The South American Tour

by Annie S. Peck

On this journey over the cumbre one is likely to descry specimens of the great condor, oftener to be seen in Chile than in the countries nearer the equator. In the many days I have spent above 15,000 feet in Peru and Bolivia, not one appeared within the range of my vision. In the mountainous regions of Chile, the birds are so numerous as to be a pest, attacking pigs, sheep, children, and rarely a grown man; hence a reward for condors dead or alive has been offered by the Government. From the top of the pass down to Las Cuevas near the tunnel entrance it was said to be a swift slide at breakneck speed. The thankfulness with which the tourist descended from the coach to enter the prosaic train may well be imagined. The sturdy pedestrian was the one who in safety and tranquillity might truly enjoy the magnificent visions, while others in terror had fleeting glimpses of the splendid panorama. One should not, however, even with a good revolver, in these days venture alone upon the traverse, unless thoroughly seasoned to greater heights; for though the brigands who once haunted this region have probably departed to more frequented scenes, the danger of an attack of mountain sickness or of a sudden storm, especially towards the beginning of winter, should deter most persons from the excursion except with suitable companions and equipment. It should be noted that high winds frequently prevail in these lofty regions after nine or ten in the morning, strong enough at times to hurl horse and rider from the track to the depths below; this fact accounts for the unearthly hour at which the start was formerly made for the ride over the cumbre. Stone huts called casachas, anciently built as refuges from storm, are scattered along the road, though now apt to be snow-filled and useless.

Below Puenta del Inca, the region seems like the interior of an extinct volcano, with variously tinted volcanic rocks. Dotting the slope of a jagged mountain, some odd small black pinnacles, called penitentes, are supposed to resemble toiling pilgrims, and the perpendicular cliffs above suggest a cathedral. On other slopes are nieves penitentes, ice pinnacles, curiously formed by the action of sun and wind, these the original penitentes, as the pilgrims were garbed in white.

Beyond Punta de las Vacas is a point on the left where the rock strata are of tints especially magnificent. At the station Uspallata, the narrow gorge opens into a little plain at right angles, where river and railroad both turn south. The name Uspallata is applied to the whole pass: its passage by a division of San Martin’s army with cannon was a remarkable military exploit: the general himself with the larger force crossed to the north of Aconcagua a slightly lower but colder pass called Los Patos.

Cacheuta. Near this station, 40 kilometers from Mendoza, are more hot baths, on the left of the railroad descending, but on the right bank of the river. Here is a surface of about 3000 square meters where by digging to a depth of 2 or 3 feet hot water will gush forth, the temperature varying according to the location, the hottest water near the river, 112°, the lowest, 79°. The waters are valuable to sufferers from rheumatism, articular, muscular, and visceral; less so for neuralgic pains, which may return. Women are benefited in their special ails. The waters strongly stimulate the nervous system, the power of nutrition, and the whole organic system including the heart action and circulation, and are therefore forbidden to persons suffering from diseases of the heart and circulation, some of whom pay for their rashness with their lives. The bath establishment, affording fair accommodations, a dining-room seating 250, and a billiard room, receives about 20,000 guests a year. Summer visitors are the most numerous. The baths include a swimming pool, and smaller tanks with water hot or cold, and a grotto for Russian baths. The price for two meals daily and bath is six pesos, or second class 4.50. The two meals are almuerzo and dinner, morning coffee being extra, a curious custom first observed in Chile but obtaining largely in Argentina. The Indian name, Cacheuta, is derived from the fact that here an Indian chief bearing, with attendants, two skins full of gold was met by Spaniards as he was going to ransom the Inca. The Indians succeeded in deceiving the Spaniards and concealing the gold. The secret was well kept until a poor Indian, befriended by a missionary, revealed the hiding place; but there was a mistake somewhere as all search was vain.

At length the mountains are left behind, probably after dusk has fallen, so that the arrival at Mendoza is in the early evening. The tourist who is making a hasty trip will hurry across the station to the probably waiting train, by which he will arrive in Buenos Aires the following evening. The more leisurely, and the tired traveler will take a carriage to the Grand Hotel where an excellent dinner will be enjoyed and comfortable night quarters may be obtained. In looking about the town and visiting one of the great bodegas, a day or two will be agreeably spent.

