At Los Quevas there was a sort of rest-house where we passed the night, and at six the next morning we mounted our mules and rode over the pass, and though it is almost the lowest of the Andes passes, even there a height of 13,000 feet is reached. I had looked forward immensely to the ride, which I expected to enjoy, but all enjoyment was made, more or less, impossible, for, like every one else, I suffered from mountain sickness, which, though it only took, in my case, the form of a splitting headache, was sufficiently disagreeable to discount considerably the pleasure of riding over the Andes.
At this altitude we had, of course, easily reached the snow line, and felt the cold considerably, having been fairly roasted in the train only the day before; but in spite of all these trifling inconveniences, it was an interesting ride, and the scenery was very wild and grand. The mules were good beasts, but, being generally in the habit of carrying packs, preferred to walk on the extreme edge of the mountain paths that we had to ascend, and until one became accustomed to it, there was something rather uncanny in proceeding in single file with one’s outside leg well over the edge of the precipices. But it is quite useless to attempt to argue with a mule, and we soon got used to it. At almost the extreme summit of the pass there is a colossal statue of Our Saviour, which marks the boundary between the two countries of Argentine and Chile, and the descent at once commences. The mules carried us as far as the Chilean village of Huncal, and there the passengers, with their luggage, were trans-shipped into a number of rattletrap carriages which drove at a furious speed down the mountain side to the first railway-station on the Chilean side, where we took train to Santiago, at which place we arrived on the 1st of December.
At Santiago we settled down for a few days at the Hôtel Oddo, as there were some business men to interview on the subject of Nitrate Concessions, one of whom was a gentleman who is now well known in London, namely Señor Augustine Edwards, for he and his charming wife, Madame Edwards, have, for some time past, been representing Chile, at the Chilean Legation in Grosvenor Square. Another leading personage amongst the business men of Chile, whose acquaintance I was fortunate enough to make out there, was Señor Merry del Val, a brother of the well-known Cardinal of that name, another brother of the same family being Don Alfonso Merry del Val, the Spanish Ambassador at present in London.
Santiago is quite an attractive town, beautifully situated at the base of the Andes, and with every sort of comfort in the shape of a good hotel and an excellent club. At the time, I was much struck with the enormous number of unfinished churches that abounded in the Capital, and naturally wanted to “know the reason why.” I was told,—but whether it is true or not I have not a notion,—that as long as a church is in construction money is sent from Rome to assist in the building expenses, this grant obviously coming to an end when the sacred edifice is completed. Oddly enough, apparently no church ever is finished, so the grant goes on almost to perpetuity. Se non è vero, è ben trovato.
We succeeded in getting a day’s racing at Santiago before leaving for Valparaiso to embark for Iquique, the principal Nitrate Port on the Chilean coast. There is so much Spanish blood in the Chilean nation that great punctuality is not to be expected; but even then, it was rather more than one could bargain for, to find that the first race advertised for 2.30, did not start eventually until a little after five!
It was an easy journey to Valparaiso, and after a short stay there we embarked on a coasting steamer that duly conveyed us to Iquique, where we arrived on December 9th, and where the real work of the tour was to commence.
On arriving at Iquique we were met by Mr. Noel Clarke, who, besides being British Consul, was also the head of a large firm which did general trade all along the coast, and was intimately connected with the Nitrate business. Noel Clarke was destined to have a very busy time during the next few months, as will be explained later. Meanwhile, he and his very charming wife took us in at their house near the outskirts of the town, where we lived during our stay at Iquique, in the greatest comfort and in the pleasantest surroundings.
Iquique was not a bad sort of town at all. It boasted of some very respectable public buildings, and, being largely inhabited by English merchants, naturally possessed the inevitable club, race-course, and polo-ground. Its principal source of prosperity really consisted in the anchorage, where steamers and the large sailing-clippers could lie very comfortably waiting for their cargoes of nitrate, the long sea-coast of Chile being, on the whole, very badly off for harbours.
While on the subject of the coast, I must say something about my impressions of the Pacific. I had sailed, in my time, on most seas, but this visit was my first experience of the Pacific Ocean, and I found it extraordinarily attractive. Though I have never seen it except when it was completely acting up to its name, I have no doubt but what occasional terrific gales occur there, as elsewhere. But what delighted me was the bird and beast life of the coast (I wonder whether a sea-lion is correctly described as a beast?), and the eternal and enormous rollers that never ceased to tumble in. What caused these huge waves remained a mystery to me, for, after days of absolutely flat calm, without a breath of wind, they still came rolling in as majestically as ever. As a general rule, the little patch of smooth water that is to be found inside the protection of the breakwater, that exists at all the ports, is only deep enough for lighters and small craft generally, so the steamers anchor outside and land their passengers in boats. It is quite an exciting moment when the boat reaches the narrow entrance. The usual practice is to wait just outside the passage to the breakwater until three unusually heavy rollers have expended themselves. The three very large ones are invariably followed by a succession of small ones, advantage of which has to be taken at once, and a dash made for the entrance. Meanwhile, sea-birds of every sort and description are wheeling about in a cloudless sky or pursuing their prey in the bluest of seas, and the amiable sea-lions and sea-cows, and such like, loll about on the rocks all around and survey the scene with perfect placidity.
A very few days after our arrival, we started for the Pampas, to pay a round of visits to the different Nitrate establishments in which Morris was interested, and to give me an opportunity of learning something about the industry before visiting, and reporting on, the Leonor, to which place I subsequently had to travel from Antofagasta, a port some little distance to the southward of Iquique. The first part of our journey was done on horseback, the place we were to visit being only some twenty miles from the coast. All the rest of our tour of inspection was done in a small special train, that had been placed at our disposal for that purpose by the courtesy of the Railway Authorities at Iquique.