ACROSS THE CONTINENT TO MENDOZA UNDER THE ANDES
The Buenos Aires and Pacific line across the continent from the
Argentine capital to Valparaiso is a magnificent achievement in railway
enterprise. Perhaps at no great distance of time the Pan-American
railway will be completed and the traveller will be able to take the
train at New York for Valparaiso and so to Buenos Aires, but as yet that
line consists chiefly of missing links, and the Buenos Aires and Pacific
Railway Company (which, curiously enough, happens to be English, not
German), is the first in South America to join the oceans. To Mendoza
the journey is easy and pleasant. The train leaves the Retiro station at
Buenos Aires at 8 a.m. and reaches Mendoza early the next morning at
about 5 a.m. The trains are extremely comfortable; the carriages are on
the American plan and restaurant cars are attached; a reasonable amount
of luggage is allowed. Only first and second (we should less logically
say first and third) carriages are in use and the fares are high. They
will doubtless be lowered when traffic increases; at present only three
through trains are run a week. Compared with English trains they are not
fast, but they are faster than the average of those of Continental
Europe. Altogether the Buenos Aires and Pacific is a very fine line and
under extremely efficient management.
The journey affords no feature of natural interest, for the country,
covered with maize or grass, is extremely flat, but it is pleasant to
see the evidences of wealth--noble cattle grazing in the fields, great
flocks of sheep, and the heavy crops of grain. The general air of
prosperity is the more pleasing to one who has recently passed through
Brazil and seen there every sign of wretchedness. There are few towns
of importance on the route; indeed, such as there are owe their
consequence chiefly to the railway. This is the case with Mercedes,
which was founded in 1856 as an outpost against the Indians, and their
depredations were for a long time a bar to its prosperity. It is now a
great railway junction. San Luis was a small village in 1788, and
although it is now the capital of the Province, it has had an
unfortunate history. Its sons fought valiantly for the independence of
Chile and Peru, but during the civil wars, which were the result of
the Rosas tyranny, its sufferings were far greater. Up till recently
the female population far exceeded the male, and it was one of the
poorest cities in Argentina. The situation is excellent; the town
stands high with views of the snow-peaks of the Andes, and the country
round about is well wooded. It may one day be a place of remarkable
prosperity.
The train reaches Mendoza at an unconscionably early hour, and the
cold and gloom prevent the formation of any impression about the
beauties of the garden city. For South America, the Province and city
of Mendoza are extremely ancient. It was in 1559 that Garcia de
Mendoza, the Governor of Chile, sent Pedro Castillo with a small force
to annex the district of Cuyo. This included not only Mendoza, but
also the Provinces of San Juan and San Luis, and for more than two
centuries it formed part of Chile, but the famous Decree of 1776
transferred it to the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires. During the
Revolution it was divided into three provinces. Mendoza, the town,
which is as old as the Province, was in the early part of the
nineteenth century a beautiful place, extremely prosperous, and its
_dolce far niente_ won the hearts of all who visited it.[140] But it
was destroyed by one of the most terrible and devastating catastrophes
that ever visited a community. It was the evening of Ash Wednesday,
March 20, 1861, and the whole of Mendoza was at church. Suddenly a
rumbling noise was heard, and in a moment the city was razed to the
ground and thirteen thousand people destroyed. Barely two thousand
escaped. One of the survivors was a gentleman named Don Jaime
Albarracin, who has given a vivid account of the affair.[141] He tells
how the weather had been sultry for some days. His family had gone to
church and he was sitting at the window of his house talking to M.
