[1] This plain is partially separated into two basins by a range of hills; the southern half, according to Meyen (“Reise um Erde,” Th. i, s. 274), falls in height, by an abrupt step, of between fifteen and twenty feet.
[2] Or 2,690 feet above the sea, as measured barometrically by Mr. Eck. This tuff appears to the eye nearly pure; but when placed in acid it leaves a considerable residue of sand and broken crystals, apparently of feldspar. Dr. Meyen (“Reise,” Th. i, s. 269) says he found a similar substance on the neighbouring hill of Dominico (and I found it also on the Cerro Blanco), and he attributes it to the weathering of the stone. In some places which I examined, its bulk put this view of its origin quite out of the question; and I should much doubt whether the decomposition of a porphyry would, in any case, leave a crust chiefly composed of carbonate of lime. The white crust, which is commonly seen on weathered feldspathic rocks, does not appear to contain any free carbonate of lime.
To the south this basin-like plain contracts, and rising scarcely perceptibly with a smooth surface, passes through a remarkable level gap in the mountains, forming a true land-strait, and called the Angostura. It then immediately expands into a second basin-formed plain: this again to the south contracts into another land-strait, and expands into a third basin, which, however, falls suddenly in level about forty feet. This third basin, to the south, likewise contracts into a strait, and then again opens into the great plain of San Fernando, stretching so far south that the snowy peaks of the distant Cordillera are seen rising above its horizon as above the sea. These plains, near the Cordillera, are generally formed of a thick stratified mass of shingle;[[3]] in other parts, of a red sandy clay, often with an admixture of pumiceous matter. Although these basins are connected together like a necklace, in a north and south line, by smooth land-straits, the streams which drain them do not all flow north and south, but mostly westward, through breaches worn in the bounding mountains; and in the case of the second basin, or that of Rancagua, there are two distinct breaches. Each basin, moreover, is not drained singly; thus, to give the most striking instance, but not the only one, in proceeding southward over the plain of Rancagua, we first find the water flowing northward to and through the northern land-strait; then, without crossing any marked ridge or watershed, we see it flowing south-westward towards the northern one of the two breaches in the western mountainous boundary; and lastly, again without any ridge, it flows towards the southern breach in these same mountains. Hence the surface of this one basin-like plain, appearing to the eye so level, has been modelled with great nicety, so that the drainage, without any conspicuous watersheds, is directed towards three openings in the encircling mountains.[[4]] The streams flowing from the southern basin-like plains, after passing through the breaches to the west, unite and form the river Rapel, which enters the Pacific near Navidad. I followed the southernmost branch of this river, and found that the basin or plain of San Fernando is continuously and smoothly united with those plains, which were described in the Second Chapter, as being worn near the coast into successive cave-eaten escarpments, and still nearer to the coast, as being strewed with upraised recent marine remains. I might have given descriptions of numerous other plains of the same general form, some at the foot of the Cordillera, some near the coast, and some halfway between these points. I will allude only to one other, namely, the plain of Uspallata, lying on the eastern or opposite side of the Cordillera, between that great range and the parallel lower range of Uspallata. According to Miers, its surface is 6,000 feet above the level of the sea: it is from ten to fifteen miles in width, and is said to extend with an unbroken surface for 180 miles northwards: it is drained by two rivers passing through breaches in the mountains to the east. On the banks of the River Mendoza it is seen to be composed of a great accumulation of stratified shingle, estimated at 400 feet in thickness. In general appearance, and in numerous points of structure, this plain closely resembles those of Chile.
[3] The plain of San Fernando has, according to MM. Meyen and Gay “Reise,” etc., Th. i, ss. 295 and 298, near the Cordillera, an upper step-formed plain of clay, on the surface of which they found numerous blocks of rocks, from two to three feet long, either lying single or piled in heaps, but all arranged in nearly straight lines.
[4] It appears from Captain Herbert’s account of the Diluvium of the Himalaya, (“Gleanings of Science,” Calcutta, vol. ii, p. 164), that precisely similar remarks apply to the drainage of the plains or valleys between those great mountains.
