THE SALTO DEL SOLDADO.
Just beyond Juncal is a beautiful little lake, which is as opalescent and translucent as any of the lakes of Switzerland, and several thousand feet higher. It is the Lago del Inca, the Lake of the Incas. Pure as crystal, and clear as an unclouded sky, this little body of water rests tranquilly amidst as harsh and severe a setting as one could well find. Masses of rock seem poised on ledges ready to project themselves down into valleys with destruction in their path. The mad gods who formed these eternal peaks must have paused for a moment in their work in order to add this one touch of real beauty to the landscape.
Here one may also see the huge condors, flying at such heights that they look no larger than a swallow. The glass will sometimes reveal others that can scarcely be distinguished with the naked eye. They sail and circle around in the rarefied air with scarcely a flap of the wing. In the winter time the condor may be found near the coast, but in summer they always return to the highest Andean peaks, where they rear their young. The eggs are deposited in lofty clefts or caverns, where no form of animal life exists that might destroy the young birds. A young condor during the first year clings to the parent bird, for its body is too big for its wings. This royal bird figures on the national escutcheon of Chile as an emblem of strength and independence. The Indians surround it with many legends, and some of them believe that the souls of the lost enter the bodies of the condor and are thus poised between heaven and earth, so as to see the glories of both and be able to enjoy neither, like the doom of Tantalus.
At last Caracoles, the name given to the little station at the Chilean end of the international railroad, is reached, at an elevation of a little more than ten thousand feet above sea level. The tunnel is just about the same length as the altitude, for it is ten thousand three hundred and eighty-five feet from entrance to exit. Near the centre of this hole bored through the Andean rock the international boundary is passed, and, when the train emerges at Las Cuevas, the other terminus, the traveller catches his first glimpse of Argentina. It is a scene of vast desolation that meets his gaze. It is a picture of solitude, with nothing to relieve it in the way of vegetation. The vivid colourings of the stratas of rock and the white summits of the many peaks in sight, however, make it a scene of wild glory that uplifts the soul at the majesty of nature. One stands aghast at the marvellous richness of colouring that is revealed on every hand.
REFUGE HOUSE ALONG THE OLD INCA TRAIL.
The traveller may be thankful that he has not been obliged to traverse this pass in the winter time. Nothing can surpass these vast ridges clad in their winter dress. White and cold, they form a veritable valley of desolation. It is the cold of death, the white mantle of annihilation—something that the brain can scarcely compass. The feeling of solitude in the midst of the whiteness everywhere almost overwhelms the traveller with despair. In places the snow is frequently as much as fifteen feet in depth, deep enough to bury a horse and rider. Sudden storms are likely to overtake the traveller, and he would be snowed in in one of the casuchas. These are shelters that were built at intervals along the pass for the protection of travellers. They are dome-shaped structures which remind one of lime-kilns. They have a small door, but no windows, and will accommodate as many as twenty people at a time. The interior has a brick floor and is absolutely bare. Although protected from the weather, woe be to the traveller obliged to spend a day or two there with a group of arrieros, for filth is everywhere and the stench is almost overpowering.
Although fewer travellers ventured over this pass in the midst of winter, the mail service continued uninterruptedly, and there was seldom a day that some one did not attempt the crossing. A capitas, who was generally a man with a little capital, would undertake to carry the mails or other freight over the pass at a fixed price. He would then engage his force of porters as cheaply as possible, agreeing to furnish them with board and lodging so long as they remained with him. As time was not specified in the mail contract, if a traveller came along the capitas would dump the mails and carry his baggage at an exorbitant price. Everything was done up in packages weighing about sixty pounds. Some of the porters would even undertake to carry two of these—a terrible strain on a rough road. It is little wonder that this and unrestrained dissipation usually gave these men a short life. Sometimes they slid over a precipice, or were hurled to their doom by a falling stone. There are many graves of those who met an untimely end along this route, and it seems almost marvellous that they are not more numerous. After the highest point was passed the porters would toboggan down the slopes, seated on a sheepskin and guiding themselves with pointed staffs. In this way the descent was quickly accomplished. The packages were simply tumbled down, and oftentimes reached the bottom in a very dilapidated condition.
The Trasandino Argentino Railway threads its way out through the valley of the Uspallata, and follows a small stream which gradually becomes larger as little rivulets of melted snow join it. It soon becomes more of a stream, and is given the name of Rio (river) Mendoza. At a distance of less than a dozen miles the station called Puente del Inca is reached, which is so named because of a natural bridge of stratified rock at that place, which is very similar to the Natural Bridge of Virginia. Underneath it bubble up boiling waters which are claimed to have great medicinal value. It is said that the Incas in pre-Spanish times knew of the value of these waters, and their chiefs came here to receive the benefits of its curative waters. Near here one catches a glimpse of a marvellous freak of nature, called the Cerro de los Penitentes, the Ridge of the Penitents. The scattered rocky peaks and points standing up through the sloping debris of the ascent, with their remarkable imitations of toiling wayfarers, must have greatly impressed the Spanish pioneers when they first came upon this scene.