Punta Arenas. After sailing through Magdalena Channel southeast to Cape Froward, the most southern point of the continental mainland, the ship turns almost north, a trifle to the east, and in a few hours comes to anchor in Lat. 53° off Punta Arenas, the most southern city in the world, 900 miles nearer the South Pole than Christ Church, New Zealand, and 1600 nearer than Cape Town. From Cape Froward west, the British Pilot Book says the weather averages 11 hours daily of rain, hail, or snow. There is none worse in any inhabited part of the globe: but the region is not unhealthy. The city of about 12,000 people is a flourishing place with wide streets, good water works and electric lights, a handsome cathedral, appropriate public buildings, and many fine residences. A museum in charge of some Catholic priests has a collection of the fauna of the country, birds, snakes, fish, animals including a woolly horse, a unique specimen with wool a foot long. Also pottery, weapons, and utensils of the Fuegian tribes are exhibited. In the town, furs, fine guanaco skins, ostrich feathers, Indian baskets, etc., are for sale, and most persons buy souvenirs. A penal colony was first established by the Chilians in 1843 at Port Famine not far away, but after a revolt of the convicts the town was established here; when the place became a regular port as a coaling station for steamships the criminals were removed. It was soon discovered that sheep would thrive in this locality: many large ranches have been established in the back country, so that 16,000,000 pounds have been shipped in a year. The Indians, formerly numerous, are now almost exterminated, though some Yahgans and Onas still wander in the wilds of Tierra del Fuego. As usual most of the white invaders of whatever nationality have united in their destruction, to which the diseases of the white man have also contributed.
A settlement still farther south on Beagle Channel in the Argentine dominion is a village inhabited only by criminals and their guards, few of the latter being needed, as escape is impossible except by sea. On this side of Cape Froward the ground is flatter, the air dryer, the country treeless and of small interest. Nine hours from Punta Arenas the lighthouse on Cape Virgenes, 135 feet high, is passed and a three days’ sail on the Atlantic in a direct voyage brings one to Montevideo.
Port Stanley on the Falkland Islands, a genuine English town of 2000 people, has a fine harbor with supplies for ships and facilities for repairs; no trees, but a sedgy grass, called tussac, 7 feet high, excellent for horses and cattle, and with roots something like celery, edible for man. The weather is never very cold but the average temperature is low.
CHAPTER XXI
ACROSS THE ANDES TO MENDOZA
The journey from Santiago to Buenos Aires by the passage of the Cordillera, in former days seldom undertaken between May and October save by the hardy mail-carriers, may, since the opening of the railroad in 1910, generally be accomplished in any month of the year. Sometimes, however, traffic is temporarily suspended on account of snow-slides blocking the track on the Chilian side of the tunnel. Such inconvenience, oftener arising in the southern winter or early spring, will doubtless in time be obviated by the building of snow-sheds along the dangerous sections, as has been done in the United States. At present, from July to December it may be well to inquire about conditions before purchasing a ticket, though prolonged suspension of traffic is exceptional.
The excursion across the Andes, less fatiguing than formerly, is also far less exciting. The comfortable safety of a car ride through the tunnel is tame indeed in comparison with the passage by coach or muleback over the cumbre 2000 feet above. Yet as prosaic comfort is ever more popular than unusual and adventurous experience, tourists today by thousands and tens of thousands make the journey where formerly passed tens and hundreds. Still, even to the gazer from a car window the excursion is memorable; to the lover of sublime grandeur the day affords a rare joy. Very different is this ride from those across the mountains farther north. Until the completion of the line from Chimbote up the Huailas Valley, the Oroya railroad alone will bear comparison with this. Nor need comparison be made. Each is truly an elevating experience and wholly unlike the other.
An afternoon departure from Santiago is customary, often as late as 6.15 p.m. The night must be spent at Los Andes whence the start is made in the early morning. With ample time at one’s disposal, it is well to take a forenoon train from Santiago to have a few hours at the pleasant Chilian summer resort which affords opportunities for many delightful strolls, while the scenery along the way makes a daylight journey desirable. The monument to the Clark Brothers unveiled at Los Andes, October 22, 1911, is a worthy honor to the initiators of this great railway. As early as 1870 they applied for a concession, though it was 1886 before the first was received; while they were unable to complete the work, they have the credit of its beginning. After the Casa Grace took charge on the Chilian side good progress was made. In 1906 it was arranged to pierce the tunnel under one control, and the task was accomplished in time for the Argentine Centennial in 1910. As far as Llai-Llai, where connection is made with the train from Valparaiso, the route lies north along the valley over the road which has previously been traversed. At the junction, venders of delicious fruit are ever on hand selling, according to the season, pears, peaches, oranges, grapes, cherries, or figs, at prices calculated to tempt the hungry tourist. Llai-Llai is a pleasant little town of about 6000 people, at a height of 2625 feet above the sea. San Felipe, somewhat larger, is passed before reaching (to use the full name), Santa Rosa de los Andes.
A few rods from the station is the hotel where the night is passed. The town boasts of another, but through travelers prefer the pleasant little establishment, often over-crowded, from the rear of which the train early in the morning departs. In the summer the climate of Los Andes is delightful, the evenings always cool; at other seasons the nights are cold and frosty. Leave word in the office when you wish to be called, or you may be overlooked and miss your train or your coffee, which is not agreeable. The cars are apt to be full, so it is well to hasten, if friends wish seats together, or at times to obtain any at all.
The track follows the Aconcagua River, on which Los Andes is situated, up a beautiful valley, after 8 or 10 miles growing narrower between steeper walls. From luxuriant vegetation to bare rocks and snow, from beauty to grandeur, the change is quickly made. The river becomes rapidly smaller as we pass above the merry little streams which contribute to its madly rushing torrent. One bridge is called the Puente de las Viscachas, these being rabbit-like animals resembling the chinchilla but with coarser fur. The rocks of varying hue in sunlight and shadow, cliffs and gorges, and the foaming stream continually attract the eye. A hundred yards beyond the station, Los Loros, is the place called Salto del Soldado, the Soldier’s Leap, to see which one must keep a sharp lookout on the left, the train passing on a shelf with the stream 60 feet below. Various tales are told of the origin of the name, one that in the War of Independence a patriot escaped from the enemy by leaping the narrow gorge which is crossed by the train on a bridge. At the station, Rio Blanco, White River, a stream of that name joins the Aconcagua. Not far beyond is Guardia Vieja, where for more than two centuries a sentry or watchman has been stationed for the protection of the traveler, a necessary though inadequate safe-guard, as in the old days bandits sometimes lay in wait even for parties of considerable size. Robberies were not infrequent and murders were by no means rare.