Bravard, the well-known French geologist, whose researches had led him
to predict the destruction of Mendoza by earthquake. Don Jaime heard a
crash and immediately found himself buried under the ruins of his
house with a broken leg. Fires had broken out and raged all night
within a short distance of him. All day long he remained there and for
another night. "The horror of my situation was increased by a dreadful
thirst; the very air I breathed was thick with dust and smoke. It
seemed an interminable night. The second day I heard voices, and
summoning all my strength, called out loudly for assistance. All was
again silent for a couple of hours, till the afternoon, when I woke
from a short sleep to hear footsteps quite close to me. The first man
who approached me replied with a coarse insult when I begged him to
lift the beam under which I lay. His comrades were no less inhuman,
for they were one of the numerous gangs of banditti attracted like
birds of prey to the scene of disaster. They had seen the flames afar
off on the pampas, and came in scent of booty." Yet another night was
passed, but on the following day he bribed a robber with his gold
watch to lift him out of the debris, and finally he was taken to a
hut. The fires continued to rage and they were followed by an
unbearable smell from the decomposing carcases, and the survivors had
to be carried away to farmhouses. The Governor perished, as also did
the French scientist who made the all too accurate prediction. "So
complete was the destruction, that when a new Governor was appointed a
year later, and the site marked out for reconstruction, the Government
could find no heirs or claimants on behalf of three-fourths of the
families of the old city." The only vestige of old Mendoza that
remains is the pillars of the Cathedral, to which is affixed the
following tablet: "Ruinas del templo de San Augustin destruido por el
terremoto del 20 de Marzo de 1861."
[Illustration: RIVER MENDOZA.]
The people of Mendoza are still very nervous about earthquake shocks,
which occur frequently, but there has been nothing serious since
1861.
It is for this reason that the new Mendoza was laid out with very wide
streets and roomy squares and almost all the houses were built of
wood. This spaciousness adds greatly to the attractiveness of the town
and is a great relief after Buenos Aires. The town, thus covering a
large area, appears to be more considerable than it in reality is, but
it is rapidly growing, and its forty thousand population will probably
soon be doubled. Land in the outskirts is rapidly rising in value, and
great credit is due to the State of Mendoza, which is planning the
extensions on a very handsome scale. At the west end a large park and
zoological gardens are being made, and at sunset there is a beautiful
prospect from their pleasant walks, which seem to be under the very
shadow of the Andes. Their grim and jagged forms appear to be within
an easy walk. But Mendoza itself is like a large park; conduits of
clear water run on each side of the streets and their banks are lined
with trees. The principal street, the Calle San Martin, is quite as
rustic as the others, and it contains nearly all the shops which are
large and good for a provincial town. There is an excellent English
Club with a large membership, and as the climate of Mendoza is
genial, the town is by no means a bad place of residence. The chief
peculiarity of the climate is the almost complete absence of rain.
Mendoza stands at an elevation of nearly 3,000 feet above the level of
the sea, and is thus, as might have been expected, temperate. The
thermometer rarely touches freezing-point, and seldom or never 100°
F., but the rainfall is only a few inches yearly, and this rich
district is entirely dependent for its fertility on irrigation. In the
industrial chapters something is said about the wine-growing at
Mendoza. Here it will be sufficient merely to mention the system which
covers the uplands with vine and grain--an ancient system which was
bequeathed to the present inhabitants by the Guarpes, the peaceful and
industrious people who lived here before the Spaniards came. The
Zanjon Canal passes from the river Mendoza, near Luxan, traverses
through the city and joins the Tunuyan River, which in turn is united
by another canal to the Desaguadero River, far away to the east. The
canals and their branches are 1,100 miles in length, and they are said
to irrigate a quarter of the Province. Much fruit is raised, also
tobacco, and in 1835 the mulberry was introduced, so the silk industry
flourishes. As far as its fruit and streams are concerned, Mendoza
may compare with Damascus, and in every respect is the only Argentine
city, except Cordoba, which possesses any old-world charm. It is an
old Spanish City, and the people have the leisurely ways and open-air
habits of their forefathers. From the nature of the case it cannot
possess fine buildings, because, in case of another earthquake, the
inhabitants desire light houses that will either resist the shock, or,
if they fall, do the minimum of damage. But the Cathedral, though plain,
is an imposing edifice, and it attracts very large congregations of men
as well as women. The people of Mendoza are intensely religious. In
Spanish towns the charms of the streets are quadrupled on Sundays and
Holy Days, for they are full of pretty women in mantillas hurrying to
church. Why the ladies do not always give this beautiful headdress
preference over ugly imported hats is a mystery to the masculine mind.
