CHAPTER VII
FROM PUNTA ARENAS TO USHUAIA, THROUGH THE FUEGIAN CHANNELS
Ushuaia, Dec. 28, 1897.
After spending a fortnight at Punta Arenas, restocking and refitting the ship, studying the surrounding regions, and accepting the warm hospitality of the citizens, we tipped our anchor at midnight of December 14th. We then set a course almost due south for Famine Reach. The little gunboat Torro, detailed by the Chilean officials, escorted us for several hours. The early part of the night was clear, which permitted us to see Sandy Point, with its glittering sheet-iron houses, for a long time. In the morning we were off the northern shore of Dawson Island, and from this time until we reached Ushuaia the weather was extremely unsettled. Cold rains, drizzling fogs, and sweeping squalls of wind were the normal weather conditions. At 2 o’clock in the afternoon we anchored in Hope Harbour, a snug little cove at the entrance of Magdalene Sound. We soon assembled in small companies and went ashore to explore as best we could the regions about. Everything here had for us a special interest, for, in a scientific sense, all was unexplored. There were glaciers, unsealed mountain heights, unknown water depths, and a savage wilderness of land, with gold in many streams. We should have enjoyed a prolonged stay here but the time for exploration in the more icy south was already far advanced, and since this was the principal part of our work we must hasten to it. The afternoon was given to examinations ashore.
The narrow beaches were lined with mussel shells and in one place there were two bee-hive shaped frames of old Indian huts. There were a great many birds about, but we saw no large life. Where the land was so exposed that the vegetation was sheltered from the sudden squalls of winds, here called “williwaws,” there was a forest of large beech trees, and under these there was such a rank profusion of underbrush and moss that it was difficult, generally impossible, to force a passage. Near the open blast of the regular winds and the williwaws the land was mostly barren of trees but covered by a thick, velvety carpet of wet moss. It rained and snowed nearly all the time we were ashore, and we came back with our boots full of icy water, our clothing torn, soaked, and hanging to us like wet leather, and our heads bruised. We had made some notes and some studies, but altogether our personal discomforts were such that we were ready to throw science to the dogs. He who attempts to properly explore this region will find conditions to try his patience nearly as bad as at either pole.
On the following morning we steamed through Magdalene Sound. The scene was desolate but wildly beautiful. The westerly banks rose out of the waters with an easy slope, terminating in low hills of polished stones. The ravines, the gullies, and the shore-line were covered by a dense growth of stunted beech. The uplands, where soil and rooting surface was possible, were carpeted by heavy sheets of moss. The easterly banks, though far more barren, were of greater interest to us. Nine glaciers poured their crystal currents down from the majestic heights of Mount Sarmiento which was draped in a white mist. The glaring whiteness of these glaciers, separated by black weather-worn dome-shaped mountains of solid rock, made a scene of rare delight. At 11 o’clock we rounded Cape Turn, and then the interesting polished rocky slopes of the banks and islands of Cockburn Channel lay before us. Here we felt the disturbing influences of the airs coming out of the Pacific. A violent puff of wind struck us as we passed each break in continuity of the mountains, and this was followed by a rain squall and a choppy sea. We were indeed glad when we turned our backs to this region of battling storms to enter the less dreadful channels eastward. At 6 o’clock we were amid a labyrinth of uncharted islands in Whale Boat Sound. Severe storms came here also, and these, with frequent clouds of fog and increasing darkness, made navigation uncomfortable and dangerous. At midnight we dropped anchor on the eastern bank of Basket Island; but the bottom was rocky and both the wind and the sea were too dangerous to remain, so at 3 o’clock in the morning we started again to plod along as best we could. The chart was so imperfect that we were compelled to pick our way, as if exploring regions entirely new. We counted not less than twenty islands which we could not find on the charts. It would have been interesting also to linger here and explore this locality but we had a stronger interest ever pulling us on to regions farther south. As the sun rose and we advanced farther eastward, the atmospheric conditions were such that rainbows, complete and in fragments, were in the south and west almost constantly for several hours. The bows were generally arched over a chain of islands touched by bands of green and brown and gold, and altogether the effect was full of delightful colour and fascinating harmony.
An Ona Home.
Onas on the March.
At noon we anchored at the eastern end of Whale Boat Sound in a small bay on the northern shore of Londonderry Island. Soon after dinner we went ashore to bag specimens for the laboratory. The land around the bay is about a thousand feet high, rising rather abruptly from the waters, but the mountain crests are everywhere accessible. As we landed we found close to the water-line a number of old Indian fireplaces with great heaps of mussel shells about. These were the sites of ancient Indian huts. The lowlands were covered by a thick meshwork of vegetation, mostly mosses and grass. In sheltered places there were a few beech trees, but the tallest were not more than fifteen feet high. We had not ascended very far when we found everywhere evidences that the whole land had at one time been covered by glaciers. Massive boulders were seen in lines, and all the rocks were polished and scratched in a typically glacial manner. There were many lakes which marked the beds of old glaciers. Before dark we came down from the heights with our bags full of specimens and our note-books full of observations, but our clothing as usual was wet and torn. Near the shore we built a camp-fire, and then tried to dry our clothing and extract such comfort out of life as Indians, in a similar position, do. I think it was Darwin who said that the people of this region did not enjoy any of the comforts of home. Certainly he never built a fire in a cold, drizzling rain, and sat beside it to eat his lunch. If he had, he should have learned to enjoy the first comfort of the home of primitive man. We spent a few days in this neighbourhood, visited a glacier, and then steamed through the northern arm of Beagle Channel to Ushuaia, where we anchored late in the evening of December 21. After breakfast on the following morning we went ashore. The manner of our going was a matter of some anthropological interest. It portrayed our developing disregard for formality and our resignation to the savage life to which a constant force of circumstances drove us. At Rio we were done up in good style before we left the ship; dress suits when necessary, the newest thing in neckties, and neatly pressed trousers. At Montevideo our garments were crinkled and showed the effects of the sea. We began, here, to be a little indifferent in personal appearances. At Punta Arenas we did not even try to fix up, but walked about the town as careless of dress as bricklayers; and here at Ushuaia, well—the man who dressed and brushed his hair was an outcast; he was not regarded as an explorer.