This, standing at an elevation of 9,100 feet, is one of the dreariest of places, being situated in a desert, and consisting merely of the station and a hotel. Beyond the Bridge there is no object of interest and it is not necessary, perhaps, to speak of the hotel. The Bridge[142] itself has a commonplace appearance, but it is an extraordinary natural phenomenon. It appears to be a natural dam of earth and rock lying athwart the Cuevas River, which has managed to bore a passage through the barrier. The stones, earth, and shingle which compose the arch have been cemented together by deposits from the hot-springs, and the Bridge is 66 feet high, 120 feet wide, and 20 or 30 feet thick. Underneath the vaulted arch there bubble up springs of very high temperature, and the most striking feature here is the glittering and jagged masses of stalactite which adorn the grotto. The baths are considered to have great medicinal value, and there is a variety called the champagne bath which all arrivals are urged to take. In course of time Puente del Inca will no doubt be a much-frequented health resort, and there would not be the slightest difficulty in obtaining from the perennial river sufficient water to make a pretty town with trees and flowers, but it could never be a place of any natural attractiveness owing to the poverty of the scenery. Nobody seems to know why it should be called the Inca's Bridge; probably the name merely illustrates the tendency of simple people to attribute strange natural phenomena to the most powerful active force with which they are acquainted. Our rustics invariably attribute such things to the Devil.
PUENTE DEL INCA.
However, the climate is cold and bracing, and the walk—some 10 miles—to Las Cuevas, up the valley and over the pass, is worth taking. There is, of course, nothing to see on arrival but some tin huts, and there is nothing to do but return on foot or by train to Puente del Inca and long for the train to Valparaiso.
This calls only on alternate days. The journey up the valley is renewed and the train slowly makes its way to Las Cuevas. Here the traveller has the opportunity, which he will soon lose, of riding over the Andes. The line comes to an end at Las Cuevas, until it is linked up with that of Chile by the completion of the permanent way. Here it may be well to advise the traveller to provide himself at Mendoza with a supply of Chilian money, for, though the railway officials are ready and anxious to change English sovereigns into the grimy notes of Chile, their estimate of the Chilian dollar is apt to be of a highly optimistic character, which is rarely borne out by the rate of exchange.
Some people amuse themselves with telling travellers exciting stories of the dizzy precipices to be passed, and advising them to go by carriage, as the slightest false step on the part of the mule would result in certain death. But, in fact, the journey over the pass is perfectly safe and easy; there is no precipice up which a boy of twelve could not easily scramble, and the mule, frequently disdaining the path, shuffles down these dangerous heights at a great pace. This pleasant break in the monotony of the journey is now to be a thing of the past. The enterprise (English) of the Buenos Aires and Pacific Railway knows no obstacle, and succeeded in linking the Atlantic and Pacific with hoops of iron. A few months ago the tunnel, nearly 2 miles long, was completed, the rails are now laid down, and it is expected that the line will be open for traffic by the time these lines are printed. Some people, however, doubt whether it will be possible to keep it open all the year round. At present all passenger traffic is at an end from about May to October, for the blizzards and snow-drifts make it dangerous if not impossible, and there is great difficulty in getting even the mail-bags through by hand. It remains to be seen whether snow-ploughs and other implements can be employed which will be sufficient to clear the line and the tunnel. But at least the tunnel will be a great convenience in summer, although some may regret the short ride, breasting the keen air.
The mountain-peaks are, of course, as barren as ever, though a few glittering glaciers can be seen on distant heights, but the bright sun, the lumbering carts, the whistling wind, and the shouts of the mule-drivers are pleasant sights and sounds.
The pleasant open-air conditions keep off the dreaded soroche, or mountain sickness, which will probably attack many of the future passengers through the tunnel, but riding over the pass has merely an exhilarating effect. At the summit there is a board with Argentina on one side and Chile on the other. Here also is a colossal statue of Christ. This boundary line had long been a source of dispute between the two nations. Several times their jealousies had appeared to make the task of delimitation impossible, and the two countries had been on the brink of war. At last, aided by the good offices of King Edward VII., the statesmen on either side composed their differences and averted a fratricidal war by tracing a satisfactory boundary line, and on that line, as a pledge that war and discords from their lands should cease, the people decided to place a visible sign of concord to show to every traveller that the neighbours should wage no more wars one with another. They placed on the summit of the Andes a statue of the Prince of Peace.