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

by Nathaniel H. Bishop

Before I could fairly disencumber my horse of his burden, he bolted for the clover-field behind the house, and commenced devouring the fodder with an avidity that told too well of his famished condition.

The person in charge of the house informed me that the passing was very difficult, and advised me to remain a few days; but, knowing too well that delays are dangerous, I made preparations for leaving on the next day. I was to leave the horse in the clover-pasture, and strap my blankets and other articles to my back, and in this way cross the main range of the Andes. From this I had no alternative; and so, after arranging everything for an early start, I lay down under the porch to take a siesta.

I was soon awakened by the tinkling of a mule-bell, and upon rising saw three persons before the guarde, accompanied by several mules. Two of these men were dressed in the gaucho fashion, but the other had the garb and manners of a merchant, which he proved to be; for, as I approached him, he offered me his hand, and, with a polite “para servir vd.,” introduced himself as Don Fernando de Oro, a merchant of San Juan. He informed me that the postmaster near San Juan, with whom I passed a day and two nights, had requested him to keep a sharp lookout for a young gringo that was on the road, and to take him safely under his protecting arm to the American consul in Valparaiso. I felt much flattered by this acknowledgment, and at once accepted Don Fernando as my guardian and protector.

The don remarked that his troop of mules, which I had passed two days before, would arrive on that night, and remain in the clover-field until a passage could be effected. The troop came in at a late hour.

The next day was a lovely one; and as the weather gave promise of being settled for a few days, preparations for setting out on the following morning were commenced. The mules for Don Fernando, and two guides, were selected from the troop of ninety, and two extra ones were carefully shod, to answer in case of any emergency. My friend declared that it would be unfair not to allow my horse to accompany us across the Andes, after he had been through so much privation; therefore a heavy pair of shoes were selected from the store mules’ pack, and nailed firmly to his feet. “Now,” said the don, as he viewed the lank form of the animal with no little merriment, “Art has exhausted herself upon you, and Nature alone must support you on the road to-morrow.”

Early on the following morning, Don Fernando, his two guides, and myself, with our animals, crossed the little river that ran past the guard-house, and at sunrise entered a narrow cleft in the sierra, and followed a stony path, until we came in sight of the River Mendoza, which rushed along the bed of the valley, roaring like thunder. The path grew narrower as we progressed, sometimes following the margin of the river, then ascending midway to the tops of the high sierra. It was a scene of great sublimity. The river, which was a deep mud-color, from the alluvial matter brought down from the mountain, was hemmed in by the two parallel sierras, that towered majestically to the height of several thousand feet.

In some places the path wound like a thread along the bold front of a precipice; then it descended to the water, and followed its course, until it again ascended. As we gazed above, the huge pieces of detached rock seemed ready to fall and crush us.

The melting snow had undermined the soil in some places, and slides of earth and stones had fallen, and covered up the track.

After crossing a little bridge that had been thrown over a stream which flowed into the river of the valley, we came upon several ruined huts, which the don told me once belonged to an ancient tribe of Indians that inhabited the valleys of the Andes, and subsisted principally upon the flesh of the wild llamas.

This was before the country had become independent of Spain; and though many years had passed since their construction by the Indian builders, it was interesting to note that the plaster that held the stones together, and which was nothing but a kind of clay, still remained unbroken, as if the structures had been but recently deserted. These remains of the walls of the Indian dwellings were four feet in height, and were partitioned off into small rooms.