HERE AND THERE IN URUGUAY
Uruguayan roads--A comparison with those of Argentina--The
benefits of stone--Some fine metalled highways--The road to San
José--On the way to Pando--The journey as effected by
motor-car--A smiling landscape--Distant sand-dunes--A spotless
range--The mountains of Minas--The town of Pando--A typical minor
urban centre--The ending of the macadamised road--The track
beyond--An abrupt change in the order of going--The bumps of the
Campo--Piriapolis--A budding pleasure resort--Completeness of the
enterprise--Eucalyptus forests--A vehicular wreck by the
way--Unsuccessful Samaritans--The work of Señor Piria--The
Castillo--An imposing home--View from the spot--The Pan de
Azucar--A landscape of mountain, valley, forest, and
sea--Architecture of the Castillo--Piriapolis Bay--A centre of
future bathing--Preparations already effected--The hotel and
casino--A wonderful feat of private
enterprise--Afforestation--Encouragement of the industry by the
Uruguayan Government--The work of Mr. Henry Burnett--The
transformation of arid soil into fertile land--Commercial success
of the venture--The Maldonado sand-dunes--Fulgurites--A curiosity
of the sands--Discoveries by Mr. C. E. R. Rowland.
A feature that is not a little remarked upon by those who have entered
Uruguay from the stoneless Pampa of Argentina is the excellence of the
roads that surround Montevideo, and of several, indeed, that penetrate
for a considerable distance inland. The highway to the town of San
José, for instance, that extends for ninety-six kilometres is
macadamised throughout its length, and is, moreover, excellently
constructed and sustained.
The benefits of convenient deposits of stone are strikingly emphasised
here. Now that a start has been made, there is no reason why
efficient roads of the kind should not pierce the countryside in all
directions. For, notwithstanding the natural fertility of its soil,
there is scarcely a corner throughout the whole length and breadth of
the Republic that is not seamed to a smaller or larger extent with
these layers of useful stone, the eruption of which frequently marks
the surface itself of the land.
The road to San José, as a matter of fact, is by no means the only
important one of its kind. There are various similar specimens,
equally well constructed if of less imposing length. A very admirable
road leads from the capital to the small town of Pando in the
neighbouring province of Canelones. The journey by motor-car is an
easy one, and renders an admirable insight into the nature of the
country in this particular district.
Curiously enough, the least smooth portion of this highway is
represented by a mile or so of its length on the outskirts of
Montevideo itself. This point once passed, however, the undulations in
the surface of the road die away, and the broad grey thoroughfare
stretches with remarkable smoothness over hill and dale. The car can
snort along at the utmost speed its power will permit, since the grey
band opens out ahead with a refreshing openness that is totally devoid
of secrecy, and only at the lengthiest intervals is its surface
darkened by the form of a rider or of a lumbering country cart.
The progress is of the switchback order, with long-drawn-out rises and
falls that are effected with alternate exuberance and strainings,
while on either hand the fields, verdure, and masses of fruit blossom
speed by in very pleasant sequence. For a spring shower has laid the
dust, and when the Oriental landscape smiles, its countenance is
supremely fascinating. As though to add just the tinge of sombreness
that is requisite for the accentuation of the delightful scene, a
dark forest of eucalyptus stands out here and there by the way, the
massive serried trunks and branches painting the landscape with a
heavy splash of gloom.
For the first few leagues the aspect of the country--although the
great variety of its attributes preserves it entirely from the taint
of mere monotony--remains much the same. After a while, however, the
skyline to the right becomes lightened in a rather remarkable fashion.
The foreground is a medley of green, brown, and purple--rendered
respectively by the hills, trees, orchards, and a patch or two of
ploughed soil. At the back of these rich colours a range of very lofty
snow-white sand-dunes has risen up. The gleaming barrier marks the
frontier-line of the land; upon its farther side, invisible, of
course, from inland, are the breakers of the South Atlantic Ocean.
Indeed, the effect of this spotless range, when viewed from the
shoreward side, is doubly curious, since the verdant landscape that
leads right up to them gives no other indication of the propinquity of
the sea.
To the north-east elevations of quite another kind have been slowly
rising upwards from the horizon as the car speeds along. As the town
of Pando itself is more nearly approached, the distant mountains of
Minas have swollen into view to assert themselves in a fashion that is
not to be overlooked. Great rounded masses piled in dim purple against
the horizon, their aspect presents a sharp contrast to that of the
dunes close by. The latter are shadowless things, clear-cut and
wanting in depth for all their purity; the inland mountains are deep
and secretive, with an outline that confounds itself mysteriously with
the sky.
