipment.

A highly sophisticated device,

its acoustic signal
indicates not only depth,

but the nature of the bottom,
mud, sand or rock.

It was invented by Edgerton, who
was also creator of the strobe light.

The magic of electronics etches a
precise profile of the lake bottom.

I wish to show you
many of these records

made in Lake Titicaca around the island
of the sun and the island of the moon.

One of the most interesting areas
has been plotted up on another chart,

which shows Sun Island.

This map shows many records,

sonar records that have been
consolidated into one map

showing a ridge that comes
up to about 50 feet deep,

another ridge which comes up
to the surface at this point

and then disappears at
about 330 feet deep.

And in between these there's a sediment
pond that's about 400 feet deep.

Now this would make a
very, very interesting place

for you to dive with the sukupe

because you would have an absolute,
almost a complete flat bottom

coming up to sharp rocks which rise
direct, almost directly, vertically

from, from the sediment layers.

Finally, the moment for the sukupes,
the mini-subs, arrives.

You know, I feel like at sea here.

I really can hardly realize
that we are on a lake.

Here in Lake Titicaca, in freshwater,

the mini-subs will probably
be 150 pounds heavy.

We have to add some floats, additional
floats that we don't need in the sea,

that we are going to bolt
on top of the saucers

to compensate for this
negative buoyancy.

And we hope our pilots
will be able to maneuver

just as easily in Lake Titicaca
as they do in the ocean.

The barge in position,
the crew makes a final check.

Cousteau and Falco will man the subs.

From inside, Cousteau
reports all systems perfect.

Phone connection with
the deck is unplugged

and the last lifeline released.

A diver accompanies the
mini-subs as far as 100 feet

to make sure they have not been
damaged in the long trek from Matarani.

Using the lights of the subs,
Cousteau and Falco signal farewell.

We have estimated the buoyancy
compensation exactly

and the floats do not
hamper maneuverability.

Surrounded by the familiar
machinery of the mini-subs,

we feel less alien in this
strange environment.

Steered by jets of water released
through moveable nozzles,

the subs can be maneuvered
with pinpoint accuracy.

Cameras are mounted to
film what the eye sees.

The sub not only open new areas
for underwater exploration,

but also bring back
a permanent record.

The sub gingerly skirt the
rocky ledge as they start down.

With ??? and sonar chart to guide them,
the descent goes quickly and smoothly.

At a depth of 400 feet,
the subs reach bottom

and move off to examine
the floor of the lake.

Falco and I exchange remarks
over the sonar telephone

and we cannot help constantly referring
to our experiences in the sea.

The water of the lake is almost
as clear as deep ocean water.

Fresh water plankton is
thinner than that of the sea.

The sediment at the bottom of the lake,
as measured by Edgerton,

is at least 35 feet thick.

What Falco and I feel
but do not express

is the thrill of seeing what
no man has seen before.

Halfway across the pool,

their attention is sharply riveted

by the sight of seemingly random
tracings in the flat mud.

Both subs veer to follow
the zigzagging lines.

The tracks had been
made by our old friends.

I was shocked.

There has never before
been a record of toads

living at depth of more than 400 feet.

At the far side of the pool,

the spine-like ridge charted by the
sonar rears up before the subs,

marking a symbolic
end of their exploration.

Cousteau signals Falco to start up.

They carry away a wealth
of new knowledge

and the certain end of Lake Titicaca's
fanciful legends of Inca gold.

Like mechanical whales, the mini subs
signal their location to the barge.

In the last instant of our journey,

the appearance of the
submarines at the surface

spans a thousand years in
the history of Lake Titicaca.

For the answer to the
problem of dying fish,

Cousteau journeys to Monaco.

The fish sent back from the lake

have been examined at the
Oceanographic Institute.

The cause of death,
an infection specific to trout.

Trout were introduced
into the lake in 1940

to provide a more
substantial food fish.

The results have been tragic.

Now biologists are already at work,

seeking countermeasures before
both trout and native fish succumb,

leaving the toads in sole possession
of the legendary source of the Incas.

The Calypso pushes off,
her decks bearing souvenirs

headed for an oceanographic
museum in the United States.

Her sailors home again

and the dust of ancient empires

scattering before a
fresh wind from the sea.