What Colombia really needs is the betterment of both its great waterways—the Meta for the eastern and the Magdalena for the western part of the republic. Until they shall both have been put in such condition as to be navigable during the entire year, it will be impossible fully to develop the marvelous resources of this extensive country. River traffic will always remain cheaper than traffic by rail, and, on account of many physical difficulties, it is highly improbable that certain valuable sections of territory will ever be tapped by railroads. When, however, these two main arteries of commerce shall have received the attention they deserve and shall have been put in communication with the rich grazing, mining and agricultural regions by the various lines of railway that are contemplated or in course of construction, Colombia will at once take a position among the richest and most flourishing republics of South America. Only those who have traveled through it can fully realize its wonderful natural riches, or form an adequate conception of its vast extent. Sufficient to state that its area is more than ten times as great as the state of New York, or as great as that of France, Germany and the British Isles combined.
As to the great Pan-American line which has been projected to connect New York with Buenos Ayres, that is talked of in Colombia as well as in the United States. But when one contemplates the enormous engineering difficulties to be encountered in the construction of the section extending from Costa Rica to the frontier of Ecuador, one is compelled to regard the project as a much more arduous undertaking than some of its enthusiastic promoters would have us believe. Railway communication will soon be complete from Buenos Ayres to Central Peru, and, judging by work now being accomplished in Ecuador, steel rails will soon span the country from the northern to the southern boundaries of this republic. But with all this work completed, the most difficult part of the colossal enterprise will still remain untouched. Even should the road eventually be completed, as is possible, it is still doubtful whether long stretches of it would ever pay even a nominal interest on the investment.
The part of the Magdalena valley between Honda and the island of Mompos is but sparsely inhabited. Most of the inhabitants are Indians, mestizos, or negroes, the descendants of former slaves.[8] On account of the heat and malaria that always prevail in the lowlands, but few white men are found here, and their sojourn, as a rule, is only temporary. But near the confluence of the Cauca and the Magdalena, and thence to the Caribbean, there are rich and extensive esteros—grazing lands—covered with succulent Para and Guinea grasses, several feet high. In these broad plains, there are no fewer than half a million cattle, not to speak of large numbers of horses, mules and other domestic animals. Some of the cattle we saw reminded us of the fat, sleek animals we had seen on the llanos watered by the Rio Negro and the Humea. Under more favorable conditions the number could greatly be increased.
The scenery along the Magdalena is much like that along the Meta and the Orinoco, except that along the western river one sees more of the mountains, especially in the southern part. The vegetation is similar in character and quite as varied and exuberant. On both sides of the river trees and bushes are so massed together as to form an impenetrable wall. Everywhere there is a veritable maze of creeping plants, of bromelias, bignonias, passifloras. And everywhere, too, are lianas—aptly named monkey-ladders—which bind tree to tree and branch to branch. Usually they are single, like ropes—whence their name bush ropes—but often they are twined together like strands in a cable. Frequently they are seen descending from the topmost part of a tree to the ground, where they forthwith strike root and present the appearance of the stays and shrouds of a ship’s main mast. And where there is air and sunshine, these lianas, which often form bights like ropes, are loaded with epiphytes of all kinds, and decorated with the rarest and most beautiful orchids. Indeed, the regions on both sides of the Magdalena have long been favorite resorts for the orchid hunters in the employ of the florists and merchant princes of the United States and Europe. From here these bizarre vegetable forms are shipped by thousands. One enthusiastic English collector tells us how he secured, as the result of two months’ work about ten thousand plants of the highly prized Odontoglossum. But to obtain these orchids he was obliged to fell some four thousand trees.
“The most magnificent sight,” he writes, “for even the most stoical observer, is the immense clumps of Cattleya Mendelii, each new bulb bearing four or five of its gorgeous rose-colored flowers, many of them growing in the full sun, or with very little shade, and possessing a glowing color which is very difficult to get in the stuffy hothouses where the plants are cultivated. Some of these plants, considering their size and the slowness of growth, must have taken many years to develop, for I have taken plants from the trees with five hundred bulbs, and as many as one hundred spikes of flowers, which, to a lover of orchids, is a sight worth traveling from Europe to see.”[9]
It is when contemplating the marvelous variety and luxuriance of intertropical flora—of which one in our northern climes can have no adequate conception—that one is tempted to exclaim with Wordsworth:—
“It is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.”[10]
And if the extraordinary claims which Professors Wagner, France and G. H. Darwin make for plants be true, viz., that they have minds and are conscious of their existence, that they feel pain and have memories, then, indeed, should we be disposed to regard the exuberant and wondrously developed plants of the equatorial world as occupying the highest plane in the evolutionary process of vegetable life.
Passing the embouchure of the Opon, on the right bank of the Magdalena, evoked, in a special manner, memories of Quesada and his valiant band. It was here they left the Magdalena during that memorable expedition that made them the undisputed masters of the country now known as Colombia. More than eight months had passed since they had started from Santa Marta on their career of discovery and conquest. The difficulties they had to encounter and the sufferings they had to endure were extreme. Mosquitoes, wasps, ants and other insects; reptiles and jaguars gave them no rest, day or night. Certain kinds of worms, the old chroniclers tell us, buried themselves in the flesh of the exhausted and half-famished men and caused them untold agony. Indians everywhere laid ambush for them, and assailed them with poisoned arrows from every point of vantage. Even the elements seemed to conspire against them. There was a continual downpour of rain, so that it was impossible to light a fire for any purpose. Their arms were almost destroyed by rust, and they were left without a single dry charge of powder. Their provisions became exhausted and starvation stared them in the face. To preserve life they devoured their sword scabbards and every article of leather they had with them. There was incessant thunder, unchanging gloom, eternal horror, and other features of the pit infernal. Their course was through dense underbrush and pestiferous swamps and up precipitous acclivities, whither they had to drag their weakened horses by long lianas that served the purpose of ropes.[11]