While I was contemplating an early start, an old man called, and requested permission to give an account of his sufferings, he having attempted the passage of the Cordilleras a few days before.
“We started,” he said, “with every prospect of success. The weather had been settled for several days, and with our mules we left the outer sierra, and penetrated far into the mountains. But good fortune did not remain the same, for suddenly a great temporal came flying from the south, and enveloped us for many hours in its terrible folds. The snow fell in clouds, and I, of all my party, escaped; my companions are frozen in the drifts, and there they will remain until the melting of the snow. Look at my hands; all of the fingers were frozen, and also my cheeks and nose. No, señor. Norte Americano, no pasa vd. la Cordillera!”
The poor old guide was in a pitiful condition; but, undoubtedly, had he been twenty years younger, he would have fared better. I confess that this news, with the entreaties of my friends, forced me to postpone crossing the mountains until a later date. I consented to remain, and for several weeks tried to content myself; but when four weeks had passed, I became resolved, and packing my notes, and a few specimens of natural history, in my canvas bag, I announced to my friends my firm determination of leaving the country.
Don Guillermo, on seeing that I was in earnest, ordered his peon to lasso my horse, and bring him to the corral, and made every preparation for my comfort in the journey that his inventive skill could suggest.
On Saturday, November 10 (the last spring month of that latitude), I bade adieu to the family, and started on the road to the city. Don Guillermo accompanied me to the river, that was swollen by the floods from the valleys of the Andes, and went roaring along its course with a fearful rapidity. At the banks of the torrent my friend bade me farewell, charging me to be faithful to the promise I had made him, namely, that I would endeavor to find out the residence of his surviving relations, whom he had left sixteen years before in North America, during which time he had not heard one word of their welfare or whereabouts. I promised again, and said farewell, and left him; it was necessary for me to cross the river, and I at once spurred my horse into the torrent, and began to ford; fortunately, the animal was sure-footed and strong, and we landed safely on the opposite shore.
I passed most of the next day at a friend’s house, within the limits of the town, and at dusk rode out to the post-house, and presented a letter of introduction to the proprietor, a garrulous old don, whose good entertainment for man and beast had made his house a favorite resort for travellers. The don read my letter, and declared that I should remain with him for some time, as it was impossible to cross to Chili. The next day, Don Carlos Leon Rodriquez, minister to the province of San Luis, attended by a priest, both of whom were on their way to the town, stopped at the posta, and corroborated the statement of the guardo. The former gentleman offered to present me with letters to his friends in Mendoza, if I preferred going to that town, and remaining until the passage across the mountains was sure and free from all difficulties. Considering that we had never met before, the kind proposal proved still further to me the hospitable feelings that the educated people of the Argentine Republic bear towards North Americans.
I had intended to continue my journey as a pedestrian across the Andes, but it seemed necessary to take with me some beast to serve as pack-animal, to carry my small collection of specimens, blankets, &c., to the port of Valparaiso, As it might become necessary to abandon the animal along the road, I selected a specimen of horse-flesh which would have afforded a student of anatomy easy facilities for osseous examinations, without removing the hide.
During the forenoon I bade adios to my new acquaintances, and with one end of my lasso in my hand, and the other fastened to the bridle of my horse, I led the way, on foot, happy in feeling that I had fairly commenced the last stage of my journey towards the Pacific.
Taking a south-westerly course across the desert, I travelled until three o’clock over the same dreary waste, when a deep fissure was observed in the sierra, which I entered, and soon found myself within the Flecha. Before passing this peculiar gap, a word or two regarding it may prove interesting. For many leagues along its course the sierra presents an impassable barrier to man or beast. The Flecha is a narrow passage from the desert on the east to the valley on the western side. The sides of the Flecha are of solid rock, rising perpendicularly to a great height.
The pass exhibits the action of water upon its sides, for the rock has been worn smooth in past ages, and the bed of the passage is covered with pebbles. Undoubtedly, a long time since, a strong body of water found its way through this place, and may have submerged the plain below; but whether this gap was the bed of a natural stream, or mere vent, through which the melting snow escaped during the spring months, cannot now be well determined. The effect that the lofty sides of the Flecha have upon independent objects is very curious. My horse seemed to dwindle to the size of a Shetland pony when I removed a few yards from him, and two muleteers, who passed through at the same time, looked like pygmies.