Adjacent is the Province of San Juan, and the little capital of the
same name is at no great distance and is reached by a railway. Founded
by the same Pedro Castillo in 1561, it has few features of interest,
but it has a considerable trade and very good wine is manufactured at
or near it. A considerable part of the Province is a desert, but
fortunately it possesses a useful river, the San Juan, by which parts
are irrigated, and this work will doubtless be extended. According to
trustworthy figures, the population of this Province decreased from
91,000 in 1883 to 84,251 in 1895. This was doubtless due to the
commercial catastrophes of the early nineties.
More interesting is the quiet little town of San Rafael to the south.
It is the capital of a department of that name and is connected by
rail with Mendoza. In the early days of Rosas it was an important
frontier post. Population, owing to Indian wars and the undeveloped
nature of the country, increased but slowly, the figures for the whole
department being 1,000 in 1857 and 2,000 in 1883. San Rafael is now a
flourishing little town, and its prosperity is assisted by industrious
French settlers. The French language is to be heard almost as often as
Spanish in its streets.
When the traveller has exhausted the attractions of Mendoza and the
neighbourhood he will probably wish to pursue his way along the
Transandine Railway into Chile. As the start is made very early in the
morning his first near view of the Andes will be made under favourable
circumstances, for the rising sun will flush them with a glorious
crimson.
"Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye."
But the general scenery of the Mendoza Andes is most disappointing. In
autumn, at least, even the mighty Aconcagua shows very little snow,
and in general the mountains are perfectly bare with the straightest
of contours. Their size is their only attraction. In the Province of
Mendoza alone the following huge mountains are to be found:--
Aconcagua 22,450 feet
Tupungato 22,140 "
San Jose 20,130 "
Iglesia 18,000 "
Cruz de Piedra 17,230 "
San Francisco 17,100 "
Nothing can be more desolate than the appearance of these unlovely
monsters. In some places there is enough coarse herbage to afford
scanty grazing for ponies, but there is literally nothing else, not a
tree, not a blade of real grass, and all forage and supplies of every
kind have to be brought up by rail. The valley up which the railway
goes is redeemed to some extent by the river Mendoza, which rushes
down crystal or foaming, but those who are accustomed to the green
forests and boundless snows and rugged precipices of old-world
mountains, will say, "The old is better."
At Mendoza it was necessary to change carriages and enter the
narrow-gauge train. The locomotive is a modest affair compared with
the great trains which climb to much greater heights in the Peruvian
Andes, but the gradients are very steep and sometimes the rack and
pinion have to be used. After a run of eight or ten hours the famous
Puente del Inca is reached.
[Illustration: THE HOTEL, PUENTE DEL INCA.]
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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: STATUE OF CHRIST.]
FOOTNOTES:
[140] "If a man could but bear an indolent life, there can be no spot
upon earth where he might be more indolent and more independent than
at Mendoza, for he might sleep all day, and eat ices in the evening,
until his hour-glass was out. Provisions are cheap, and the people who
bring them quiet and civil; the climate is exhausting, and the whole
population indolent" (Head, "Rough Notes," pp. 70, 71).
[141] See Mrs. Mulhall's "Between the Amazon and Andes," pp. 127-31.
[142] "When one hears of a natural bridge, one pictures to oneself
some deep and narrow ravine, across which a bold mass of rock has
fallen; or a great arch hollowed out like the vault of a cavern.
Instead of this, the Inca's Bridge consists of a crust of stratified
shingle, cemented together by the deposits of the neighbouring
hot-springs. It appears as if the stream had scooped out a channel on
one side, leaving an overhanging ledge, which was met by earth and
stones falling down from the opposite cliff. Certainly an oblique
junction, as would happen in such a case, was very distinct on one
side. The Bridge of the Incas is by no means worthy of the great
monarchs whose name it bears" (Darwin, "Voyage of the _Beagle_," chap.
xv.).