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FHE HIGHEST ANDES

E.A.

THE HIGHEST ANDES

I THE

HIGHEST ANDES

A RECORD OF THE FIRST ASCENT
OF ACONCAGUA AND TUPUNGATO IN
ARGENTINA, AND THE EXPLORATION

OF THE SURROUNDING VALLEYS

I VV ^

E. A. FITZ GERALD

AUTHOR OF "CLIMBS IN THE NEW ZEALAND ALPS

WITH CHAPTERS BY

STUART VINES, M.A., F.R.G.S.

AND CONTRIBUTIONS BY

PROFESSOR BONNEY, D.Sc., LL.D., F.R.S., G. C. CRICK, F.G.S.

R. I. POCOCK, G. A. BOULENGER, F.R.S.

I. H. BURKILL, PHILIP GOSSE

WITH TWO MAPS BY A. E. LIGHTBODY, A.M.I.C.E., F.R.G.S.,
FIFTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS, AND A PANORAMA

METHUEN & CO.

36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.

LONDON

1899

ton

J »*s., M

TO MY MOTHER

PREFACE

THIS book is the outcome of seven months' work by
myself and my colleagues, Mr. Stuart Vines, Mr. Arthur
Lightbody, and Mr. Philip Gosse, in the Andes of Argentina.
My expedition had for its object primarily the triangulation
of the country immediately surrounding the peak of
Aconcagua, America's highest mountain ; and secondly, the
scaling of the great peak itself, which had up to that time
defied the efforts of all who had attempted to gain its summit.
The success that we met with was due to the unflagging help
and splendid efforts of my companions, who in the face of
many difficulties and hardships assisted me with unfailing
cheerfulness and great courage. The delay in the appearance
of this narrative is owing to a severe attack of typhoid fever
as I was about to leave South America. No sooner did I
become convalescent than my friend Mr. Vines was stricken
by the same malady, with the result that it was not till
January 1898 that we reached England.

The genesis of the expedition and the history of Aconcagua
are set forth in the first chapter. It may be of interest, how-
ever, to reproduce here a short passage written in 1876 by
the late Mr. T. W. Hinchliff, an ardent mountaineer of the
early days of the Alpine Club, upon the prospect of an ascent
of Aconcagua and Tupungato. He wrote : —

" Lover of mountains as I am, and familiar with
such summits as those of Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa,
and other Alpine heights, I could not repress a strange
feeling as I looked at Tupungato and Aconcagua, and
reflected that endless successions of men must in all
probability be for ever debarred from their lofty crests.
When we used to look at the highest peaks anji passes
of the Alps the only question which suggested itself was
'Which is the best way to get there?' In the presence

viii PREFACE

of the huge peaks of the Andes I could but think of the
great probability that no one would ever get to them at
all. There they reposed in divine dignity, too great
for mortal approach, and suggesting the abodes where
the gods of Epicurus * sit careless of mankind,' and care-
less of the tremendous calamities dealt out to men by the
fires concealed beneath the feet of these glorified
monsters. The Alps have been conquered, and Mont
Blanc has been obliged to bow down to the monarchs of
the Caucasus ; but Nature proclaims the existence of an
impassable limit somewhere, and the latest conquerors of
even Elbruz and Kasbek have been compelled to admit
the effects of the rarefaction of the air. Those who, like
Major Godwin Austen, have had all the advantages of
experience and acclimatisation to aid them in attacks
upon the higher Himalayas, agree that 21,500 feet is
near the limit at which man ceases to be capable of the
slightest further exertion. Even this has only been
attained by halting after a very few steps and lying down
exhausted in the snow. Mr. Simpson, whose pictures of
Himalayan scenery are so well known, tells me that he
and his party suffered severely in crossing the famous
Purung Pass, which is 19,000 feet above the sea;
and that some of the natives from the plains declared
they were not only dying but dead ! None could
advance without more and more frequent halts. There
is reason to believe that from some climatal reason this
difficulty of breathing, called puna in South America, is
experienced with greater severity in the Andes than in
other great ranges. When Mr. Darwin crossed the
Portillo Pass to Mendoza at the height of 13,000 or
14,000 feet, he found that 'the exertion of walking was
extremely great, and the respiration became deep and
laborious.' With their 9000 or 10,000 feet above this,
Aconcagua and Tupungato may probably defy intrusion
unless through the medium of a balloon." *

Such opinions are familiar to all climbers. The impossi-
bilities to one generation of Alpinists become the achieve-
ments of the next ; and so, doubtless, it will continue to be
until the summit of the Himalayas themselves is scaled, and
the breaking of mountaineering records ceases for ever.

1 Over the Sea and Far Away, p. 90.

PREFACE ix

One other matter that may be noticed here is the attempt
that was made to climb Aconcagua while I was in South
America. For a long time the members of the German
Turnverein (or Athletic Club) of Santiago had cherished the
idea of ascending Aconcagua, and thus completing the work
begun by Dr. Giissfeldt, their countryman. During several
successive years they made ascents in the Andes in order to
gain experience and training. Maipo was climbed by them
for the second time, as well as a peak to which the name of
Bismarck was given, and the still higher summit of Plomo,
18,964 feet above the sea. When we arrived in South
America in the autumn of 1896 the members of the Club
were already contemplating an attack on Aconcagua, January
1898 having been provisionally fixed for the attempt. I was
as unaware of these preparations as the members of the Club
apparently were of mine, although the fact that I was organ-
ising an expedition to Aconcagua had been made known in
the Press a year before we left England. Our arrival in
South America, however, took the Club by surprise, and
seemed to threaten the destruction of their plans and hopes.
Nevertheless, in friendly rivalry which I gladly recognise, the
members of the Turnverein gallantly resolved to attempt the
ascent of Aconcagua that season, and after hurried prepara-
tions they left Santiago on January 9. The gentlemen who
took part in the expedition were Messrs. Robert and Emil
Conrad, Karl Greibel, Adolf Moser, Harold Wolff, and
Gustav Brant, all members of the German colony in Chile.
The route which they followed from point to point was that
already explored by Dr. Giissfeldt through the Valle
Hermoso and the Canon del Volcan. Their base camp
was pitched on the very spot where Dr. Giissfeldt's had
stood fourteen years before. The whole mass of the
mountain interposed between their camp and our own, and
each expedition remained completely in ignorance of the
movements of the other. Aconcagua was thus being
attacked simultaneously from opposite sides, and neither
party could tell what success the other had met with. On
January i6th the Germans crossed the great ridge which
Dr. Giissfeldt had called the Sierra del Penitente, and spent

x PREFACE

that night at the base of the mountain. Their ascent began
on the 1 7th, three days after the summit had been actually
reached by my guide Mattias Zurbriggen. The climb so far
offered few difficulties, and towards evening they reached a
height of about 19,000 feet, when they saw two men
approaching along the side of the mountain. These were
my porters Pollinger and Lanti, whose meeting with the
Germans is described elsewhere. From them the party re-
ceived the news of Zurbriggen's ascent to the summit. That
night they reached an elevation of 20,670 feet, where they
were compelled to stop, as the feeble moonlight was in-
sufficient to light them over the rocky ground in front.
They bivouacked as well as circumstances permitted, and
passed an exceedingly trying night. The thermometer sank
to 1 2° cent, below freezing, and they had no covering what-
ever except a few shawls.

On the morning of the i8th the Germans reached their
highest point, which they estimated to be at an altitude of
21,326 feet. They were now suffering from exhaustion and
mountain sickness, and a mist suddenly enveloped them, so
dense that although only a few yards apart they could scarcely
see one another. The weather became more and more
threatening, and it was absolutely necessary to turn back.
They spent that night on the Sierra del Penitente, and
descended into the Canon del Volcan next morning. For
some days they hoped that a change in the weather might
allow them to make a second attempt, but it continued to
rain, and thick clouds surrounded Aconcagua. On the 2ist
they abandoned the enterprise.

I have to express my sense of deep obligation to Professor
Bonney, D.Sc., LL.D., F.R.S., Mr. G. C. Crick, F.G.S.,
Mr. R. I. Pocock, Mr. G. A. Boulenger, F.R.S., and Mr.
I. H. Burkill for their invaluable technical contributions to
this volume ; and to thank my friend Mr. Henry Norman
for his help in preparing my proofs for the press.

EDW. A. FITZ GERALD
SAVILE CLUB, LONDON,
September 1899

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGE

INTRODUCTORY , ..... I

CHAPTER II

TO MENDOZA AND VACAS .... -15

CHAPTER III

GENERAL ASPECTS OF THE ANDES ... .29

CHAPTER IV

UP THE VACAS VALLEY ....... 38

CHAPTER V

FIRST ATTEMPT ON ACONCAGUA . . . . . -45

CHAPTER VI

THE ATTACK RENEWED ........ 59

CHAPTER VII

THE ASCENT ACCOMPLISHED ....... 72

CHAPTER VIII

BEATEN BACK BY SNOW AND COLD . . . . . .84

CHAPTER IX

FURTHER ATTEMPTS ON ACONCAGUA . " .' V / , -94

CHAPTER X

THE SECOND ASCENT OF ACONCAGUA. . . . . .105

xii CONTENTS

CHAPTER XI

PAGE

TWENTY-THREE THOUSAND FEET ABOVE THE SEA . . Il8

CHAPTER XII

A TRIP TO CHILE ........ 127

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE CATEDRAL . . . . -133

CHAPTER XIV

WORK IN THE HORCONES VALLEY . . . . . .146

CHAPTER XV

HEADING FOR TUPUNGATO . . -. . . . -153

CHAPTER XVI

THE FIRST ATTACK ON TUPUNGATO . . . . . . 1 66

CHAPTER XVII

MORE ATTEMPTS ON TUPUNGATO . . . . . -175

CHAPTER XVIII

TUPUNGATO ASCENDED . . . . . . . .190

CHAPTER XIX

THE SUMMIT AND THE DESCENT ...... 203

CHAPTER XX

THE LAST OF ACONCAGUA ....... 22O

CHAPTER XXI

A LOST VOLCANO . * .. > . . .. . . 228

CHAPTER XXII

THE HORCONES VALLEY IN WINTER . . . . . .241

CHAPTER XXIII

THE POSADA AT INCA ........ 2$8

CONTENTS xiii

CHAPTER XXIV

PACE

THE PASS IN WINTER ..... .267

CHAPTER XXV
LIGHTBODY'S CROSSING OF THE ANDES . . . . .281

CHAPTER XXVI

WE LEAVE THE ANDES ...... . 289

CHAPTER XXVII

CONCLUSION ......... 298

APPENDIX A

NOTES ON ROCK SPECIMENS COLLECTED IN THE CHILIAN ANDES BY

MR. FITZ GERALD'S EXPEDITION . . . . . 311

APPENDIX B

NOTES ON THE FOSSILS FROM THE CHILIAN ANDES COLLECTED BY MR.

FITZ GERALD'S EXPEDITION . . . . . -333

APPENDIX C

NOTES ON THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE ACONCAGUA VALLEYS . . 338

APPENDIX D

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE BETWEEN CHILE AND THE ARGENTINE

REPUBLIC ......... 377

INDEX .......... 385

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE AUTHOR

ACONCAGUA FROM HORCONES LAKE .
THE TRANSANDINE PASS ROAD
THE POSADA, LAS VACAS
ACONCAGUA FROM HORCONES VALLEY
AT THE HEAD OF THE VACAS VALLEY
LOOKING DOWN THE VACAS VALLEY
ACONCAGUA FROM VACAS VALLEY

HORCONES LAKE LOOKING TOWARDS
CUEVAS VALLEY

THE HORCONES VALLEY

LOOKING DOWN HORCONES VALLEY
FROM GLACIER

SADDLE ON WHICH THE 1 8,700 FOOT
CAMP WAS SITUATED

OUR HIGHEST CAMP ON ACONCAGUA
(18,700 FT.)

THE SUMMIT OF ACONCAGUA .
THE PASO MALO

THE CAULDRON ....
SERACS OF THE HORCONES GLACIER

ACONCAGUA FROM THE PENITENTES.
Telephoto View

ON THE HORCONES GLACIER

A TRIGONOMETRICAL STATION, NO. 8

THE CUERNO ..... „

K3 CAMP, HORCONES VALLEY (l 1,821 FT.) . THE AUTHOR

TUPUNGATO THIRTY MILES AWAY. Tele-
photo View . . . .

THE GREAT TUPUNGATO VALLEY '" V
THE BASE CAMP, TUPUNGATO

PHOTOGRAPHED BY FACING PAGE

A. E. LIGHTBODY Frontispiece

THE AUTHOR . . 30

A. E. LIGHTBODY . . 38

40
43

49
52

A. E. LIGHTBODY

THE AUTHOR

A. E. LIGHTBODY

STUART VINES

53
57

76
91

104

114

120
131

143
152

157
I58
I67

XVI

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

N1EVE PENITENTE ON TUPUNGATO .
TUPUNGATO FROM THE EAST
THE WATER-PARTING BETWEEN CHILE
AND ARGENTINA, FROM TUPUNGATO

POLLERA FROM THE TUPUNGATO VALLEY .
IN THE TUPUNGATO VALLEY .
VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT OF TUPUNGATO,
ACONCAGUA IN THE DISTANCE .

UNDER THE SOUTHERN PRECIPICE OF
ACONCAGUA, LOOKING SOUTH

GREAT PRECIPICE ON ACONCAGUA
STRIKING CAMP IN HORCONES VALLEY
SNOW PEAKS ON THE BOUNDARY
THE TWIN PEAKS FROM THE PENITENTES .
DIGGING OUT OUR BASE CAMP NEAR INCA .
MULES ON THE CUMBRE PASS IN SUMMER .
A WINTER SCENE NEAR CUEVAS
THE INCA LAKE AND PORTILLO
THE INCA VALLEY IN WINTER
LIGHTBODY'S CAMP IN TUPUNGATO VALLEY .
TORLOSA FROM LAS VACAS. Telephoto View.

THE IGLESIA OR PENITENTES .
INCA CUTTINGS ON A ROCK .
PANORAMA FROM SUMMIT OF PENITENTES .

LIOL^EMUS FITZ GERALDI
NEW ANDEAN ARACHNIDA
VIOLA SEMPERVIVUM .
CALYCERA VIRIDIFLORA
AC,ENA L.EVIGATA
BLUMENBACHIA CORONATA
ANEMONE MAJOR

PHOTOGRAPHED BY

STUART VINES

A. E. LIGHTBODY .

STUART VINES

A. E. LIGHTBODY .

THE AUTHOR

A. E. LIGHTBODY .

FACING PAGE
. 174

. 1 86

. 197
. 207
. 217

. 218

222
224

. 226
240

. 252
. 260
. 267
. 282
. 285
. 291
. 298

• 301
. 302

304

• 308

SKETCH MAP SHOWING ROUTES
MAP OF ACONCAGUA AND DISTRICT

354

Facing Page 360
Page 362

» 364

v 365

» 366
» 368

. End
End

THE HIGHEST ANDES

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

WHEN travelling in a remote part of the Tyrol, some
years ago, I met an Austrian climber at the little
inn where we were stopping. That evening, around a big
log-fire, we talked long of the Alpine work we had been
doing, and conversation turned to the Andes of South
America. He had climbed there and had many surprising
adventures, and these he narrated to me : how he had set out
to climb and explore in the Cordilleras and those regions in
Argentina that surround the great mountain Aconcagua —
the highest peak of the two Americas ; how he had then
gone over into Chile, and been stopped by the insurgents,
and forced to join their ranks and fight against the dictator,
Balmaceda. These exciting narratives of experiences around
the great mountains and in troubled times, made a vivid
impression upon my mind. His stories of the vastness of
the ranges and the beauty of the scenery left a lasting
impression on me — so much so, indeed, that I then and
there resolved to try my luck on this great mountain, as soon
as a favourable opportunity should arise. To climb the
giant peak of the Andes, that had so long defied the attempts
of all who had tried to conquer its virgin snows, became
henceforth one of the ambitions of my life.

At that moment I was planning an expedition to New
Zealand, which I determined to carry out before I tried my
hand in South America. I realised already that any attack
made upon these ranges would be most difficult, and I wished

2 THE HIGHEST ANDES

to gain more experience in foreign travel before I set out on
such a task. With these ideas in view I started for New
Zealand a few months later, and my thoughts were fully
occupied by my climbs out there. On my return to England,
a year after, I found myself in the midst of the work of
publishing my book on the New Zealand Alps, a task to me
far more terrible and difficult than the climbing of the ragged
cliffs of Mt. Sefton. It was, therefore, not until the spring
of 1896 that my thoughts turned towards the highest Andes.
The great peak of Aconcagua naturally presents a most
attractive field for the climber and explorer, partly because it
is the highest mountain in the world outside the great ranges
of Asia, and partly because it is a prominent feature seen
from the coast, its lofty summit being visible thirty leagues
inland from the harbour of Valparaiso. The spring and
summer of 1896 I spent organising an expedition to these
regions. I obtained the assistance and co-operation of Mr.
Stuart Vines, Mr. de Trafford, and Mr. Philip Gosse, grand-
son of Philip Gosse, the well-known naturalist. My old
guide, Mattias Zurbriggen, was to go with us, — he who
accompanied me on my expedition to New Zealand, — and we
secured five porters from Switzerland and Italy, by name the
brothers Joseph and Louis Pollinger, Lochmatter, Nicola
Lanti, and Fritz Weibel. Before starting, in order to make
experiments in camping at high altitudes, we went to
Switzerland, with the intention of camping as high up as
possible upon the Dom, the highest mountain there. I also
wanted to make the members of our expedition acquainted
with heliography and flag-signalling. I had suffered so much
in New Zealand from having to come down from high camps
a whole day's journey for some small item forgotten, that I
thought this method of communication from high camps to
base camps would be invaluable to us. We spent this time
in Switzerland in camping-out, testing our instruments and con-
densed provisions, and learning these methods of communica-
tion. Owing to remarkably bad weather, however, — the worst
known for many years, — we were unable to do much, and
only succeeded in pushing our camps some 13,000 feet up

EQUIPMENT 3

on the Hohberg Glacier. Here Vines and I spent a night in
a storm, which, at the time, we thought unpleasant, but it
was hardly even a suggestion of what we were to suffer later
on in the Andes through wind and snow. Looking back
upon it, I cannot but smile when I think what child's play
it was in comparison to our 19,000 Foot Camp in a storm on
Aconcagua. We were at least able to breathe comfortably,
and were in excellent health and spirits, and that, in itself,
means everything.

On returning to London we were busy packing the
innumerable objects which constitute the equipment of a
large party going to a country where little can be procured.
One of the most difficult problems is what food to take, in order
to combine lightness and variety, and at the same time to
select those foods which give the greatest strength and
health. The experiences of Dr. Nansen in equipment were
exceedingly useful to us in many ways, but then a mountain
expedition has to take into account great heat as well as
Arctic cold. If has often occurred to me that Antarctic
explorers must find their conditions very strange and unsuit-
able when they have to cross the Equator in a ship fitted
out for the Polar regions. It is the contradictory nature of
these demands that sets the mountain explorer so hard a
problem. The various forms of surveying instruments,
barometers, thermometers, aneroids, etc., are also a great
question in such work. From what I had learned of the
country from books, I gathered that most things could be
carried on muleback. I therefore did not sacrifice every-
thing for lightness, except so far as the equipment for the
final climbs was concerned. Our surveying outfit consisted
of 6-inch and 3-inch theodolites, and a sextant. When
we were in the Andes, we had at work two 6-inch theodo-
lites, one 5-inch, one 3-inch, a sextant, and a telemeter
gradient level. These, with mercurial barometers, aneroids,
and boiling-point thermometers, completed our surveying
equipment. For food we provided ourselves with large
quantities of the Bovril Blue and Red Ration, their dessicated
vegetables, and their cocoa-and-milk, all of which we found

4 THE HIGHEST ANDES

excellent ; also Brand's extracts of meat. For biscuits we
took Kola, and a large supply of Garibaldi and cabin biscuits,
which took the place of bread with us, thus saving us the
labour of baking. Of photographic material we had an
ample supply. Twenty pack-saddles were made for us, a
large quantity of tents, and some eighty wicker panniers
lined with macintosh, covered with Willesden canvas, and
furnished with straps and hooks, two of them forming a light
mule-load. For the clothing of the party we used, of course,
wool, and our mountain clothes were made from Scotch
homespun, covered with Burberry gabardine, which proved
excellent for resisting wear and tear in rough work. Large
quantities of woollen blankets and sleeping-bags formed an
essential part of the equipment, but for the higher camps,
where the cold would be intense, and weight a great draw-
back, we chose eider-down sleeping-bags covered with silk.
These were exceedingly warm, and did not weigh four
pounds. When all these things were collected, they filled
no fewer than a hundred large crates, weighing in all nearly
eight tons. Looking back upon it, I think we might have
reduced the quantity of food that we took out ; but going into
a virtually unknown country, it is wise to err upon the side
of more provisions than may be necessary, as one can never
count beforehand upon the exact resources that will be at
one's disposal. At the end of our work we had more than
five or six hundredweight left over.

Of course before starting we made ourselves conversant
with the literature of the subject. A great deal has been
written on travel in the Andes, but with the single exception
of Dr. Gtissfeldt's interesting work, narrating his own plucky
but unsuccessful attempt, there was nothing that dealt
directly with Aconcagua. The passes and valleys near its
base had been frequently described by travellers ; but except
Giissfeldt no one had actually attempted the great mountain
itself. My intention was to approach Aconcagua through
the Argentine, and by way of the Mendoza Valley, through
which runs a well-known pass road that eventually crosses
the Andes by a ridge known as the Cumbre, and descends

OUR PREDECESSORS IN THE ANDES 5

into Chile on the western side. This route, sometimes known
as the Uspallata Pass, runs comparatively near to the base of
Aconcagua, and is one of the best known ways over the
Andes from one Republic to the other. Very many books
have been written by travellers who have used it. One of
the first scientific explorers to cross by the Cumbre was
Darwin, and the chapter in the Cruise of the Beagle, in
which his expedition is described, remains an important part
of the literature of the Andes. The great naturalist landed
at Valparaiso in March 1835, and after crossing to Mendoza
by the Portillo Pass, which lies farther to the south, he
made his way back into Chile by the Cumbre. He did
not actually leave the frequented track known to thousands
of passengers, but nevertheless his observations on the nature
of the country, especially its geology, are still of the greatest
value. In 1849-52 an American party, the " U.S. Naval
Astronomical Expedition to the Southern Hemisphere," made
the explorations which have been described by Gilliss, its
chief. Stelzner, in the course of his prolonged geological
explorations in South America, crossed the Andes by a more
difficult route farther to the north, and recrossed on his
return by the Cumbre and the Mendoza Valley.

With regard, therefore, to the frequented ways where
travellers are led over the Andes by Chilian or Argentine
guides, little remained to be seen that had not often been
described before. The labours of the men I have named,
and of others such as Pissis and Stiibel, had been mainly in
the direction of geology. Mountaineers had seldom thought
of approaching the southern Cordilleras, and much of the
ground there remains even yet virgin soil. Not that the
Andes had never been climbed at any point, for they had
often been successfully attacked ; but with wonderful
unanimity the mountaineers had passed by the southern
Andes and had concentrated their energies upon the peaks
in Ecuador, far to the north. Alexander von Humboldt set
the example as long ago as 1802, when he made the first
attempt to climb Chimborazo, and attained, as he believed,
the height of over 19,000 feet, although the figures are

6 THE HIGHEST ANDES

thought to be open to doubt. Humboldt's attempt, and his
frequent references to Chimborazo in his works, made the
mountain one of the most celebrated in the world. It was
long believed to be the highest in South America, and indeed
the highest on earth, until the Himalayas began to be known.1
Attention having thus been drawn to the Ecuadorian Andes,
travellers turned eagerly in that direction. Another attempt
on Chimborazo was made in 1831 by Boussingault, but the
summit was reached for the first time on 4th January 1880,
when Edward Whymper made his memorable ascent. Along
with two Piedmontese guides whom he had taken out, he
established a series of camps, one at 14,375, one at 16,624,
and one at 17,285 feet. All three suffered from mountain
sickness, and one of the guides had his feet badly frost-bitten.
On the crest of the mountain they had to struggle through
great fields of soft snow, in which it was necessary to beat
down a path at every step they took. In spite, however, of
all difficulties, Whymper reached the summit at 20,498 feet —
the highest point attained by any climber up to that date. In
July he made a second ascent of Chimborazo. Whymper
also climbed Antisana, Cayambe, Sara-urcu, and Cotocachi,
and made a remarkable ascent of the great volcano, Cotopaxi,
where he encamped and spent the night on the summit close
to the crater. Cotopaxi, which has an altitude of 19,613
feet, had already been ascended. The first to reach its
summit was Dr. Reiss, who made the climb successfully in
November 1872. After him came Stiibel in 1873, Wolf in
1877, Freiherr Max von Thielmann in 1878. Whymper en-
camped near the top of Cotopaxi not only to get a view of the
crater by night, but also to test the effects of the rarefied air
at so high an elevation. During the twenty-six hours they
spent on the summit, neither he himself nor his guides
experienced any serious symptoms of mountain sickness.
He had chosen the volcano for this experiment in order to
eliminate the effects of cold, — the ground under their tent
being so warm that it almost melted the india-rubber covering,
— and thus to discover the influence of the rarefied air alone,

1 Humboldt, Aspects oj 'Nature, vol. i. p. 96.

GUSSFELDT'S WORK 7

without other elements of hardship to aid it in lowering the
vital powers.

The experiences of Whymper on this expedition could
not but be of immense value to anyone contemplating an
ascent in the Andes. But in the territory which I had chosen
for myself Glissfeldt was my only predecessor. Disregarding
the tradition which had led previous explorers in South
America to turn their attention first towards the Andes of
Ecuador, he set out from Europe with the intention of
scaling the virgin mountains of the southern Cordillera.
Although in his attempt on Aconcagua he failed to reach the
summit, it is impossible to speak with too great admiration
of the work he performed upon the mountain itself and in
the valleys beside it, under exceedingly difficult and trying
conditions.

Dr. Glissfeldt made his expedition practically alone.
Even the guide he had taken out from Switzerland failed
him. This guide had been specially chosen for his skill and
knowledge, and had himself volunteered for the journey for
South America, after a series of climbs in the Dauphine" Alps
undertaken as a test under the conditions, so far as they could
be secured, which Glissfeldt expected to meet with in the
Andes. But on the voyage he fell ill ; homesickness took
possession of him, as it almost always does of the Swiss ;
and soon after landing in Chile he demanded his release from
the engagement and returned to Europe, having attained no
higher point on South American soil than the German hospital
in Valparaiso. Glissfeldt was thus left without a single com-
panion. There was no time to send to Europe for other
guides without losing the summer season, and he was forced
to go on with such assistance as he could find in Chile itself.
The Chilian huasos whom he engaged knew nothing of
mountaineering and brought no enthusiasm to the unac-
customed and dangerous work, so that the task of encouraging
and inciting those awkward and timorous companions at
every turn was not the least part of the undertaking which
Giissfeldt had to face. This was a difficulty which seems
never to have been absent from the Aconcagua expedition.

8 THE HIGHEST ANDES

In the ascent of Maipo he was better served. One of his
companions, however, broke down at a height equal to that
of Mont Blanc, and the other, after a desperate struggle,
collapsed at an altitude 1312 feet above. Glissfeldt was
obliged to complete the ascent by himself, and reached the
summit of Maipo, 17,448 feet above the sea, eleven hours
after starting from his bivouac. No one had yet made so
high an ascent alone.

In climbing Maipo, which till then was a virgin peak,
Gussfeldt achieved one of the most striking successes of his
expedition. He ascertained the mountain to be an extinct
volcano. Under the topmost peak there was a huge crater
several hundred feet deep, into which he was able to look,
lying on the ground to escape the force of the wind. The
depths of this abyss were filled with masses of snow. No-
thing indicated recent volcanic activity, and a long time must
have elapsed since the volcano was in eruption. Gussfeldt
was free altogether from mountain sickness on Maipo, and
breathed without difficulty, but in deep breaths. To such an
experienced Alpine climber Maipo offered no serious difficulty
from the nature of the ground, the chief obstacles being the
long and laborious slopes, the high wind and the cold.

