With such an abundance of sea life it is only natural that birds of the fishing tribe should be plentiful. Huge pelicans, those dirty, unwieldy birds, are attracted here by this abounding life. Cormorants are equally numerous, as they are all along this coast. Penguins are also found here. The grube, whose skin is in such demand, is also quite common. The Antarctic goose is abundant, and the white gander on guard is a rather beautiful black and white bird. He always occupies some prominent rocky point, keeping watch and guard over his mate intent upon domestic duties. Insect life is also very busy, and a red bee almost as large as some humming-birds is especially characteristic of this region. It flies rapidly and hovers around among the flowers almost like the humming-bird.
Opposite Chiloé, on the mainland, is the Palena River, the largest river in Chile. The excessive rains and melting snows from the lofty peaks, which are plainly visible when the mists have cleared away, keep the banks filled with water. Every cloud that sweeps in from the Pacific comes down in rain as soon as it encounters the mountains. The slopes are dotted with wood clear up to the snow-line. The woods here, as well as elsewhere, are seemingly impenetrable. There are many flowering trees which add their beauty to the scene. A tall cane from which the Indians used to make spears grows in great confusion almost everywhere. It grows in great stools like giant bunches of rushes. The genii of vegetation takes possession of the riches of the ground. The beautiful green of the Chilean pine predominates. The mouth of the river is a stretch of delta. Of course it cannot compare with the streams on the Atlantic coast, but it is a striking river. Dancing mountain streams join it here and there—sometimes with a leap from the hills, thus forming numerous cascades. These white streaks of the cascades are visible on the mountain slopes in many places. The mists keep shifting and shimmering around the various peaks,—now revealing and again hiding the silent glens or gullies. The abundance of wooding oftentimes almost overcomes the beholder with the helplessness of humanity in such a region. The north winds which bring the rains are usually warm, while the south winds which blow up from the Antarctic regions are dry and cold. These and the west winds, which have such a stretch of sea to blow over, bring the worst storms, for they are not impeded for thousands of miles.
These facts lead one to speculate on the possibilities of timber development in Chile. This republic probably contains almost as great a proportion of wooded land as any country in the world. From the Straits to Valdivia it is almost an unbroken forest. The trees are sometimes almost covered with parasites. In places they are almost matted together with the climbing bamboo, and at others they are covered with soft cushions of the graceful liverworts and green mosses. In the extreme southern part of the republic the trees become more stunted and gnarled, and are not large enough to be of commercial value for lumber purposes. This primeval forest probably extended along the coast as far as Valparaiso, since that place was originally selected as a seaport because the rich woods near at hand afforded material for shipbuilding. Those forests have entirely disappeared. In the southern part of the central valley they are being ruthlessly destroyed. It is simply cut down and burned, while the republic as a whole imports hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of timber products from other countries. It is quite probable that an important lumber industry is still awaiting development in Southern Chile. Much of it will certainly be valuable for wood pulp if for nothing else, so that of the making of books and periodicals there may still be no end. The dangerous nature of the coast may make navigation perilous. The Pacific Ocean down there is not always so pacific and peaceful as farther north. The change is felt soon after leaving Valparaiso on the journey southward bound.
Chilean Patagonia, which stretches along the Pacific coast for five hundred miles, is little known, but it is a region of wild beauty. It is a perfect labyrinth of channels and islands, to which there is an entrance at each end, and one near the centre through the Gulf of Trinidad. These entrances are through narrow channels which are difficult to find, as they are so similar to other channels which lead into cul-de-sacs. Powerful currents and cross-currents rush through these contracted channels, so that vessels have to make them at full speed or run the risk of being dashed helplessly upon the rocky barriers. Once within the enclosure, however, the waters are calm even when the most violent storms rage outside. Terrific rains which are veritable deluges frequently fall, and impenetrable mists at times enshroud everything. The barometer moves up and down by leaps and bounds. Suddenly a rift will appear in the clouds, denoting the breaking of the storm, and the blue sky and bright sun will be revealed. Then the scenery becomes glorious in its radiant beauty—an amphitheatre of overhanging mountains with glittering snow-dad crests against a sky of dazzling blue. Then all about will be seen little islets, covered with trees and bushes of brilliant green and flowers of many hues.
In spite of the snow-clad mountains the temperature is usually not extreme. The jungles will rival the Amazonian jungles. It is a perfect compress of hollys, ferns, beeches, orchids, vines and countless thorny bushes. It is indeed
“The silent wilderness,
Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another’s mind.”