On the 28th of April, then, Agassiz left Talcahuana, accompanied by Mrs. Agassiz, and by Dr. Steindachner, who was to assist him in making collections along the way. They were to travel post, along the diligence road, until they reached Curicu, within half a day of Santiago, where railroad travel began. It was a beautiful journey, and though the rainy season was impending, the fair weather was uninterrupted. The way lay for the most part through an agricultural district of corn, wheat, and vineyards. In this strange land, where seasons are reversed, and autumn has changed places with spring, the work of harvest and vintage was just going on. The road was full of picturesque scenes: troops of mules might be met, a hundred at a time, laden with corn-sacks; the queer, primitive carts of the country creaked along, carrying huge wine-jars filled with the fresh new juice of the grape; the road was gay with country people in their holiday dresses; the women, who wore their bright shawls like a kind of mantle, were sometimes on foot and sometimes pillioned behind the men, who were invariably on horseback, and whose brilliant ponchos and fine riding added to the impression of life and color. Rivers and streams were frequent; and as there were no bridges, the scenes at the fords, sometimes crossed on rafts, sometimes on flat boats, worked by ropes, were exciting and picturesque. For rustic interiors along the road side, there were the huts of the working people, rough trellises of tree-trunks interwoven with branches; green as arbors while fresh, a coarse thatch when dry. There was always a large open space in front, sheltered by the projecting thatch of the house, and furnished sometimes with a rough table and benches. Here would be the women at their work, or the children at play, or sometimes the drovers taking their lunch of tortillas and wine, while their animals munched their midday meal hard by. The scenery was often fine. On the third day the fertile soil, watered by many rivers, was exchanged for a sandy plain, broken by a thorny mimosa scattered over the surface. This plain lay between the Cordillera of the Andes and the Coast Range. As the road advanced farther inland, the panorama of the Cordilleras became more and more striking. In the glow of the sunset, the peaks of the abrupt, jagged walls and the volcano-like summits were defined against the sky in all their rugged beauty. There was little here to remind one of the loveliness of the Swiss Alps. With no lower green slopes, no soft pasturage grounds leading gently up to rocky heights, the Andes, at least in this part of their range, rise arid, stern, and bold from base to crest, a fortress wall unbroken by tree or shrub, or verdure of any kind, and relieved only by the rich and varied coloring of the rock.
The lodgings for the night were found in small towns along the road, Tome, Chilian, Linarez, Talca, Curicu, and once, when there was no inn within reach, at a hospitable hacienda.
A brief sketch of the geological observations made on this excursion is found in a letter from Agassiz to Mr. Peirce. He never wrote out, as he had intended to do, a more detailed report.
OFF GUATEMALA, July 29, 1872.
MY DEAR PEIRCE,
. . .I have another new chapter concerning glacial phenomena, gathered during our land-journey from Talcahuana to Santiago. It is so complicated a story that I do not feel equal now to recording the details in a connected statement, but will try to give you the main facts in a few words.
There is a broad valley between the Andes and the Coast Range, the valley of Chilian, extending from the Gulf of Ancud, or Port de Mott, to Santiago and farther north. This valley is a continuation, upon somewhat higher level, of the channels which, from the Strait of Magellan to Chiloe, separate the islands from the main-land, with the sole interruption of Tres Montes. Now this great valley, extending for more than twenty-five degrees of latitude, is a CONTINUOUS GLACIER BOTTOM, showing plainly that for its whole length the great southern ice-sheet has been retreating southward in it. I could find nowhere any indication that glaciers descending from the Andes had crossed this valley and reached the shores of the Pacific. In a few brief localities only did I notice Andean, i. e. volcanic, erratics upon the loose materials filling the old glacier bottom. Between Curicu and Santiago, however, facing the gorge of Tenon, I saw two distinct lateral moraines, parallel to one another, chiefly composed of volcanic boulders, resting upon the old drift, and indicating by their position the course of a large glacier that once poured down from the Andes of Tenon, and crossed the main valley, without, however, extending beyond the eastern slope of the Coast Range. These moraines are so well marked that they are known throughout the country as the cerillos of Tenon, but nobody suspects their glacial origin; even the geologists of Santiago assign a volcanic origin to them. What is difficult to describe in this history are the successive retrograde steps of the great southern ice-field that, step by step, left larger or smaller tracts of the valley to the north of it free of ice, so that large glacial lakes could be formed, and seem, indeed, always to have existed along the retreating edge of the great southern glacier. The natural consequence is that there are everywhere stratified terraces without border barriers (since these were formed only by the ice that has vanished), resting at successively higher or lower levels, as you move north or south, upon unstratified drift of older date; the northernmost of these terraces being the oldest, while those further south belong to later steps in the waning of the ice-fields. From these data I infer that my suggestion concerning the trend of the strike upon the polished and glaciated surface of the vicinity of Talcahuana, alluded to in the postscript of my last letter, is probably correct. . .
At Santiago Agassiz rested a day or two. Here, as everywhere throughout the country, he met with the greatest kindness and cordiality. A public reception and dinner were urged upon him by the city, but his health obliged him to decline this and like honors elsewhere. Among the letters awaiting him here, was one which brought him a pleasant surprise. It announced his election as Foreign Associate of the Institute of France,—"one of the eight." As the crowning honor of his scientific career, this was, of course, very gratifying to him. In writing soon after to the Emperor of Brazil, who had expressed a warm interest in his election, he says: "The distinction pleased me the more because so unexpected. Unhappily it is usually a brevet of infirmity, or at least of old age, and in my case it is to a house in ruins that the diploma is addressed. I regret it the more because I have never felt more disposed for work, and yet never so fatigued by it."
From Santiago Agassiz proceeded to Valparaiso, where he rejoined the ship's company. The events of their cruise had been less satisfactory than those of his land-journey, for, owing to the rottenness of the ropes, produced by dampness, the hauls of the dredge from the greatest depths had been lost. Several pauses for dredging in shallower waters were made with good success, nevertheless, on the way up the coast to Callao. From there the Hassler put out to sea once more, for the Galapagos, arriving before Charles Island on the 10th of June, and visiting in succession Albemarle, James, Jarvis, and Indefatigable islands.
Agassiz enjoyed extremely his cruise among these islands of such rare geological and zoological interest. Purely volcanic in character, and of very recent formation, they yet support a fauna and flora quite their own, very peculiar and characteristic. Albemarle Island was, perhaps, the most interesting of all. It is a barren mountain rising from the sea, its base and slope covered with small extinct craters. No less than fifty—some perfectly symmetrical, others irregular, as if blasted out on one side—could be counted from the deck as the vessel neared the shore. Indeed, the whole island seemed like some subterranean furnace, of which these craters were the chimneys. The anchorage was in Tagus Sound, a deep, quiet bay, less peaceful once, for its steep sides are formed by the walls of an old crater.