It was after his successful ascent of Maipo that Gussfeldt
turned his attention towards Aconcagua. He was the first
mountaineer that had ever penetrated into its neighbourhood.
Everything had to be done from the start — the exploration of
the territory, the examination of the approaches, and even,
strange as it may appear, the finding of the mountain itself ;
for the first difficulty to be confronted was how to make one's
way to the base of the giant through the perplexing labyrinth
of valleys and gorges that surrounds it. Absolutely nothing
was known about the mountain except its supposed position
upon the map and the distant appearance of its western side.
In this lack of all information, Gussfeldt determined to try
approaching its base from a northern direction. All other
things being equal, the north side offered, he believed, one
advantage — there would be less snow upon it. In latitudes
south of the Equator, the position of the sun, being inverted,

ACONCAGUA ATTEMPTED 9

is in the northern sky, not the southern, and the northern side
of a mountain becomes the sunny side. Gussfeldt expected
therefore that the northern slope of Aconcagua would be freer
than any other from the obstructions which snow and ice might
put in his way. This point would not have outweighed others
of more importance, but he knew of no others, for nothing
about Aconcagua was known. Should he find himself at last
in the depths of a valley from which Aconcagua was inaccess-
ible, he would have the long and wearisome task of retracing
his steps and forcing his way into another which might lead
to the mountain from a different direction. All that could be
done was to trust to luck. In this respect fortune favoured
him, for he actually discovered a route by which he gained
the base of Aconcagua and was able to begin the ascent.

As will be seen in the sequel we ourselves did not make
use of the route described in Dr. Glissfeldt's book. He
approached Aconcagua through Chile, we through the
Argentine. He came to Aconcagua from the west and the
north, we from the east and south. It was only upon the
actual slope of the mountain itself that our track at last
crossed his.

In February 1883 Dr. Gussfeldt set out for Aconcagua.
He was accompanied, rather against his own will, by a Chilian
volunteer, Don Rafael Salazar, who turned back, however,
ten days later, taking with him two of the huasos. With
three huasos that still remained, Gussfeldt pressed forward
resolutely towards the mountain. The route he had chosen
led upwards from Chile through the valley of the river
Putaendo, which he followed up to its source. Above that
point, crossing a high ridge or pass, the Boquete del Valle
Hermoso, where the two Republics meet at the parting of
the waters, he descended into the Valle Hermoso on the
Argentine side. Through this valley, which lies imbedded
in the very heart of the Andes, runs a track by which
travellers, after surmounting the Espinazito Pass at the other
or lower end, can descend into the Pampas. It was when
entering the Valle Hermoso from the west that Gussfeldt
caught his first glimpse of Aconcagua, stern, forbidding, and,

io THE HIGHEST ANDES

as it seemed for the moment, inaccessible. The Valle
Hermoso, or " Fair Valley," lay in front, with its pleasant
green pastures and craggy sides. The direction of the track
down towards Espinazito was away from Aconcagua ; but
another valley entered almost at right angles and seemed to
offer a way by which its very base could be reached. Up this
valley or defile, to which he gave the name of Valle Penitente
— the local name, it appears, is Canon del Volcan — Giissfeldt
made his way. He was now proceeding to his goal from the
north, southward ; fourteen years afterwards, far on the other
side of the great mountain mass, we were toiling from the
south, northwards, up the valley of the Horcones, with the
same lofty summit for our destination which Giissfeldt then
had before his eyes. In the upper part of the Valle Penitente,
as far up as the limit of pasturage for the mules allowed,
Giissfeldt fixed his base camp. It was of an extremely simple
character. It does not even appear that he had brought a
tent with him. The field-bed on which he slept stood in the
open air, and the water was frozen hard every night. There
was not the slightest shelter from rocks or boulders — not even
a niche for the barometer. This camp stood at an altitude
of 11,752 feet.

At first Giissfeldt seemed to have got into a hopeless cul-
de-sac. In front of him, completely blocking the upper end
of the valley, was a huge wall or palisade of rock, to which
he gave the name of Sierra del Penitente. The name, like
that which he gave to the valley itself, was suggested by the
fields of nieve penitente which he saw around. Rising almost
sheer to a height of 3000 feet above the floor of the valley,
this immense barrier of stone appeared to make all access to
Aconcagua impossible.

Riding forward to reconnoitre, Giissfeldt discovered with
a shock that he was not the first wanderer to penetrate into
that dismal defile. A few paces from him, lying against a
rock, was a human skeleton, to which still clung a few wasted
rags of clothing. Strange superstitions concerning Aconcagua
are widespread amongst the ignorant Chilians. It is believed
that somewhere about that mysterious mountain there is

A GRIM SENTINEL 11

treasure. They seem scarcely to know themselves what
treasure they look for ; perhaps they hope to find gold in
masses on the surface, or to penetrate, like Sinbad, into a
valley of diamonds. Here some wretched treasure-seeker
had perished, overwhelmed by sudden tempest and blinding-
snow. Within the next weeks, the struggle for Aconcagua
still unended, Giissfeldt rode eight times past that ghastly
figure, crouched by the wayside in dumb and significant
warning. Fourteen years later, when the German expedition
from Santiago tried to reach Aconcagua by Giissfeldt's route,
they also came upon the skeleton of the dead Chileno.
Doubtless at this moment, as I write these lines, that grim
sentinel still keeps watch and ward in its silent valley, before
the awful gate of the mountain.

The immense rocky barrier which interposed between the
Valle Penitente and the base of Aconcagua proved on
examination to be not insurmountable. In the middle of
it Giissfeldt discovered a couloir by which it was possible to
reach the top. This couloir led upwards to a notch or gap
in the ridge, to which he gave the name of Portezuelo del
Penitente, or " Biisserthor." From this gateway on the ridge
a magnificent spectacle, never before seen by human eyes,
presented itself. Aconcagua had been reached at last. Right
in front, its base separated from him only by a hollow filled
with last year's snow, rose its immense black slopes. Above
was the summit in an unclouded sky. The surrounding
mountains were covered with white ; Aconcagua alone was
bare, and dominated everything else. Although the ex-
plorer stood at an altitude of 16,500 feet, and the summit
was therefore only some 6500 feet higher, the whole effect was
one of overpowering immensity. The way for the ascent was
now open, and Giissfeldt returned to his camp to prepare.

He made his attempt on the 2ist of February 1883,
accompanied only by two Chilenos, neither of whom, it is
needless to say, had any experience of mountaineering, or
indeed had ever given it a thought before Dr. Giissfeldt
appeared and engaged them for his expedition. The
attempt failed. Indeed, under all the circumstances, it could

12 THE HIGHEST ANDES

scarcely have been successful ; but as a mountaineering
feat it was distinguished by extraordinary daring.

Giissfeldt was unable to establish, as we afterwards did, a
high camp on the slope of the mountain itself. He simply
left his camp down in the Valle Penitente, rode with his
servants to the foot of the rocky barrier, where they left their
horses, scaled the huge cliff, crossed the snowfield to the
base of Aconcagua, and attacked it there and then. It was
four in the afternoon of the 2oth when they left camp.
Passing on their way the skeleton, now a familiar landmark,
they reached the couloir, at seven, where they rested for an
hour and a half. At half-past ten they had reached the top
of the cliff. By the light of a brilliant moon they crossed the
snowfield, and it was nearly two in the morning when they
first set foot on the lower slope of Aconcagua and began the
real ascent. As time went on, and the ascent became more
toilsome and the cold winds keener, a spirit of something
like panic came upon the two Chilenos. From time to time
Giissfeldt had to add to the labours of the climb by delivering
persuasive speeches in Spanish to his companions, in order
to overcome their reluctance to proceed a step farther. Day
broke. At ten o'clock one of the Chilenos collapsed. His
feet were frozen, and it was absolutely impossible for him to
proceed. Leaving him there, Giissfeldt pressed doggedly
forward, having induced the other Chileno to continue the
struggle. Together they reached a point about 1 300 feet below
the summit. It was now afternoon, and the question forced
itself upon their minds whether the peak could be reached
before sunset. They had with them the smallest supplies of
food ; their base camp was far away ; and they had set out
from it twenty-two hours before. Suddenly the sky clouded
over, the summit became wrapped in mist, and sleet began to
fall. A snowstorm was coming on. Unless other skeletons
were to lie on the sides of Aconcagua, they must turn back at
once.

Descending, they joined the unfortunate Chileno who had
been left behind, and hurried down the slopes and across the
snowfields. At the foot of the cliff the horses were waiting,

GUSSFELDT'S FAILURE 13

and at eleven o'clock at night they reached the camp again,
after an absence from it of thirty-one hours, spent without
sleep and with little food, in almost continuous exertion.

Next day snow fell heavily in the Valle Penitente.
Trigonometrical measurements had been begun, but the
change in the weather made it impossible to remain on the
spot. Grass for the mules was no longer to be had ; in snow
and ice the open unsheltered camp was uninhabitable. It
was thereupon broken up, and the caravan withdrew on
24th February to the Valle Hermoso.

Giissfeldt was not, however, at the end of his resources.
The time spent in that beautiful valley, among its green
meadows and flocks of sheep, restored the spirits of his men.
The weather improved ; and the way seemed clear for another
attempt on Aconcagua. Once more the caravan proceeded up
the Valle Penitente, and he encamped a second time in view
of the rocky barrier that closed it in. With great deter-
mination he proceeded with the preparations for the second
attempt, although he suffered so severely from an abscess
which had formed under a tooth that he could not sleep at
night, even with the aid of strong doses of opium. The second
climb took place on 5th March. This time a new plan was
adopted. On the previous day he set out with two of his
three men, crossed the Sierra del Penitente and the snow-
field beyond to the slope of the mountain, where the night
was spent, the three climbers huddling together for warmth
in one sleeping-bag. In the morning, shortly before sunrise,
the ascent began. Giissfeldt endured agonies from toothache
and the pain of the abscess ; the men also suffered greatly
from fatigue. Snowflakes began to fall, and a storm came on.
Although they had not yet reached so high an altitude as on
the first occasion, it was found necessary to turn back. Even
had the weather continued favourable it would hardly have
been possible for them to reach the summit of Aconcagua
that day. The explorer and his men, after all their heroic
endeavours, were utterly worn out. There was nothing for
it but to return as quickly as possible to Chile.

The labours of that courageous and energetic traveller

I4 THE HIGHEST ANDES

first made the world acquainted with the district round
Aconcagua, which until his arrival was virgin soil, and with
all the conditions of climbing upon the mountain. To such a
pioneer those who follow in his steps and enjoy the fruit of
his exertions owe a debt of gratitude which they can never
sufficiently repay. Our obligation to Dr. Giissfeldt is none
the less because we did not actually follow in his track.
Although after his attempt on Aconcagua from the north,
he crossed the Cumbre and arrived at Puente del Inca, he
did not actually enter the Horcones Valley,1 which was the
chief scene of our labours in 1897, an<^ the avenue by which
we in our turn approached the mountain. It does not
appear upon his map, and although he speaks of a valley
entering that of the Rio de las Cuevas, which from its position
must be the Horcones, I have not observed that he even
mentions it by name. The first scientific exploration of the
Horcones Valley was made by Herr Jean Habel in January
1895. In the course of his journey across South America,
Habel spent a number of days up the Horcones, which he
followed as far as the glacier and the sources of the river.
A large collection of splendid photographs of the valley, some
showing Aconcagua, were published in his Ansichten aus
Siidamerika. With Habel's results we were not acquainted
at the time of our own exploration, as the work just mentioned
was not issued from the press till a later date. Curiously
enough, although Habel was the first scientific investigator
who saw Aconcagua from the Horcones Valley, he was not
aware of its identity, but speaks of the mountain which he
photographed there as the Cerro de los Almacenes. Not
until the investigations of our party, of which he has spoken
with great kindness, were made known, did he identify this
mountain with Aconcagua itself.

1 Pronounced " Oroconds."

CHAPTER II

TO MENDOZA AND VACAS

WE sailed from Southampton in the R.M.S.S. Thames,
on 1 5th October 1896, and on 29th November we
left Buenos Aires, en route for Mendoza and the mountains.
The director of the Great Western Railway had very kindly
placed a small sleeping-carriage at our disposal. This had
been coupled at the end of the train, but as it was not swung
on bogey trucks, an absolute necessity in these countries,
where the permanent way is not kept in the best of repair,
we were nearly rattled to pieces. Several times during the
night I started up convinced that our carriage was off the
line, so alarmingly did it swing from side to side, swaying
and jarring as if it were bumping along the sleepers. The
journey takes about thirty-six hours, and when we drew up at
the terminus in Mendoza we were so shaken and fatigued,
that we could scarcely stand up. The town as it now stands
was built some thirty-five years ago on a new site not far
from the old town, which was destroyed in 1861 by a terrible
earthquake, being literally levelled to the ground. Not far
from the Great Western Station lies the terminus of that
little railway which styles itself "II Ferro Carril Trasandino
de Buenos Aires a Valparaiso." The original intention of
the constructors of this line was to carry it through from
Mendoza to Santa Rosa de los Andes, the nearest town on
the Chilian State Railway, and thus to make a complete line
from Buenos Aires to Valparaiso. On the side of Argentina
there are, at the present time, some ninety miles of rail open,
but on the western or Chilian side, only thirty miles have so
far been constructed. At present, construction has ceased,
owing to the bankruptcy of its former contractors. As the

16 THE HIGHEST ANDES

railway now stands, there remain some sixty miles to be
completed, the difficulty of course being that these sixty
miles include the tunnel under the Cumbre Pass, a long and
costly operation. There is, near Las Cuevas, the beginning
of a great tunnel, which was to have been nine miles long.
The new construction plans of its engineers, who, I am told,
still have hopes of completing the line, reduce the length of
this tunnel considerably by the institution of a rack and
pinion cog-wheel railway, much on the same principle as that
now running up the Zermatt Valley in Switzerland. Already
the last few miles of the line, on the Argentine side, are
built in this fashion, starting from Zanjon Amarillo (" Yellow
Gorge ") to Punta de las Vacas. It is hoped that the Chilian
and Argentine Governments will agree to raise and guarantee
sufficient capital for the completion of this line. Could they
find means to do so, it would form the first trans-continental
route for South America, and the time saved in getting from
England to the West Coast ports would be enormous. At
present there is nearly a fortnight lost in taking the circuitous
route by the Straits of Magellan. In summer it is possible
to cross the ranges, but the transport of luggage is
necessarily very expensive. In winter only strong men can
force their way across through the deep snows, and even
then with great danger. Many lives are lost yearly on this
pass. At times it is impossible to get through at all, and the
transport of luggage is out of the question. The postal
service is so irregular during these winter months that none
of the business houses in Valparaiso rely upon it, but send
their letters by the longer and safer route of the Magellan
Straits. The Transandine Railway could keep up a
constant winter service by means of the help of snowsheds,
as used on the Canadian Pacific Railway through the Rocky
Mountains, and it would also shorten the route to New
Zealand, for Buenos Aires can be reached in a fortnight from
London by direct express steamers ; three days more by rail
would take one on to Valparaiso, whence by steamer one could
reach Auckland in another fortnight. This would make four
and a half weeks, as against six weeks by the Suez Canal or

THE ARGENTINE ARRIEROS 17

the Cape route. In a word, ten days would be gained in
transit from London to New Zealand and the West Coast
ports of South America, besides a new and quick route to
Sydney — a route that could compete with the Suez Canal, as
mails would be shipped direct from Liverpool or South-
ampton to Buenos Aires, the railway journey from there to
Valparaiso corresponding roughly to the present journey
from London to Brindisi.

We spent a few days in Mendoza, in order to hire mules
for our work in the Andes. This was a troublesome
business, but with the help of some kind friends we finally
made a contract with one Tomas Sosa, a half-caste. It was
arranged that he and his son should furnish us with twenty
mules and a bell mare, and that they should also supply
animals for their own riding. The bell mare is a necessity
with a large troop of mules, for they will all follow her in
single file without straying, while if driven by themselves,
they are calculated to make the most patient man insane in a
few hours. The mule-drivers, or arrieros, never set foot on the
groimd if they can help it. It would be a loss of caste to walk,
and they would, I think, prefer to ride their horses over the
edge of a sheer precipice rather than humiliate themselves by
getting off and walking. Some of them wear soft slippers,
made out of one square piece of raw hide, drawn round the
foot by leather thongs, like the shoes often seen in Eastern
Europe, which are certainly not suitable for walking on rocky
ground. Their general get-up and demeanour are exceedingly
picturesque, the costume they wear being very distinctive, and
giving them a striking appearance. They ride, as a rule, on
the old-fashioned Mexican saddle, with a number of soft
sheepskins strapped over the top of it, quite hiding the
original saddle from view. Their stirrups are formed from
solid blocks of wood, carved in the form of a slipper, very
heavy and clumsy. Their feet are so small that an English-
man can rarely get his feet into their stirrups at all. They
are fond of silver trappings and gaudy accoutrements — the
more noise of jangling silver as they ride, the more pleased
are they. To this purpose they wear enormous clinking

i8 THE HIGHEST ANDES

silver spurs, and when in full dress very light and high-
heeled boots, the great height of the heel being necessary to
keep the huge rowel of their spurs from catching in the
ground when walking. Of late they have taken a great fancy
to spurs made in Birmingham. These have been built for
them upon the same lines as their ancient silver ones, but the
rowel, frequently some five inches in diameter, is made of
fine tempered steel. As they ride along, the vibration from
this steel rowel causes a humming noise, which gives them
great satisfaction, and also, they declare, encourages their
horses. Their bits are exceptionally cruel, in fact, I cannot
conceive of a more barbarous invention for torturing a horse's
mouth. As, however, they seldom if ever use their reins,
this is more barbarous in appearance than in practice.
The men themselves always wear a " poncho," which
consists of a blanket of many-coloured wools. The head
is thrust through a hole in the centre, while the folds of
the cloth hang about the man on all sides, completely covering
him to his knees as he rides. These ponchos are often made of
guanaco wool, while occasionally one sees more valuable ones
made from the wool of the vicuna. The latter are very thin,
yet most warm, for they are woven with extraordinary tight-
ness and fineness, and they are handed down from generation
to generation as precious heirlooms. When really good
they are worth as much as £20 to ^30, but the men
would prefer to sell almost everything before parting with
them.

Tomas was a venerable-looking old man. He whimpered
bitterly, and assured us that he was going to be ruined if he
supplied us with the mules at the price offered him, but he
finally came to terms. He assured us that he was very old
and infirm, and could do no work, so he said he must have
his son with him. We suggested that he should stay at
home altogether, and let his son take his place, but this he
would not hear of. " No," he said, " I cannot be parted
from my precious mules, all of whom are personal friends
of mine, and know me intimately." Later on we found
that he had gone round the corner, to a friend of his, and

OLD MENDOZA 19

hired them all for the occasion, leaving his own animals at
home, ,as he feared they might get hurt. During our
subsequent work he complained very much of old age
and infirmity, especially if anything had to be done early
in the morning. I remember one day his hat blew off,
and was rapidly being taken by the wind in the direction
of the river, rolling with great speed. I then saw this old
and infirm gentleman leap from the stone he was sitting
on and sprint down the road after his hat, far faster, I am
sure, than his son could ever have done. We were astounded
at his tremendous agility and nimbleness, and after this
episode he got little more sympathy from us on the score
of infirmities and age.

We were obliged to remain several days making these
bargains, for in South America nothing of this sort can be
hurried. One day we took the opportunity of visiting the
old Mendoza that had been levelled by the great earthquake
of 1 86 1. It lies about a mile from the new town, and is one
mass of ruins, not a single house remaining intact. There
is something sad and depressing about these white, plastered
walls, relics of the old Hispano-Moorish church architecture,
invariably seen in all old South American towns, and these
heaps of fallen stones, broken arches, and sightless windows ;
and if you peer through the chinks you can see at the
bottom of some cellar the bleached bones of the poor
victims. The old city covered some two hundred acres, and
contained seven churches and three convents. The earth-
quake took place on 2Oth March 1861. It was an Ash
Wednesday, after sunset, when the churches were crowded
with the pious population who had thronged by thousands
to the solemn services of that impressive commemoration.
The very first shocks levelled every building to the ground,
and the greatest heap of the bones of the people lies under
the ruins of the old abode of worship. A place of frequent
pilgrimage is this to the friends of the poor souls who were
thus hurled unshriven to their death, and hundreds of burning
candles stand about in nooks and corners, lit by the devout
for their friends and relatives who perished thus miserably.

20 THE HIGHEST ANDES

You can see these candles and the guttered remains of them
upon all the stones — pools, patches, splashes of votive wax.
Surely purgatory cannot long retain its hold upon the
souls of the unprepared, overtaken as they were at their
worship. The very traces of the streets were obliterated,
some trees of the Alameda and a fragment of a church
alone remaining erect, and 13,000 souls perished while only
1600 were spared. For a whole week fires raged among
the ruins, and the robbers at their work of pillage paid no
heed to the cries of the wretches buried in living graves.
There have been many earthquakes since 1861, though
without great damage, but almost all the towns in these
regions have been destroyed once or twice during the
century.

It was at Mendoza that I first met Mr. Arthur Lightbody,
who afterwards joined us, and became a member of our
expedition. He gave us much useful information concerning
the country and its people, and promised to come with
us to Vacas and show us the best camping-ground. He was
then engineer in charge of the permanent way of the
Transandine Railway, a post involving great responsibility,
as during certain parts of the year the terrible thunder-
storms that rage in the little hills play havoc with the
track. One night he was called up to a point where a
large iron girder bridge had been carried away. It was
some time before he found it, for it had been washed down
the stream a long distance and piled up on the opposite
bank.

Early on the morning of ;th December we left Mendoza
for Vacas, which was the farthest point we could reach by
rail. Having driven down to the station, we found that it
would be a matter of some difficulty to settle with the
numerous drivers who had brought us and our baggage.
These gentlemen heartily despised us as " gringos" — a
South American name for foreigners, which contains all the
superiority on one side and abasement on the other that the
Chinese imply when they talk of " foreign devils." The
gringos were inexperienced ; the gringos were rich ; the

WE LEAVE MENDOZA 21

gringos must pay handsomely. Great was the drivers'
disappointment when Dr. Cotton of Puente del Inca came
to the rescue and kindly undertook the thankless task of
settling with them. He tendered them their legal fare in
the paper currency of the country. At first they refused it
with disdain, then to our surprise and amazement they took
the notes, tore them into small pieces, threw them on the
ground, and spat on the fragments. Cotton signed to us
that the matter was closed with this dramatic incident, and
we turned into the station, but on looking back I beheld the
heroes of this little tragedy on their hands and knees collect-
ing the torn and dusty shreds of the fare, while their fellow-
drivers stood round, greatly enjoying the joke. After an
incident like this I found it less difficult to understand the
patched and fragmentary condition of many of the notes that
passed through our hands.

At last we got under way. Mr. Thornton, the chief
mechanical engineer, very kindly had iron chains screwed
on the front platform of the engine, so that we were
enabled to ride in the open air in front of the smoke-stack
and get a perfect view of the scenery without annoyance
from cinders. For the first few miles we ran between
mud walls enclosing vineyards and orchards, with the
pampas on our left, and the Cerrillos, bleak-looking hills
which hid the more rugged features of the higher Andes,
on our right. Where there was no irrigation the country
was an uncultivated wilderness. But for some distance
the irrigation work was very extensive, its effect shown
by rows of green meadows bounded by poplar trees.
Mendoza is an oasis in the desert, made by the hand of
man. There is hardly a drier climate in the world, and
the annual rainfall is so slight, that where it alone waters
the earth nothing will grow, and only bare stony soil is to
be seen around. In and about Mendoza, where the water
that descends from the Andes in the Rio Mendoza has
been led in every direction by canals and rills, the desert
has been turned into glorious green, and the vineyards of
Mendoza become more flourishing every year.

22 THE HIGHEST ANDES

The Cordilleras which we were now approaching are
formed of three distinct ranges running north and south.
The western range forms the watershed, and is the boundary
between the Argentine and Chile, while the central range
contains the highest peaks, Aconcagua and, to the north,
Mercedario. The eastern range is divided from the central
one by a wide plain or plateau some 6000 feet above sea-
level, known as the Uspallata Pampa. In this region the
most notable mountain is the Cerro de la Plata, which can
be seen to great effect from Mendoza. This lower range
conceals from view the higher Andine summits behind. We
had been told, however, that at certain points on the line we
should catch a glimpse of some of the great peaks, and we
kept our eyes anxiously turned towards the Cerrillos on our
right. At length we were rewarded by the sight of a great
white dome appearing over the hills. It was the rounded
summit of Tupungato, looking all the more grand and striking
because of the bare and ugly foreground of the hills near at
hand. Again and again we caught glimpses of it, but as we
gradually turned into the barren valley of the Rio Mendoza
it was lost to view.

The aspect of the country now changed considerably.
Uncultivated land covered with brushwood lay far and wide
around us. We had started from Mendoza at a height of
2700 feet above the sea, and had continued at that level for
some distance. Now we began gradually to ascend the
slopes connecting the pampas with the Cerrillos. Almost at
the last edge of the plain a wide bridge spans the Rio
Mendoza, which bursts away from the Cordilleras and spreads
itself far over the plain, as if rejoicing to be free from the
walls of rock that had imprisoned it for a hundred miles of
its course.

Twenty miles from Mendoza we left the plains, almost
without warning, and plunged in among the mountains. The
change of scenery was as marked as it was sudden. High
bridges and short tunnels followed in quick succession as we
pursued the winding course of the Rio Mendoza gorge. Our
first stopping-place after leaving the plain was Boca del Rio —

THE TRANSANDINE RAILWAY 23

" the mouth of the river," or rather the spot where the river
emerges from the hills. Our ascent had been rapid, for we
had now reached a height of 3746 feet.

Twenty-four miles from Mendoza we stopped at Los
Banos del Cachenta, famous in the Argentine for its hot
springs and baths. Beyond Cachenta the valley widened
somewhat, and to the southward there suddenly came full
into view the magnificent peak of the Cerro de la Plata,
19,000 feet high, and covered with snow. But our thoughts
were occupied with Aconcagua, and we eagerly inquired
whether a glimpse of its summit could be obtained from the
railway. Our fellow-passengers, although we plied them
with questions, could tell us little about it. It had never
been seen from the line ; indeed none of them ever seemed
to have seen it at all. Mystery and uncertainty hung over
the great mountain. Not until afterwards did we learn some-
thing of the almost superstitious dread with which every
native of these passes shrinks from admitting that Aconcagua
is ever visible to the human eye.

As we went on, Lightbody pointed out to us the chief
difficulties that had to be encountered in the construction of
the line, and the still greater difficulties in keeping it open for
traffic. From time to time he showed us places where the
railway had evidently been lately rebuilt. Everything was
new — embankment, brick-work, sleepers, and metals, while
far below in the river lay scattered and sunken masses of
earth and iron, the remains of what had been destroyed.
Certain parts of the line are continually swept away by a
"wash-out" after heavy storms of snow or rain, when whole
hillsides seem to slip down upon it ; for floods and avalanches
of snow do less damage than the immense torrents of soft
mud which the rain sets in motion. After bad weather these
mud avalanches slide down into the valley, burying the whole
track under masses of ooze, or carrying everything before
them into the torrent below. The scars they had left were
visible everywhere on the cliffs and slopes that overhung our
route.

Mr. Dal ton, the chief engineer of the line and one of its

24 THE HIGHEST ANDES

directors, has now adopted the practice of replacing the iron
girder bridges that span the usually dry side valleys down
which these avalanches of mud flow, by embankments of
stone_thus leaving the mud to flow over the rails. When
these wash-outs occur, a gang of peons is sent to shovel away
the debris, thus saving the expense of new girder bridges ;
for it is found that nothing can stop these huge masses of
mud in their course.

Leaving this gorge behind us, we emerged from the
outlying eastern range of the Andes, known as the Uspallata
Range, and entered upon a high level plain, the Uspallata
Pampa, by which the outlying mountains that we had
traversed are separated from the great central chain of the
Cordillera. It is about twelve miles broad, and stretches from
the point where we crossed it for over 1 50 miles to the north.
Without lakes or trees, and devoid of any trace of verdure,
the shingly surface of this Pampa is one of the most desolate
and uninteresting spots imaginable. I was struck, however,
by the wonderful colouring of the stratification in the great
wall of rock which bounded it to the south. We were now
at a height of some 6000 feet above the sea.

