LAGO ARGENTINO
Thanks to the kindness of Quensel, I am able to give some details of
his interesting and perilous voyagings on Lago Argentino. This big lake
has the typical Andine character; its western branches run far into the
mountains and receive extensive glaciers from the inland ice. Quensel
went on horseback to the end of the south arm and to Lago Frio, but in
order to continue his work to the most westerly part he had to take
to the water. There was in Cattle’s farm an old canvas boat, rather
dilapidated but still usable, of the same pattern used by us on Lago
Belgrano. Here follows Quensel’s narrative:
“At sunrise on January 13 (1908) we finally got away, after having
waited two days on the shore for calm weather. From the very first
moment Æolus was not very gracious to us. A surface like a mirror and
a blazing sun encouraged us to set out on the lake, but we had just
gone so far that it was too late to turn back when the first black line
appeared announcing a gale of wind, closely followed by a white line of
foam, and the water was flung more than thirty or forty feet into the
air. To pull against one of these squalls was impossible, and the best
thing to do would have been to land, but often there were steep cliffs
all round and the only chance was to turn the stern against the sea,
which threatened to crush the small, heavily laden boat. But Pagels had
not sailed round the globe for nothing; his skill served us in good
stead, and everything turned out all right, though more than once we
had a narrow escape.
“Our first destination was the Bismarck Glacier in the Southern Arm,
which we reached in two days. Half-way we had met some big icebergs
and were prepared for what was to come. They measured about a hundred
feet above the water. The glacier in question was first visited and
described by Professor Hauthal, and is of special interest. From the
inland ice it protrudes more than a mile out into the water; the height
of its front wall, crowned by innumerable pillars and needles of pure
ice, varies between sixty and a hundred feet. In front of it was a
broad belt of drift-ice, but we navigated carefully through the ‘pack,’
which gives the branch its name, Brazo de los Témpanos.
“We camped on the south side of the glacier and spent the following
days in studying the ice. What makes the Bismarck Glacier so remarkable
is that, in contrast to all other glaciers in South Patagonia that I
have seen, it is advancing rather rapidly. Without exception the others
withdraw, sometimes indeed so fast that the vegetation is not able to
follow, so that there is a sharp limit where the ice stood before. But
this one forces its way through the high forest on both sides, crushing
everything in its way; I saw trees, still green, that had been knocked
down by the ice, and under the very edge shrubs still alive peeped
forth. We were able to reach the southern end of this fiord. I walked
on foot to Lago Frio and climbed a mountain. Below, in a southerly
direction, was Lago Dickson nestling among green woods; in the west
were Mount Stokes and the glaciers from the inland cover, the largest
dividing into two branches, one extending to Lago Dickson, the other to
Lago Frio. Thus I stood on the water-parting between Lago Argentino and
the Payne region, between the Atlantic and the Pacific--the water from
one and the same glacier seeking such different ways.
“We left the southern fiord in order to get into the northern. The
entrance is narrow, but inside it widens into quite a system of inlets,
of which different maps give different ideas. A narrow gap called
Hell Gate is the entrance; outside we waited one day before we could
venture in, and late in the afternoon of January 31 we got through.
Everything indicated that we should have a calm night, so we resolved
to row as long as we could. Hour after hour passed. Above in the
twilight hung the tremendous cliffs, sometimes as high as 3000 feet;
in the half-light summer night we could just make out the few places
where we could seek refuge in case of a sudden storm. At midnight the
moon rose, the larger icebergs shone with a ghostly glimmer, their
fantastic outlines assuming the most marvellous shapes. With frequent
changes we made good speed. We knew that the storm was only gathering
its strength, and our object must be to take advantage of every minute.
At 3 A.M. we caught sight of a big glacier glowing with a certain
peculiar light as if it were luminous. Nothing is more difficult than
to judge the distance to a glacier or an iceberg in the darkness.
One believes oneself to be close to a piece of ice, or even turns aside
to avoid a collision--and there is half an hour’s pull to it!
[Illustration: THE BISMARCK GLACIER, LAKE ARGENTINO.]
[Illustration: THE UPSALA GLACIER, LAKE ARGENTINO.
