In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

Not long afterward we emerged suddenly into a peculiar region. There was an abrupt end to the gloomy forest, and in its place grew straggling clumps of giant cacti. The dividing-line is as sharp as if cut with a knife. The fauna also is different; instead of brilliantly hued tanagers, trogons and toucans, there are wrens, finches, and other birds of sombre color. This desert-like belt continued for a distance of some miles, and then forest again appeared, on the top only of the ridges, at first, but gradually extending downward until the slopes were entirely covered.

Caldas, the terminus of the railroad, was reached at noon and, after a good deal of bargaining, the proprietor of the Hotel del Valle provided us with a room containing four bare, wooden beds; but fortunately our blanket-bags had come with us, so we rather rejoiced that no bedding was provided by the innkeeper. The buildings comprising the town are scattered here and there in small groups, making it difficult to get a comprehensive idea of their number. The first impression suggests that there is a population of a few hundred only, when it is really several thousand. At this time (April, 1911) Caldas was an attractive spot, as its elevation is two thousand feet, and the country immediately surrounding it is open; but in recent years sufferers from malaria, yellow fever, and other diseases have gone there from Buenaventura to recuperate, and have left the several maladies firmly implanted in the entire region, making it most unhealthful.

A small tent-show was playing at Caldas, and as this was a most unusual occurrence it created a certain amount of furor among the people. It rained heavily the greater part of the afternoon, but darkness had scarcely crept up from the lowland when troops of people, each one carrying a chair or box to sit on, came tramping from all directions, their bare feet making swishing and gurgling sounds as they plodded through mud and water. The elite—even Caldas boasts of a high-class social set—arrived later and stood during practically the entire performance in order to be the better seen and admired by the “common” people.

So far, Richardson had acted as cashier for the party, and it was rather startling to see entries in his journal such as “lunch, $200.00; railroad-tickets, $2,000.00; oranges, $15.00.” The Colombian dollar, or peso, had depreciated in value until it was worth exactly one cent in United States currency. Practically all the money in circulation was in bills of from one to one hundred pesos, the former predominating. If one had only a hundred one-peso notes, equalling an American dollar, they made quite a bulky parcel; for this reason all the men carry large leather pocketbooks attached to a strap slung across the shoulder, and quite incidentally these containers also hold cigars, matches, and various other little articles dear to the hearts of their owners.

Richardson had arranged for arrieros and a caravan of pack-mules to meet us early the following morning, but it was almost noon when they appeared. We were in the land of mañana, but had not as yet learned to curb our impatience at the hundred and one exasperating things that were constantly cropping out to impede our progress or upset our plans. One of the first things the visitor to Latin-America must learn is to take things good-naturedly and as easily as possible. If one employs servants regularly it is possible to correct many of their customs that are so annoying to the North American; but the countries, as a whole, cannot be reformed by any one in a single day, and the person who takes things too seriously either lacks a sense of humor or conveys the impression that he is very foolish.

Some of the mules were saddled for riding, while others were equipped with thick pack-saddles made of burlap stuffed with straw. Bags and trunks were brought out, sorted as to weight, and then loaded on the pack-mules, being held in place one on either side of the animal with cowhide thongs. Each mule carried about two hundred and fifty pounds. While adjusting cargoes, the arrieros, or drivers, place their poncho over the mules’ eyes; otherwise they would not stand for the rather rough treatment to which they are subjected.

The road was fairly wide and good. It followed along the gorge of the Dagua, now a small stream. Within a few hours the village of El Carmen was reached and we dismounted to await the pack-train and incidentally to have lunch at the posada, and to see a cock-fight, for the fiesta of yesterday was still in progress in the rural districts.

We climbed slowly and steadily upward. At fifty-five hundred feet the zone of clouds and vapor appeared; trees, rocks, in fact everything seemed unreal and ghost-like, enveloped in the thick, blue-gray haze that penetrated clothing and sent a piercing chill to the very marrow. Darkness was fast approaching, so we stopped at a wayside hut called El Tigre for the night. The house was damp and cold, as might have been expected, and its occupants were practically without food. A profusion of vegetation grew in the yard; there were roses, geraniums, hibiscus, and hydrangeas growing everywhere; monstrous ferns with lace-like leaves formed a thick, velvety background for the brilliant, many-colored blooms. In the garden, blackberries, strawberries, cabbages, coffee, and an edible tuber called aracacha grew; there were also a few stunted banana and plantain stalks, but on account of the cold climate it requires two years for them to mature, and the fruit is small and of poor quality.

Thanks to an early start on the following morning, we reached the summit of the range, or the Cordillera Occidental, as it is better known, by ten o’clock. The whole slopes are covered with the densest of subtropical jungles. A steady downpour had fallen the entire morning, against which ponchos availed little. A halt of two hours was therefore called at a rather cheerless inn just beyond the pass, named San Antonio; the señora who conducted the establishment was glad to see us, for Richardson had apprised her of our coming; she soon had plantains roasting on the embers, and her shop provided sardines for lunch.

The descent of the eastern slope now began. The trail narrowed down and was rough; in places the decline was 45°. On both sides rose the living walls of impenetrable, gloomy jungle. One thing could not fail to impress us, and that was the great, breathless silence of the forest. Where we had expected to find multitudes of gorgeous birds, a babble of animal voices and brilliant flowers, there was only the sombre, silent mass of unvaried green. Within two hours we had left the regions of cold and penetrating mists. For the first time we beheld the beautiful valley of the Cauca far below, spread before our vision like a velvet carpet of softest green that reached the very foot-hills of the Central Range not less than forty miles distant.