After crossing this plain we again approached the river,
and found ourselves running along the shelf overhanging it.
Beneath us was a cliff some 250 feet high, and at its base the
stream. The upper valley now began to close in upon us,
and we were soon piercing the main range of the Cordilleras
between walls of porphyry and granite. In traversing the
pass one could see on the other side of the river the old mule-
track by which it would have been our fate to ascend in days
before the railway was so far completed. Sometimes it was
close to the stream, sometimes far above it clinging to a
tottering ledge of rock. It was by this rather perilous way
that Darwin made his journey over the Andes.

Descending at last from the top of the cliff to the
river bed, the train reached the Zanjon Amarillo. A
few miles farther on, at the narrowest point on the river,
the railway climbs once more to the top of the shelf that
overhangs it. Here the "rack" system, without which

PUNTA DE LAS VACAS 25

the ascent would be impossible, begins, and by its aid the last
climbs towards Punta de las Vacas are accomplished. We
crossed the Tupungato River by a bridge, and knew that our
destination was almost at hand.

On nearing the journey's end I began to overhaul some
of the baggage, and Vines, who was helping me, discovered
that his revolver, holster, pouch and cartridges had been
removed from their case, together with everything in the way
of gold and silver that he had brought with him. Joseph
Pollinger, thoroughly convinced of the iniquitous character of
the inhabitants of the country he was now entering for the
first time, showed his sympathy by the startling suggestion
that there was a wholesale conspiracy to disarm the expedition
before it reached the mountains. But Lightbody, after a few
questions on the subject, suggested that it must have been
stolen in Mendoza, adding that a good revolver was too great
a temptation for any native.

Punta de las Vacas is the highest point yet reached by
the Transandine Railway. We alighted from the train, and
looked around us, curious as to what we should find at the basis
of our first operations. Vacas, as I shall henceforth call it,
stands in a widening of the main valley, in which, flowing
from opposite directions out of the heart of the Andes, the
rivers Vacas and Tupungato converge and meet. The only
building in the place, besides the station terminus, a small,
low wooden shanty, is a little inn or house known as the
"posada" — a common name in South America for a little
drinking-house. There were also, it is true, a few sheds
belonging to the Villa Longa Express Company, who run
the coach service across the Andes. The posada itself, with
which we were afterwards to become better acquainted, is
formed of mud huts round a courtyard, the doors of all the
rooms opening into the open air. In the wet weather during
the winter there is about six inches of water in most of the
rooms, and I have seen the "comedor," the bar and dining-
room, with as much as two feet of water in it. For sleeping
there are a few straw truckle-beds with blankets thrown over
them. The only provision of which a large stock is kept in

26 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the place is Worcester sauce, a condiment very popular in
South America. Even the poorest posada is provided with
numerous bottles of it.

We did not intend, however, to throw ourselves upon the
hospitality of this unimposing hotel. A site was promptly
chosen for a camp about half a mile away in the most
sheltered spot we could find, and we proceeded in all haste to
unload our baggage from the train. Lightbody got us a cart,
mules and peons from the Express Company's agent, and we
set all hands to work to get as much of the baggage as
possible to the camp before dark. Everything had to be
unloaded and removed from the station that night.

Leaving Vines with Weibel to manage things at the
station, I went on with everyone else to pitch and arrange
the camp. We were at once struck by the dilatory habits of
the peons engaged. They could not be got to understand
that there was the slightest need for hurry. While Vines
was superintending the loading of the cart, he found things
went so slowly that, to encourage the men, he put a hand
to the work himself. This arrangement suited the peons
admirably. Hitherto they had lifted the luggage with all the
slowness and deliberation possible, but now, when they found
the work being done for them, they were entirely satisfied.
They stood around in easy attitudes, doing nothing whatever,
and watching him at the work, so that he was forced to adopt
other means of encouragement. At last the cart was full,
and the team was brought up and put to.

The journey to the camp was not accomplished without
adventure, which gave Vines his first experience of what
driving in the Andes is like. Between the shafts was a fine
mule, and on each side of the mule two small ungainly horses
were tethered to the cart, while two mules with a postillion
went in front. Vines climbed up on the top of the luggage ;
the peons did the same, and off they went down the soft
shingly road. Presently they came to a place where the
track turned sharply to the left, while in front rose a steep
hill. The postillion left the road with his two leaders, and
drove straight up the ascent in front ; but the driver, it

OUR FIRST CAMP 27

appeared, preferred the road, and strove his hardest to turn
the cart round the corner on the level ground. The leaders
and the beasts yoked to the cart thus pulled different ways
for the moment, but the driver gained the mastery. Round
they went in the roadway, the cart rising high in the air on
one side and tottering on two wheels. The instant was
critical ; for the cart was just on the point of upsetting and
hurling out the baggage, with Vines and his companions, in
utter smash. But with great coolness and quickness driver
and peons threw their whole weight on the lifted side of the
cart ; it righted, and on they went. No one seemed in the
least alarmed. At the time Vines conjectured that so many
men had mounted on the heavily-laden cart in order to
balance it promptly in case of tilting, but we were not long in
learning that a peon will never set his foot to the ground if
there is anything to ride.

Three cart-loads were brought up before dark, and every-
thing was progressing merrily at the camp. Three tents had
already been pitched when I missed one of the tent poles,
which had somehow been left behind at the station, and sent
Vines out at once to fetch it. It was now late in the evening,
and darkness was coming on, so that no time was to be lost.
Seeing a broken-down looking pony from which one of the
peons had just dismounted, he jumped on its back and
galloped off, without asking its owner any questions. There
was no saddle but a loose blanket, and he had not gone far
when it began to slip. Making a hasty attempt to catch it,
he frightened the mild and apparently quiet little beast ; it
shied and bolted, trying to run up an ascent as steep as a
rock wall. Vines threw his whole weight back, and pulled
the pony's head. It reared, and both pony and rider fell
backwards into the road, rolling over and over. When he
collected himself and looked up, the terrified animal was
off down the road at full speed, heading for Vacas. The
peons, however, had watched the whole occurrence, and before
he found his feet again a horseman dashed by, swinging his
lasso. One dexterous throw and the pony was caught round
the neck and safely brought back to camp. Vines had a

28 THE HIGHEST ANDES

very sore elbow for the next few days, but otherwise was
none the worse for his dangerous spill. Both riding and
driving in the Andes, as he had found that first evening, are
very different from anything of the kind at home.

Lightbody stayed with us that night, and we were glad to
have his help with the peons, who found our Spanish rather
hard to understand. We ate a somewhat scrambling dinner,
and sat long afterwards around a fire which burned brightly
in the still mountain air. I shall never forget that first
night in the Andes. The dark rocks towered above us into
a cloudless sky. It was a magnificent starlight evening,
and Lightbody, who had brought up a guitar with him,
sang Spanish ballads until bedtime. By his advice we set
a watch during the night, to guard against theft, for the
arriero of the Andes, though he may resist many temptations,
is not proof against good new trappings, and might have
found some of our straps, saddles, and halters quite irresistible.
We turned in with all our tents pitched and about half our
baggage piled around us.

CHAPTER III
GENERAL ASPECTS OF THE ANDES

NEXT morning we resumed work early, and before
midday brought up the rest of our luggage. At
about eleven o'clock the wind sprang up, and we had the first
taste of its real force in the Andes. We then found that our
camp was very badly situated. We were practically on a
sand-heap, and the clouds of dust were almost unendurable.
The ground was not sufficiently solid to take tent-pegs, nor
were the stones around us heavy enough to use as extra
supports, so that the first few gusts blew all our tents down.
A couple of tables that we had outside were blown away,
and I saw Vines wildly chasing our aluminium cups and
saucers for a hundred yards before he captured them. It was
obvious that this place would not do for a permanent base
camp. I decided therefore to ride up the Vacas Valley,
taking Zurbriggen with me, and see if I could get a view of
Aconcagua, and some information about the best place from
which to approach it. I hired an arriero and some animals
to go up this valley, at the same time leaving Vines, de
Trafford, and Gosse to prospect up the Inca Valley, and look
for possibilities of a better camping-ground there. Arrange-
ments were accordingly made for a start next morning. But
before I describe our first exploration trip, I think I had
better give a slight sketch of the country that we were in, and
the difficulties we were about to meet for the next seven
months.

Aconcagua, the highest mountain in South America, rises
some 23,080 feet above sea-level. It is situated more than
ninety miles from the Pacific sea-coast, and from the harbour
of Valparaiso on a clear day it can be distinctly seen raising

30 THE HIGHEST ANDES

its mighty head 4000 feet or more above its neighbours. It
lies on the central range or rib of the Andes, its summit being
some six miles from the water-parting, on the Argentine side.
Yet though this great mountain can be seen so easily from the
Pacific, all the ice and snow that melt on its flanks pour down
to the Argentine pampas, and thence flow on to the South
Atlantic Ocean. The mountain is so surrounded by winding
valleys, by rugged and precipitous spurs and ridges that it is
difficult of access, and indeed there are, I believe, only two
points to the south from which a view of its topmost peak can
be obtained. One of these views is from a little above Inca,
where the Horcones Valley opens out into the Cuevas Valley.
This view of the great peak is the one best known, as all
travellers across the Cumbre Pass, from Argentina to Chile,
gaze upon it. The other view is obtained some distance up
the Vacas Valley. Aconcagua is often wrongly described
by the Chilians as a volcano, and Glissfeldt speaks of the
natives calling it "el volcan." The mountain is really built
up by successive flows of lava and is composed of varieties
of andesites. There is no sign of a crater on it, and
traces of scoria were remarkably few. It is separated from
the province of Ramada by the pass renowned in the history
of Chile, — the Boquete del Valle Hermoso, some 11,700 feet
above sea-level, — and from here the Penitente Valley leads
straight to the northern glaciers which flank the mountain
from this point. The Hermoso is also called, I believe, de
los Patos, from the Argentine river of that name (Duck
River). This pass is by no means easy of access, yet in
1817 General San Martin crossed it at the head of the army
of Chile, for the purpose of out-flanking the Spanish forces
which were then assembled to meet him at the Cumbre
Pass.

San Martin's crossing of the Andes, one of the most
famous events in South American history, has been compared
to Hannibal's crossing of the Alps. The comparison is
perhaps rather pretentious, when one considers the relative
size of the armies that took part in those two expeditions,
and the sum of the difficulties to be confronted in each case.

GENERAL SAN MARTIN 31

Nevertheless San Martin's feat was a wonderful example of
enterprise, tenacity, and courage. Chile at that time was still
in the hands of the Royalist troops, but Mendoza had already
gained its independence, and San Martin was able to assemble
an army there for the invasion. Having resolved to make
the crossing by the Valle Hermoso, he took the most
elaborate measures to divert the attention of the enemy in
other directions and break up the Spanish force as much as
possible into detachments. A small division of his soldiers
was sent southwards to appear in the passes towards Talca,
another northward towards Coquimbo. A battalion under
Colonel Heras was sent over the Cumbre to make a de-
monstration in the direction of Los Andes. In order to
complete the deception of the enemy, San Martin hit upon a
further plan. He assembled the chiefs of the Indian tribes
and took them into his confidence with a simplicity that
seemed quite engaging. The plan of campaign which he
imparted to those honest allies consisted of an advance of his
chief force into Chile by the road of El Plancon. He then
gave handsome presents to the Indians, and extracted from
them the most solemn vows of secrecy. The result of this
manoeuvre was that the Spanish general, Marco, was speedily
possessed of confidential information which led him to look
for San Martin's arrival anywhere but in the direction of
Aconcagua.

In January 1817 the crossing was made. San Martin
had with him an army of about 3000 infantry, 970 cavalry,
and artillery, with 1600 horses. They took with them
provisions for fourteen days, and 9000 mules. Only 2000 of
these were baggage animals, while 7000 were for riding, so it
would appear that the whole army actually crossed the Andes
on muleback. Fodder for these animals was carried into
the passes, and to guard them against mountain sickness the
extraordinary precaution was adopted of taking several loads
of garlic, with which the noses of the animals were rubbed,
for garlic, we are informed, was then thought to be a remedy
against this disabling ailment. In spite of these precautions
half of the beasts succumbed on the way. The men were

32 THE HIGHEST ANDES

also -said to have suffered greatly from mountain sickness.
The valleys which they traversed lie at a height of about
10,000 feet above the sea, and the highest point passed on the
way, the summit of the Boquete, is estimated by Giissfeldt at
1 1,693 feet. These heights should be noted, but in this place
I cannot well discuss the possibility of mountain sickness at
so comparatively low an altitude. Certainly the men were
not experienced mountaineers, and they were making a
forced march under very trying circumstances. The weather
also was exceedingly cold and stormy in those bleak valleys,
although it was in the middle of the uncertain Andine
summer. At one time it seemed possible that San
Martin would lose the bulk of his force, but he triumphed
over all obstacles. He descended safely into Chile, took the
enemy by surprise, and on I2th February utterly defeated
them in a battle fought with desperate courage at Chaca-
buco. From this blow the power of Spain in Chile never
recovered.

To the north of Aconcagua lies the great peak of the
Mercedario, over 22,000 feet in height, while on the Chilian
side, near the Cumbre Pass, lies the mountain of Juncal, some
19,500 feet high. South from Juncal are the great peaks of
Pollera and Navarro, till, finally, on the crest of the water-
parting, we come to the great dome of Tupungato which
rises some 22,000 feet above the level of the sea. To the
south of this again is the great volcano of San Jose*, and
farther south Maipo. In 1843 a violent earthquake over-
threw one of the adjacent peaks, filling the valley with heaps of
rock and debris "for the space of over three leagues.'* The
passage of the Cumbre Pass has been narrated by many
travellers, and is well known to hundreds of people who have
crossed it during the summer months. Later on I shall have
more to say of the winter aspects of this pass, which, I
believe, have not been so fully described. In summer the
passage presents no great difficulties or risks, but in winter it
is at times a terribly difficult and dangerous task, in attempting
which travellers have frequently lost their lives. The time
occupied in summer is a day and a night, the night being

" CASUCHAS " 33

spent at the inn at Las Cuevas by those crossing to Chile,
while for travellers going to Argentina the night is spent at
Juncal. In winter the passage often takes over a week, and
those who have crossed at this season, and who have not
been obliged to spend the night in one of the casuchas or
shelters that stand at easy distances along the route, may
indeed consider themselves fortunate. These casuchas are
built in the shape of a dome, reminding one slightly of
the oven of a lime-kiln. They have a small door, but no
windows, and they accommodate twenty people at a pinch.
They are built mostly of brick, with a brick floor, the interior
being absolutely bare. There is nothing to sit upon in them,
not even a bench, and they are, in fact, nothing but gruesome
black holes, filled with every conceivable form of filth, the
stench emanating from them being overpowering.

One of the points that strike the visitor to these Andine
valleys is the terribly bleak and desolate aspect that they
present, with only blades of grass here and there, or perhaps
a few stunted shrubs. Trees there are none, nothing but a
huge expanse of yellow sand and stone, the peaks rising up
on either side in extraordinary and rugged stratification,
whose many-coloured hues are bewildering to the eye. Great
torrents flow down the middle of these valleys, the water
being of a dull, blackish hue. The fording of the rivers is one
of the most dangerous tasks of explorers in this country.
The torrents are exceedingly rapid, and full of deep, treacherous
holes. The Andes abound in mineral springs, those at the
Puente del Inca being, perhaps, the most remarkable. Here
the water bubbles out of the rocks, at a temperature of about
91° Fahr., a clear, limpid stream, with a strong odour of
sulphur.

The geology of the country has been treated separately
and in detail from specimens brought home by us from the
various valleys by Professor Bonney, whose profound know-
ledge and great kindness have laid me under a deep obligation.1
Roughly speaking it is trachite, andesite, and basalt. The
question of the snowline of these ranges is one very difficult

1 Appendix A, p. 31 1.
3

34 THE HIGHEST ANDES

to determine. When Zurbriggen made the ascent of
Aconcagua he went to the summit of the mountain without
placing his foot upon snow ; the side of the mountain was bare
to the top on the north-west slopes, yet the south slopes
were massed with snow and ice and glacier. In places the
snowline may be said to be between 17,000 and 18,000 feet,
while in other places it is higher still. From seven months'
observation in these ranges, I have come to the conclusion
that there is no defined snowline as in ranges like the Alps,
and that, according to the season, and year by year, great
changes take place.

In the spring a very curious phenomenon is to be
observed on the glaciers and snow-slopes. It consists of
huge fields composed of cones or pyramids of frozen snow
some four or five feet high, placed close beside one another,
these cones narrowing up to a hook. This is known in the
country as "nieve penitente," or penitent snow, so called
from its quaint resemblance to the cowled " Penitent Friars."
The effect is produced by the combined action of sun and
wind upon the frozen mass of snowfield, the crystalline parts
upon which the sun has little melting power remaining erect
in this strange fashion ; while frequently the ground is bare
between these shapes of ice, and one is able to thread one's
way through them as through a forest, their tops standing
nearly as high as a man's head. A good idea of this formation
is given in the illustration of the main range of Tupungato,
p. 174.

The remoteness of Aconcagua was the first difficulty of
our explorations. Though in actual distance it is not much
more than a dozen miles from Inca, it is most difficult to get
at, and when we first arrived we could not even get trustworthy
information of its exact position. The native arrieros and
people were inclined to say, when the summit was pointed out
to them, " Ah yes, that is a range or spur of the mountain ;
behind that there is no doubt another peak, and I think that
perhaps beyond, and out of sight, is the real and true summit
of the mountain. But we do not know. No, that which you
see cannot possibly be the summit — it is behind." No matter

CLIMATE 35

what the point of view, this is what they say. We never got
any man to point out a peak, and say, " That is Aconcagua."

The greatest drawback, however, to the climber and
explorer in these regions is the terribly uncertain weather.
M. Elisee Reclus speaks most truly of the mountain when he
says :

" Being surrounded by numerous rugged spurs, and
everywhere furrowed by winding gorges, Aconcagua is of
difficult access, although its upper section for a total height of
about 6500 feet rises in a superb cone above the elevated
pediment of the surrounding uplands. A broad snowfield,
intersected by crevasses, is developed round the west and
north - west slopes, but presents no great obstacle to the
climber, nor would the higher and almost snowless escarp-
ments be difficult to scale, but for the rarefied atmosphere and
sudden snowstorms." In the summer months a terrible wind
springs up soon after sunrise and usually blows the whole
day. This wind renders all work of exploration difficult, and
on the higher slopes, very dangerous. During the winter
there is a deep snowfall, when the valleys are filled with
snow, the drifts in places being of huge depth. When the
spring sun clears this snow away, there is as a rule no more
rainfall or snowfall till the next winter. The valleys are
then like deserts, and the only place in which vegetation can
be found is close beside some spring or stream, though even
here the strong mineral quality of the water often destroys
such vegetation. The result of this is, of course, a dust which
is almost unendurable. Surveying in the upper valleys I
have frequently been forced to wait for an hour before I could
get a sight of a pole a thousand feet away, owing to tornadoes
and eddies of dust. This dust penetrates everywhere — into
food, into clothes, among books and papers, on the verniers
of instruments, cutting and scratching them ; in short, making
life miserable and work almost impossible. During the day
the sun has great power, and I have known the thermometers
to mark nearly 90° in the shade. We suffered severely from
the absence of trees or shelter under which to pitch a tent.
We had to live in the open, and the fierce rays of the sun

36 THE HIGHEST ANDES

beating down upon the canvas sides of our tent made the
interior almost uninhabitable. Many a day have I spent,
working out calculations, unable to go outside on account of
the blinding dust-storm, while in the tent itself the heat was
110°. I cannot conceive of more miserable surroundings.
We had to contend against temperatures and conditions that
ranged between a Sudan campaign and an Arctic expedition.
This, as I have said before, is perhaps the greatest difficulty
in this country, for after some months' work, one's strength
is exhausted, and there is no place to which to retire for a
few day's rest under normal conditions. Storms spring up
too with terrible rapidity. On the heights — that is to say
above 16,000 or 17,000 feet — they often become veritable
blizzards, though at a lower level they are as a rule only great
gales of wind, with an occasional shower or flurry of snow.
Lower down the ranges, between the Uspallata Valley and
Mendoza, severe thunderstorms and cloud-bursts rage during
the months of January and February. The lightning is
especially vivid and dangerous. But these storms seldom
extend to the higher Andes ; upon two occasions only have
I seen lightning at all near, though on a long summer evening,
one can observe the bright flashes far over the ranges and
pampas of Argentina. The prevalent wind during the
summer is from the north-west, but I am told that this varies
considerably from season to season. During our stay in
these valleys the wind was particularly aggressive; in the
following year there was scarcely any.

With irrigation the soil produces luxuriant crops. The
proprietor of the posada at Vacas had a large field artificially
irrigated by canals, where the grass grew with extraordinary
abundance. On the Chilian side there is more vegetation in
the valleys, and on going down some distance, large quantities
of cacti are seen, and even small trees, though at no place in
the valleys is there anything like the forests that are found
farther south in old Patagonia.

Till last year there was some doubt as to which was the
highest mountain of South America, but since Sir Martin
Con way's triangulation of Illimani and Sorata or Illampu, it is

HIGHEST MOUNTAINS 37

admitted beyond question that Aconcagua overtops every
other mountain there, and indeed every mountain outside the
great ranges of Asia. There are still unmeasured mountains
in Africa, such as the ranges of Ruwenzori, which are, I
believe, estimated to be between 16,000 and 17,000 feet high.
These, however, were measured from a great distance, and
nobody knows what lies behind them. The expedition just
starting for those regions will doubtless clear up the doubt,
and settle these heights exactly. Tupungato rises above
Chimborazo, Sorata, Illimani, and Sajama ; it is still doubt-
ful as to whether it exceeds the height of Mercedario. If
Pissis' height of the Mercedario, viz. 22,315 feet, is correct,
this would be the second highest peak in America. In any
case it is now certain that Aconcagua, Mercedario, and
Tupungato are the three highest mountains of the American
continent.

CHAPTER IV

UP THE VACAS VALLEY

AFTER this historical and topographical excursion I
return to our own story. r

We were on foot at four o'clock on the morning of 9th
December, Zurbriggen and I preparing for the trip up the
Vacas Valley, of which I have already spoken. Our arriero
and the mules we had hired at Vacas were late, as in these
early days we did not know that it was useless to give an
order to a native. The only way to get him to do anything
is to send someone to make him do it about an hour before
it has to be done. We intended to be up this valley only a
few days, so we took a very small quantity of provisions, and
told the arriero that he must supply himself with what he
wanted. At about 5.30 we started, but we had not gone far
before we suddenly remembered that we had not brought our
binoculars with us, and so had to turn back for them. It is
not until after several weeks of work that one gets into the
way of remembering the hundred-and-one trifles necessary in
an unknown country, even on a short journey. One can
make oneself absolutely miserable for several days, for
instance, by starting without, say, matches. One has to
remember first and foremost what scientific instruments are
required ; secondly, note-books and pencils ; thirdly, foods ;
then clothing and covering ; besides which one must always
be provided with extra pieces of string, straps, knives, etc.
etc. To be fitted for this sort of work everyone must be a
jack-of-all-trades, carrying a small but varied equipment for
all purposes and all needs of repair. One must be ready at
any moment to shoe a horse, mend a strap, or sew a patch on
a coat ; to estimate the distance between two points ; to take

ANDINE PONIES 39

photographs when the sun is at impossible angles, and allign
on peaks that are hidden behind other peaks. When one
cannot see, one has to remember routes ; to keep in one's
head, more or less, all the various parts of the equipment,
men and provisions, and what everybody is supposed to be
doing. In fact, it is necessary to be a general compendium
of knowledge, and a universal gazetteer of the locality.

Having fetched the field-glasses, we started out again, and
were soon introduced by our arriero to a true Andine ford.
The river which flows down the Vacas Valley is a large and
deep torrent, fed in great part by the masses of snow in the
valley at this season of the year. Early in the morning we
found it in fairly easy condition, but later on in the day, when
we had to cross and recross the river, to keep upon a path
that could be followed by the mules, we had great difficulty.
This was also my first experience of riding in what seemed
impossible places. Later on we grew so accustomed to it
that we thought no more of setting our horses at shocking
slopes, or of galloping among huge rocks and boulders, than
we should have thought of riding in a hansom down Piccadilly.
During our stay we had innumerable falls, and though we
were rolled over in almost every conceivable place and
position, we were fortunately never hurt. An Andine pony
is a delightful beast. He is exceedingly clever in keeping his
feet and finding the way, and when he does fall he always
manages to arrange not to hurt you. He is as gentle and
nice-tempered as need be, and will follow you round camp
like a dog, sometimes putting his head in at the tent to see
what he can procure in the way of food. These ponies are
always ready to do their best, and go on until they collapse
from fatigue — an equine virtue of which we unfortunately had
experience after the winter months came. They are always
gay and bright, ready to gallop, and if there is pasturage
about will remain by you during the night.

The Vacas Valley, perhaps one of the most fertile in the
whole of these ranges, yet struck us then as the most
desolate spot imaginable; nothing but great vistas of yellow
sand, with here and there a stunted bush, and a little grass

40 THE HIGHEST ANDES

peering through the crevices of the stones and rocks. This
vegetation, however, was really profuse in comparison with
the Horcones Valley, which was the scene of so much of our
labour in the following year.

Great mountains rose on either side of us, but we could
see nothing, as we turned in and out along this valley, that
resembled in any way even a buttress of Aconcagua. We
cross-examined our mule-driver, but he was very reticent
upon the subject. He told us he believed that there was
once a man who had been up in these parts, and who had
come back and told his wife's uncle that he had seen a high
spur which might possibly be a part of the mountain, but he
could not say for certain. His impression could be pretty
well summed up in the fact that there was always a peak
behind, reminding one of the White Queen's remarks to
Alice, "Jam yesterday, and jam to-morrow, but never jam
to-day."

We decided to go along as far as we could get that day,
and then climb to the top of one of these peaks so as to get
the view. We soon reached a place where the Vacas Valley
branches off, the Rio del Penon coming down to the east.
We were obliged to ford the river here, and our arriero had
to try several places before we could get one that was safe to
cross. Twice he was nearly washed away by the current, and
was obliged to turn back. Finally we got across, and dis-
mounted in order to give our horses some rest. The sun
was extremely hot, and it was impossible for us to get any
shade. Zurbriggen and I lay down where we could get our
heads in the shadow of a rock, the rest of our bodies grilling
in the sun. In this way we obtained about half an hour's
sleep. It was the first day of exercise in the mountains, and
as we were naturally rather out of training, the long ride that
morning had fatigued us unduly.

After we had started again we had an experience of the
rubbishy South American saddles. They are strapped down
by long girths of leather, tied and knotted together. The
Andine muleteer knows nothing of buckles; he has never
seen such things. He can only cinch an animal with these

UNWHOLESOME WATER 41

long thongs, which he winds round and round, tying them in
quaint and fantastic knots, very difficult for the uninitiated
to untie. One has to dismount about every hour, or per-
haps oftener, and resaddle one's horse, placing straight again
the numerous sheepskins and cloths that form its rude
equipment.

The valley mounted very much, and curved about here,
while the scenery at every moment grew wilder and more
barren; then the sides closed in to a deep sort of gorge,
and we were surrounded by huge boulders. As the arriero
kept on his horse I thought it best to do so too, but I could
not imagine how he was going to avoid rolling over. His
horse leapt from stone to stone, and the boulders would
occasionally rock as if about to topple over. At about noon
we reached a stream, where the horses were watered. They
had been suffering from thirst for some time, and I asked the
man why he had not watered them before. He explained
to me that the streams we had passed were not wholesome,
and I was initiated into the fact that the greatest care is
necessary concerning the water one drinks, for the springs
hold so many injurious substances in solution that to drink
from them produces serious diarrhoea. Following the river
bank we mounted hill after hill, which looked like the
remains of ancient terminal moraines. The valley soon
widened out again, and finally we reached a great plain. On
either hand, where the side valleys open into this plain, are
great heaps of rubbish in the form of a talus ; they extend
far out into the valley in a semicircular form, beautifully
piled up and rounded off, some of them being nearly a mile
in diameter. The route was fairly easy here, and we were
able to gallop over the stunted snow-grass growing near the
river, seeing as we passed several flocks of guanaco grazing
on these mounds. About four o'clock in the afternoon we
stopped and camped under a great overhanging rock, which
gave us some shelter from the wind blowing down the valley.
We had not brought a tent with us, but wrapping ourselves
up in our blankets we got what rest we could.