(The biggest in Patagonia.)]
[Illustration: ICEBERGS AND CANVAS BOAT, LAKE ARGENTINO.]
“At dawn we landed on a low promontory, where the fiord divides into
three branches, each of them ending in a glacier. Large masses of
ice were adrift here--one could very well imagine one was in a polar
country. The next day we wanted to pull into the southern branch. Tired
as we were after the strenuous night, we overslept ourselves, and the
sun was high when we were ready for a fresh start. The clouds had begun
to chase each other across the sky, portending wind. Hastily we loaded
the boat and set out, but in a couple of hours the first gust came,
and a strong swell from the bottom of the inlet showed us that it was
blowing hard in there already. We followed the eastern shore; it was
steep and inaccessible, and a heavy sea broke on the rocks. There was
no time for long consultations. We chose a place where a shelf ran out
into the water, pulled to it, and I jumped ashore ready to hold the
boat. It was an anxious moment. Up to my knees in water, I managed
to hold it; pots and pans and sleeping-bags, cameras and haunches of
venison were hurled up on to the shelf. We bore our craft out of reach
of the waves and were safe. But not a moment too soon, for five minutes
later we should not have been able to land there.
“We had now time to examine our refuge more closely. The small ledge
was overgrown with shrubs; above rose a precipitous wall. The ten
square yards served our purpose, and with the teapot and the frying-pan
over the fire we spent a comfortable night in our prison. We tried
again the next day, but in vain, and I resolved to go back and devote
my energies to the north glacier and the big mountains round it. At
nightfall two days later we landed on a beach with high forest in the
background and a row of large icefloes outside. The glacier itself was
hidden by a promontory. The following night we had a most remarkable
experience, that might have had very serious consequences. As usual we
had pulled our boat high up on the shore, sixty feet from the water
and ten or twelve feet above the level of the lake. Wishing to get
away at sunrise, we went to bed early. At dawn I was roused by Pagels,
who stood in the tent door, ripping out with a fine flow of strong
language: ‘Himmel! Herrgott! Sakrament! Donnerwetter noch ein Mal!’ it
came without a pause. I sprang up to see what had happened, supposing
that a fox had made off with some of our geese, a trick Mr. Reynard had
played us before. But the sight I beheld drove me to complete Pagel’s
morning prayer in fluent Swedish. The broad strip of beach where we
had landed had disappeared, innumerable small icefloes floated round
almost to our tent; our boat was gone--on the spot where it had been
left a small, deep blue iceberg was aground. Where was the boat? What
had happened? How were we to reach human habitations again? These
questions whirled through my brain at the very first moment. To two of
them there was no answer--what about the last? The future looked dark
enough--a march of four or five days across the unknown Alps north of
the lake was not a very encouraging prospect. But we had good luck.
We found the boat 800 yards further down, stuck fast between two
huge blocks. And later we learnt the explanation of the catastrophe.
In front of the glacier was a barrier about three miles long and one
and a half broad; large icebergs were piled on each other, and the
interstices were filled up with smaller pieces of ice. It looked
like a field of screw-ice in the Arctic sea. We understood that the
glacier had discharged all this ice during the night; it dammed up the
inlet, making the water in the narrow place rise nearly fourteen feet.
Gradually it recovered its usual level. The gigantic glacier with the
ice-barrier presented a splendid sight. I have called it the Upsala
Glacier; it is the largest I have seen in Patagonia, the front wall
attaining a length of not less than eight or nine miles. The wall was
a hundred feet high, more or less. On the flanks magnificent granite
mountains rose; in the background there was a marked depression, for
‘Ventisquero Upsala’ comes directly from the inland ice. During an
excursion on foot up in a side valley I gained my northernmost point.
With regret I had to go back and commence my return journey. The boat
being heavier than ever, we had an adventurous run through Hell Gate.
Pagels ran before the wind as far as he could, and I had my hands full
baling with my hat, the most capacious baler I could find.”
After two days Quensel was back in Cattle’s farm, and from there
went to Ultima Esperanza, whence he made a trip to the Balmaceda
Channel. His arrival in Punta Arenas, where he joined the rest of the
expedition, has already been related.