The town of Pando itself is remarkable for little in the way of
commercial or industrial development beyond forming the centre of a
very flourishing agricultural district. The place possesses a quaint
red-brick church, the walls of which are adorned with a curious number
of balconies. With this exception the buildings are unpretentious; but
almost every one is lent its own particular charm by the wealth of
gardens and shade-trees with which the spot is endowed. Pando, indeed,
is one of those very pleasant minor urban centres with which Uruguay
is so plentifully besprinkled, with its delightful surroundings of
orchards, vineyards, and cultivated land planted here and there with
eucalyptus forests and with groves of other trees. In the near
neighbourhood of the town runs a typical Uruguayan stream, its banks
thickly lined with verdure, more especially with the weeping willows
whose branches droop downwards in a thick green curtain over the
water's edge.
[Illustration: EUCALYPTUS FOREST: PIRIAPOLIS.]
[Illustration: THE CASTILLO: PIRIAPOLIS.
To face p. 198]
It is at this placid rural centre that the macadamised road ends.
There is no mistaking the terminus of the metalled highway. One turn
of the wheels of the car has left the smooth, hard surface behind--and
then begins quite another order of going. The progress of an
automobile over a representative local road of the country partakes of
many elements, amongst others of those of steeplechasing, toboganning,
and of the switchback railways common to those centres less well
provided with natural forms of excitement. The mounds and valleys of
the way provide an unbroken succession of surprises to which the car
responds by lurching and dipping wildly, although the dexterity of the
driver keeps it staggering upon its four wheels. Nevertheless, a very
little of this goes a long--or an incredibly short--way. So after a
while the nose of the car is turned--a manoeuvre that demands as much
caution as putting a small boat about in a gale--and the vehicle
bumps its way back again through the smiling outskirts of Pando to
come to rest, as it were, upon the hard, grey road again.
The sand-dunes of which a glimpse has been obtained at Piriapolis are
characteristic of almost the entire length of the Uruguayan coast that
gives upon the Atlantic Ocean. There are many spots along this open
shore that are well worthy of a visit. Not the least of these is
Piriapolis--a place that is in the act of making a very bold bid for
popularity as a pleasure resort. Piriapolis is a spot of no little
interest. Situated a little to the west of Maldonado on the southern
coast that faces the open Atlantic, the place is a budding town, and
is noteworthy as much for what it promises in the future as for its
present aspects, interesting enough though they are. Piriapolis is
remarkable in being a one-man place--by which no connection is implied
with the one-horse epithet of tradition--in that it has emanated from
the mind and pocket of a prominent Uruguayan, Señor Francisco Piria.
Piriapolis lies to the coastward side of the railway line that is
being prolonged in the direction of Maldonado, and, as matters at
present stand, it is necessary to board a construction train, and to
proceed soberly along the unballasted track to the point where the
coach, with its four horses abreast, waits in readiness to complete
the journey. It must be admitted that the road that goes rising and
falling over the hilly country is not good. The future will doubtless
endow the district with a network of highways of quite another kind.
But Piriapolis is young. Hence the unfortunate wagon that is lit upon,
shortly after the start, stuck hard and fast in the deep mud of a
hollow. In the way of good Samaritans, horses are detached from the
coach to assist in the struggle; but the tenacious mud clings in
unyielding obstinacy to its wheeled prey. In the end the contest is
abandoned for the time being; the lent horses return to their place in
front of the coach, and the driver of the wagon departs gloomily to
scour the neighbouring country in search of oxen.
As the coach proceeds, the way lies through a wild and mountainous
country that bears not a little resemblance to portions of the South
West of Ireland. But here in the place of the whitewashed Irish cabins
are mud ranchos, almost every one of which reposes beneath the
sheltering branches of its own particular unit or group of ombú-trees.
After a little more than an hour's drive the aspect of the country to
the front changes abruptly, and presently the coach enters the cool
shade of a great forest of eucalyptus and pine. It is difficult to
conceive these stretches of giant trees as not having covered the soil
for generations. Yet less than twenty years ago the face of this
particular district was as bare as any of that of the surrounding
country, since it is only eighteen years ago that Señor Piria planted
the first sapling that went to form this present forest land.
Roads of a better order now prick their way the length of the woodland
aisles, and after a while a lonely little store and post-office stand
out from amidst the trees. A little beyond evidences of civilisation
appear quite unexpectedly. A pair of fine wrought-iron gates are to
the front. Once through these an avenue, adorned by statues at
intervals of a few yards, leads to a square turreted building that is
known as the _castillo_, or castle, of Señor Piria himself. The
dwelling is a pleasant one, with its broad stone terraces that
overlook pretty grounds, covered with semi-tropical trees, shrubs, and
flowers, laid out after the Italian style.
The view obtained from the upper terrace here is decidedly beautiful.
Beyond the gardens spread broad orchards and vineyards, and at the
back of these again on one side is a belt of forest that covers the
ground for seven miles and more until the edge of the sea itself is
reached--a sparkling line of blue that is visible in the distance from
here. On the opposite side rises a rugged hill of immense queer-shaped
boulders, from the interstices of which grows a dense tangle of scrub.