Next morning I started with Zurbriggen to climb a hill

42 THE HIGHEST ANDES

close by the camp, hoping that from the summit we should
get a view of our mountain. We walked up one of the great
slopes of debris, following the little paths that ran along the
hillsides, made by the herds of guanaco that seemed so
plentiful here. Upon turning the corner of a rib, we came
upon half a dozen of these animals quietly grazing. The
guanaco, like many timid animals, has a habit of stopping to
look at any new sight before it runs away. We came upon
them frequently, and they all turned and stared at us inquisi-
tively, standing still for a few seconds, and then scampering
away down the hillside, passing us not more than thirty
or forty yards away. Zurbriggen, who was the Nimrod of
his own valley of Macugnaga, stamped and growled in rage
at being so near to game and having no gun. He sat down
and positively beat his head in his despair, exclaiming, "Ah,
if we only had a revolver we might have shot one ! "

When we reached the summit of the peak we had set out
to climb, we found to our disappointment it was only a rib of
a very much higher peak. This being our first climb it
had greatly tired us ; we lay down in the sun to rest, and fell
asleep. On awaking, I suddenly became aware that a huge
bird was flying in small circles round us, not more than forty
or fifty yards off. It was nothing less than a condor, which
had evidently taken us for dead as we lay there sleeping and
had come down to pick up a meal. As soon as I moved, the
bird soared into the air and disappeared behind the ranges
in the direction of Aconcagua, while Zurbriggen, as he
watched it fly away, again gave utterance to his grief that
we had no gun. " Stop ! " he cried to it ; " stop ! I also want
to see a view from up there. Wait for me ! "

We were now at an altitude of about 16,000 feet, but we
had not the energy to go on and climb the range above, which
looked at least another 2000 feet. Besides, we were not at all
aware that there was not a similar range behind that. Nothing
is more discouraging to the mountaineer than to climb a peak
in the hope of getting a view, and then to find still higher
another peak beyond, which shuts off the view.

After we reached our bivouac at about eleven o'clock,

ACONCAGUA FROM VACAS VALLEY

ACONCAGUA SEEN 43

Zurbriggen felt energetic enough to prospect on horseback,
guided by the arriero, a little farther up the valley. They
returned in a few hours, Zurbriggen having seen a great peak
to his left. He did not know what it was, but he thought it
was not Aconcagua. He described it as being similar to
the Grande Jorasse near Chamonix. Whatever it was, he
thought that it did not look very accessible from this side,
so I determined to go down, rejoin our party, and try the
next valley — that of the Horcones. The peak that Zurbriggen
saw was, as a matter of fact, the highest point of Aconcagua,
but as the arriero had assured him that it was not Aconcagua,
and, in fact, nowhere near it, we naturally supposed that the man
had some rough knowledge of the topography of the country,
and believed him. We slept that night at our bivouac, and
started again next morning before daybreak, thus fording most
of the worst places before the great masses of water came down
from the melting snows. The Vacas Valley is, in some ways,
the most dangerous of all, on account of its fords, which have
to be crossed six times. The last ford that we reached just
before Vacas was in a very bad condition, as the water had
risen rapidly during the last hour. We tried several times
to get through, but our horses would not face the stream,
and finally we were obliged to abandon the attempt. Our
arriero, therefore, led us up some of the steepest slopes I
have ever seen a horse ascend. Every moment I felt that
the animal must topple over backwards and fall, so loose was
the soil, and so steep the angle. We arrived, however,
without accident at the top of this slope, and by climbing
along the edge of a precipice succeeded in avoiding the ford.
Zurbriggen had dismounted long before, and had been
leading his horse. As the arriero, however, remained on his
animal, I did not like to get off, but when we reached the
edge of this precipice, I could stand it no longer. For fifty
yards after I was out of the saddle the animal was tottering
over the edge, while rocks and masses of earth rolled down
from under his feet, falling from cliff to cliff, and dashing with
alarming splash into the river below. With a great deal of
scrambling he managed to get across. The arriero kept his

44 THE HIGHEST ANDES

seat the whole time. The worst part now over, we reached
Vacas at about eleven o'clock. The rest of the party had
had a very bad time of it during the previous two days, what
with the heat of the sun, which had driven them out of their
tents, and the wind and dust, which had half-blinded and
choked them. They had unpacked all the equipment, and
Tomas Sosa had arrived with his troop of mules, a fine lot
of animals. At the time I could not understand how they
managed to exist upon the meagre pasturage that surrounded
the place, yet during all the summer months they kept
themselves not only alive, but very well, some of them even
being fat, and they were always in high spirits, for this dry
snow -grass seems to stimulate them like corn. I was
reminded of the snow-grass in the Mackenzie Plains of New
Zealand, where horses can be taken in from the fields and
driven eighty miles in a day.

CHAPTER V
FIRST ATTEMPT ON ACONCAGUA

AFTER my trip up the Vacas Valley, I had come to the
conclusion that nothing could be done at present from
that side. Although we had actually seen the mountain, we
did not, of course, know that it was really the peak of Acon-
cagua ; our arriero had been so positive in denying that we
had seen the actual peak, that we were for the time convinced.
There were several drawbacks to our camping-ground, too ;
in the first place, the water was bad, and we had to go a long
way for it ; it had to be very carefully filtered, for it was as
black as ink and full of sulphur. In the second place, we were
exposed to the terrible morning winds that blow in these parts.
There was no place in which we could shelter ourselves, and
our tents had all been blown down several times. Vines, who
had been up to the Inca, reported there was an excellent
camping - ground near the mouth of the Horcones Valley,
fairly sheltered from the north - westerly gales, with spring
water close at hand. In our present position we were camp-
ing at the junction of four valleys, which is always undesirable ;
I therefore rode up to Inca that night, after giving orders that
the camp should be moved next morning. It was still early
in the season ; the trans-continental road that leads to Chile
was being used for the first time for mules, having been
blocked up until now by the winter snows. The next few
days we spent in moving our luggage up to our new camp.
We made ourselves as comfortable as possible there, and
in fact used it for the next seven months, making it our head-
quarters.

Our chief difficulty in removal was with the mules, which
were new to the military pack-saddles we had brought from

46 THE HIGHEST ANDES

England, and did not take to them in a kindly spirit. Before
packing the saddles, our arrieros made sure of the docility of
the beasts during the operation by carefully muffling up their
heads in their ponchos. But when the loads had been adjusted
and these coverings removed, a new scene immediately opened.
No mule cares for new straps with sharp edges at any time,
and our beasts had been hitherto accustomed to saddles of a
very different sort. The pack-saddle of the country is a
crude affair. A pad is placed on the back of the mule ; on
the top of the pad goes a high wooden frame, somewhat
similar to those used for camels in Egypt ; the packs are then
held on each side, and saddle, packs, and the mule's body are
bound round together with leather ropes. No halter is used,
but sometimes a rope is fastened round the animal's neck.
The mules were accustomed to loads of this sort, but they
quite failed to understand the new English equipment.
Being chafed by the cruppers and halters, and frightened by
the jogging of the panniers, which, instead of being bound on,
were merely slung on hooks, they began to rub against one
another, then to kick, and finally they stampeded. Off the
whole herd galloped amongst the rocks and boulders, loaded
and unloaded animals together. The panniers, heavy with
photographic plates, many of them unhooked at one corner,
were bucked into the air, or hurled amongst the rocks. It
was a sickening sight for anyone who knew every detail of
the contents of the panniers, and we were powerless to put
an immediate stop to it. However, the most turbulent soon
parted with their loads, and the rest were caught. No irrepar-
able damage was done, but it taught us a lesson. Never load
a mule too lightly ; he is an animal who shows no gratitude.
From this time forward four panniers instead of two was the
load for each mule. We never had reason to regret our
military pack-saddles again : far stronger and more efficient
in every way for ordinary work than the clumsy contrivance
used by the natives, they also adapted themselves much better
to the difficult places we had to negotiate in the high valleys.
Before reaching the mountain we thought it advisable to
have some horses as well as mules. During my experiences

BUYING HORSES 47

with Zurbriggen up the Vacas Valley we had proved what
splendid goers and expert climbers the horses were, and I
determined to buy some for our work, so Zurbriggen was sent
down to Vacas to purchase three to start with. He found
only three for sale, and was able to obtain two of them for
one hundred dollars ; but the third, a black horse with a
sore back, they considered as valuable as the other two put
together, and refused to sell the three for less than two
hundred dollars. Zurbriggen beat them down to one hundred
and sixty, and returned with his purchases. Now £12
for three horses is not a ruinous price, but I was not
overjoyed at the bargain for the third horse, when I went
and inspected the creature, and saw the open sore on his
back. Zurbriggen had been assured that a week's rest would
make this all right. We gave him three weeks with no result.
The dryness of the air in the Andes is very unfavourable to
the quick healing of sores. We followed the example of the
natives and used him as he was, and he seemed none the
worse for it. He was an invaluable animal for the work, he
bore his many hardships with courage. I sold him for a
good price before I left the country.

By the I4th of December we were fairly settled, and I
determined to continue thirteen miles farther up the Inca
Valley and ascend the Cumbre Pass, hoping that from there
we should get a good view of our mountain, and be able to
devise a plan of attack. We accordingly rode up early in
the morning to Las Cuevas. Nothing in my experience of
mountain passes compares with the hopeless and absolute
dreariness of the scenes we passed through as we galloped
along. Every few miles we passed the little round dome-
shaped casuchas, with their doorways perched up high above
the ground as a precaution against their being snowed up.
In approaching Las Cuevas, some plateau land is passed,
known as the Paramillos. It is one of the most dangerous
parts of the Pass in winter, as a little graveyard by the
roadside, with numerous wooden crosses in various stages
of decay, eloquently testifies. Las Cuevas consists of
two galvanised iron posadas or inns, and the stone-built

48 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Argentine Custom-house. It is here that the coaches stop,
travellers making the final ascent of the Cumbre Pass on
horses or mules. Though the carriage road continues over
the Pass into Chile it is seldom used, owing to the great
difficulty and expense of getting the lumbering coaches over
it. During the whole of our stay in these ranges, I saw only
one carriage come all the way across. We stopped at Las
Cuevas and had breakfast, while they saddled us fresh horses
to take us to the top of the Pass. They were anxious to
supply us with a guide, assuring us that we should undoubtedly
be lost if we tried to find the passage alone. As the Pass was
in plain view above us, we decided, however, much to their
chagrin, to forego this luxury. We got off about ten, after
the usual delay and attempts at extortion experienced in such
places. Our line of direction lay straight up the steep slopes
of the Pass, which we were obliged to climb in zigzags. The
weather now began to change, and we had not gone far before
we were overtaken by a tremendous snowstorm, accompanied
by a blinding wind, but we were so near the top that I deter-
mined to go on, in the hope that we might at least catch sight
of the surrounding mountains. In this, however, I was
disappointed. Our horses seemed to suffer terribly during
the ascent of the final slopes ; we were obliged to stop every
few minutes and let them stand, for it was with difficulty that
they caught their breath. We did not succeed in getting
even a glimpse of Aconcagua, still we were quite satisfied
with our trip, as at times, through rents in the clouds, we saw
many of the surrounding peaks. The view towards Chile
was a magnificent one, the valleys all wrapped in black
clouds. We came down as quickly as possible, leaving our
tired horses at Las Cuevas, and galloped back to the Inca
on our own animals. It was still snowing, even at the Inca,
but towards evening the storm ended as quickly as it had
begun. Next day I sent Zurbriggen down to Vacas to buy
more horses, since we found the mules unsatisfactory for
riding purposes, and meanwhile we gave up several days to
astronomical observations to determine the precise latitude
and longitude of the Inca. On i8th December I sent

ZURBRIGGEN'S STORY 49

Zurbriggen up the Horcones Valley to discover the best sides
of the valley for riding, so that we might establish a secondary
camp near Aconcagua, and while he was gone a new com-
plication appeared, in the shape of a telegram, informing
me that the German Athletic Club at Santiago was making
arrangements to attempt the ascent of the mountain at once.

After an absence of four days Zurbriggen returned and
reported. The following account of his journey, with which
he has since furnished me, is characteristic and interest-
ing. It has been translated, with due regard to style, from
the original document in Italian.

"On i8th December I left Puente del Inca at seven in
the morning with the young muleteer Tomas Sosa, in order
to investigate the mountain Aconcagua from the Valley of the
Horcones. I rode my own horse, the young man Tomas his
mule, and we also had in our service another mule to carry
the provisions.

"A little pathway traversed the fields and served as a
road at the commencement ; but after some three hours it
disappeared, and a more different route presented itself over
fields, stones, and moraines. I was compelled twice to cross
the torrent of Horcones, which came down in great volume
because of the thawing of the snow. I remember, and shall
always remember, that day of days, the 3rd of January 1897,
when I found myself hurled over and over in the cruel waves
of that limpid stream. For no small time will the hideous
remembrance remain imprinted on my heart." (The adventure
to which Zurbriggen refers in these affecting terms will be
found recorded in a later chapter.)

" When at last we reached such an altitude that I saw the
front of the great mountain before me, I commanded the
muleteer-fellow to prepare me a cup of tea, while I ascended
the high ground to ascertain the route that it would be best
to take.

11 Before me I saw a precipice about eight or nine
thousand English feet high, and I understood at once that it
would be useless to attempt anything in that direction. The
ascent must be tried from the rear.
4

50 THE HIGHEST ANDES

" I turned back, and returned to the place where I had
left the muleteer. The cup of tea that I had ordered was
ready ; a frugal meal restored me to vigour, and instantly I
forced the muleteer-fellow in the best way that I could — for
the poor man understood no language but Spanish — to pre-
pare me the cavalcade. After journeying along for fully three
hours, I planted the tent at the extremity of the pasturage.
There was beautiful weather, but the wind was terrible.

"The morning of the next day came, refulgent in red. I
commanded the muleteer to saddle my horse, and then to
return homeward with the two mules. For many hours I
rode along over moraine and stony gullies, where prodigious
avalanches had fallen. The winds had driven the snow into
enormous wreaths, over which the horse had great difficulty
in passing. Thus I reached a place from which I could
swear that it was possible to go up Aconcagua without much
difficulty. It was now two o'clock ; and, as I had with me
none of the provisions necessary to sustain life, and the horse
was equally destitute, for I had ridden many hours without
finding a blade of grass, I was compelled against my will to
turn back to the camp, or, to speak more accurately, to the
place where I had pitched the tent.

"Next morning I rose at two, and at three saddled my
horse, which had got rested and refreshed in the abundant
pasture. This time I found a shorter and easier way, and
in five hours reached the foot of the mountain, where I
dismounted and tied up my horse lest perchance he should
escape.

" Going forward on foot, I climbed along a gully amongst
moraine, over rubbish and detritus of rocks. After six hours
of these gymnastic achievements, I reached the summit of an
eminence from which I saw, stretched out before me to the
north, the valley that leads into Chile. On this site, which I
then selected, was afterwards placed the general encampment
of the entire caravan. The aneroid gave the height as 19,000
English feet, as was ascertained by Mr. FitzGerald after
we had established ourselves there. I reposed myself on
this spot, and examined the route thence to the summit of

ZURBRIGGEN'S FAST 51

Aconcagua. It appears to me now that the route which I
marked out must have been the same as that followed in 1883
by Dr. Paul Giissfeldt, whose visiting-card we afterwards
found about 2000 feet higher up. It did not seem at all
difficult to ascend to the highest point in view, but naturally
I could not tell whether it was the actual summit of the
mountain or not. My respiration at this altitude was perfectly
free, but I must admit that I felt heavy and tired. Accord-
ingly I resolved to return instantly by the way I had come,
and to lay before Mr. FitzGerald the results of my ex-
ploration.

" It was now late in the day, and I descended as quickly
as possible to where I had left my horse.

" I had not been riding for more than an hour and a half
when I came to a mass of snow, one of the fallen avalanches,
on which my horse stumbled and fell. Both horse and rider
rolled over and over together. One of my feet remained
caught in the stirrup, and, strive as I might, I could not
extricate myself, but unwillingly shared all the motions of the
beast. Fortunately I was not hurt, but the horse was lamed
in one leg, so that for the rest of the way I was compelled to
lead him. In consequence of this incident it was impossible
to reach the tent that night, and I had to sleep on the ground,
half-way down the valley. It was bitterly cold, and I spent a
terrible night in the open air without shelter of any sort.
Not till late next morning did I reach my tent, suffering
greatly from fatigue.

" I will not speak of the appetite I and the horse had.
Suffice it to say that we had both been without food for
twenty-four hours. There I rested all day, and did not set
out for Inca till the following morning. On the way I met
Mr. Vines and the muleteer-fellow, who had come to search
for me, Mr. FitzGerald being solicitous about my long
absence."

Zurbriggen had been absent four days. As he had taken
provisions for exactly that space of time, I had sent Vines
and young Tomas with three days' provisions to relieve him
if necessary.

52 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Vines rode up the main Inca Valley by the Pass road for
a mile, and then ascended the grass-covered detritus, which
in the shape of dunes vomited forth, so to speak, from the
Horcones, almost blocks the entire Inca Valley at that point.
Winding in and out amongst them, he crossed the wide
marshy pasturages that surround the shores of the little
Horcones lake, in whose waters are vividly reflected the
great white walls of Aconcagua fifteen miles away. There he
met Zurbriggen, who looked wonderfully well in spite of his
four days and nights spent in the open air on the slope of
the great mountain. He told Vines of the accident to his
horse ; his axe was broken, and his leg hurt. But he was in
high spirits. He was sure he had found the way, and the
only way, to get up. It must be the way by which Giissfeldt
had ascended. He was told of the German expedition from
Santiago. They must join the path he had just ascended,
Zurbriggen thought, but if they came by the north it would
take them a week or more to cross the huge mass of the
Cordilleras from Chile, before they reached the base of the
mountain. And once on the shoulder we should command
the summit. He was certain that it was 6000 feet higher
than the point he had reached, but he did not think the
ascent would be difficult.

On hearing this report, I decided to make an attempt
upon the mountain at once, and by way of the Horcones
Valley ; so two days before Christmas I set out, taking with
me Zurbriggen, four porters, two horses, and ten mules.
Though I roused the camp at four o'clock in the morning, I
delayed starting until nearly half-past seven, as our Spanish
drivers had great difficulty in collecting the necessary pack
animals. We rode up towards Las Cuevas for about two
miles, and then turned up the Horcones Valley, but we were
soon obliged to ford the river to get on to the east bank, the
west side being too precipitous to ride over.

The scenery here was exceedingly wild and picturesque.
Along the edge of the stream were great tall pillars of con-
glomerate mud and stone similar to those in the valley of
Evolene in Switzerland, while the mountains on either side

THE HORCONES VALLEY 53

showed in their stratification the most marvellous colouring.
We soon reached a peak they call in this country the
Almacenes, which is Spanish for a shop. It is built up by
a most curious series of absolutely regular layers of rock of
almost every conceivable hue and tint. Here we were obliged
to make enormous detours, and ford the river again before
we could reach the upper level of the valley. Our pack mules
grew almost unmanageable, and we had to stop many times
to reload them and adjust their packs. Having crossed over
moraine slopes which seemed interminable, we at last reached
the upper part of the western valley. Vegetation had ceased,
and there lay before us great spaces filled with detritus
deposit, perfectly level, and nearly half a mile wide. Soon
after midday we reached the little tent that Zurbriggen had
left there under a great forked peak. A halt was made
for lunch, and we continued on. The valley now changed
its aspect ; once again, instead of the flat bed of snow, we had
great mounds and bits of old, unmelted winter snow to
traverse. The road was most difficult and dangerous for
animals, and we had several nasty falls before we reached the
head of the valley under the peak of Aconcagua, where we
arrived at about four in the afternoon, fortunately with-
out serious accident. As the lack of pasturage made it
impossible to take the mules any farther, we unloaded our
baggage and formed a camp, which we afterwards called the
14,000 foot camp; it was just at the snout of the Horcones
Glacier. We made into a few packets the food we
required, and started at once on foot to climb the north-
western saddle of the mountain. An altitude of 16,000
feet had been reached when I called a halt on account of
the lateness of the hour, and decided to spend the night
there.

The sun was then just setting over the western hills
towards the Pacific, and darkness descending rapidly on us.
The cold was intense as soon as the sun went down, and being
much fatigued, we decided not to pitch our tent, but simply
to crawl into our sleeping-bags. No one had the energy
even to make for himself a smooth place to lie down in. We

54 THE HIGHEST ANDES

sought shelter under a friendly over-hanging rock, where we
huddled as close to one another as possible for the sake of
warmth, and tried to get what rest we could. During the
night one of my Swiss porters, a tall, powerfully-built man,
Lochmatter by name, fell ill. He suffered terribly from
nausea and faintness, which it seemed impossible to check,
Towards morning, however, he was better. As soon as the
sun tinged the peaks of the opposite mountains, we crept
from our bags, miserable and cold, our attempts to sleep
having been in most cases a failure. We tried to heat some
water with spirits of wine, but our cooking apparatus struck
work, and it was with great difficulty that we managed to
melt some snow and prepare a lukewarm beverage we called
coffee.

It was some time before the sun caught the slopes we
were on. The giant cliffs and crags of Aconcagua towered
above us to the east, a great mass of rock rising like the
battlements of some stupendous castle. The many-coloured
stratifications, running in straight and regular lines along its
face, gave it the appearance of some structure piled up by
the hand of man, but its vast proportions, bewildering to the
pigmy onlooker, told infallibly of a mightier agency. More
than once the thought passed through my mind, while
amongst these mountains, that the masses of rock strata
must have been actuated by living passions ; must have
fought and boiled, and torn one another in flame and lava,
must have striven and writhed and crumbled along in frozen
glacial majesty — true " dragons of the prime " ; that here, in
such places as the amphitheatre of peaks and valleys round
Aconcagua, was one of the arenas of that early-world drama
aeons and aeons ago, — here the scene of the tragedies and
high moments of the great protagonists.

The sun was shining brightly over the hillside, warning
us and encouraging us to further efforts. I determined to
camp that night as high as we could get, but before starting
I sent one of the men down to our lower camp by the snout
of the glacier with orders to bring up a further supply of
provisions, while the rest of us collected our luggage and

MOUNTAIN SICKNESS 55

pushed on. We were all feeling ill and weak in the morning,
and I soon came to the conclusion that it would be impossible
that day to reach the saddle which Zurbriggen had recom-
mended as a camping-ground. We had here our first taste
of one of those great slopes composed of small loose stones,
of which we saw so much afterwards, and we were by no
means pleased with our experience. Every step we took
we slipped back, sometimes half, sometimes more than the
whole distance we had originally risen. Up this slope we
struggled, each man taking a line for himself, but I noticed
that we were all steering straight towards a small patch of
snow that lay above us. We were repeatedly obliged to
make long halts, sometimes for as much as half an hour.
Towards midday we reached the head of this gully filled
with snow, and I saw, both from my own condition and from
that of the men with me, that it would be unwise — if
not impossible — to think of climbing higher that night.
Lochmatter was growing pale and ill again, so I was obliged
to send him down with another man by the glacier to our
lower camp, telling him to remain there until he had perfectly
recovered. We were eager to have our tent comfortably
pitched, the recollection of the last night spent in the open
being far from pleasant ; so we set to work at once to make
an encampment on a flat bit of ground, sheltered by a large
boulder. Pitching the tent was something of an under-
taking, for it had fourteen guy-ropes, all of which had to
be fixed to large loose stones, the ground being too hard to
admit of anything like a peg being driven into it. I had
suffered acutely during the afternoon from nausea, and from
inability to catch my breath, my throat having become dry
from continual breathing through my mouth. At times I
was obliged to cough ; this momentarily stopped my breath-
ing, and ended in an unpleasant fit of choking. There were
now four of us sleeping in the tent, Zurbriggen, myself, and
two porters. I was unable to sleep at all, partly because of
the difficulty I had in breathing, and partly on account of
the dreadful snoring of the men. They would begin breath-
ing heavily, and continue on in an ascending scale till they

56 THE HIGHEST ANDES

almost choked. This would usually wake them up, and
they were quiet for ten minutes or so, till gradually the whole
performance recommenced with the regularity of clockwork.
Our tent was a small one, about 6 ft. by 4, ending in a
peaked roof 3 ft. 6 in. from the ground. The floor of it
was securely sewn to the sides so as to prevent the wind
from getting underneath. The drawback of this was that
towards morning it got extremely stuffy inside, but the
cold outside was so intense that we dared not open the
flap.

On Christmas morning we crawled out after the sun was
up. The day, in spite of its happy omen and crowded
recollections of home, was not a promising one. Great
clouds were banked up to the north-west, and the wind was
blowing heavily. One of my men greeted me with a " Merry
Christmas," but I said in reply that it was not. This ended
the matter, for nobody was prepared to dispute the point.
As we were unable to cook anything, we were obliged to fall
back on some tins of Irish stew, melting the great white
frozen lumps of grease slowly in our mouths, and then
swallowing them. The natural result of this was violent
fits of nausea. I now saw the hopelessness of any serious
attempt being made till a suitable provision of wood was
brought up, with which we could make fires, and cook our
food. What one requires at these altitudes is light nourish-
ment such as is given to invalids or people recovering from
severe fevers. I was determined, however, to fix our camp
on the ridge before turning back, so a couple of porters were
sent down to bring up fresh provisions. In the afternoon,
as we were beginning to feel slightly better, Zurbriggen and
I started out to reconnoitre, and if possible to find a suitable
camping-ground on the shoulder of the ridge above us. The
weather had greatly improved since morning, the clouds
dispersing as the wind subsided. We were feeling distinctly
weak about the knees, and were obliged to pause every dozen
steps or so to catch our breath, and frequently we sat down
for about ten minutes to recover ; but after about two hours
and a half we reached the shoulder, and climbed to the top

CHRISTMAS DAY 57

of a small mound at about 19,000 feet, from which we got a
magnificent view of what was practically the peak of
Aconcagua. It was, as we afterwards discovered, a point
only about 150 feet lower than the actual summit. Although
some 4000 feet above us, it looked at the moment so close
that Zurbriggen said he would walk up to it next day while
the men were moving the camp up to the ridge and see what
lay beyond, for we then thought that the peak must lie some
distance beyond and reach a much higher elevation. Not
until afterwards did we learn that it was a good eight to ten
hours' climb ; our idea then being that it could be reached in
two or three hours. The view out towards the Pacific was
obscured by clouds, and the wind had now sprung up again,
and was blowing heavily from the north-west.

I was again attacked here with severe nausea, and as it
was late and the weather threatening we thought it advisable
to return at once. On the way down we noticed a suitable
spot to pitch our camp at about 18,700 feet elevation. It was
in the cleft of a great rock, more or less hollowed out in such
a way that we could place our tents there comfortably and be
sheltered from the north and west wind, while the mass of the
mountain itself screened us somewhat from the south.

That evening I was completely done up. The men
arrived after dark, bringing with them a fresh supply of pro-
visions and a quantity of spirits of wine, with which, after a
great deal of trouble, we succeeded in preparing for ourselves
some hot coffee. We crept into our tent early, for the cold
at this altitude seems absolutely unendurable after sunset. I
have seen the men actually sit down and cry like children, so
discouraged were they by this intense cold. Their circulation
was so low that they were unable to resist its effects.

The nights that one spends at these altitudes are the
worst part of the work. It is difficult to sleep for more than
a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at a time without
being awakened by a fit of choking. Another discomfort,
moreover, was that our tent was so small, and we were
so tightly wedged in, that it was impossible to turn round
without waking up everybody else.

