Migration of Plants and People in Peruvian Ruins

Kuelap invasion: Migration tales told by stones and plants

In 2026, the Ficafé festival will be held in the city of Chachapoyas, in the northern Peruvian Amazonas department. This will also be the venue for the international cupping of the Cup of Excellence, where I hope to participate once again. I have visited Chachapoyas and the Amazonas department before, when I traveled to see our partner Germán in Gracias a Dios.

Now, in March 2025, as we dedicate this month to documenting remarkable stories of migration, one experience at the Kuelap ruins stands out—worthy of its own blog article.

Each year, tens of thousands of visitors ascend the misty heights of Kuelap, an impressive fortress city built from stone centuries ago by the Chachapoya, the “Warriors of the Clouds” on top of a remote Andean mountain. The tourists come to admire its monumental walls, intricate architecture, and breathtaking views over the Andes. Yet, beneath their feet, a silent story of migration unfolds—one written not in stone, but in leaves and roots.

View from Kuelap into the surrounding valleys. Llamas grazing among the ruins. (Peru, 2021)

Human Migrations: Chachapoya, Inca, and Spanish

The Chachapoya civilization, known for their fierce independence, resisted Inca conquest in the late 15th century. Despite their resistance, they were eventually incorporated into the Inca Empire, just a few years before the arrival of the Spanish, and were forced to abandon the fortress city. During the Spanish conquest, the Chachapoya allied with the Spaniards against the Inca, hoping to regain their autonomy. However, Spanish rule brought new challenges, including diseases and forced labor, leading to a significant decline in their population and cultural heritage.

Botanical Migrations: Neophytes in the Andes

After the exhausting hike, 9 km long and 1.2 km high (or a smooth ride on the telecabins) you can take in the silence, letting your thoughts wander, imagining the people at this special place in the silence of the clouds, the ambitious construction, life in this society, the threats from the Incas, the eventual defeat, and centuries of being forgotten. What an effort to build a fortress on such an elevated, remote place!

Walking between the ancient houses, you might be in for a surprise. On the slopes, a European visitor finds a familiar flora. Ribwort plantain (Plantago lanceolata), nettle (Urtica dioica), sorrel (Rumex acetosa), dandelion (Taraxacum officinale), and clover (Trifolium repens) thrive here, reminiscent of European meadows. These plants are indeed not native to the Americas; their seeds arrived inadvertently, clinging to the clothing and equipment of European explorers and settlers. Over time, they established themselves, quietly weaving into the local tapestry of life.

Among these botanical migrants, ribwort plantain became so prevalent that Indigenous peoples in North America dubbed it the “white man’s footprint,” as it seemed to sprout wherever Europeans settled. It thrives in compacted, disturbed soils where native plants often struggle. Initially an unwelcome invader, it was eventually integrated into Indigenous medicinal practices, recognized for its healing properties across the Americas.

Not all familiar plants at Kuelap are foreign introductions. The Andean lupine (Lupinus mutabilis), known locally as tarwi, has been cultivated in the Andes for over 1,500 years. This native legume, rich in protein and oil, was reportedly domesticated by pre-Columbian civilizations as old as the Nazca, who incorporated it into their agricultural systems. Unlike its Old World relatives, which were later used as coffee substitutes during times of scarcity, the Andean lupine evolved independently in South America, adapting to high-altitude ecosystems long before European contact.

How did it come to the Americas, if not through the Europeans? Surprisingly, scientists believe that Andean lupines arrived in South America millions of years ago, possibly carried by wind, ocean currents, or migrating birds, long before humans set foot on the continent. Hence, this so-called neophyte is not as ‘neo’ as it seems.

Plants tell the tale
Reaching the top of a mountain is never easy—whether for a warrior, a traveler, a seed, or even a stone. The Cloud Warriors built their fortress from limestone, but the rock itself was not simply waiting for them at the summit. It had to be quarried, broken, and carried up the steep slopes by countless hands, carefully placed to form the towering walls of Kuélap, and is only one of many remarkable and defiant achievements of the Chachapoya in the region to secure their heritage.

Just as the stones were moved, so too were the plants. The seeds now sprouting between the ruins were carried from far away unknowingly—by settlers, invaders, traders, locals after the Columbian exchange, and modern visitors, or millions of years ago by land, wind and weather. Like the fortress itself, they stand as silent witnesses, telling stories of millions and centuries of migration.

The stones and the plants found new ground on Kuelap. For now. As humans, we move, we settle, we fight, and we endure. Some of us are silenced, some of us forget—but plants continue to tell our story, wherever we go, right at our feet.