Across Unknown South America

by Arnold Henry Savage Landor

A short distance south of Diamantino were the Sete Lagoas, or Seven Lakes—as a matter of fact, they numbered more than seven—circular pools only a few yards in diameter but extraordinarily deep, evidently of volcanic origin, and filled with water at a later time. Around their edges a remarkably luxuriant growth of buritys could be admired. A great valley extending south with a central ridge could be distinguished. On it was the meeting-place of the Rio Diamantino and the Rio do Ouro (River of Gold), which, with the Sete Lagoas, formed another most important point of South America, for it was there that the Great Paraguay or Parana River rose.

It was thus interesting to note that within almost a stone's throw rose two of the most powerful rivers of South America—one flowing due north into the Amazon, the other almost due south as far as Buenos Ayres and Montevideo, where it entered the Atlantic Ocean.

A great confusion is made on most maps between those lagoons and the actual birth-places of those important streams. The ancient Jesuits and friars had a fair idea of geography. I have in my possession a remarkable work in Italian published in Rome in 1698 by Father John Joseph of S. Teresa—a barefooted Carmelite. It is entitled The History of the Wars in the Kingdom of Brazil between the Crown of Portugal and the Republic of Holland. The book contains a number of extraordinary maps of Brazil. Those of the principal harbours give a splendid idea of the places represented. The coastline of the continent is indicated with fair accuracy. It is curious to note that the author of that book and the cartographer place the sources of the Amazon and of the River Plate in the same spot, as descending on opposite sides of a range extending from east to west—a range which does not exist, unless it was intended to represent the Central Brazilian plateau. "The River S. Francisco," Father John Joseph goes on to state, "has also its birth in the spot where the Amazon is born, but this is not sure." The cartographer, in fact, places the head-waters of that river close to the head-waters of the Amazon, and makes them flow through a large lagoon in the heart of Brazil—evidently the Great "Lagõa dos Veados" or else the "Sete Lagoas" to which reference has previously been made in this chapter. "The Rio Grande (Rio Parana, Paraguay), one of the most celebrated in Brazil," proceeds the Carmelite Father, "is born already swollen by plentiful waters (sic) in the interior of terra firma! Near its sources it forms a lagoon 20 leagues in circumference." All this is, of course, geographically wrong. The Rio S. Francisco has its birth far to the south-east in Minas Geraes, some hundreds of kilometres distant from that lagoon and several thousand from the real source of the Amazon.

Also the friar must have mistaken—evidently from information received—the sources of the Arinos for the sources of the Amazon, which are really located some 15° of longitude west. It is nevertheless curious that so far back as 1698 the existence of the lagoon should be known at all—perhaps they had heard of it from the adventurous Paulista Bandeirantes—and that they should have placed it nearly in its proper latitude and longitude on their maps. Apparently Father John Joseph was not aware of the existence of the Great Araguaya and Xingu Rivers. Having compiled his map from information, he confused those rivers into the S. Francisco River.

Upon descending from the Serra into the valley we soon came to a large forest with a luxuriant edge of peroba (a word originating, I believe, from the words ipe and roba in the Tupi language), which was known in four different varieties: viz. the peroba amarella (yellow), parda (brown), revessa (knotty), and rosa (rose-coloured), technically named: Aspidosperma polyneuron M. Arg., Aspidosperma leucomelum Warmg, Aspidosperma sp., Aspidosperma dasycarpon A.

Then there were also plentiful garabu and other tall trees. Before getting to the edge of the forest I noticed among the rocks some beautiful specimens of the apita cactus, 10 ft. and more in height, in appearance not unlike giant artichokes.

Near its beginning, where it was 3 metres wide and 6 in. deep, we crossed the Estivado River, which with a group of other streamlets may share the honour of being one of the sources of the Arinos. It flowed in a north-westerly direction.

We were pushing on for all we were worth, for we had come to the end of our food. Up and down we went over a troublesome series of great elongated ridges—like parallel dunes—the highest elevation on them being 2,050 ft., the depressions 1,950 ft. We came to a sweetly pretty streamlet, the Mollah, flowing north into the Paraguay River, and shortly afterwards to the Caitté and the Corisho (elev. 1,500 ft.). They were the three real and true sources of the Paraguay, within a short distance of the Seven Lakes.

We had marched 50 kil. that day over rough country. My animals were quite exhausted. Yet early next morning we pushed on once more over transverse undulations and across grassy cuvettes, slightly conical, with circular pools of water in the centre and a florid growth of bamboos in the lowest point of the cuvettes. We ascended over more dyke-like obstructions on our way (elev. 1,700 ft.) and descended once more into a vast basin of campos with stunted trees. At its lowest point there was from north-east to south-west a line of magnificent tall trees. The forest was so dense there that when we entered it we were quite in the dark, as if going through a tunnel. There were fine specimens of various kinds of the jua or juaz or jurubeba (solanum), a medicinal plant 5 to 6 ft. high with enormous dentate leaves—shaped not unlike a vine leaf—possessing upright spikes on their dorsal or mid-rib and on the veins of the leaf.

Then there was plentiful "cepa de pappo," a common liana like a huge boa-constrictor winding its way in a spiral up the tallest trees. I saw some of those liane 3 in. in diameter, with a smooth whitish bark.