58 THE HIGHEST ANDES

On the morning of the 26th I decided to push our
encampment up to the saddle, south-west of the peak of
Aconcagua. Accordingly we spent the day in moving our
tent and provisions up to the spot which Zurbriggen and I
had selected the previous afternoon. The men made two
journeys, and were utterly tired out by evening.

Zurbriggen went out to prospect some route towards the
peak we had seen the day before. He started at nine o'clock
in the morning and returned to our new camp late in the
evening completely exhausted. He reported that he had
gone about 2000 feet above our high camp, and that from
here the mountain still looked as far off as ever. On return-
ing he was attracted by a small heap of stones that had the
appearance of having been built by someone. Upon a closer
investigation he found a small tin box, and on opening this
he discovered, to his great delight, Giissfeldt's card.

It was here then that the great German explorer, accom-
panied only by two Chilenos, found it necessary to turn back
owing to the intense cold and to the fact that a storm was
nearly upon him. He turned literally to save his life, and
left this signal on the highest point that had been reached
on his second attempt to climb Aconcagua. On the card
was written, " A la segunda entirda del cerro Aconcagua,
Maerz 1883."

I determined to beat a retreat next morning and to return
to our camp in the Horcones Valley at 12,000 feet where
there was plenty of wood, so early in the day I sent young
Pollinger down with instructions to get to Inca as soon as
possible, and return with a further supply of provisions,
wood, and especially the best fresh meat he could procure,
also, if possible, to bring some fresh vegetables, and to bring
a small cooking-stove to burn wood. We followed directly
afterwards, and as soon as we reached camp at the foot of the
glacier, we felt completely restored, and were able to walk
down to the camp at 12,000 feet. Here we were able at last
to make once more a good fire and prepare a hot meal. We
stood in much need of it.

CHAPTER VI

THE ATTACK RENEWED

WE were so overcome by fatigue after our last four days'
work at high levels that we did not wake next day till
the sun turned us out of the tent, beating down fiercely on its
sides, and making the atmosphere within like a greenhouse.
What a contrast to the morning before ! Then the question
was how to keep one's fingertips from freezing, with the
mercury showing 25° of frost, while now the temperature
inside our tent was 90°. We spent the morning basking in
the sun, doing absolutely nothing. Soon after midday, Vines,
accompanied by young Pollinger and Lanti, arrived with
a lot of mules loaded with fresh provisions. He reported
that they had made a road through a bad defile, which would
save us a long detour of about two hours and at the same
time afford us a better place for crossing the river. This was
on the west bank of the stream, at the junction of the two upper
Horcones Valleys. I gathered that they had had a bad time
with the heliographs, on account of the wind. The sand-
storms down at Inca had been unusually violent, and they
were at times nearly blinded in their attempts to watch the
summit of the mountain through the dense clouds of whirling
dust that blew round them. We spent the afternoon in taking
a series of readings with the mercurial barometer to determine
the height of this camp. Vines spent the night with us,
returning to the Inca next afternoon. During the morning I
employed the men in collecting as much firewood as they
could bring together. Firewood is scarce in these valleys,
and it is frequently necessary to go miles and miles to collect
a few mule-loads.

Towards evening they returned with three large loads, but

60 THE HIGHEST ANDES

I did not like the appearance of this wood, and as a matter
of fact it proved nearly useless to us. On the following
morning we made an early start with all our pack-mules to
reach our 14,000 foot camp. This time we had an entirely
fresh supply of food, and plenty of warm blankets ; we arrived
at the old camp at about 9.30, and at once prepared the
baggage the men were to carry up to 19,000 feet. The
selection proved a difficult one, for there were many things
we wanted, and yet I did not like to give the men more than
about 30 Ibs. apiece. On account of their weight we had
to keep rejecting things that we really had considerable need
of. We finally settled on a load of wood and blankets,
and some fresh food. With these we started about eleven
o'clock in a cutting wind, though the sun was shining brightly,
This time we chose a different route, and followed a steep
couloir or gully filled with nieve penitent e. We found it
extremely steep climbing, even difficult in places, though it
was a distinct relief from the monotony of the long slopes
covered with rolling stones across which we had threaded our
way before. We reached our camp at 17,000 feet where we
had spent Christmas Day. At about 4.30, — as the men were
suffering considerably from the effects of the heavy loads they
had carried so far, — we decided to leave a certain number of
things at this old camping-ground. We were all experiencing
severe thirst, but as the day was extremely cold and cloudy
there was not a drop of water to be had ; everywhere we had
found the streams frozen. We tried laying snow on a large
flat rock upon which the sun had been shining all day, in
hopes that the heat absorbed by the stone would melt it.
This plan was a failure, and we had to proceed thirsty. The
upper camp was reached at six o'clock, and we tried at once
to make a fire with the wood we had brought ; it would not
burn, however, and we were unable to cook anything. We
managed to thaw some water and even to prepare tepid soup,
but we could not produce sufficient heat to boil water. The
night bade fair to be a bitterly cold one, so as soon as the
sun set we crawled into our tents thoroughly benumbed by
the sharp wind. We had been sitting round the fire trying to

ZURBRIGGEN'S FEET FROZEN 61

absorb some of its warmth, but though we scattered the embers
and positively sat amongst them we were unable to warm our-
selves. What we needed was light pine kindling-wood to
start with. Later on we used to have splendid fires, but we
were always obliged to choose our firewood with the care a
gunner bestows upon his powder or an angler upon his lines.
31^ December. — We rose early this morning and cooked
some meat before dawn, and also prepared coffee ; the
morning was exceedingly cold, the mercury standing at only
6° ; but the day looked promising, though there was a cold
wind from the west. We left our camp at 5.45, and as the
dawn came we were all quite cheerful, feeling certain of
success. At that time we little knew what lay before us ; the
summit looked so very near that we even talked of five or
six hours as a possible time in which to reach it. We set out
towards our peak over the loose, crumbling rocks that covered
the north-west face ; the steepness was too great for a direct
line of march, and we were obliged to twist and zigzag, so
as finally to gain our point. We were anxious also not to
exert ourselves more than was absolutely necessary, knowing
well that on these occasions one must husband one's strength
in the early part of the day. It was after about half an hour
of this work that I noticed Zurbriggen was going very fast ;
I was obliged to call to him several times, and ask him to wait
for me, as I did not wish to exhaust myself by pressing the
pace so early. I was surprised at his hurrying in this way,
as it is generally Zurbriggen who urges me to go slowly at
first. However, I soon discovered the reason for this ; he
was suffering bitterly from cold. Seeing that his face was
very white, I asked him if he felt quite well. He answered
that he felt perfectly well, but that he was so cold he had no
sensation whatever left in his feet ; for a few moments he
tried dancing about, and kicking his feet against the rocks, to
get back his circulation. I began to get alarmed, for frozen
feet are one of the greatest dangers one has to contend
against in Alpine climbing. The porters who had been
lagging behind now came up to us ; I at once told Zur-
briggen to take his boots off, and we all set to work to rub

62 THE HIGHEST ANDES

his feet. To my horror I discovered that the circulation had
practically stopped. We continued working hard upon him,
but he said that he felt nothing. We took off his stockings,
and tried rubbing first with snow, and then with brandy ; we
were getting more and more alarmed, and were even beginning
to fear that the case might be hopeless, and might even
necessitate amputation. At last we observed that his face
was becoming pallid, and slowly and gradually he began to
feel a little pain. We hailed this sign with joy, for it meant
of course that vitality was returning to the injured parts, and
we renewed our efforts ; the pain now came on more and
more severely ; he writhed and shrieked and begged us to
stop, as he was well-nigh maddened by suffering. Knowing,
however, that this treatment was the one hope for him, we
continued to rub, in spite of his cries, literally holding him
down, for the pain was getting so great that he could no
longer control himself, and tried to fight us off. The sun now
rose over the brow of the mountain, and the air became
slightly warm ; I gave him a strong dose of brandy, and after
a great deal of trouble induced him to stand up. We slipped
on his boots without lacing them, and supporting him
between two of us, we began slowly to get him down the
mountain side. At intervals we stopped to repeat the rubbing
operation, he expostulating with us vainly the while. After
about an hour and a half, we succeeded in getting him back
to our tent, where he threw himself down, and begged to be
allowed to go to sleep. We would not permit this, however,
and taking off his boots again we continued the rubbing
operations, during which he shouted in agony, cursing us
volubly in some seven different languages. We then prepared
some very hot soup, and made him drink it, wrapping him up
warmly in all the blankets we could find and letting him sleep
in the sun. In the afternoon he seemed quite right again,
and was able to walk about a little, though he was very much
depressed, and kept muttering to himself that now for twenty
years he had been climbing mountains, and that this was
the first occasion upon which his party had been compelled
to turn back owing to illness on his part. I narrate this

FOOD DIFFICULTIES 63

incident at length as an example of what Aconcagua does to
even the most hardy and experienced of mountaineers. He
got so well towards the evening that I decided to make
another attempt next day, but this time I determined to start
a little later, and not till after the sun had risen. At these
altitudes the cold before sunrise is really unendurable. With
the barometer standing at fifteen inches (which is half pressure
compared to its height at sea-level), the rarefied atmosphere
lowers all the vital organs to such an extent, that 20° of frost
feel more like 60, and one does not have the usual power to
fight against the temperature. Almost all the time we had a
cold biting wind, which, no matter how thickly we clothed
ourselves, seemed to penetrate to our very marrow. In the
afternoon we had a fine view of the Pacific Ocean, the
clouds which so often hung to the west of us having been
dispelled by a heavy gale of wind.

Another of our great difficulties (as we discovered later),
was that the food that we were eating at this time was not of
the right sort. The digestion is so weak at these altitudes
that the ordinary kind of camp food is quite unsuitable ;
afterwards, when we brought up eggs and port wine and
condensed beef-teas, we suffered less than we did in these
first attempts. We also found that the tinned foods did not
agree with us, and it was not till we had fresh meat, and plenty
of wood to cook it with (as spirits would not burn), that we
were able to fortify ourselves sufficiently to fight against the
combined effects of cold and physical depression.

ist January. — The night had been warm for this alti-
tude, 10° being the minimum temperature registered. We
tried heating coffee in the morning on a Russian furnace.
This machine looks exceedingly like the " blowing lamps"
most of us have seen painters use to remove coats of
old paint from wood by scorching. It consists of a boiler
containing a quantity of spirits of wine, which is warmed by
a flame from beneath, the heated spirits being forced through
a tube in the lower end, from which they emerge in a glowing
flame. I had already had some experience with this machine,
and discovered that although it worked admirably when

64 THE HIGHEST ANDES

tested in London before starting, it was by no means reliable
in the rarefied atmosphere of the mountains. The pressure
on the boiler varies, of course, according to the altitude,
and the thing was exceedingly hard to regulate. When it
would not burn at all, we tried heating the boiler by burning
under it cotton which had been well saturated with spirits,
with the result, as might have been expected, of a tremendous
explosion. The pressure of the air up here being only half
what it is at sea-level, the force of the spirit when made to
boil in this way caused it to blow up, and although we had
been complaining for some time that spirit would not burn
properly there, on this occasion we were surprised to find
how well it would burn upon our hands and faces. Zurbriggen
got the lion's share of the scalding, and was proportionately
furious. He hurled the machine down the hill, cursing the
man who invented it. This little episode delayed us con-
siderably, and it was not until eight o'clock that we managed
to get under way. The sun had now risen over the northern
ridge, and the temperature rose to 26°, — a very warm morning
for these regions.

Once more we set out to make the ascent, and made
directly for the summit, keeping a straight line of march up
the great slope of loose rolling stones that covers the north-
west face of the mountain. We soon reached the place
where the day before we had to turn back on account of
Zurbriggen's frost-bite. The height of this spot was about
20,000 feet, and up till now we had advanced without
difficulty, as the route lay chiefly over great reefs of solid
rock. But here all these conditions suddenly changed. In
place of the firm footing we had hitherto enjoyed, was a
great and steep slope of loose rolling stones, which extended
right up to within a few hundred feet of the actual peak.
Looking at it from below it seemed the easiest kind of
going ; one would say that an hour's good walk should
take one over it. We were soon, however, to be undeceived.
The first few steps we took caused us to pause and look at
one another with dismay. Every step we made, we slipped
back, sometimes the whole way, sometimes more, but never

ROLLING STONES 65

less than half of what we had gone up. We continued
plodding on in this manner for some time, our breath
getting shorter and shorter as we struggled and fought
with the rolling stones in our desperate attempts not to
lose the steps we gained. The monotony of the work
began to have its effect on us. There was nothing to fix
our attention upon except the terrible, loose round stones,
that kept rolling, rolling as if to engulf us. After a while we
grew giddy, and it seemed as if the whole mountain were
rolling as well. Then we were obliged to stop and look out
at the view in order to steady our nerves and rest our eyes.
As we gradually moved up, the horizon widened out. We
looked across the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean which
lay glittering and rippling in the brilliant sunlight ; the coast-
line, some hundred miles away, seemed gradually growing
nearer and nearer, as our view of the ocean expanded, while
the horizon was lifted in the air higher and higher. We
now were obliged to change our tactics, for this breathless
struggle was getting more than we could bear, so we tried
making zigzags on the slope, hoping thus to rest ourselves
by changing first on one side, and then on the other. In
this manner we kept on, falling down, and barking our
hands and shins against the sharp stones. Zurbriggen
seemed in fairly good condition, but I noticed that Louis
Pollinger was turning a sickly, greenish hue. All the colour
had left his lips, and he began to complain of sickness and
dizziness. A cold wind sprang up from the south-west,
which considerably impeded our progress. It blew thousands
of small particles of rock and sand, cutting our faces cruelly,
and at the same time nearly blinding us. We were now at
about the same elevation as the spot where Zurbriggen had
some days before discovered Dr. Paul Giissfeldt's card, but
about a mile or more to the west of it. The wind by this time
had increased to a gale, and seeing that it would be hopeless
to reach the summit by this direct but laborious route, I told
Zurbriggen to cut off to the North Ridge. This we ac-
cordingly did, making for it at an angle, so as to continue
our upward progress. It was nearly midday when we
5

66 THE HIGHEST ANDES

reached the first rocks on this ridge, and the sensation of
standing on firm ground again was a great relief to us.
We got into a sort of small amphitheatre partially sheltered
from the wind on two sides, where we sat down to rest,
and tried to cook some warm food. Unfortunately, like
so much of our cookery at high levels, this was a failure,
and we were reduced to eating cold soup in the form of
an almost frozen jelly. I soon discovered that we were not
in reality well sheltered from the wind, and started off to
find another place. Pollinger, however, was feeling very
ill, and did not wish to move. I looked about for some
time for shelter, but was forced finally to give up the
search. It was too cold to remain sitting, so we got little
rest. After about an hour we started again, Pollinger
seeming better, though the colour did not return to his
face. This time the climbing over rocks was not so satis-
factory, but as we were very cold we pressed the pace, until
we were finally obliged to stop and lie down from sheer
exhaustion. The route was extremely steep, which made
things worse. The wind had now risen almost to hurricane
force, and, weak as we were, it seemed positively to blow
the breath out of our bodies. We would gasp after strong
gusts as a man does after an ice-cold plunge into water.
We were therefore reluctantly compelled to turn back at
about 2.15; Zurbriggen, I think, could have gone a little
farther, but even he admitted that he did not think he would
be capable of reaching the summit. The wind that day
must have been appalling on the exposed places. The
temperature had now dropped to i/°, and the sun gave us
no warmth to speak of. Coming down was almost worse
than going up. Fatigued as we were, and chilled and numb
to the bone, we constantly fell down, and it was four o'clock
before we reached our encampment, so cold and tired that
we just rolled into our sleeping-bags, and closed the door
of our tent. Owing to our Russian furnace having blown
up that morning, we were unable to cook anything for
ourselves, and our stomachs revolted at the cold and frozen
food we had in camp, so we were practically compelled to

SICKNESS 67

go supperless to bed. We were all of us suffering from
splitting headaches, the feeling being as if one had an iron
band shrunk on to one's head. That night we got very little
rest. There were four of us in the tent, and packed so
close that each time one of us turned over, he was obliged
to wake the rest. Next morning we were still suffering
acutely from the altitude and cold. The temperature went
down to 5° during the night. The maximum temperature
in the sun had only been 47° during the last three days,
and it had barely reached 29° in the shade. This, taken
in conjunction with the poor circulation of the blood, made
our suffering intense, and it was all that we could do to
keep from getting our extremities frost-bitten. Several
times during the night we had to rub each other's hands
to restore the fast-failing circulation.

A terrible and stunning depression had taken hold upon
us all, and none of us even cared to speak. At times I felt
almost as if I should go out of my mind. All this was, no
doubt, due in part to our want of suitable nourishment, but
it must also have been caused to some extent by anaemia of
the brain, the heart beating too feebly to nourish our ex-
tremities properly with blood. All ambition to accomplish
anything had left us, and our one desire was to get down to
our lower camp, and breathe once more like human beings.
Every time I got up suddenly my head swam, and I nearly
fell fainting to the ground, while great black blotches floated
across the retina of my eyes, obscuring sight completely for
the moment. I realised now the absolute necessity of bringing
up proper wood for cooking purposes. Nothing more could
be done at the time ; the weather looked very threatening ;
and I decided to turn back to our base at the Inca, and get
thoroughly well before making another attempt. I took some
sphygmographic pulse tracings, which showed an enfeebled
circulation ; they registered from 130 to 140 beats per minute.
Our water was frozen now, and we had nothing to drink but
snow slowly dissolved in the mouth.

At an early hour I made everything fast about the camp,
and we turned our faces towards the valley. After coming

68 THE HIGHEST ANDES

down some two thousand feet our spirits seemed to return, and
also our hunger, for we had practically been on starvation diet
for the last three days. When we arrived at our 14,000 foot
camp we were positively in the best of spirits. The day
turned out a fine one, in spite of the threatening bank of
clouds towards the west that had so depressed us in the
morning. As we got lower and lower, the weather became
much warmer, and we had repeatedly to stop to strip off
various articles of clothing. We hurried along, however,
knowing well that this hot sun would mean rivers greatly
swollen and bad fords. At the camp Tomas Sosa was waiting
for us with the horses ; he had seen us coming down the
mountain side, and had cooked us an excellent meal. I
decided to leave Pollinger and Lanti here. Though we were
all suffering more or less from acute sore throat, brought on by
the excessively rapid breathing we had done the day before
in the cold air, we did not wait long, but jumping on our
horses, pressed on as rapidly as possible. In about three
hours we reached the first ford, our arriero being the first to
cross. The torrent was thundering down in immense volumes,
and I could see that the passage was very dangerous, for the
water was passing completely over the back of his horse, and
several times as I watched him, I noticed that it was practi-
cally swimming. I followed next, and was fortunate enough
to get across without an accident, though how my little horse
managed to steer through that wild torrent remains a mystery
to me. Zurbriggen came next. He started well, mounted
on one of our most powerful mules, but when he got to the
middle of the river I was startled and horrified to see him
turn his mule's head down stream. This was fatal : the
animal at once lost its balance, and rolled over, precipitating
him into the raging water. In crossing these streams it is
necessary to keep the horses' heads well up against the
current, for should they get sideways, and the water strike
them with full force, they invariably lose their footing. Poor
Zurbriggen, the instant his mule rolled over with him, was
swept rapidly down the stream, turning over and over with
the animal, so that at times he and at times the mule was

ZURBRIGGEN NEARLY DROWNED 69

uppermost. He could not swim, but even had he been able
to, I doubt whether it would have availed him much, the
force of the water being so great. In another moment they
both struck on a great boulder, Zurbriggen underneath. The
force of the water held the mule tightly jammed against the
rock, effectually pinning his rider underneath, In a moment
I was alongside of him, the arriero close behind invoking all
the saints to our assistance. I noticed that he was engrossed
solely with the welfare of his animal ; the fact that a man was
rapidly drowning before his eyes was an unimportant detail
to him. It was necessary to move the mule first before we
could help Zurbriggen ; so we plunged into the torrent, and
tried to dislodge the unwieldy beast. Tomas wanted to haul
him towards the bank ; I, on the contrary, wished to shove
him into midstream again, as I saw it was easier to accom-
plish, and would therefore release Zurbriggen sooner. I
seized him by the head, and tried to press him away, while
Tomas in a wild frenzy of excitement clung to his tail. This
man's idea in life, when he was in trouble with animals, was
to twist their tails. The unfortunate creature was far too
terrified to move, so I was reduced to pushing him bodily.
I got my back against the stone, and pushed with all my
strength ; slowly he gave back a few inches, and the water,
rushing in between him and the rock with great violence,
swept him out into midstream again, Tomas being reluct-
antly compelled to let go his tail. At once I grabbed Zur-
briggen's arm and dragged him on to the bank ; he was
almost unconscious, and had swallowed considerably more
water than was good for him. I laid him down on the grass,
and with the help of a little brandy succeeded in restoring
him to life. Meanwhile Tomas had been flying after the
mule as it swept along in midstream. After several failures,
owing to his excitement, he succeeded at last in throwing his
lasso round the beast's neck, and bringing it to shore, where
it arrived in a most pitiable condition, trembling all over, and
covered with blood. While the arriero busied himself in
attending to his mule, I took off Zurbriggen's wet things and
wrung them out, wrapping him up in our dry ponchos, which

70 THE HIGHEST ANDES

we had flung off when we started to his rescue. I now
learned for the first time that he had seriously injured his
shoulder. It gave him great pain, and he was generally
much shaken.

Zurbriggen has a fixed idea in his head that he is to die
by drowning, so that little episodes of this character have a
most distressing and demoralising effect on him. He very
nearly lost his life in a New Zealand ford when with me some
years ago, and had some narrow escapes when he was in the
Karakoram Himalayas. On this occasion, when I saw him
pinned under his mule, I thought there was no hope of saving
him from the fulfilment of his premonition. It was more by
good fortune than by skill that I was able to do so, and had
I found it impossible to dislodge the mule, he would assuredly
have been drowned in a few minutes more.

Zurbriggen would not trust himself to a mule again for
a long time. He was far too much shaken to walk, however,
and as he was wet to the skin I naturally wanted him to
press on as fast as possible. We finally got him on Tomas's
own animal, but though I did everything to cheer him, he
was inconsolable. He said to me, " I know I do get killed
to-day," and as luck would have it, we had not gone more
than a mile when he and his mule quietly rolled over the
edge of a rock precipice. The mule was not hurt, but Zur-
briggen had fallen on his bad shoulder again. This was a
finishing blow to his nerves. When I ran and picked him
up, he turned to me, and said slowly, "You see, I do get
killed to-day." I did my best to encourage him by pointing
out that he was still alive, but he shook his head sorrowfully
and said, " I cannot smoke, thank you," when I eagerly pressed
my tobacco-pouch on him as a remedy against all evils.

At length we got under way again. Tomas was much
disconcerted by this last accident, for Zurbriggen after his first
adventure had muttered something forbidding to the effect
that people who kept mules which could not stand up ought
to have their necks wrung. About sunset we reached the
next and last ford. This time Zurbriggen remarked, " It is
all over, I do die now." The ford was certainly in a very

A BAD FORD 71

bad condition, and the water was rushing white with foam.
Tomas tried it first, but as he was riding the mule that had
been so nearly drowned before, he was obliged to turn back
almost at once. The beast had lost its nerve, and was
trembling again pitifully. Tomas said he thought there was
a better place higher up, and accordingly we galloped up the
river bank some distance, till at last we did indeed find a
spot where the river was wider and shallower. It was not
until the arriero and I had crossed and recrossed several
times that I could induce Zurbriggen to face the passage.
He wanted to sleep there, and wait till the night-frosts had
reduced the flow of water, but we persuaded him to come, as
of course with his injured shoulder and wet clothes such a
night in the open would have been most dangerous. In
spite of all our precautions his mule stumbled at the worst
spot. This time, however, he was not greatly disconcerted,
for he had made up his mind to be drowned, and was resigned
to his fate. In the end, however, we got him over without
mishap, and riding on we reached our base camp in about an
hour and a half, having come down all the way from 19,000
feet since morning.

CHAPTER VII

THE ASCENT ACCOMPLISHED

ZURBRIGGEN'S injuries proved to be somewhat
serious, and for the next few days we had to keep him
quiet. There was nothing broken, but he had sustained a
severe sprain, and he had also taken cold in it, which brought
on rheumatic pains, so we were compelled to give up further
attempts on Aconcagua for the time. I gave my whole
attention, therefore, to the survey of the country around us.
We had just begun a long serious of simultaneous readings
with mercurial barometer and boiling-point thermometer, in
conjunction with the Argentine Government's meteorological
observatory at Mendoza. We hoped thus to settle accurately
the height of Inca, and, making that our point of departure,
to measure our mountain. At the same time we commenced
a careful triangulation of the surrounding country during the
day, while at night we carried on astronomical observations
for latitude and longitude.

A theodolite needs for its operation two strands of spider's
web, stretched crosswise behind the lens, upon which any
exact point may be observed. Anything else, even the finest
hair, would appear in the magnifier like a ship's cable.
Lightbody sent me up a box of spider's web to replace those
in our six-inch transit instrument. When I opened the
package I thought they must have been broken, for I saw
nothing. The Argentine spider, however, spins fine, and
with the help of a magnifying-glass I did at last succeed in
finding them. It took two days to adjust these webs in
position, as the smallest current of air striking them during
the operation would blow them into shreds. This trifling

GOSSE'S STORY 73

detail of surveying work may interest the non-technical reader,
and the expert is begged to overlook it.

Gosse had now established himself in a separate tent full
of unpleasant insects in bottles. He had rather an exciting
chase one day after an eagle. I give the account in his
own words : —

" At 5 a.m. I got up, and by 6 a.m. was half-way up the
mountain behind Inca. At a spot where I suspected that a pair
of Chilian sea-eagles had a nest I hid myself and watched.
After three-quarters of an hour of sitting perfectly still, there
was a noise of screaming on the precipice below me. I crept
down, guided by the sound, and presently discovered the nest.
It was three feet in diameter, and built of sticks. In it were
two young birds, almost fully fledged, and a third which was
evidently newly hatched, for it had scarcely any feathers on
it at all. It was impossible for me to reach the nest, but I
dropped a large stone on the head of one of the big birds,
which at the same time killed it, and knocked it out of the
nest to a ledge, where I afterwards climbed down and secured
it. I went back, and later in the day returned to the spot
with a gun, but although I waited long in hiding, the old
birds were too cunning to come within shot. I noticed that
whenever I was near the nest, and the young birds made
their peculiar crying noise of terror, the eagles would appear,
but the moment the young were quiet the old birds would
disappear. I made a long lasso of string, and dropping it
carefully down the face of the cliff, I managed to catch one
of the young birds round the neck, and to haul it up success-
fully. I was, however, not prepared for its strength. When
I had it in my hands, it fought with such extraordinary
violence with beak and claws that I saw that it would be
impossible for me to carry it home. I therefore let it
carefully down again into the nest, taking care to keep the
string round its neck, and as I thought, securely tethering it
to a root above. I hastened back to the camp for a sack,
but when I returned, it had contrived to slip out of the noose,
and was taking flying lessons from pinnacle to pinnacle far
above my reach. For several days the old eagles hung

74 THE HIGHEST ANDES

about the spot, until their family were all capable of flying,
and then they disappeared. The young gentleman must, I
think, have been taken to some very quiet seaside place on
the Chilian coast, for his neck must have been extremely
stiff, and his nervous system shattered with the adventures he
had gone through."

As Zurbriggen was now gradually recovering, I decided
to make another start for the summit, and on the morning of
9th January, a week after we had returned, sick and sorry,
we set out to make a fresh attempt on Aconcagua. The
weather was warmer and the days long, 24th December
being the longest day of the year south of the Equator. We
started late, as I wished to take it easily, my intention being
to go only as far as our old camp under the forked peak.
At about four in the afternoon we reached it, and made
ourselves comfortable for the night. This was by far the
most convenient camp we had in the Horcones Valley. We
were well sheltered under a great overhanging boulder, while
near at hand a clear spring gave us fresh and pure water, a
thing difficult to find in these valleys, where so much of the
water comes from strong mineral springs, and often produces
dysentery. This time we had brought with us an ample
supply of light pine kindling-wood, so that without trouble or
delay we could have the luxury of a big fire, that burned up
brightly in a few minutes.