The origin and manner of formation of the thick beds of gravel, sandy clay, volcanic detritus, and calcareous tuff, composing these basin-like plains, is very important; because, as we shall presently show, they send arms or fringes far up the main valleys of the Cordillera. Many of the inhabitants believe that these plains were once occupied by lakes, suddenly drained; but I conceive that the number of the separate breaches at nearly the same level in the mountains surrounding them quite precludes this idea. Had not such distinguished naturalists as MM. Meyen and Gay stated their belief that these deposits were left by great debacles rushing down from the Cordillera, I should not have noticed a view, which appears to me from many reasons improbable in the highest degree—namely, from the vast accumulation of well-rounded pebbles—their frequent stratification with layers of sand—the overlying beds of calcareous tuff—this same substance coating and uniting the fragments of rock on the hummocks in the plain of Santiago—and lastly even from the worn, rounded, and much denuded state of these hummocks, and of the headlands which project from the surrounding mountains. On the other hand, these several circumstances, as well as the continuous union of the basins at the foot of the Cordillera, with the great plain of the Rio Rapel which still retains the marks of sea-action at various levels, and their general similarity in form and composition with the many plains near the coast, which are either similarly marked or are strewed with upraised marine remains, fully convince me that the mountains bounding these basin-plains were breached, their islet-like projecting rocks worn, and the loose stratified detritus forming their now level surfaces deposited, by the sea, as the land slowly emerged. It is hardly possible to state too strongly the perfect resemblance in outline between these basin-like, long, and narrow plains of Chile (especially when in the early morning the mists hanging low represented water), and the creeks and fiords now intersecting the southern and western shores of the continent. We can on this view of the sea, when the land stood lower, having long and tranquilly occupied the spaces between the mountain-ranges, understand how the boundaries of the separate basins were breached in more than one place; for we see that this is the general character of the inland bays and channels of Tierra del Fuego; we there, also, see in the sawing action of the tides, which flow with great force in the cross channels, a power sufficient to keep the breaches open as the land emerged. We can further see that the waves would naturally leave the smooth bottom of each great bay or channel, as it became slowly converted into land, gently inclined to as many points as there were mouths, through which the sea finally retreated, thus forming so many watersheds, without any marked ridges, on a nearly level surface. The absence of marine remains in these high inland plains cannot be properly adduced as an objection to their marine origin: for we may conclude, from shells not being found in the great shingle beds of Patagonia, though copiously strewed on their surfaces, and from many other analogous facts, that such deposits are eminently unfavourable for the embedment of such remains; and with respect to shells not being found strewed on the surface of these basin-like plains, it was shown in the last chapter that remains thus exposed in time decay and disappear.
No. 13
Section of the plain at the eastern foot of the Chilian Cordillera.
I observed some appearances on the plains at the eastern and opposite foot of the Cordillera which are worth notice, as showing that the sea there long acted at nearly the same level as on the basin-plains of Chile. The mountains on this eastern side are exceedingly abrupt; they rise out of a smooth, talus-like, very gentle, slope, from five to ten miles in width (as represented in Figure 13), entirely composed of perfectly rounded pebbles, often white-washed with an aluminous substance like decomposed feldspar. This sloping plain or talus blends into a perfectly flat space a few miles in width, composed of reddish impure clay, with small calcareous concretions as in the Pampean deposit,—of fine white sand with small pebbles in layers,—and of the above-mentioned white aluminous earth, all interstratified together. This flat space runs as far as Mendoza, thirty miles northward, and stands probably at about the same height, namely, 2,700 feet (Pentland and Miers) above the sea. To the east it is bounded by an escarpment, eighty feet in height, running for many miles north and south, and composed of perfectly round pebbles, and loose, white-washed, or embedded in the aluminous earth: behind this escarpment there is a second and similar one of gravel. Northward of Mendoza, these escarpments become broken and quite obliterated; and it does not appear that they ever enclosed a lake-like area: I conclude, therefore, that they were formed by the sea, when it reached the foot of the Cordillera, like the similar escarpments occurring at so many points on the coasts of Chile and Patagonia.
The talus-like plain slopes up with a smooth surface into the great dry valleys of the Cordillera. On each hand of the Portillo valley, the mountains are formed of red granite, mica-slate, and basalt, which all have suffered a truly astonishing amount of denudation; the gravel in the valley, as well as on the talus-like plain in front of it, is composed of these rocks; but at the mouth of the valley, in the middle (height probably about three thousand five hundred feet above the sea), a few small isolated hillocks of several varieties of porphyry project, round which, on all sides, smooth and often white-washed pebbles of these same porphyries, to the exclusion of all others, extend to a circumscribed distance. Now, it is difficult to conceive any other agency, except the quiet and long-continued action of the sea on these hillocks, which could have rounded and whitewashed the fragments of porphyry, and caused them to radiate from such small and quite insignificant centres, in the midst of that vast stream of stones which has descended from the main Cordillera.