By far the most conspicuous object, however, in the whole panorama is
the aptly named Pan de Azucar, or Sugar Loaf Mountain, that rises to a
height of some two thousand feet on the west of the castle. The hill
is a bare mass of serrated rock, and represents one of the highest
points in the Republic. It is the dominating feature in a landscape
that affords a wonderful combination of mountain, valley, forest, and
sea.
The architecture of the castillo itself is somewhat original. The
ground floor is almost entirely occupied by the guests' bedrooms,
apartments with great vaulted ceilings that open promiscuously the one
into the other. The living apartments are on the first floor, and the
walls of the central hall are hung with many old Italian paintings.
Above this again is the square tower that stands as the summit of the
house. I mention the architecture more particularly, since it is
entirely unusual, the ordinary country houses of Uruguay being almost
without exception constructed on a single floor.
The seven miles of eucalyptus forest that intervene between the
castillo and the sea afford a delightful drive to the shore of
Piriapolis Bay. This portion of the coast consists of a shelving sandy
shore eminently suited for the purposes of bathing, and is backed by
an imposing vista of forest and mountain. The hill immediately behind
the bay, by the way, is locally known as the Sierra de los Ingleses,
having been employed, it is said, for the purposes of smuggling in the
old days by English sailors.
It is at this point that the future town and pleasure resort of
Piriapolis is to be situated. Some considerable start in this
direction has already been made, as will be evident when it is
explained that a great hotel has already been constructed, and is now
complete, and ready for the day when it shall be officially opened.
The place is of quite a palatial order, and is provided with no less
than 120 bedrooms, as well as with a magnificent dining-room and very
spacious apartments and lounges. A broad terrace runs the entire
length of the building on the seaward side, and the tide, when at its
highest, reaches to within twenty yards of the hotel itself. A very
useful addition to the place is a large vegetable and fruit garden
that holds everything of the kind that is needed. The plants and trees
flourish amazingly well here, although, curiously enough, their roots
are planted in no more satisfying a soil than sand.
The enterprise, however, has not contented itself with the erection of
the hotel. In the neighbourhood of this building is a small casino,
destined to be employed for the purpose of games of chance, and almost
the entire margin of the bay is dotted by little, square, four-roomed
châlets. At some distance from the hotel a stone mole is in the course
of construction, and it is here, of course, that the pleasure steamers
will land their passengers when the place is once in the full swing of
its active life.
[Illustration: THE PAN DE AZUCAR MOUNTAIN.]
[Illustration: THE NEW HOTEL: PIRIAPOLIS.
To face p. 202.]
At present the place stands empty--a prepared shell awaiting this
influx. As a feat of private enterprise Piriapolis must take a high
rank; for the difficulties of transport have added vastly to the
labour of the undertaking. It is a beautiful spot, in any case, and
the pleasure resort should meet with all the success it deserves.
The topic of Piriapolis brings us to the question of afforestation. On
this portion of the coast the science is undoubtedly one of supreme
importance, and one to which of late years a fitting amount of
attention has been paid. The Government of Uruguay has very wisely
done much towards the encouragement of tree-planting and the
transformation of apparently arid areas to regions of genuine
fertility.
As an instance of this liberal and progressive policy it may be
mentioned that in 1909 Mr. Henry Burnett, the British Vice-Consul at
Maldonado, was awarded a gold medal and a bonus of three thousand
dollars for having been the first to plant a collection of over ten
thousand maritime pines. The labour in the first instance of inducing
these young trees to grow was arduous, and time after time the budding
plantation was buried beneath the masses of driven sand. With the
eventual survival, however, of the first screen the remainder of the
task proved easy, and Mr. Burnett has now in his possession over one
hundred thousand maritime pines.
Encouraged by this example, numerous other landholders of the district
have succeeded in cultivating similar plantations, and the result has
proved highly beneficial, not only in the transformation of the
country but from the commercial point of view as well. For districts
that until recently were absolutely worthless are now valued at
anything from ten dollars to forty dollars the hectare.
A peculiar characteristic of these Maldonado sand-dunes is to be met
with in the fulgurites that are found there--the vitrified sand-tubes
caused by the action of lightning that are referred to by Darwin on
the occasion of his visit to the spot. Similar phenomena obtain in a
few other corners of the world, but those found here are by far the
largest in size, some extending to no less than five feet in length.
Owing, however, to their extremely fragile nature, it is impossible to
extract these larger specimens in any fashion but in comparatively
small fragments.
Mr. C. E. R. Rowland, the British Vice-Consul at Montevideo, has taken
especial interest in these fulgurites of the Maldonado Sands. The
British Museum contains some very fine specimens sent by him, and he
has supplied the national museum at Montevideo with its first
specimens of these curiosities. This same gentleman, by the way, quite
recently discovered two distinct species of Uruguayan lizards that,
sent for classification to the South Kensington Natural History
Museum, were discovered to be of kinds that until then had been
perfectly unknown. They remain in the museum to which they were sent,
dignified by the name of their discoverer.