Early next morning we started. I was anxious about
Zurbriggen, who complained that his shoulder hurt him
badly during the night, but he insisted that he would be
all right, and that he would not have us delayed on his
account. Sleeping on the cold ground seemed to have started
the old pain. At about ten we reached our 14,000 foot
camp, and found Lanti and Pollinger waiting for us. During
our absence they had, according to my instructions, made
several journeys to our upper camp with wood, provisions,
and blankets. It was therefore possible to look forward to
many luxuries that had been absent on our previous attempts.
We brought with us from Inca some fresh meat and eggs,
also a bottle of port wine. These provisions, together with

AT OUR HIGH CAMP 75

the kindling-wood I mentioned before, were soon made up
into suitable loads for the men, and we started off for our
upper camp at about u a.m. The day turned out unusually
fine, the sun was hot, and there was no wind. We walked
slowly and steadily at first, and by this means reached camp
at 5 p.m., the journey being accomplished in five hours and
a half. The men all seemed in excellent condition, and
contented. They were not suffering from the altitude, and
were laughing and joking with one another over their pipes
until sunset. It is not until one has slept a night or two at
this altitude that one begins to feel the weight of depression
and hopelessness which I have described before. We all
seemed so well that I thought it better not to make an attempt
on the mountain next day, but to see what a few days of rest
and good food would do for us at this altitude. My hope
was that the system would accustom itself to the rarefied air,
and if we could only breathe normally with the barometer at
15^ inches, why not at 12^, which is about what the summit
should be ? I now believe this to have been a mistake on
my part ; we should have pushed on at once. Every day
spent at this height makes one the weaker. The cold, to
begin with, is crushing : no matter how many rugs or wraps
one has, it is impossible to get really warm. It cannot be
the temperature that causes it, but the feeble circulation at
this altitude.

Our fresh pine wood gave us a good fire this time, and we
cooked a supper of hot soup, eggs, and fresh vegetables.
With bread and butter, and port wine, this was not a bad bill
of fare, when one considers the difficulties of transport. The
meat came from Inca, the bread from the posada at Punta
de las Vacas, the vegetables from Mendoza, while the fresh
butter was sent all the way from Buenos Aires by rail. All
these fresh articles had to be pushed quickly along from camp
to camp, care being taken that they were not too long in the
hot sun in the valleys. I mention these details of com-
missariat, for although they may seem trifling to the reader
at home, they possess a certain significance for climbers.

We turned into our sleeping-bags after the sun went

76 THE HIGHEST ANDES

down. The sunset had been remarkable, almost menacing in
its grandeur : great banks of clouds lay spread beneath us far
out to sea, dyed scarlet by the sinking sun. They changed
rapidly, assuming curious and fantastic shapes, till finally they
shot up all at once like tongues of flame to the sky, while the
heavens turned a brilliant purple from their reflected light.
As I looked on this sea of fire stretched out beneath me for
over one hundred and sixty miles, it seemed at moments like
looking down into some infernal region.

Soon after we had turned in we heard the wind moaning
fitfully about the tent. The men became restless, and tossed
about as they slept, while a strange uneasiness seemed to
move them, as when a herd of cattle on the pampas scents
an approaching storm. The wind gradually increased, and
soon the men's breathing was silenced by the roar of the
hurricane, as it shrieked and howled round our little tent,
threatening every moment to rend in shreds the canvas which
strained and tugged at the guy-ropes. We tightly fastened
up the double door, and lay panting and struggling for breath.
Thus, hour after hour, the night passed slowly, — how slowly
I am afraid to say ; it was unspeakably long.

Towards four in the morning the wind abated, and we
got a little rest. Poor Zurbriggen suffered agonies from his
shoulder, but with the indomitable pluck and tenacity he
always shows, he refused to give in, though several times I
suggested to him that he had better return and take another
week's rest. The morning reading of our minimum ther-
mometer showed 31° of frost — the lowest we had so far
experienced. Hot coffee was the only thing we could bring
ourselves to take. The storm had entirely ceased, though
there was still a cutting ice-cold breeze from the north-west.
We strolled about near our tent, trying now and again to get
some sleep in the sun, sheltering ourselves under overhanging
rocks. The men did not speak much, they mostly sat about
in moody silence, seldom smoking. We had great difficulty
in keeping warm, even in the sun ; coming up we had got
our leggings covered with water, which had frozen on them,
and the icicles remained all day.

OUR HIGHEST CAMP ON ACONCAGUA (18,700 ft.

ANOTHER FAILURE 77

As resting here did not seem at all a success, I made
arrangements for a start next morning, should it prove fine.
The night passed fairly quickly, in comparison with the night
before. Repeating my tactics of our last attempt, we did not
hurry over this departure, but before starting waited until the
sun had risen sufficiently high in the horizon to strike the
mountain side. At nine o'clock I was off, accompanied by
Zurbriggen and young Pollinger. The night of the storm,
coupled with our inaction of the day before, had evidently
put us in bad condition, and for my own part I knew, after
the first quarter of an hour, that the attempt would be fruit-
less. However, I pushed along, hoping against hope that by
some chance I might feel better as we went on. I had barely
reached 20,000 feet, when I was obliged to throw myself on
the ground, overcome by acute pains and nausea. Zurbriggen,
on the contrary, seemed to feel much better, so I let him go
on ahead that he might prospect for a good route for us to
follow at the next attempt, and thus possibly save time. The
great question was, where we could get the firmest ground to
tread on, and whether the rolling stones could not be avoided.

I remained thus lying on the ground for some time, but
as I did not improve I was reluctantly forced to turn back.
Seeing that we were evidently in for a long campaign, I sent
young Pollinger to meet his brother, who was coming up
from our lower camp with supplies, to bid him return to our
base camp at Inca for a fresh store of provisions. About
noon I crawled back to the camp, and sat waiting there in a
helpless and hopeless state, half unconscious. I had not
even the energy to light a fire and cook a meal for myself.
Sheltered from the wind by a projecting rock, I sat warming
myself in the sun. About two o'clock the sun had gone
round and I was sitting in the shadow, while the wind
changed and blew upon me with full force. So feeble was I,
both in brain and body, that I had not the wit nor the energy
to move some twenty yards away, though I could thus have
escaped again from the wind, and received what little warmth
the sunlight afforded.

About four o'clock young Pollinger returned. He seemed

78 THE HIGHEST ANDES

full of vigour, after his walk half-way down to our camp and
back, and rescued me from my hapless condition, lighting a
fire, giving me some hot soup and brandy, and placing me in
as warm a corner as he could find. During this time I had
lost all feeling in my right hand, but under a vigorous rubbing
the circulation slowly returned to it. Pollinger then took a
field-glass, and began examining the mountain, to see what
had become of Zurbriggen. After a few minutes, he dis-
covered him coming slowly down the great slope of stones
that ran up to the saddle between the two peaks of Aconcagua.
He was apparently quite exhausted ; he could only take a
few steps at a time, and then seemed to stumble forward
helplessly. We watched him thus slowly descend for about
an hour and a half; first he sat down for four or five minutes,
then he slowly plodded onward again. At last he reached a
large patch of snow, where, by sliding, he was able to make
better time. He did not reach the tent till after sunset, and
then he was speechless with thirst and fatigue. When he
had left us in the morning, he had not intended going so far,
and had not taken with him any of the cold coffee that
we had prepared for our climb. We got him to the tent as
soon as possible, and he gradually revived, but I remained
still in a hopeless condition.

Zurbriggen reported he had reached the saddle between
the two peaks, and that the east peak was distinctly the
highest point. This we learnt with surprise, for when looking
at the mountain from Inca, the west peak seems much the
higher of the two. He had taken a different route from that
we had followed on our last attempt, bearing away to the
east, and climbing behind the great ridge of rocks that form
the northern arete of the mountain ; he thus avoided the
great slope of loose rolling stones that had overcome us so
much upon our last attempt. He had found the ground firm,
and the slopes of a much easier gradient, and moreover the
great ridge of rock had sheltered him considerably from the
cutting blasts of the north-west wind.

Bitter experience having taught me that waiting at this
altitude for a day, doing nothing, was fatal, I resolved to make

I TURN BACK 79

another attempt at once. The next morning we started
earlier, but again under bad auspices : a tin of condensed
milk that we had used with our tea was sour, and made us all
very sick. We determined, nevertheless, to continue our
attempt, thinking that we might possibly revive on the
march. To be made sick by chemical causes, is much worse
when one is already fighting against what may be called
meteorological sickness, than when one is at a level which
permits ordinary health. We struck directly for the small
peak on the northern ridge, under which Dr. Giissfeldt had
built his last cairn. The day promised well, for there was
but little wind, and the sun rose in a cloudless sky. I began
to mend slightly, and was even beginning to have hopes of
success in the attempt, when just on reaching Glissfeldt's out-
post, I tripped and fell. I did not really hurt myself, but the
fall seemed completely to shatter me, and in a few moments
I was again desperately sick. I rested here for over an hour,
but it was no use, and at an altitude of a little under 21,000
feet, we all turned back.

Our two porters had suffered greatly from the cold that
morning, so much so, that we had several times been anxious
lest we should have a repetition of the accident that had
befallen Zurbriggen a few days previously, when he had so
nearly had his feet frozen. We reached camp again a little
before noon, and after a warm meal — so soon does one
recover — I felt so much better that I thought it wise to take
a walk up the mountain side to see if I could not by this
means get in some way hardened and habituated to the con-
ditions under which we were living. The day, as I have
said, was superb, — I think the finest I have ever seen at this
altitude, — and I succeeded alone in reaching without difficulty
the point where we had turned back that morning; the
terrible sense of desolation and depression that had weighed
so heavily upon me hitherto seemed to pass away for a few
hours, and I was able to appreciate, almost for the first time,
the magnificent view from this point on the northern ridge.

I turned back with great reluctance, feeling much better
and more cheerful in mind. With renewed hope, therefore,

8o THE HIGHEST ANDES

we made arrangements that night for the next day, resolved
to do our utmost to push on to the summit. I myself was
anxious to make another camp some two thousand feet higher,
but the men feared so greatly the effects of sleeping at such
an altitude, that with the remembrance of the severe illness of
Lochmatter, I dared not risk a repetition of the terrible night
we had spent with him before.

On the morning of the I4th the men were out of the tent
before daybreak, preparing the morning meal ; this time, as
I was feeling much better, I tried the experiment of eating a
large breakfast of meat and then resting for nearly an hour,
so as to give time for digestion. The morning was not cold,
and as we had begun our preparations early we succeeded in
making a good start at seven. The party consisted of
Zurbriggen, young Pollinger, Lanti, and myself; we were all
in excellent spirits, — so far as it is possible to be cheerful at
19,000 feet.

Making once more for the old point, Giissfeldt's cairn, we
walked as slowly as possible, carefully picking our way, never
taking a long step where two short ones would do, and by
every means trying to save ourselves needless exertion and
fatigue. In about two hours and a half we reached this spot,
where we sat down and rested awhile. Up to here the way
is steep, the first half being covered with rolling stones ;
beyond, the route is much easier, the slopes not being nearly
so steep, and the ground fairly firm. At our last attempt, on
ist January, we had left some articles in a knapsack on the
western side of the ridge, where we had turned back at nearly
22,000 feet. As we proposed this time to follow the eastern
side of this north ridge, we should not be able to pick up these
articles. I therefore sent young Pollinger on by a different
route to get them, telling him to meet us at a point about a
thousand feet under the great peak, while Zurbriggen, Lanti,
and I took the easier side of the ridge, where we should be
sheltered from the fierce wind which had now risen.

Before ten o'clock we were again under way, moving very
slowly, carefully choosing our way between the great blocks
of stone that covered the mountain on this side. Half an

MORE MOUNTAIN SICKNESS 81

hour after midday we reached the point where we had agreed
to meet Pollinger, but as we did not find him there, we sat
down and prepared a small meal. After shouting for some
time we at last heard his voice in answer. He had made a
slight mistake as to the exact spot where he was to meet us,
and was about a hundred feet above. We had brought some
light kindling-wood and a kettle, and Lanti at once started a
fire. Our great difficulty was in getting a light ; the wind
was blowing with great strength, and it was not until after
repeated failures that we succeeded in this delicate operation.
Once alight the fire burnt fairly well, and at the end of half
an hour, we managed to get some soup. Pollinger had
reached us by this time with the knapsack ; but the bottle of
champagne we had left in it had burst, and though we might
have known that this would happen, yet — so much im-
portance can trifles assume — it discouraged us greatly. Up
to this moment I had been feeling strong, and indeed certain
of success, but during our stay here, my old symptoms of
nausea gradually came on. It was one o'clock, and though I
had sat down half an hour before with success within my
grasp, I now felt as if it were impossible for me to move
farther on. Of my disappointment I need not write, but the
object of my expedition was to conquer Aconcagua ; I there-
fore sent Zurbriggen on to complete the ascent. He seemed
in good health, and was confident that he could reach the top.
He had been suffering so much at night from pain in his
shoulder, that I felt it would not be right for me to keep him
at this high camp much longer, and after the good work he
had done for me before, I thought that it was but justice to
him that he should have the proud satisfaction of the first
ascent.

Three-quarters of an hour after he had left, I saw him four
hundred feet above me, going across the face of the big stone
slope on the way to the saddle between the two peaks. Then
for the first time the bitter feeling came over me that I
was being left behind, just beneath the summit of the great
mountain I had so long been thinking about, talking about,
and working for. Scarcely more than four hundred yards

82 THE HIGHEST ANDES

separated me from the goal ; but after my long journey and
my many attempts I felt that I should never reach it myself.

I got up, and tried once more to go on, but I was only
able to advance from two to three steps at a time, and then I
had to stop, panting for breath, my struggles alternating with
violent fits of nausea. At times I would fall down, and each
time had greater difficulty in rising ; black specks swarri across
my sight ; I was like one walking in a dream, so dizzy and
sick that the whole mountain seemed whirling round with me.
The time went on ; it was growing late, and I had now got
into such a helpless condition that I was no longer able to
raise myself, but had to call on Lanti to help me. I had sent
young Pollinger back to the camp some hours before, telling
him to go as rapidly as possible to Inca and have our horses
sent up for us, for I felt sure by that time that Zurbriggen
must succeed, and we should therefore all come down and
rest for a few days. Lanti was in good condition, and could,
I feel sure, have reached the summit. He was one of the
strongest men we had with us. For a long time past he had
been begging me to turn back, assuring me that our progress
was so slow, that even should I keep it up I could not reach
the top before sunset. I was right under the great wall of
the peak, and not more than a few hundred yards from the
great couloir that leads up between the two summits. I do
not know the exact height of this spot, but I judge it to be
about a thousand feet below the top. Here I gave up the
fight and started to go down.

I shall never forget the descent that followed. I was so
weak that my legs seemed to fold up under me at every step,
and I kept falling forward and cutting myself on the shattered
stones that covered the sides of the mountain. I do not
know how long I crawled in this miserable plight, steering
for a big patch of snow that lay in a sheltered spot, but I
should imagine that it was about an hour and a half. On
reaching the snow I lay down, and finally rolled down a great
portion of the mountain side. As I got lower my strength
revived, and the nausea that I had been suffering from so
acutely disappeared, leaving me with a splitting headache.

ZURBRIGGEN'S SUCCESS 83

Soon after five o'clock I reached our tent. My headache
was now so bad that it was with great difficulty I could see
at all.

Zurbriggen arrived at the tent about an hour and a half
later. He had succeeded in gaining the summit, and had
planted an ice-axe there ; but he was so weak and tired that
he could scarcely talk, and lay almost stupefied by fatigue.
Though naturally and justifiably elated by his triumph, at
that moment he did not seem to care what happened to him.
At night, in fact, all hope and ambition seemed to depart,
after four days spent at this height, and that night we got
little sleep, everyone making extraordinary noises during his
short snatches of unconsciousness, — struggling, panting, and
choking for breath, until at last obliged to wake up, and
moisten his throat with a drop of water. Next morning we
closed up our camp and returned to the Inca.

Thus was Aconcagua conquered. " Sic vos non vobis
mellificatis apes."

CHAPTER VIII

BEATEN BACK BY SNOW AND COLD

VINES and I started early on igth January with fresh
equipment. We left Tomas to come along slowly with
a pack animal, while we galloped on ahead, meaning to reach
our camp under the forked peak in time to spend the after-
noon in taking sphygmographic observations. The rivers
were in bad condition owing to the warm weather of the past
few days, and when we got to the first ford we found it
considerably higher than usual. I succeeded in crossing
safely, though several times I felt my horse swimming under
me, but Vines was unlucky, for his animal stumbled, then
plunged violently, nearly throwing him into the water.
However, after a great deal of turning round and tumbling
over, he succeeded with skill and extraordinary luck in ex-
tricating himself. This is an exciting and painful perform-
ance to watch, as it is impossible to render any assistance.
As we approached our camp, we saw three guanacos brows-
ing on the hillside. We had no gun with us, but, drawing
our revolvers, we galloped after them as hard as we could.
They suddenly turned up the almost vertical hillside, but we
fired several shots at them, and succeeded in wounding one.
We jumped off and rushed after him, but he was able to go
faster on three legs than we could on two, so we were
obliged to give up the chase, much disappointed, as we had
cherished hopes of getting some fresh meat. Zurbriggen
galloped up early next morning with the mail that had just
arrived, and also a most friendly telegram from Valparaiso,
as follows : —

A FRIENDLY TELEGRAM 85

" The British Colony in Valparaiso congratulates you on
the success of your expedition.

(Signed)

KENNETH MATHESON. GEORGE DUNCAN.

THOMAS WOODSEND. DANIEL MORRIS.

JOHN NICHOLSON. JAMES GRACE.

EDWARD COOPER. ANDREW SCOTT.

E. SANDIFORD. GARRETT WEIR.

WILLIAM BRETT. H. WEATHER ALL.

THOMAS GIFFORD. EDGAR HOWE.

E. JOSTE. ROBERT GILES.

H. SWINGLEHURST. QUENNELL.

JOSEPH BLANCH. ROBERT SCOTT.

MAURICE JONES. A. F. GUILLEMARD.

GEORGE SIMPSON. RUSSELL YOUNG.

MAX WOLFFSOHN. ARTHUR EDMUNDSON.

JOHN WOLFFSOHN. ALFRED BALL."

Zurbriggen rode back to the Inca at once, while Vines
and I determined to push on to the next camp, though
we were feeling very unwell, the result of an unfortunate
culinary effort of mine at dinner the day before. We reached
our 14,000 foot camp at about eleven, and found the three
porters that I had left to look after this and our upper camp
— these were the two Pollingers and Lanti — in a most
woeful state of depression after their five days all alone.
They reported to me that on the 1 7th (three days before)
the German party from Valparaiso passed our high camp,
talking to Pollinger and Lanti, who were there at the
time.

I had left instructions that one man should always be at
our upper tent, as this would give them a night every third
day at that altitude, but as they found it so lonely, they
preferred staying up there two at a time. Lanti, who was as
a rule a cheerful man, drew a very long face when I talked to
him about this upper camp. His constitution, he was sure,
had been permanently shattered by his stay up there, and in
fact all the men were on the verge of tears. I sent a couple
of them up to the camp with some surveying instruments and

86 THE HIGHEST ANDES

kindling-wood, and told them they might come down again
the same day. They certainly all looked in excellent health.
We ourselves rested for the remainder of that day. The
porters did not turn up until the next morning, and I was
very anxious during the night about them, for I feared young
Lochmatter might have been taken ill, as he had been before,
and his comrades would certainly not know what to do with
him. They came down about nine o'clock next morning, with
precisely the news I feared — he had been exceedingly ill
during the night. I gave him some brandy, and told him to
wrap himself well up and get some sleep in the sun. Lanti
said the cold had been terrible during the night. Why they
did not come down the same day instead of spending the
night there, I failed to understand, for, though it was a great
strain at times to get up to this camp, it was always fairly
easy to get down, as the slopes are steep, and the rolling
stones help rather than hinder one's descent. I succeeded in
getting down in fifty minutes on one day, while some of the
men have done it in less. They all assured me that the cold
had become much greater, and that life up there was now
impossible. I discovered afterwards that our minimum
thermometer did not register as great a cold as we had had
before, so the effect must have been produced on the men
owing to the weakening of their constitution under the strain
of living at that altitude. There was, unhappily, no doubt
about one fact — they seemed to bear the cold worse and
worse every day. Sometimes now they would throw down
their loads half-way, and come back for a day's rest before
completing the journey. At half-past eleven, Vines and I
started out for the camp, but I was not feeling by any means
well, and after the first hour I began to suffer acutely from
breathlessness, and my pace got slower and slower, until we
reached the top of the great snow gully. Here I was
obliged to give up altogether, and was very sick. Vines
seemed in fairly good condition, but he repeatedly com-
plained of weakness in his legs. We lay here for some time,
but soon saw that it was no use, and that we should be unable
to reach our camp that afternoon. We therefore turned

A SHORT CUT 87

back. That night we took the utmost pains to prepare a
light and nourishing meal. The men insisted that we should
eat some onions, for all the natives about here have the
greatest faith in the efficacy of onions, as a preventative of
this breathlessness and nausea. I had taken them myself
before, but had never noticed that they did any particular
good. Aconcagua rises so abruptly from the valley to
the east of us, that the sun did not strike our little tent
until after eight. We tried the experiment that morning of
taking two cups of Brand's beef-tea instead of coffee. At
eleven we started again, and when we were half-way up the
great ice-gully, I suggested to Vines that we might shorten
our route by climbing some steep rocks I saw to our right ;
accordingly we tried them, but soon got into difficulties, for
the climbing grew harder and harder, until at last we came to
such a bad corner that I was unable to get up until Vines
shoved me from behind. Once up, I saw that the short cut
had succeeded, and that the great slope of loose stones lay in
front. I then leaned over the edge, and prepared to give
Vines the same assistance from above that he had given me
from below. Unfortunately, a small piece of projecting rock
which I had used to pull myself up by, snapped off owing to
his greater weight, nearly giving him a nasty fall. I was
leaning over the edge watching him come up, and was just
about to give him a hand, when I saw him slip. I rapidly
clutched at the nearest part of his person to me, namely, his
hair, but, no doubt fortunately for him, I missed him. He
now found it impossible to scale this place, and was obliged
to turn all the way back again and come round by our old
route. This annoyed him greatly, and, in consequence,
instead of sticking to the slow steady pace we had taken at
the beginning of the day, he plunged forward as rapidly as
he could walk. The result was that when we met again at
the top of the gully, he was suffering from the first really
acute attack of breathlessness. He lay down in the sun and
rested here for some time, and, fortunately, the breathless-
ness in his case was not followed by the nausea I always
experienced after it, and at the end of about half an hour we

88 THE HIGHEST ANDES

were able to continue upwards. The weather had been
looking more and more threatening as we had come up that
morning, while the wind was blowing a tremendous gale, and
great black clouds were collecting in masses on the Chilian
side, slowly but surely rolling up the valley. We were
evidently in for a storm, and the sun was already obscured
by the clouds that surrounded us. I had dressed myself at
the start in all the clothes I wore at our high-level camp —
as much clothing as I could walk comfortably in. Vines,
however, fearing the heat of the day, since for the first 3000
feet the valley is shut in, and we had frequently experienced
oppressive heat, was carrying most of his heavier clothes
in a large bundle on his back. As it was now very cold
and rapidly growing colder, I advised him to put them on,
which he did after much pulling, and pushing, and pant-
ing. We now started again, but had not gone far before
he began to complain bitterly of the heat, also of the
inconvenience of wearing so many clothes. They bound
his limbs down so, he said, that he was unable to move
freely, and therefore soon grew tired. The sun coming
out after a few moments decided him to take them all
off again. It was now two o'clock in the afternoon, and
by a little stream of water trickling down from the rocks
Vines made the change, and we ate a few biscuits, and had
a drink of water, knowing that this was the last water we
should see, the snow never melting above this height. At
three o'clock we reached the little plateau of rocks at 1 7,000
feet, where I had camped on our first attempt, and where I
had spent Christmas Day four weeks ago — four weeks which
seemed in memory like as many years. Our physical condition
was now getting rapidly worse, so we pushed on as quickly
as possible. Snow began to fall heavily, and I had great
difficulty in keeping my bearings, being obliged several
times to resort to my prismatic compass to see if our
direction was right. The slopes of this mountain are so
vast that it would be easy to get hopelessly lost on them ;
for there are few landmarks or distinguishing features to
show the way. Vines was making the worst noises of

A TRYING CLIMB 89

panting I had ever heard, and every few moments he had to
stop breathing for a second to swallow and moisten his
parched throat. During this second he was unable to
breathe, and therefore, often had a violent choking fit. As
the cold was intense, and I could hear the distant rumbling of
thunder, I suggested that we had better go down. He was,
however, keen to continue ; he had never been to our high
camp, and declared he was sure he could easily reach it if I
could find it. The snow was now coming down heavily, and
we could only see a few feet before us, while the flashes of
lightning followed one another rapidly, and the thunder echoed
from hill to hill.

I do not know how I succeeded in finding our tent that
day. I think it must have been instinct rather than anything
else, for certainly there were no landmarks to recognise on
these great slopes covered with snow. I myself now began
to pant and choke, and as the wind increased in fury every
moment, I really thought I should never get my breath again,
but must be suffocated. At four o'clock I sighted the rock
under which our tent was pitched, and though it was only
some twenty yards away I think we must have taken a
quarter of an hour to reach it. I only stopped outside long
enough to take readings of the barometer and thermometer.
The minimum during our absence was 28° of frost, while
the temperature at the time was 13° of frost, and I
could see the mercury rapidly sinking. There was no
possibility of lighting a fire, so we were obliged to crawl into
our tent chilled to the bone, and covered with snow. All the
water was frozen, so was the wine. It was now necessary for
Vines to put on his thick clothes again. He was unable to do
this outside on account of the cold, and besides, he would
have been covered with snow. He therefore had to do it in
the tent. Now, for a man to change his clothes in a tent
only 3 ft. 6 in. high, by 4 ft. wide, by 6 ft. long is not an
easy matter, even if he has it all to himself. When, how-
ever, he has another man in the tent, and a large quantity of
provisions and instruments strewn about, it becomes a very
delicate problem. It must be remembered, too, that he had

90 THE HIGHEST ANDES

to stop constantly to get his breath. At last, however, he
did it. We then crawled into our eider-down sleeping-bags
with our boots covered with snow, and commenced more
preparations for food. We started by lighting half a dozen
candles, thinking that the illuminations would at least give
the appearance of warmth, for in spite of the care with which
we fastened the flap and stopped all the chinks with snow,
the temperature was gradually dropping. We lit our spirit-
lamp, and with great patience and many matches succeeded
in thawing some wine and brandy, which we made into a
tepid punch. This revived us greatly, and we next turned
our attention to food. Our fresh meat was frozen into a solid
block which we could not cut, and if it had not been, there
was not sufficient warmth in our spirit-lamp to cook it with,
so we were compelled, much against our will, to return to our
tinned provisions, and tried some curried rice and chicken, but
ate very sparingly of it.

The wind was now rising every minute, and blowing a
hurricane outside : we were slightly protected on two sides
by the rock under which we had pitched our tent, but the
wind would come swerving round in tremendous gusts, while
fine snow was driven in quantities against the front of our
tent, and came pouring in like so much sand. We were
powerless to prevent this snow silting in, and soon it became
a serious problem, as it threatened to cover everything. We
plugged up with blankets all the holes we could find — then
we lit more candles. We got but a poor light, however,
for candles did not burn well at this camp, presumably from
the want of oxygen in the air. We tried to sleep, but I do
not think either of us succeeded in getting much rest. The
breathlessness we were suffering from made sleep almost
impossible, as we woke up choking. Vines kept a careful
diary all the time, and I quote an extract written on the
spot : —

"One feels 'puna' in one's sleep at these heights. Fitz-
Gerald is now fast asleep and gasping like a grampus beside
me. The inside of the tent is sparkling with frost as I write,
and the candles will hardly burn, so I must stop writing. I

SNOWED IN 91

am overpowered by our sense of isolation and utter loneli-
ness here."