Mendoza Hotels, the Grand, the Club, the Francia and others. At the Grand, on Plaza San Martin, the table was unexpectedly good; the dinner, served on the broad veranda, from seven to nine on a balmy summer evening, was a genuine pleasure.

Mendoza, with 45,000 inhabitants, the largest city in West Argentina, has a remarkable record. Strange, indeed, that this town at the base of the loftiest of the Andes, by these separated from one ocean, and by 650 miles of pampa from the other, was founded nearly fifty years before the first settlement in the United States and twenty years before the city of Buenos Aires came permanently into being. If we knew or reflected more on the bold deeds of other days in other countries, we might, perchance, have more respect for others and less assurance of our own great superiority. May 2, 1561 (some say March 2, 1560), a city was founded by Pedro del Castillo in a fruitful spot watered by the Mendoza River. At an altitude of 2500 feet, in the longitude of Portland, Maine, and a latitude corresponding to that of Charleston, it is an agreeable place, with plazas, wide, pleasant streets, and attractive buildings; but all seems new. Two cities there are, the living and the dead; not as in Cuzco, the one of an earlier race, built over and around by invaders, but an old city of the sixteenth century, a new one of the nineteenth. Unless aware of this fact, the old will be ignored, the visitor passing on, unaware of its existence. Some, indeed, may prefer so to do, but others will desire to have a glimpse of the ruins: for the city of 1561, 300 years later, was utterly destroyed by a tremendous earthquake. The catastrophe was of a singular character. At 8.30 p.m., March 20, 1861, a subterranean groan was heard. On the instant, before there was time to flee, the house walls crumbling fell, the roofs in the middle, so that the people, generally in their houses, perished to the number of 10,000-15,000. Some, who were promenading in the streets or plaza, were killed or thrown to the ground; but many of these who were saved engaged in the work of rescue: too few, however, to do effective labor, so that a large number who had not been killed outright, confined among the ruins, perished from asphyxiation and starvation. From lamps and fires in the dwellings and the breaking of gas pipes, a conflagration followed, rendering the night more horrible. Some districts next day were flooded from the obstruction of the canals; the odor of dead bodies became insupportable, as the survivors were too few to remove them. The shocks had continued until nothing was left standing; there were 19 within the next 24 hours, 17 of which were violent; 14 more the next day; gradually they diminished, coming to an end in May. It is extraordinary that the strength of this violent convulsion was confined to a district 60 miles long and 6 wide, extending southeast from the Uspallata Valley. A slight jar was felt at Buenos Aires, but in Chile across the Andes no tremor at all. Assistance, though promptly sent, was long delayed in arrival, as at that time practically no railroads existed in Argentina. Succor first came from the neighboring towns of San Juan and San Luis, then from Chile, all of Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay, Peru, and Europe; by which the survivors were enabled to rehabilitate themselves.

There was the usual talk of changing the location of the city to a site not far away near granite hills, indicating a more solid substratum; but the people as elsewhere refused to move, rebuilding close by in the lighter Chilian fashion, with a larger use of wood, and employing much material taken from the ruins. Thus these have to some extent disappeared, but it is worth while to have the coachman drive you over, if you care to see the destruction wrought.

The new city of Mendoza has recently experienced a rapid growth and great prosperity. Of the seven plazas, most important are the San Martin on which is the Grand and another hotel, also the handsome building of the Bank of the Province; and the Plaza Independencia, larger and finer, around which are already erected or about to be built, a new Government Palace, a Legislative Building, and a Hall of Justice. Other objects of more or less interest according to one’s taste, are churches, convents, libraries, a national college, a kindergarten of the very latest model, a normal and an agricultural school, factories of various industries, several Clubs of foreigners here resident, hospitals, orphan asylums, and a fine penitentiary. There are many broad streets, the chief avenue for shopping and promenade, the San Martin, being 100 feet wide with four rows of fine poplars. The streets, clean and well paved, are lined with a profusion of trees, more than 10,000; so many as to render the atmosphere at times (it is said) stifling and unhealthy. The houses are mainly of one story and none are above two, out of consideration for the earthquakes.

A comical and original method of street watering may here be observed. Considerable streams run along the sides of the main avenue, if not elsewhere, and boys with buckets on the end of long poles dip these into the water and throw it upon the driveway, a primitive but effective method.