FIG. 12.
THE GLACIER GORGE, PORT CHURRUCA.

We grew well acquainted with Churruca, as we were detained there for five days; Saturday through the overhauling of the engine; Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday by bad weather; of Wednesday more anon. The position was not without a certain eeriness: we lay in this remote niche in the mountains, while the storm raged in the channel without and in the peaks above; at night, after turning in, the gale could be heard tearing down from above in each direction in turn, and the vessel’s chain rattling over the stony bottom as she swung round to meet it. The heavy rain turned every cliff-face into a multitude of waterfalls, which vanished at times into the air as a gust of wind caught the jet of water and converted it into a cloud of spray. Although the weather prevented our venturing outside, it was quite possible to explore the port by means of the ship’s boats. It proved not unlike Angosto, but on a larger and more complicated scale. Beyond our inner anchorage, although invisible from it, was a further extension known as the Lobo Arm, and there were also other small creeks and inlets.

Even the prosaic Sailing Directions venture on the statement that the scenery at Port Churruca is “scarcely surpassed,” and one of the fiords must be described, although the attempt seems almost profane. In its narrow portion it was about a mile in length and from 100 to 200 yards in width; the sheer cliffs on either hand were clothed to the height of many hundreds of feet with various forms of fern and most brilliant moss. Above this belt of colour was bleak crag, and higher again the snow-line. The gorge ended in a precipice, above which was a mountain-peak; a glacier descending from above had been arrested in its descent by the precipice and now stood above it, forming part of it, a sheer wall of ice and snow as if cut off by a giant knife. There was little life to be seen, but an occasional gleam was caught from the white breast of a sea-bird against the dark setting of the ravine. In one part, high up on the cliff, where the wind was deflected by a piece of overhanging rock, was a little colony of nests; the mother birds and young broods sat on the edge in perfect shelter, even when to venture off it was to be beaten down on to the surface of the water by the strength of the wind. Some of our party visited the fiord on a second occasion to try to obtain photographs; it was blowing at the time a severe gale, and the effect was magical. The squalls, known as “williwaws,” rushed down the ravine in such force that the powerful little launch was brought to a standstill. They lashed the water into waves, and then turned the foaming crests into spray, till the whole surface presented the aspect of a fiercely boiling cauldron, through which glimpses could be caught from time to time of the dark cliffs above.

While S. and I were visiting the glacier gorge, the two other members of the party were exploring the last portion of the inlet named on the chart the Lobo Arm. It terminated on low ground, on which stood the frame of an Indian hut, and pieces of timber had been laid down to form a portage for canoes. A few steps showed that the low ground extended only for some 160 yards, while beyond this was another piece of water which had the appearance of an inland lake, some three miles long and a mile wide. The portage end of the water was vaguely shown on the chart of Port Churruca, but there was no indication of anything of the kind on the general map of Desolation Island. Our curiosity was mildly excited, and we all visited the place; one of our number remarked that “the water was slightly salt,” another that there “were tidal indications,” a third that “from higher ground the valley seemed to go on indefinitely.” At last the map was again and more seriously examined, and it was seen that, while there were no signs of this water, there were on the opposite side of the island the commencements of two inlets from the open sea, neither of which had been followed up: the more northerly of these was immediately opposite Port Churruca. “If,” we all agreed, “our lake is not a lake at all, but a fiord”—and to this every appearance pointed—“it is in all probability the termination of this northern inlet, and Desolation Island is cut in two except for the small isthmus with the portage.” Then a great ardour of exploration seized us, Mr. Corry fell a victim to it, Mr. Gillam fell likewise, and we refused to be depressed by Mr. Ritchie’s dictum that it had “nothing to do with serious navigation.” We wrestled with a conscientious conviction that it had certainly nothing to do with Easter Island, and we ought to go forward at the earliest possible moment, but the exploration fever conquered. We discussed the possibility of getting the motor-launch over the portage, and were obliged reluctantly to abandon it as too heavy, but it was concluded that it would be quite feasible with the cutter.

The next day proved too wet to attempt anything, but Wednesday dawned reasonably fine, though with squalls at intervals. Great were the preparations, from compasses, notebooks, and log-lines, to tinned beef and dry boots. At last at 11.30 (or 6.30 a.m. by true time) we sallied forth. The launch towed us down the Lobo Arm, and then came the work of passing the boat across the isthmus, at which all hands assisted. It was the prettiest sight imaginable; the portage, which had been cut through the thick forest undergrowth, had the appearance of a long and brilliant tunnel between the two waters, it was carpeted with bright moss and overhung by trees which were covered with lichen (fig. 14). The bottom was soft and boggy, and I at one time became so firmly embedded that I could not get out without assistance. In less than half an hour the boat was launched on the other side, and Mr. Corry, Mr. Gillam, our two selves, and two seamen set forth on our voyage. Soon after starting the creek divided, part going to the north-west and part to the south-east. We decided to follow the latter as apparently the main channel.

We rowed for an hour and a quarter, taking our rate of speed by the log. The mountains on each side were of granite, showing very distinct traces of ice action. At 2 p.m. we landed on the left bank for luncheon. It was, it must be admitted, a somewhat wet performance; the soaked wood proved too much even for our expert campers-out, who had been confident that they could make a fire under all circumstances, and had disdainfully declined a proffered thermos. Enthusiasm was, however, undamped. Mr. Corry ascended to high ground and discovered that there was another similar creek on the other side of the strip of ground on which we had landed, which converged towards that along which we were travelling. After rowing for an hour and a half we reached the point where the two creeks joined; here we landed and scrambled up through some brushwood to the top of a low eminence. Looking backwards we could see up both pieces of water, while looking forward the two fiords, now one, passed at right angles, after some four miles, into a larger piece of water. This was where we had expected to find the open sea, and some distant blue mountains on the far horizon were somewhat of an enigma. As we had to row back against a head wind, it was useless to think of going further, unless we were prepared to camp out, so all we could do was to make as exact sketches as possible to work out at home.

The return journey was easier than had been expected, for the wind dropped; we kept this time to the right bank, and stopped for “tea” by some rocks, which added mussels to the repast for the taking. The portage was gained four hours after the time that the rest of the crew had been told to meet us there; and it was a relief to find that they had possessed their souls with patience. Mana was finally reached at 11 p.m. It was found by calculating the speed at which we had travelled and its direction, that our creek had led into the more southerly of the unsurveyed inlets, and not as we had expected into that to the northward. The distant blue hills were islands. Like all great explorers, from Christopher Columbus downwards, our results were therefore not precisely those we had looked for, but we had undoubtedly proved our contention that Desolation Island is in two halves, united only by the 160 yards covered by the portage on the Lobo Isthmus.

A knowledge of the existence of this channel, connecting the Pacific Ocean with the Magellan Straits, might be of high importance to the crew of a vessel lost to the south of Cape Pillar, when making for the entrance to the Straits. Instead of trying to round that Cape against wind at sea, her boats should run to the southward until the entrance to the inlet is reached; they can then enter the Magellan Straits without difficulty at Port Churruca. With the consent of the Royal Geographical Society, it has been christened “Mana Inlet.”[[3]]

FIG. 13.
MANA INLET.