From Mr. Graves's report of the appearance of the channel to the S.E. of Dawson Island, I decided to proceed there as soon as the Hope was ready, for she required some alteration, and repairs.
A deer having been seen on Point St. Anna, Mr. Tarn landed, very early in the morning, eager for the prize, but could only get an ineffectual shot. At another time a few deer were seen by our party, near the river; but instead of returning with the information, they fired their guns, loaded with small shot only, which served but to scare them away. As the animal was new to us, and we had evidence of its being equally new to Science, I was anxious to procure a specimen, but never afterwards had an opportunity. Here Sarmiento saw the only deer which he mentions in his journal.
The morning of the 16th seeming more favourable, I set out in the Hope. The heights were covered with snow which had fallen the preceding night, the thermometer had been at freezing point, and much ice had formed; but the appearance of the weather deceived us: we had scarcely left the ship, when it began to rain, and by the time we reached Cape San Isidro the wind had freshened to a gale, which obliged me to anchor in Eagle Bay.
Having landed, a tent was pitched, and a blazing fire made to dry our clothes. In the evening the gale blew with great
violence from S.W., and the Hope, at her anchor, sheered about by the squalls, was occasionally laid over so as to dip her gunwale under water.
The following day (17th), although the rain had ceased, the wind was still strong. Towards evening it fell, and early on the 18th we left Eagle Bay with a fresh breeze from E.N.E., and passed close to Port San Antonio; but were then delayed by calms and squalls. At noon a westerly wind sprung up, and we proceeded down the Gabriel Channel, with the wind aft, and the tide in our favour. Port Waterfall sheltered us for the night.
The apparently artificial formation of this channel is very striking. It seems to have been formerly a valley between two ridges of the range, in the direction of the strata (of which there are frequent instances, such as the valley in the Lomas Range, opposite Cape San Isidro, the valley of Valdez Bay, and one immediately to the north of the channel itself, besides many others), and that at some remote period the sea had forced its way through, effecting a communication between the Strait and the waters behind Dawson Island: as if one of those great 'northern waves,' of which we once heard so much, had rolled down the wide reach of the Strait (the parallelism of whose shores is also remarkable) from the north-west, towards Cape Froward; and finding itself opposed by the Lomas Range, had forced a passage through the valley until stopped by the mountains at Fitton Bay. Having imagined such a wave in motion, the reader may fancy it uniting with another northern roller from Cape San Valentyn, attacking the hills and carrying all before it, until Mount Hope, at the bottom of Admiralty Sound, arrested its course. I have already noticed the remarkably straight direction in which this curious channel trends. At both extremities the width may be from two to three miles; but the shores gradually approach each other midway, and the coast on each side rises abruptly to the height of fifteen hundred feet. The south shore, sheltered from the prevailing and strongest winds, is thickly covered with trees and luxuriant underwood, which, being chiefly evergreen, improve
the scenery greatly, particularly in the winter season: the north shore is also well wooded for about two-thirds up; but the summit is barren and the outline very much serrated, as is usual in slate formations.
On the north shore we noticed some extraordinary effects of the whirlwinds which so frequently occur in Tierra del Fuego. The crews of sealing vessels call them 'williwaws,' or 'hurricane-squalls,' and they are most violent. The south-west gales, which blow upon the coast with extreme fury, are pent up and impeded in passing over the high lands; when, increasing in power, they rush violently over the edges of precipices, expand, as it were, and descending perpendicularly, destroy every thing moveable. The surface of the water, when struck by these gusts, is so agitated, as to be covered with foam, which is taken up by them, and flies before their fury until dispersed in vapour. Ships at anchor under high land are sometimes suddenly thrown over on their beam-ends, and the next moment recover their equilibrium, as if nothing had occurred. Again a squall strikes them, perhaps on the other side, and over they heel before its rage: the cable becomes strained, and checks the ship with a jerk, that causes her to start a-head through the water, until again stopped by the cable, or driven astern by another gust of wind.
At all these anchorages, under high land, there are some parts more exposed than others; and by watching for those places which are least troubled by these squalls, a more secure, or rather a more quiet, spot may be selected. I do not consider ships so anchored to be in danger if their ground tackle be good; but every thing that offers a stiff resistance must suffer from the fury of these blasts. In many parts of this country trees are torn up by the roots, or rent asunder by the wind; and in the Gabriel Channel the 'williwaws' bursting over the mountainous ridge, which forms the south side of the channel, descend, and striking against the base of the opposite shore, rush up the steep, and carry all before them. I know of nothing to which I can better compare the bared track left by one of these squalls than to a bad broad road. After