Thus passed the night. As the dawn came the weather
became worse. The wind subsided, but we heard the distant
rumble of thunder, and the snow fell fast and silently — we
could just hear it as it pattered softly against the sides of
the tent.

We decided to stay one night more on the chance of
better weather next morning. The difficulty of reaching this
place was so great that we were always loth to come down
only to come up again a few days later. We were forced
to have recourse to our tinned food again. The morning
went drearily along, the snow fell, and our hopes with it.
About 2 p.m. Joseph Pollinger came up with fresh supplies.
He had some dry wood, and he cooked us some hot soup.
We remained in the tent so as not to bring in more snow than
necessary. I sent him down at 3.30. About 5 p.m. the wind
rose again, this time in an appalling fashion. It seemed to
shake the very mountain side in its fury, and if our tent had
not been secured with fourteen strong guy-ropes we must
have been swept away.

The snow now began to drift in an alarming fashion,
while the temperature went down rapidly. Our tent was
nearly buried. The situation was getting critical, and we
wondered whether we should not have to take to the spur to
avoid being buried alive. Then I suddenly remembered that
our boots and ice-axes were outside. Without them we were
lost. Vines volunteered to get them. I opened the flap of
the tent, and for a moment we were blinded by the rush of
snow hurled in our faces by the wind. He was not gone
long, and when he crawled in with the desired articles, I
managed to secure the tent. After a long search we found
the matches, and I lit the candle and looked around. At first
I thought I must have made a mistake and admitted a polar
bear, so white and matted with frost did Vines appear. This
made our situation well-nigh hopeless, for the atmosphere in
our tent was so cold that this snow would not thaw at all, so
he entered his sleeping-bag as he was. Everything in the

92 THE HIGHEST ANDES

tent was now covered with fine powdery snow, and the
temperature still kept sinking. The thermometer registered
1 6° of frost inside; the wind howled round our tent in
fierce onslaughts, at times making us fear that we should soon
be buried alive. We hammered at the canvas sides to throw
off the snow as much as possible, and thus we sat up through
the long dreary night hour after hour, not knowing from one
moment to another what would be our fate. As the dawn
appeared we were quite exhausted with cold and fatigue after
our long vigil. I saw it was imperative that we should get
out of this situation at once, as every hour that we spent up
there made our strength less, and we needed it all, for the
descent in this storm would be a difficult and dangerous task.
We therefore put on our boots, and all the clothes we could
lay our hands on, and made a break for the open. I had not
gone more than a few steps when I fell into a huge drift of
soft snow. After considerable difficulty Vines rescued me,
but we had not gone far before the same mishap occurred
again. The wind cut to the bone, and being thus rolled in
the snow was a terrible experience. For about an hour we
struggled on in this way ; then the wind abated slightly, and
the snow stopped. We could now see about us, and though
very weak and ill after thirty-six hours' confinement in that
little tent, we crawled down to our 14,000 foot camp. Here
our men soon made us comfortable with a hot meal, and we
were so much refreshed that I suggested to Vines we should
walk down that day to the Inca camp, some twenty-two miles
over a rough country with two great fords to cross on foot. We
set out at once, keeping as near the river-bed as possible, and
reached our camp under the forked peak in two hours. We
remained here a few minutes for some refreshment, and then
continued our way to the Inca. About three in the afternoon
we reached the first ford. Fortunately for us the snow was still
falling, so there was not as much melted snow and ice-water
rushing along as usual. We selected a place where there
was a big boulder some ten feet high that we could jump off
from and leap half-way across the stream, thus escaping
the more rapid water which ran close to the boulder. We

WE TURN BACK 93

got across fairly well, though of course drenched to the skin.
Vines came last, running up the stones at a tremendous pace,
evidently with the desire to leap farther than anybody else, and
thus perhaps save a wetting, but as he jumped he slipped, and
fell headlong into the middle of the stream. We soon had
him out again, none the worse for his adventure, but an object
of much merriment to the men. I unfortunately sprained my
ankle at this jump, so the rest of the journey was painful to
me. When at seven o'clock we reached the last ford we
found no convenient place to cross : there was indeed one
huge boulder from which some of the men leapt over, but
it was so high that with my sprained ankle I dared not
attempt to do so. I called to the men who got across to
go on to the Inca and send back some horses. Vines and I
then hunted for an easier passage for more than an hour.
Lanti thought he had found one, and got across, but as he
was nearly swept away in the attempt, the water being much
deeper than he expected, we thought it best not to follow. I
finally ended by returning to the great rock that the other two
men had leapt from. By sitting upon the edge of it for about
half an hour, and watching the ground below, I gradually
accustomed myself to the distance, and at last ventured to
jump. It was much higher, however, than I had thought,
and I landed in a heap at the bottom, hurting my ankle again.
I hobbled along towards the camp, but had not gone far
before I met the men returning with the horses. I rode on
from here and soon met Vines, who had crossed a couple of
miles lower down, and we all reached camp half an hour later.

CHAPTER IX

FURTHER ATTEMPTS ON ACONCAGUA

r I ^ H E strain of the two nights spent in that fearful snow-
X storm at the 19,000 foot camp had told considerably
upon us, and several days elapsed before Vines and I recovered.
The weather meanwhile had been hopeless ; snow fell even at
our base camp at the Inca, while every day tremendous wind-
storms raged. If we had not been compelled to come down
to recruit our strength, we should still have been unable to do
anything on the mountain side. Aconcagua seemed always
obscured in mist, but when occasionally we did get a glimpse
of it through rifts in the racing storm-clouds, we were dis-
couraged by seeing its whole face covered with fresh white
snow, while the tops of all the surrounding peaks showed
that the snow-fall above twelve or thirteen thousand feet had
been considerable.

On 26th December I received a telegram from a friend
in Valparaiso, saying : " National Observatory say no record
similar extraordinary January weather. Should improve.
Germans in Espinazito to north, abandoned attempt." This
was intended to be a consolatory message, and indeed we
needed consoling, for the weather did not improve, but grew
worse day by day ; hail, snow, sleet, and gales of wind
following each other in grim succession.

On the 28th another kind telegram came, saying :
" Weather definitely improving. From appearance mountain
see you have suffered. Every Englishman and English-
woman, from minister down, hopes you will succeed." The
weather, however, continued to be bad in our valleys, though,
as it had apparently cleared from the Chilian side, we hoped
soon to be able to start again. Our time meanwhile was

GOSSE'S "ZOO" 95

spent in taking what observations we could round our base
camp at Inca. We generally managed to get a few hours
of clear weather every night, and continued our astron-
omical work to determine the longitude. All this time
Philip Gosse was busy collecting botanical and zoological
specimens, and he had got together in camp a miscellaneous
lot of living creatures, which we called the "Zoo." It would
perhaps be wrong to include among these captives a favourite
staghound " Stella," and her little black mongrel puppies.
The leader of the Zoo was certainly a fine horned owl (Bubo
Magellanicus), which Gosse had procured from a Scandinavian
gentleman in Los Andes. There was also a mouse or vole,
which increased our population by eleven offspring in one
day. In a tin box without a lid there lived four lizards.
A fat toad added little to our amusement, for he would
never stir. A little black scorpion, a fox, a dove, a water-
dipper (Cinclodes fuscus], a greenfinch, a Chingolo sparrow
with one wing, and two dear little sand-snipes, looking like
fluffy partridges, completed Gosse's happy family. The end
of this collection was extraordinarily tragic. The mice ate
one another until only one was left, and that survivor died of
over-feeding. The lizards dried up. The dove broke its
wing, and served as dinner for the owl, whose name was
" Majordomo." This delightful bird was the most beloved of
the whole collection, and the joy of everyone in camp except
the puppies, who curled up and howled at his approach. He
came to a most distressing end, being struck on the head by
a stone, furtively thrown at him by a half-breed. Philip Gosse
looked long for that native, with obvious intent, but could
never be sufficiently sure of the culprit to take action. The
sand-snipes Gosse took into his sleeping-bag at night to keep
them warm, but unhappily woke up one morning to find that
he had rolled upon them, and that they were quite flat. An
exceptionally cold night was fatal to the dipper and the finch.
The scorpion died from having been carried in a pill-box in
Gosse's pocket, while he was racing Lightbody down the
side of a mountain. Last of all the fox died of the bite of
a guanaco dog, and the Inca "Zoo" put up its shutters.

96 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Gosse was the richer by several amusing episodes, however,
connected with tracking the specimens. I find the following
entry in his diary : —

" One of our arrieros, Tomas Sosa by name, told me
that at night a fox always visited the camp to pick up any
odd scraps of food it found lying about. So the next night
I slept in the open shed we called the 'scullery,' and, it
being a fine moonlight night, my patience was rewarded by
seeing, at about i a.m., what looked like a small slinking
shadow within a few yards of me. Unfortunately I had my
poncho on, and couldn't get my arms free quickly enough to
shoot. The fox was very suspicious of me, probably because
of the moonlight shining on the barrels of the gun, and he
slunk off behind a small knoll. The moment he was out of
sight, I arranged the poncho comfortably for shooting, and,
getting the gun up to my shoulder, rested it with my elbows
on my knees. I had been squatting in this position for what
seemed a very long time, and was just beginning to think
that Reynard had left for good, when, behind a bush, I saw
two round lights watching me. I kept quite still, and
presently the two burning eyes drew a little nearer, and
soon I could make out the faint outline of the fox's body.
After some hesitation he came out from the bushes into the
open space before the camp, into the bright moonlight, his
shining eyes looking quite uncanny. I waited quite still,
hoping that he would come a little nearer, but he seemed to
be suspicious that something was wrong with the bundle in
the scullery. Thus we waited, watching -each other, neither
making any movement, except that now and then the fox
raised or lowered his head. At last I got tired of waiting
for him to come nearer, and, aiming as well as I could at
his indistinct outline, I fired and — missed ! "

As the weather was improving I began to prepare for
another start, and on the morning of 7th February I sent
up to our camp under the forked peak four porters and
several pack-mules. The last two days had been mild and
fine, but we knew that, owing to the immense amount of
snow that had fallen on the mountains above 15,000 feet,

THE PASO MALO

A HOT DAY 97

it would be useless to attempt anything till the great part of
this had melted away. We had not been using our animals
for some time, and our arriero Tomas had great difficulty
in collecting together a sufficient number for us, as they had
gradually strayed far up the hillsides in search of better
pasturage. Our own Swiss men were quite helpless in their
attempts to catch the animals, though they ran and shouted
and got very warm and angry over it. The natives gallop
after them, and throw their lassos round their necks from a dis-
tance as great as forty or fifty feet, with unerring accuracy.
It is a curious fact that, even if these men miss their animal
with the lasso, the mule, directly he feels the rope hit his
body, comes to a dead stop, under the impression that he has
been caught. They have a wholesome recollection of the
strangling noose, for the man who has thrown the lasso backs
his horse suddenly and there is a terrible jerk and strain
round the neck of the captured beast.

We finally got our men off that morning, but Vines and I
did not start till evening, as we had some work to finish and
knew that we two alone should not take more than a few
hours to gallop up to the camp at the forked peak, if we had
no cargo-mules to drive or bother us.

The day was one of the hottest we had experienced
that year at the Inca, the highest reading of the mercury
in the shade being 79°. The temperature in our tent was
of course considerably more, and we both fell asleep over our
work, so it was not till nearly half-past five that we saddled
and galloped off towards the Horcones Valley. The sun
was low on the horizon, and we dreaded the approaching
night, as we did not wish to ford the rivers in the dark,
knowing well that after so hot a day the amount of water in
the torrents would be considerable, especially as the high
mountains were now covered with a thick layer of newly-
fallen snow. We reached the first ford in about an hour,
for we had by this time made so many trips up and down
the valley, that we had worn for ourselves an excellent track,
there being only one place that still remained difficult and
dangerous to pass. That was the Paso Malo, just beyond
7

98 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the second ford. I succeeded in crossing the first ford
without difficulty, though the water washed completely over
the back of my horse, and several times he was swimming.
Vines was not so fortunate, for he had barely reached the
centre of the stream when his animal was swept away. He
succeeded with great skill and presence of mind in keeping
his seat, and was luckily able to land some fifty yards farther
down the bank. After Zurbriggen's accident, I dreaded
these crossings very much. From here we pressed on quickly,
though the path was not of the best, but we knew that before
us was the worst ford of all, and that dangerous defile, the
Paso Malo. We reached the ford long after sunset, but
there was still a faint twilight, and we got across safely.
Here we met our arriero coming down with the pack-mules
we had sent up that morning. He had bivouacked at this
spot for the night, as he dared not ford the river with his
tired animals. We hurried on, hoping to get to the canon in
which the Paso Malo was situated before absolute darkness
overtook us. We were unfortunately just too late. It was
eight o'clock when we reached the mouth of the defile, and
though the stars were shining brightly, it was pitch dark
under the shadow of those precipitous rocks. As we were
drenched to the skin after the two fords we had crossed, we
naturally did not wish to spend the night here, so we dis-
mounted and drove our horses before us, trusting to their
wonderful instinct to see the frail path that led across the
steep and slippery rocks. Vines's horse passed successfully,
but my animal slipped out of the track at the worst place.
The track at this point was not more than four inches wide,
and here and there we had been compelled literally to hew
steps out of the great slabs of smooth rock. Below us out
of sight we could hear the roar of the angry torrent of
Horcones, as it boiled among the rocks, while directly under
this spot was a great basin where the water, falling down
from several cascades, formed a seething, foaming pool, and
this we had named " The Cauldron." The illustration on the
opposite page will convince the reader at a glance that there
would be no hope of saving anything that fell in here. The

THE CAULDRON

A NARROW ESCAPE 99

sides were so precipitous that it would be impossible even
to approach it to give aid to anyone who had fallen in. My
horse, as I said, slipped at this critical spot, and seemed to us
at the moment actually to fall over the edge. We instinctively
peered over, expecting to hear the splash as he fell into the
torrent ; but with an agility and intelligence which seemed
well-nigh superhuman, he succeeded in righting himself, and
clambered back to the track more like a cat than a horse.
He stood trembling like an aspen leaf, evidently realising as
well as we did the imminent peril he had been through. We
waited for some time to let him recover his nerve. Then,
with much patting and soothing, we induced him slowly, step
by step, to continue along the path till he was past all danger.
It will always be a mystery to me how he succeeded in
recovering himself in this marvellous fashion, for after closely
examining the spot where he slipped, I came to the conclusion
that if a man had fallen as far as he did, he could not possibly
have saved himself.

From here our path was easy, winding in and about the
moraine that lay in great heaps at the junction of the two
valleys. Soon after ten we emerged into the great plain at the
head of the valley, and then progressed faster. We galloped
with a loose rein among the great stones and boulders cover-
ing the river-bed, and reached our camp at eleven. We un-
saddled our horses, and drove them some way up the valley,
leaving them to collect what little grass grew upon the hill-
side.

Our camp was so placed that when they attempted to
come down the valley to escape to the more open pasturages
below we were able to hear their footsteps, but, in order to do
this, we had to sleep with one eye open, so to speak. Then,
when we caught the clatter of hoofs as they trotted by, we
were obliged to jump out of our sleeping-bags — an exceed-
ingly difficult operation, I may mention, as we had them
tied tightly round our necks to keep out the currents of air
that blew about the floor of our little tent. Once out of the
bags, we could circumvent the horses by running down a
small, steep path, and thus drive them back to the hillsides.

ioo THE HIGHEST ANDES

It was our unhappy lot to be obliged to perform this opera-
tion several times during that night, so our night's rest was
but a poor one.

We were driven out of our tent at six by the heat, for
the fierce rays of the sun were already beating down on the
canvas. We collected our luggage, and galloped on to our
14,000 foot camp, which we reached soon after eleven. We
found here the men I had left before, namely, Pollinger
and Lanti. I despatched them at once to our high-level
camp, with a supply of fresh wood and warm clothing. As
the whole mountain side was covered with snow, I directed
them to take a shovel, to clear the tent thoroughly, and sleep
there that night. Vines accompanied them part of the way
up, but returned shortly after two. The day remained fine,
but towards night the wind rose and blew heavily, and we
could see huge clouds of white snow drifting on the slopes of
the mountain.

Lanti returned late that night very much exhausted. He
reported that our tent was surrounded by deep fsnow, and
that they had had great difficulty in ascending the last
thousand feet owing to the drifts. In spite of their fatigue
they had shovelled away the snow that surrounded the tent,
but Pollinger was so tired that he had not returned with Lanti,
but was coming down next day.

On the morning of the 9th the gale showed no signs of
abating, and at an early hour great masses of fresh snow
were blown down from the crags above in great whirlwinds.
The day was bitterly cold, and the prospect far from reassur-
ing. Vines and I set out after breakfast with the intention
of reaching our upper camp. We soon turned back, however,
as we saw that in such weather the attempt must be fruitless.

Next day we again attempted to push up to the 19,000 foot
camp. The wind still raged round the mountain side, but
we were tired and restless from our prolonged inaction, and
annoyed by our fruitless climb of the day before. I had
taken elaborate pains to provide the camp with an ample
supply of new provisions. Fresh meat, eggs, and butter we
had brought with us in large quantities. I had been most

COOKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 101

particular during the last few days as to our diet, to see that
our meals were taken regularly, and that they were carefully
and thoroughly cooked. At these altitudes this is the one
thing most essential, and the results amply repaid me for my
care, for both Vines and I were in such excellent training that
though we did not leave our camp till ten in the morning, we
reached the upper camp at three that afternoon, having
accomplished the intervening five thousand feet in three and
three-quarter hours, exclusive of halts. This was by far the
quickest journey we had ever made, and was due to nothing
but our precautions and consequent good condition. The
sad story of how we lost this training and our systems became
run down, is to follow. We had provided ourselves this time
with a number of bottles of port wine, with half a dozen eggs
shaken up in each. This drink we found very useful, as it
both nourished and stimulated us.

As we had a large stock of wood up here we were able to
cook an ample and wholesome supper. Cooking, however, at
these altitudes, is a problem. Water boils at 180° Fahr., and
it required twelve minutes to boil an egg ! Still, with patience
even tea can be brewed by letting it steep in boiling-water
for twenty minutes. Vines took a walk some three hundred
feet above us to get a view down the Canon del Volcan, to
see the route by which Giissfeldt and the German Turnverein
had approached the mountain. He returned full of enthusiasm,
and in excellent health, and I began to think that at last we
were going to overcome that terrible illness that had crippled
us before. The day was superb, with little or no wind, but as
usual in such cases, extremely cold. The sun set that night
in an absolutely clear atmosphere, and, though the horizon
of the Pacific was one hundred and sixty miles off, we
seemed to see innumerable ripples on the water scintillating
in the sunshine. The sun looked enormous as it sank in a
great seething cauldron of liquid fire. The sky was brilliantly
illuminated for a few moments, and then night was on us. The
cold was so bitter that, though we wanted to wait longer to
see the gradual transformation of the red glow to the dark grey
and purple of night, we were obliged to return into our tent.

102 THE HIGHEST ANDES

We slept well that night, and did not wake till eight next
morning. The days were getting shorter and shorter, and,
at this time, we had not more than ten hours of sunlight at
our camp. The wind had risen again with great force, so much
so that all hopes of making the ascent that day were gone.
This was a great disappointment to me, as I think, had the
weather proved fine, we should have been able to reach the
summit As it was, huge clouds of driven snow, fine as sand,
nearly suffocated us.

The lighting of the fire that day was a very difficult
operation owing to the wind. Just as I succeeded in getting
it to burn, and as Vines was stooping over to rearrange
some -parts of it, his hat was whisked off by a gust, and
was driven under the legs of the mercurial barometer.
He made a dive for it, but was too late ; the next moment
it disappeared over the rocks to the east. We rushed
around to search for it, but the wind was so strong, that
we had scarcely time even to see in which direction it
had gone. There was only a little white cloud racing
away towards the Mercedario, and we were left speculating
whether the hat reached the mountain, or fell into one of the
valleys.

We spent that day under the lea of a rock above our tent,
taking some observations with the sextant to determine the
latitude and true bearing of our camp with regard to Acon-
cagua. We found this place so sheltered that we deter-
mined to move our camp up here, as it had the advantage
that we could lie in our tent and see the coast-line of Chile,
and watch the sun set over the great expanse of the
South Pacific Ocean. Vines, who was full of energy,
climbed up that afternoon past the place where Dr. Gliss-
feldt had erected his last cairn. I remained behind, and
superintended the moving of our camp. This took us the
whole afternoon, as it is no easy matter to move a tent
fastened by so many guy ropes when you cannot drive a
single peg into the ground. A rock had to be rolled into
position for each rope to be tied to. Vines returned for
supper about six, and we turned in before sundown, to avoid

ANOTHER ATTEMPT 103

the chill night air. The thermometer then showed 26°
of frost.

We were favoured with magnificent weather next day
the 1 2th; the wind had completely gone down, and the
plains of Chile and the Pacific Ocean beyond were clearer than
I had ever seen them before. As Vines complained of being
tired in his legs after his climb of the day before, we decided
to put off our attempt on the mountain till next day. Lanti
and Lochmatter arrived about 11.30 with fresh provisions.
They seemed completely broken down with fatigue, though
we were at a loss to know why. That is one of the most
curious things about these altitudes : one can never tell
beforehand how much a man can do. He is frequently
so fatigued that he can scarcely walk, and the cause
cannot be found ; while at other times, when one would
expect him to be excessively tired, he will arrive quite
fresh. I kept Lanti with us that night, thinking he might be
useful next day should one of us break down in the ascent.
Lochmatter was sent down to the Inca camp to bring up a
complete supply of fresh provisions, as I did not then know
how long we should be obliged to remain here. The night
was fine, but I was unable to sleep most of the time owing
to a racking headache, the cause of which I also could not
explain. Vines did not suffer. Lanti slept the whole time
so soundly that I really feared the vibration from his snoring
would loosen the guy-ropes.

We rose early next morning, and made elaborate
preparations for the ascent. It was bitterly cold, and we
collected every article of wearing apparel that we could lay
our hands upon. Vines's frost-bites when he returned that
evening proved he took none too many. At about half-past
eight we started, slowly making our way by the old route,
namely, steering for Gtissfeldt's cairn. The day was fine,
and we had every prospect of success. The usual disappoint-
ment followed, however, for I soon found I was beginning to
lag behind, and before ten o'clock, at an altitude of some
20,000 feet, I was compelled to give in, in a state of complete
collapse from violent nausea. The season was already far

104 THE HIGHEST ANDES

advanced, and I realised that we could no longer spare the
time for these fruitless attempts of mine upon the mountain
I therefore begged Vines to continue on and make the ascent,
and to leave our maximum and minimum thermometers upon
the summit, while I turned my back for the last time upon these
slopes — with feelings that I had perhaps better not try to
describe.

CHAPTER X

BY STUART VINES
THE SECOND ASCENT OF ACONCAGUA

" My readers must kindly set their imaginations to work in aid of feeble
language ; for even the most eloquent language is but a poor substitute for a
painter's brush, and a painter's brush lags far behind these grandest aspects of
nature. The easiest way of obtaining the impression is to follow in my steps ; for
in watching a sunset from Mont Blanc one feels that one is passing one of those
rare moments of life at which all the surrounding scenery is instantaneously and
indelibly photographed on the mental retina by a process which no second-hand
operation can ever dimly transfer to others." — LESLIE STEPHEN.

IF the author of " The Playground of Europe" feels the
inadequacy of the " second-hand operation" of writing,
how much more must I crave the reader's indulgence before I
attempt a description of the ascent of Aconcagua.

Unlike many ascents that have been made to peaks above
the height of 20,000 feet, Aconcagua was climbed under the
most favourable conditions for beholding a view that for
extent and magnificence has had no equal. The indulgence
of the reader must therefore be in proportion to the difficulty
of the task before me.

"I'll rest a minute or two and get over this attack of
indigestion ; you go slowly on, — I'll join you," FitzGerald
said, as we left him. And " slowly on" we reluctantly went
up the steep snow, and then sat down to wait for him. He
was sitting on a rock about five hundred yards from us : I
watched him intently, expecting every moment to see him
come after us, but, to my disappointment and dismay, when
he did get up, it was only to turn round and descend in the
direction of the camp. Then I realised that I should have to
make the attack alone with Lanti. Disheartened, I felt that
if I looked after him any longer, I should descend and join

io6 THE HIGHEST ANDES

him. But he had said, "Whatever you do, make the ascent,"
and I turned once more in the direction of the summit, and
took the lead up the steep snow slope.

The illustration opposite p. 91 will give some idea of our
surroundings at this point, though our route during the first
few thousand feet lay to the left of the picture. The illustra-
tion is from a photograph taken at the end of March, from the
19,000 foot camp, at a time when the whole mountain side
was white with fresh-fallen snow. Zurbriggen had made the
ascent in January, almost without putting his foot on snow.
Now, owing to the unprecedentedly bad weather during the
last month, the snow lay in large patches over this north-
western side. Yet these patches were mere dots on the
mighty slopes forming the approach to the great peaks and
walls of rock that shut out the summit from our view. The
couloir, leading to the last thousand feet, by which Zurbriggen
had made the ascent, was straight in front of us, about three
thousand feet above. 1 1 looked absurdly near. The most direct
route would have been to ascend in a bee-line up the great
slope of debris to it. This was impossible ; it would mean a
tramp of hours up a very steep slope, exposed to the whole
force of the north-west gales, over ground rendered rotten
and unreliable by innumerable years of denudation. Our
intention was to follow the route which, in the first place,
gave the least abrupt ascent, and, in the second, avoided this
rotten debris. To our left was a more or less broken line of
cliffs, running down to the north from the summit. We
determined to make for the base of these, and follow their
line in a south-westerly direction towards the couloir which
now lay straight above us. We were carrying two rucksacks,
about 17 Ibs. in weight, containing amongst other things
some Kola biscuits, three flasks of wine, some slabs of
chocolate, a couple of onions, extra clothing of all kinds to
put on as the day got later and colder, prismatic compasses, a
case containing the maximum and minimum thermometers
to be left at the top, and, as I imagined, the small camera.
Alas ! one's memory is not keen at these altitudes. I had
made elaborate preparations the night before in order to

EQUIPMENT 107

have everything ready for the start. The camera, carefully
packed in two handkerchiefs, I had placed in the corner of
the tent at my feet, and could not, it seemed, possibly forget
it, and yet now, a thousand feet above the camp, on readjust-
ing the contents of the two rucksacks, I found no camera.
My feelings were more bitter than I can describe. We had
made such a late start that it was very doubtful whether we
should reach the summit even now, and to turn back for the
camera was out of the question. I trudged on, feeling much
depressed, and at 9. 50 reached the base of the cliffs.

I had brought with me an aneroid barometer, made by
Carey, that registered as low as 12 inches. I judged it
to have always worked pretty consistently, though there was
a minus error of nearly an inch at starting. At the camp,
before we left, it marked 14.75 inches, and now, after we had
been ascending for an hour, the reading showed 14 inches.
No doubt it exaggerated the whole day, but for an aneroid at
such heights it exaggerated regularly. During the first hour we
had not appeared to make very much progress ; in fact I was
getting anxious about our rate of going, for no one could
imagine that we should be able to go faster as we got higher ;
there was, on the contrary, every reason to fear that the pace
would decrease. I made the rests as short as possible, and
yet we fell into a bad habit of stopping frequently, — as we
said, to admire the view. As usual, the wind became stronger
as the morning wore on, and consequently counteracted the
benefits we hoped to receive from the warmth of the sun. I
had anxiously awaited its warmth for some time, as, in spite
of two pairs of thick stockings and boots several sizes too
large, shortly after starting I had little or no feeling in my
feet. However, by dint of working my toes about in my
boots at each step for the next thousand feet, I managed to
restore circulation, and was not troubled again in this way
during the day. Lanti complained bitterly of the cold, and I
was not surprised, as he had not taken the precaution of
putting on the extra clothing provided for him. I picked my
way over the solid rock at the base of the cliffs, glad to have
something firm under my feet, an advantage which cannot be

io8 THE HIGHEST ANDES

over-estimated, and thus we pushed on for five hundred feet,
unwillingly forced, now and then, to take to the debris, and
eventually returning to the snow, which was very steep at this
point, we zigzaged up it, till at 10.40, — two hours from the
camp, — we reached Giissfeldt's point. I had been told there
was a stone man marking the spot, but at the time I could not
bring myself to believe that the small pinnacle of red stones,
so narrow in proportion to its height, had stood since the
year 1883 : it was only on discussing the matter later with
FitzGerald and Zurbriggen that I satisfied myself that the
small red pile, in an unsheltered spot, was indeed Giissfeldt's
stone man. Instead of taking a straighter path to the
summit, we chose the route that offered the least incline,
and made as if to arrive on the north-east shoulder of the
mountain, our direction being almost due east. Though our
pace did not merit the reward of a rest, we were soon forced
again to sit down for some time. Nearly three hours had
passed since our scanty breakfast at the camp, and I was
feeling hungry. We had arranged to eat what we called
lunch at a spot where, on all the previous attempts on the
mountain, a halt had been called, in order to get food and gain
strength for the last two thousand feet. I had been told that
we should find some provisions there, and the means for pre-
paring hot food ; for all the party, except Lochmatter and
myself, had reached the place before, and at different times
provisions had been carried up and left there. Though they
had failed up to now in heating any food there, I hoped for
better luck in our own attempt.

