The Pampas and Andes: A Thousand Miles' Walk Across South America

by Nathaniel H. Bishop

When the sun’s rays of the next morning had penetrated the valley, we were more than a league from our camping-ground, and had passed the second casucha, or snow hut, of the winter courier. This little domicile was built after the model of its distant neighbor at La Punta de las Vacas, and was two leagues farther up the valley. While we were trudging along, the metallic-sounding whinny of llamas sounded from the sierra, and, looking up, we counted no less than thirty of these graceful creatures gazing curiously upon us. The herd consisted of males, females, and young, the latter of the size of the common goat. As travellers rarely cross the mountains at this season of the year, the llamas instinctively inhabit the valley, where they are free from danger, and find a better living than the rocky cliffs afford.

Again the valley was blocked up by a spur of the sierra, called the Paramilla, the second one crossed since leaving the hamlet of El Durazno. The sides were steep, and Don Fernando cautioned me against walking, observing that riding kept the puna (a peculiar effect produced by inhaling rarefied air) at a distance. The summit of the Paramilla was buried in a deep drift of snow, through which we forced our animals at considerable risk; for their exertions to keep a footing almost overtasked their strength. Sometimes falling into concealed holes, they floundered in the great drift until our own services were necessary to rescue them from injury. Finally, a passage was effected, and we wound down the west side to the banks of the torrent in the vicinity of the third snow hut. The color of the water had changed from a muddy hue to dark red, and it seemed to rush along more impetuously than at the entrance of the valley. The many little streams that fell over the precipices along the road were colorless; therefore I judged that either the bed of the torrent, or its source, gave to the water its peculiar color; and it may be of interest to state in this place, that, as far as I could learn, all the rivers that descend into the Argentine Republic, on the east side of the Andes, are of a deep mud color, holding in suspension alluvial mud; while upon the Chili, or west side of the Andes, the waters are clear and colorless.

The coolness of the morning soon gave way to the heat of the sun, and it grew warmer as its rays were, reflected upon the snowy sides of the mountains. The sound of a human voice fell upon our ears strangely in this desolate place, as a party of men came into view far up the valley. We soon met, and many were the inquiries made by the members of both parties. The Cordillera had actually been passed, but an hour or two before, by the courier and several persons who had placed themselves under his orders. The courier was a short, square-built man, of very dark complexion; and from the fact of his having performed many daring passages during the past years, we looked upon him with no ordinary interest. He rode on a small mule, the mail bag being slung to his neck by a leather strap, and I did not exceed in size a school-boy’s satchel. He informed us that the snow was thawing upon the summit of the main ridge, and would not be passable until the cold night air had crusted it over, when we might pass in comparative safety. But Don Fernando was not to be stopped even by the opinion of so experienced a personage as the courier, but ordered us to hurry on with all possible speed.

Soon the main range of the Andes rose before us, blocking up the valley more effectually than either of the previous Paramillas, its rounded top glistening from the reflected light of the sun. The don ordered a halt beside the river, in order to prepare for future action. The animals were allowed to drink a little water, while the don gave us all a dose of starch water and sugar, which we drank. This was a remedy for the puna, or at least to cause our stomachs to give off any gases therein contained, to cool the blood and invigorate the system. Don Fernando then bound his face in cotton handkerchiefs, and the guides and myself followed his example. This was to protect our faces from the reflected rays of the sun upon the white, shining drifts that covered the summits of the Cordillera and the neighboring sierras.

The river branched off to the northward, and was lost to view among the mountains. At the base of the Cordillera was the last snow hut of the Argentine Republic: passing it and the river, we commenced our weary ascent. Water had been flowing from the summit for several days previous to our arrival, and there was no appearance of the old path which had been washed away. As the side of this part of the range was composed of gravel and loose stones, it was difficult to obtain a firm footing, and the animals were continually slipping, which obliged us to exercise no little care and labor. The guides dismounted, but the don declared that he had no wish to court the puna by exerting himself unnecessarily; therefore he managed to keep upon his mule; but more than once the inclination of the animal’s back was such that the rider was only saved by a slide off by the attentions of one of the guides. A direct ascent could not be attempted; our only method was to wind back and forth from side to side, on the face of the Cordillera, thus making the ascent very gradual.

When we were about two thirds of the way up, our anticipated trouble commenced. The baggage mule lost her footing, and rolled over and over down the side of the mountain. Don Fernando shrieked out a hasty caramba, the guides a naughty c—o, while I stood aghast. But our fears were soon quieted; for the animal struck upon a projecting piece of rock, which stayed her course, without apparently injuring her.

Being the smallest of the party, I was intrusted with the lasso, with which I crawled down to the mule, and fastened it about her neck, when she was pulled upon her feet by the party above. Having been relieved of her cargo, the animal readily commenced ascending, as if nothing had troubled her, and soon she was in the path again with her load upon her back.

After many fallings and backslidings, our party stood upon the Cumbre, or summit of the Cordillera, at an elevation of twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea. When viewed from the valley below, I was disappointed as to its seeming altitude; but when standing upon the Cumbre, I fully realized the great height upon which our party had halted. The view was confined by the irregular peaks of the surrounding sierras; but a fine scene lay below us on the Chili side, of a peculiar Alpine character. We stood upon the dividing line of the Argentine Republic and Chili, and I inwardly bade farewell to the country that had been my first teacher of travellers’ hardships, and had for much suffering given me lessons of usefulness—had impressed upon my heart a truer patriotism, and a more dignified respect for our republic of the north.

As we gazed into the depth below us, a wild scene met our view. The deep valley was filled with snow to a depth of nearly one hundred feet; for as the snow tempests blow along the range of mountains, the fleecy material drifts into the narrow defiles, filling them completely, in some places, to the very tops. This is the case, particularly, farther to the south, where a winter passage is rarely, if ever, attempted. Upon the left side of the descent the first Chilian casucha rose out of the snow, differing somewhat in model from those upon the Argentine side, the roof being rounded or oven-shaped, while those on the east side are two inclined planes, like the roof of a New England cottage in the earlier times.

Until now the powerful reflected light had not affected my vision; but I at last began to feel it seriously. I had neglected to bring “goggles,” and though a thick cotton handkerchief covered my head, my skin was parched, and tears continually rolled down my face, adding to my torture, from which there was no escape. “Thank Providence that the day is so very clear,” ejaculated the don; “for if a temporal should pass over, where would we be by nightfall? Either blocked up in that cold snow hut yonder, or buried in the valley below.”