Before leaving Bogotá, we had been told by a noted English traveler to be on the lookout for a remarkable view towards the west, from the summit of El Alto del Sargento. “Be sure not to miss it,” he said, “for from that point you will behold one of the most magnificent panoramas in the world.” We were at first inclined to regard this statement as the usual exaggeration of the tourist, but were, nevertheless, eager to contemplate a prospect so famed for beauty and sublimity.[19]
In order to reach the crest of the mountain, before the clouds gathered about El Sargento, which usually occurs about midday, we made an early start from our posada, where we had found commodious and fairly comfortable quarters, and were soon on our way up the last of the Serranias—mountain ridges—that separated us from the Magdalena valley.
It was about eleven o’clock when we arrived at the summit of El Sargento. We had just rounded a tree-covered eminence, that concealed the view towards the west, when all of a sudden, there burst upon our vision, what was, to me at least, the most superb spectacle I had ever contemplated. C. and I instinctively stood still in silent rapture. As the picture appeared to us, it surpassed by far all that had been said in its praise. Not even half the truth had been told. Our emotion was too great for words, and, as we paused in mute admiration, one of us at least recalled a similar experience enjoyed by three other travelers in the Guadarrama mountains of Spain. It is thus recorded in Longfellow’s The Spanish Student:[20]
“Victorian. This is the highest point.
Here let us rest.
See, Preciosa, see how all about us,
Kneeling, like hooded friars, the misty mountains
Receive the benediction of the sun.
O glorious sight!
Preciosa. Most beautiful indeed!