The Bridge of Pandi is distant two days journey from Bogotá. We made
it less toilsome by remaining several days at Fusugazugá--an
intermediate village, which possesses the advantage of a fine climate
and refreshing verdure, unknown to the plain upon which this city
stands. The bridge is situated considerably lower--almost in the
_tierra caliente_ hot country--where the thermometer rose to 86°, but
still the heat was not very oppressive.
Our first view of the bridge was just at the moment when such a scene
is most impressive. The sun had sunk behind the mountains. We were
without a guide, nor did we need one. We had merely to follow the
high road--a mule path--down into a deep ravine, near the bottom of
which we heard the sound of rushing waters. On reaching the bridge,
this sound and the dismal shrieks of numerous birds of night--the
sole occupants of this gloomy region--called our attention to the
scene below us. We then first knew we were upon the bridge of Pandi.
Three hundred and fifty-eight feet beneath, rushes a stream, called
Suma Paz, which fills the entire chasm--being, if we can trust our
sight under circumstances so deceptive, about thirty or forty feet
wide. We could see the deep chasm and the dark waters of the
stream--but where was the bridge which Nature built? We were standing
upon a rude structure of logs with railings so frail as almost to
dismay the most daring; but upon closer examination we discovered
that it rested upon several huge fragments which had fallen and
lodged so as to form the bridge for which we were searching. The
edges of the largest rock rest upon other rocks on one side, and on
the other upon the sloping face of the severed mountain. Upon this we
descended, and enjoyed a better view of what the imagination is so
readily inclined to paint as infernal regions. The cries of the birds
echo from the depths below, like the shrieks of troubled souls
destined to the sad fate of never leaving the abodes to which their
sins had driven them. Night was rapidly approaching; and with the
feelings which the scene had inspired, we retraced our steps to the
little village of Pandi or _El Mercadillo_, to which we had to
clamber nearly half a league. Our hamacs welcomed us to rest, and
after the fatigues of the day, sleep soon robbed us of our wandering
thoughts.
On the following morning, we repeated our visit to the bridge, and
reviewed the whole more leisurely. Although the awe of the preceding
evening had subsided, our admiration was undiminished. The same Great
Being which had ruptured the mountain asunder and opened a fearful
fissure, had thrown down the loose fragments, and so lodged them as
to contribute to the convenience as well as to arouse the
astonishment and wonder of all who crossed. The natives of the
country have destroyed much of the effect by the rude logs which they
have laid upon the rocks across the chasm. It is also remarkable,
that this fissure could not be passed elsewhere for many leagues in
either direction.
How will the Natural Bridge of Pandi compare with that of Rockbridge
County in Virginia? The beauty of this must sink before the awful and
grand sublimity of the other. In that you would look in vain for the
{253} well turned arch of this, while the latter is deficient in the
almost unfathomable abyss and in the surrounding scenery and in the
roaring waters of that of Pandi. I should have observed, that no
means exist of reaching the bottom--nor is it desirable, as the
bridge in itself, seen from below, cannot be imposing.
The birds which occupy the ledges and caverns formed by the ruptured
rock, are called "_Pajaros del Puente_"--Birds of the Bridge--and are
not known elsewhere. They are birds of night, and sally out only
after it is dark into the neighboring dense forests, in search of the
fruit with which they maintain themselves. If perchance the light of
day overtake them before they regain their dark abodes, it is so
noxious to them that they cannot survive it. Thus say the
natives--and that this is shown by their being many times found dead
in the paths of the mountains. They are equal in size to a
pheasant--their color is a reddish brown, and their beaks square and
very hard.