Before leaving the Inca I had prepared for myself a small
bottle of a mixture of port wine and egg, as I had often found
this a good pick-me-up when in a state of physical exhaustion.
Its chief recommendation on this occasion was that it was
palatable, and I always had an inclination to take it. Un-
fortunately this inclination was shared by Lanti. I should
not have objected if the sharing process had not extended
further than the inclination, but unhappily it did so. Having
refreshed himself Lanti sat down, and, as we lay and gazed
over the ever-increasing expanse of blue ocean to the west,

LANTI DISCOURAGED 109

the pick-me-up having loosened his tongue, he gave me his
views on the situation. Could this despondent and grumbling
creature be the same bright and cheerful Lanti of a few
weeks ago, who had ever been ready to carry the heaviest
load, and crack a joke after the hardest day ? Having felt
less the effect of the altitude than the other porters, he had
been chosen to accompany me on this attempt. But now all
the spirit and ambition seemed to have gone out of him.
" Two hundred lire, Lanti, if you reach the top with Mr.
Vines," were FitzGerald's last words to him, and yet, though
to all appearance physically strong enough, he had an honest
desire not to continue the ascent. From his own words I
diagnosed his case as " Heimweh," for he said to me,
" Signor, the mountains of Europe are healthy : these
mountains are very unhealthy. Why do we climb these
mountains, and why encamp and sleep at these great heights ?
We who have done so, will find our lives wrecked by it."
Seeing that this was leading us to a proposal to descend, I
cut him short in his lugubrious meditations by starting on
again.

Still we kept on to the east, and I hoped before long to
look over into the Vacas Valley, but on Lanti's suggestion
we now turned sharp to the south towards the summit. Two
days before I had reached this spot by another route. I was
now higher than I had ever been before. In half an hour —
fifteen minutes past midday — we reached the halting-place.
In an arena, surrounded on two sides by an amphitheatre of
rocks and aiguilles, and on the southern side by a mighty
mass of overhanging cliff, forming, as I thought, the summit
of the mountain, lay a couple of rucksacks. The peculiar
palisade of pinnacles around formed only protection enough
from the wind to make it the draughtiest place in the world.
It was therefore not an ideal place to make a fire. The
contents of the rucksacks were examined : some tea, a little
wood, a heliograph and stand, binoculars, and two self-cooking
tins were what we found. While I made a few notes, and
examined the aneroid, which read a little over 13 inches,
Lanti attempted to make a fire. He struck some forty

no THE HIGHEST ANDES

matches, and, as each fizzled out, there followed a string of
expletives in his own Italian patois. We tried every available
means to ignite the wood, but I could see it was no good.
Hot food, therefore, was out of the question ; but worse than
that, Lanti shared my egg flip so liberally that we left the
empty bottle behind.

After three-quarters of an hour's rest in this very un-
comfortable spot, we started off again at one o'clock. De
Trafford had planted a heliograph station some sixteen miles
away on the other side of the mountain, at the mouth of the
Horcones Valley, and I knew, by previous arrangement, that
on this day, between three and six, he would be watching,
with telescopes directed and instrument aligned on the summit
of Aconcagua. I determined, therefore, to take the heliograph
with me, and send him the first news of the ascent, should
we reach the summit. Horses would be standing by ready
saddled, and, at the first message flashed from me, Gosse
would gallop the eleven miles to Vacas, and despatch the
news by cable to London.

The full weight of the instrument with the stand was 14
Ibs. This I made my load, and gave Lanti the rucksack with
extra clothing, compasses, etc., and a bottle of sour Chilian
wine, which, with some slabs of chocolate, was all we now
had to sustain us for the rest of the day, — not a tempting
meal for exhausted men. Our rest had been a long one, and
we should have been quite willing to make it longer, had not
the cold been so intense. Let me call the reader's attention
to the photograph opposite p. 91. The halting-place was
beneath the wall of the cliff on the extreme left, and we now
made our way behind the rocks towards the peak in the centre
of the picture. We emerged from behind these rocks beneath
this central peak and some three hundred feet below it, our
object being now to reach the couloir on the right hand side
of the peak, as this was the only route to the summit. No
photograph can give any idea of the vastness of things here ;
what looks like a mere step from one part of the mountain
to the other meant hours of toil to us. The actual summit
of the mountain lay some distance behind the central peak,

A TRYING SLOPE in

and some three or four hundred feet above it. The only
peak of the mountain visible is the lower western peak,
which lies to the right of the illustration. Now, there were
two routes open to us from the point we had reached : — to
go straight across the great slope of debris (this appears in
the picture as a snow slope) to the couloir, or to ascend by
the rocks to the foot of the great central peak, cling to it for
the sake of the hard ground, and so reach the couloir. No
doubt the latter route was the longer. Lanti persuaded me,
much against my will, to cut straight across the slope,
declaring that this was the course pursued by Zurbriggen.
I did not know what I was in for, or I would never have
consented. At a quarter to two, over five hours from the
camp (the aneroid reading 12.75 inches) we found ourselves
half-way to the couloir, in the middle of the slope of debris,
and convinced, both of us, that the longer route would have
proved shorter in the end. This crossing the mountain side
was perhaps the most trying part of the whole ascent. Not
a single stone or rock that we trod on afforded any support.
Everything, however firm in appearance, gave way beneath
us. We could rely on nothing, so that instead of passing
straight across the slope, we were forced to keep on ascending,
in order to maintain the right level. Every minute either
Lanti or myself would slip down five or six feet, bringing
with us sand, stones, and rocks, and seemingly the whole
mountain side. We were now considerably over 21,000 feet
above the sea, and in such a condition that the slightest
rebuff damped our spirits, and forced us to stop and rest.
Rebuffs were frequent. We were continually thrown sprawl-
ing on the rotten surface. Our patience and endurance were
tried to the utmost : we seemed to stop every ten yards for
rest, and, in fact, spent far more time in resting than ad-
vancing ; and yet we soon found it impossible to sit, or lie
down to rest as inclination dictated. The relaxing of the
muscles of the legs on assuming a reclining posture acted
disastrously as soon as we resumed the ascent. For the
lower limbs seemed first to have lost power, and then, after
a step or two, were racked with a dull aching, which I can

112 THE HIGHEST ANDES

liken to nothing so much as to what has in a child been
called " growing pains." This hardly wore off before it was
time for another rest. Experience soon taught us there was
only one position for rest and recuperation : to stand with
the legs wide apart, the body thrown far forward, the hands
grasping the head of the ice-axe, and the forehead resting
low on the hands. In this way the circulation returned to
the brain, and was maintained in the lower limbs, the
diaphragm being free for respiration. After resting in this
position, ten or a dozen violent respirations brought the
breathing back to its normal state, the legs gradually regained
power, and we were able to plod on another ten paces or
so, according to the condition of the path. The general
symptoms and the mode of relief from our sufferings point —
and I make this suggestion in the humblest spirit — to anaemia
of the brain, and to a general want of circulation caused
thereby. I do not think that Lanti suffered so much physi-
cally as I did, but mentally he certainly suffered more. The
whole man had entirely changed ; his conduct was altogether
inexplicable.

It was not until nearly three o'clock that we reached the
foot of the final couloir. This great detour from the camp
in the morning to this spot, had taken us nearly six and a
half hours. And yet I am convinced that it was a better
route than directly up the slope, although, perhaps, nearly
twice the distance. As surely as a thirsty animal will go
miles for water, the climber in these ruined masses will go
miles out of his way to avoid loose footing.

We were still from a thousand to fifteen hundred feet
from the summit, — it was late, and I felt myself in no good
condition. I had neither opportunity nor inclination to
collect anything in the way of specimens of rock at these
heights. But at the mouth of the couloir I noticed a small
piece of black rock lying loose on the surface,1 and as it
was quite unlike any of the rocks around, and I had
not seen anything of the kind previously on Aconcagua, I
pocketed it.

1 See Appendix, p. 318, " R»

AT TWENTY-TWO THOUSAND FEET 113

After about three hundred feet the gully widened, and
we entered an enormous amphitheatre, the floor of
which, filled with masses of broken red rock, sloped up in
front of us to the great ridge that joins the eastern and
western peaks, continues on beyond them in descent to the
Vacas Valley on the one side and the Horcones Valley on
the other, and so forms a mighty arc from one base of the
mountain to the other.

This ridge will be seen in reverse from the south in the
frontispiece, and also in the illustration opposite next page.

To our left rose a huge bastion of rock, which, no doubt,
was the summit. To our right, great cone-shaped rocks and
aiguilles towered into the clouds. I cannot conceive any-
thing more sublime in its desolate grandeur than this rock-
bound wilderness, quarried by what forces one cannot imagine,
perched up amongst the highest crags of the great Andine
chain, receiving in its lap the red ruins of the towers
above. Contrary to the idea given in the illustration opposite
p. 91, not a vestige of snow was to be seen within the
vast enclosure. We were over 22,000 feet above the
sea, and in no mood to cope with the petty annoyances
incidental to clambering over the great rough stones and
boulders now blocking the way. I sat down in the midst
of this lonely scene and looked ahead, wondering how much
longer I could last. What was it that would strengthen me
for the final effort? Certainly the sour Chilian red wine,
which was icy cold, offered no temptation. In my desperation
and wretchedness I thought as a stimulant of the onion that
I had slipped into the rucksack at the last minute. A raw
onion at any time is bad, but sucking and gnawing a raw
onion in a biting wind at 22,000 feet is unendurable, and,
though I persevered with it, I cannot say that I derived any
immediate benefit from the vegetable. However, all things
have an end, and after struggling on for another hour
amongst the fragments fallen from the heights around,
and after innumerable halts, we reached the upper end of
the basin.

My excitement as I neared the arete in front gave me
8

H4 THE HIGHEST ANDES

fresh vigour, and even Lanti cheered up a bit. In a few
minutes the whole southern aspect from which we had so
long been cut off would burst into sight.

At half-past four exactly I stood upon the great arete.
I crept to its edge, looked over the southern wall of Aconcagua,
and gained my first view of the country to the south. The
sight that met my gaze was an astounding one. An immense
distance separated us from the glacier below — the difference
between 23,000 and 13,000 feet. It was a precipice of
gigantic size. As I looked down its dizzy sides, I saw spurs
of the mountain flanking the glacier beneath to the left and
right, giving the appearance of some huge amphitheatre.
The sun was low in the heavens, and did not penetrate into
this vast pit, and the great masses of vapour slowly moving
about in it far below, gave it the aspect of a giant cauldron,
into whose depths the eye failed to penetrate, two miles
vertically below. The arete, about five feet wide at this
point, ran east to the summit and west to the snow-clad
western peak of the mountain, growing ever narrower in
that direction, 'until, where it sloped up to the highest point,
its edge became knife-like. Indeed, I felt it was lucky the
eastern peak was the highest point of Aconcagua, for this
snow peak to the west would probably demand of the climber
considerable step-cutting. But time was now everything
to us, for it was late, and we did not know how far off the
summit might still be. Small clouds had been hovering on
the north-west slope all day — the mass of Aconcagua seeming
to attract them, and we hurried on, in hopes of reaching our
goal before they entirely surrounded the mountain-top and
cut off all chance of a view. We turned once more in a
north-easterly direction along the arete, over which we had
no difficulty in walking, as it was composed of loose stones
and a little fresh snow. Was it the excitement of the thought
that perhaps a few hundred feet alone separated us from the
summit, that gave us fresh vigour and strength ? Anyhow
I felt stronger. There seemed more air to breathe after
we had left the basin surrounded by rocks where we had
been, to a great extent, sheltered from the wind, and con-

ON THE SUMMIT 115

sequently the pace improved.1 The arete soon became
precipitous and very crumbly, and I perceived an easier route
by leaving it and turning more to the north. My excitement
now became intense ; a cliff in front barred the way and
shut out the view ahead. I scrambled up the cliff, and, once
level with the edge, beheld Zurbriggen's stone man, and the
ice-axe planted in its centre not twenty yards from me. A
few steps more, and Lanti and I stood on the summit of
Aconcagua.

It was two minutes past five ; the thermometer showed
7° Fahr., the aneroid had reached the limit of its markings
and stood still at 12 inches. In silence I turned and grasped
Land's hand, our feeling of triumph too great for words. The
summit was attained — our labours were at an end. Over the
abyss beneath me and down the Horcones Valley I looked
eagerly for the flash of those who were patiently watching
the summit. But to my great disappointment nothing could
be seen, for a thin curtain of cloud hid the mouth of the
valley from view.

We were on a square plateau, measuring 75 paces
each way, sloping at an angle of 7° down towards the
south-east, and entirely free from snow. On its northern
side I found Zurbriggen had built a most substantial pyramid
out of the loose stones lying on the summit. Lanti pro-
duced the bottle of wine, but it was not to our taste, and
we poured its contents as a libation over Zurbriggen's stone
man : and then, no longer forced to stand and rest, flung
ourselves down at the foot of it. I set about writing a
hasty record of the ascent. There was no time to lose.
The clouds were slowly moving up the north and north-
western slopes. I wrote Lanti's name on my card, and the
date, etc., and had just finished when a gust of wind snatched
it from my numbed fingers, and I was forced to begin over
again. On the second card I wrote : —

" Made the ascent with Lanti Nicola, miner, of Macugnaga,
Italy. FitzGer aid Expedition, England."

1 See Freshfield's Caucasus, pp. 168, 169.

ii6 THE HIGHEST ANDES

And then the following note on a piece of paper : —

"Eight hours and twenty-three minutes from a camp on
the north-western slope of the mountain at 19,000 feet.
Saturday, \$th February 1897. / am leaving here my ice-
axe and maximum and minimum thermometers in a box. I
have brought up a heliograph, but cannot use it owing to
cloud"

I then took the thermometer-box, set the instruments,
put my card and the piece of paper inside, and wedged
them in the rocks at the foot of the stone man, and beside
it placed the empty bottle. Having cut my name in large
bold letters down the shaft of my ice-axe, I substituted it
for FitzGerald's, which Zurbriggen had left. All this was
done as quickly as possible, but with the thermometer at
7° Fahr., and with one's fingers numb and clumsy, it took
some time. I got up and looked around ; clouds were
already hovering beneath the western peaks, and the sun
was getting very low in the heavens.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to the south. Flash !
Flash ! Flash ! The dots of the Morse code ! A thin
white light but quite distinct! They had then seen me, as
the cloud shifted, with their powerful telescopes, and were
trying to attract my attention ! Lanti and I were hard at
work at once, only too glad to have something to keep us
warm, for we had got chilled to the bone while sitting by the
stone man. In a few minutes our heliograph was set up to
answer the signal. The aligning of the instrument was no
easy task in 25° of frost, with the wind whirling great clouds
of snow up from the arete and the western peak into our faces.
It was the more difficult as the sun was at an awkward angle,
being very low in the sky, and de Trafford's signalling-station
was to the south-east. Only with great difficulty, therefore,
could a shadow-spot be got with the single mirror, so that the
time I had given to the first aligning was useless and I had to
begin work all over again with the double mirror. As soon
as this was adjusted and the instrument aligned I began to
flash, — but, another disappointment ! — I was too late. The

HELIOGRAPHING 117

clouds had already risen from the valley again and come
between us and those below. I had now been on the summit
three-quarters of an hour, and Lanti was very anxious to
begin the descent ; he felt the cold intensely, and had no
sympathy with the heliograph. However, I was determined
to wait as long as possible, and as near as I could judge, I
kept my instrument in alignment. I knew that de TrafTord
had two powerful telescopes directed on the summit, and
thought at the time that he had seen us on the top and had
begun signalling in consequence. This afterwards proved
not to be the case. There was a tremendous wind blowing
down the Cuevas Valley from the west, which, though their
heliograph was weighted with stones, shook the instrument
and made the flashing I had seen. I waited patiently
by my instrument for five minutes, and then came to the
conclusion that, as the clouds showed no sign of lifting even
for a moment, I would make other use of my time.

CHAPTER XI

BY STUART VINES
TWENTY-THREE THOUSAND FEET ABOVE THE SEA

THE marvellous panorama that lay around and beneath
me demanded some study for its comprehension.
Northwards over the cloudless expanse, my eye wandered
down the great slopes of the mountain, over glaciers and
snowfields beyond, down the Penitente Valley, by which
Glissfeldt had made his attack, to where the great snow
mass of the Mercedario, towering above all the surround-
ing heights, barred the way.

In height but a few hundred feet lower than Aconcagua,
and outstripping, in the vastness of its proportions, all other
mountains in this region of the Andes, the Mercedario, like
many another peak in these parts, has a reputation for
inaccessibility far beyond its deserts. Seen from the summit
of Aconcagua, its ascent, from the climber's point of view,
seemed to offer no special difficulty. The precipitous parts
— if they exist at all — must lie at its base, which, in the
denuded state of these ranges, is highly improbable. It
appeared to me as one gigantic snow-slope, slanting up from
the south-east at an angle of not more than 20° to the summit.
There was nothing in its shape to lead me to think its
volcanic activity any more recent than that of Acon-
cagua, and probably its northern side consists of similar
debris-covered slopes. In the enormous distance to which I
could see beyond, numerous other giants reared their mighty
heads — many of them in the shape of perfect pyramids having
a distinctly volcanic appearance.

Over Argentine territory range beyond range stretched

AN UNPRECEDENTED VIEW 119

away ; coloured slopes of red, brown, and yellow, and peaks
and crags capped with fresh-fallen snow. I had hoped to
look from the summit right down upon the pampas of
Argentina. In this I was disappointed, for, though I gazed
intently over the range, far beyond the Uspallata Plain, a sea
of mountains some sixty miles in width, and averaging a
height of quite 13,000 feet, made such a view impossible
from the summit of Aconcagua. It was only far to the
north that a break in the Cordilleras gave a glimpse of the
distant plains.

Away over the surging mass of white cloud that lay on
the glacier at my feet, rose the southern frontier chain,
Torlosa and the Twins, on either side of the Cumbre Pass,
like colossal sentinels guarding the great highway between
the two Republics ; the lofty glaciers lying between the
rugged crags of Juncal ; the ice - peaks of Navarro and
Pollera, the Leones and the Cerro del Plomo, that overhangs
the city of Santiago, and some sixty miles farther on the
magnificent white summit of Tupungato. And here my atten-
tion was arrested for the time : in every detail I scrutinised
the outlines of that great dome. Aconcagua now at our feet,
the next attack would be on Tupungato, another mountain
with an evil reputation ; described by the natives as a volcano
attracting all the storms of the heavens. But my investiga-
tions in this direction were cut off by the rising clouds, and I
turned my eyes elsewhere.

No lens or pen can depict the view on the Chilian side.
I looked down the great arete, past the western peak of the
mountain to right and left, over ranges that dwindled in
height as they neared the coast, to where, a hundred miles
away, the blue expanse of the Pacific glittered in the evening
sun. Far down to the south, and fifty leagues away to the
north, stretched the vast blue line. The sun lay low on the
horizon, and the whole surface of the ocean between the point
of vision and the sun was suffused with a blood-red glow.
The shimmering of the light on the water could be distinctly
seen. So near did it all seem that I could not realise the
immense distance that separated me from it.

120 THE HIGHEST ANDES

There lay the Bell of Quillota and the Cerro del Roble.
And were not those the heights of Placilla which on one side
look down upon the harbour and the town of Valparaiso, and
on the other on that field of carnage where but a few years
ago Korner dealt the deathblow to the power of Balmaceda ?
The valleys filled with cloud had all the appearance of arms
of the sea clasping the maritime ranges in their embrace.
The sea-girt Cerros rose like huge island rocks from these
phantom waters.1

And now I turned to the mountain itself, its satellites, and
the valleys running from it.

Within ten miles, surrounding the base of Aconcagua to
the east and west, lay the heads of the Vacas and Horcones
Valleys — wide, bleak wastes of grey stones, bounded by black
crags or red and brown slopes, and ending in glaciers en-
circled by peaks of ice and snow. Very similar was the
Penitente Valley to the north, though the glaciers were far
more extensive. There in the dim distance beneath me stood
the bold outlines of the Almacenes that but a few days
before we had seen from the Horcones Valley, towering so
high above us. Could those small rocks down there be
indeed the same great coloured cliffs that overhung our
valley camp ? Could that be the great barrier that after
many a cold night kept back the warmth of the sun till so
late in the day ? Far away and small they all looked now.

From this platform, raised above the culminating ridge, the
nature and shape of Aconcagua were very clearly revealed.
On the one side I beheld the mountain falling sheer down to

1 Charles Darwin, in vol. iii. chap. xiv. p. 311 of The Voyage of the Beagle,
mentions a similar effect produced by cloud in August 1834, when looking over
the same country from the ridge of Chilecaugnen.

"These basins and plains, together with the transverse flat valleys, which
connect them with the coast, I have little doubt, are the bottoms of ancient inlets
and deep bays, such as at the present day intersect every part of Tierra del Fuego,
and the west coast of Patagonia. Chile must formerly have resembled the latter
country, in the configuration of its land and water. This resemblance was
occasionally seen with great force, when a level fog-bank covered, as with a
mantle, all ,'the lower parts of the country : the white vapour curling .into the
ravines, beautifully represented little coves and bays : and here and there a solitary
hillock peeping up, showed that it had formerly "stood there as an islet."

DENUDATION 121

the southern glacier, and on the other gently sloping towards
the wide snowfields to the north at an average angle of 25°.
Some two thousand yards to the south-west along that narrow
edge and fully two hundred feet lower than the point on
which I stood was the western peak of the mountain. Every-
thing beneath bore witness to the tremendous denudation
that had been going on for countless ages. All the forces of
nature had been brought to bear on this mountain giant.
Visible signs lay around me of the power of the weather and
rapid changes of temperature to destroy. Aconcagua with
all its cherished secrets and its mystery lay bare before me,
confessing itself as nothing more than a colossal ruin, for not
a single vestige of the ancient crater of this extinct volcano
remains. Foot by foot the relentless forces of nature have
reduced the mountain to its present proportions. As the fog
banks in the valleys near the sea so graphically illustrated to
one's mind the prehistoric state of Chile, so the innumerable
traces of ruin and decay around me, the crumbling rocks, and
the disappearance of the crater, told of an Aconcagua of the
past, whose gigantic base filled the glacier-beds around, whose
sides rose towering to the heavens several thousand feet
higher than the Aconcagua of to-day, the reckless vehemence
of whose volcanic force was the beginning of its own
destruction ; of an Aconcagua of ages yet unborn, split,
broken, and powdered by frost and heat, pouring itself over
valleys and plains in sediment and shingle, a mere shapeless
mass, whose height will no longer distress the mountaineer ;
an Aconcagua, whom the agencies of destruction, more
vigorous here than elsewhere in the mighty chain, will have
forced to abdicate, no longer monarch of the Andes.

It is true that while passing through the great basin filled
with red stones, I had imagined for a moment that I was
indeed in the crater of Aconcagua, but its shape, the direction
of its slope, and the insignificance of its size as beheld from
the summit, when compared with the vast proportions of the
mountain, dispelled at once all such ideas.1

1 Many stories are rife in Chile of eruptions seen during the present century.
Admiral FitzRoy, in the Voyage of the Beagle, talks frequently of the volcano

122 THE HIGHEST ANDES

We had now been considerably more than an hour on the
summit, and while making these different observations, I
divided the time between adjusting the shadow-spot of the
heliograph and stamping and dancing about to keep from
being frozen as I stood. I may here mention that I did not
feel the damaging effects of altitude so severely on the
summit. So soon as we ceased ascending, the trouble
seemed to leave me. Lanti had long ago had quite enough
of summit and view, and said he could stand the cold no
longer, begging me to descend at once. In desperation I
turned to the instrument, and through the thin veil of cloud
very slowly and clearly sent the following message : " Vines,
Lanti on summit. Cold wind. Few clouds. Grand view,"
on the chance of something being seen by those below.

of Aconcagua (vol. iii. chap. xiv. p. 308), and Darwin, in his Geological
Observations (pp. 388, 481, 591), mentions Aconcagua, amongst others, as being
a dormant volcano. Dr. Giissfeldt says, in \iisjourney in the Andes : —

" Conjectures are at variance with one another in nothing else so completely as
in the question whether Aconcagua is of volcanic or non - volcanic origin. I
myself inclined to the latter opinion, but without being able to bring forward
completely convincing reasons for it. But the fondness of speaking of particularly
striking mountains as ' volcanoes,' which is so prevalent in South America, made
me all the more distrustful, as I myself possessed no geological knowledge, and
distrust always goes hand in hand with the lack of specific knowledge.
I can at least assert with assurance that through the shape of the mountain the
assumption of its volcanic origin is certainly not proved. In Chile, on the
contrary, especially in the middle provinces that lie nearest to it, people were
always inclined to call Aconcagua ' el volcan.' To judge by the specimens of
stones brought home by me, which have no doubt been affected by decay, the
mountain seems to have built itself up by volcanic activity. In all probability,
therefore, the popular belief had hit upon the truth, although neither written
documents which have been handed down, nor yet the appearance of the
mountain at the present day can establish a volcanic activity. Is it not possible
that in this there lies an indication that oral tradition, inherited from generation to
generation, reaches back to those times when Aconcagua was still an active
volcano ? "

No doubt the stories of its activity as a volcano, emanating from Chile, have
been the result of mistaking the snow-clouds swept up by the terrific gales from
its north - west slopes for clouds of volcanic steam. Aconcagua, by Professor
Bonney's estimation, must have retired from active volcanics some fifty thousand
years ago, or some period of time with which history cannot cope.

The specimen of rock which I picked up lying loose on the summit, has been
pronounced by Professor Bonney to be a rather decomposed hornblende andesite,
with numerous crystals (rather small) of plagioclase felspar. Another small piece
from the summit plateau was an andesite, possibly with slight traces of fulgurite.

THE SUMMIT LEFT 123

I looked at the time. It was twenty minutes past six!
In less than half an hour the sun would have set. Yet still I
hesitated to leave a spot that overlooked the two greatest
States of a mighty continent, affording a view over nigh
80,000 square miles of mountain, sea, and land ; to peaks to
north and south fully two hundred miles beyond Mercedario
and Tupungato, unknown to me by name, but that rose out
of the endless Andes, to right and left, at the lowest estimate
five hundred miles apart —

" Where Andes, giant of the Western Star,
With meteor standard to the winds unfurled,
Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world."

But I was alone. Lanti had begun the descent, and was
already wending his way down the rocky bed of the pseudo
crater. With many regrets I took one last look round and
followed him.

Though to the climber it often means the most dangerous
and difficult part of his work, to the reader the descent must
always come as an anti-climax. I will therefore be brief.

Lanti leading, we passed the arete on our left, and made
our way with all possible speed direct down the great basin
to the couloir by which we had ascended.

The eighty minutes spent on the summit had been to me
all too short, though no doubt from the point of view of
prudence they had been far too long. To reach a peak of
such a height a little over an hour and a half before sunset
and to remain there for so long a time was, no doubt, some-
what rash. It meant that we should be entirely dependent
on the moon to find our way ; and should it be overcast,
we were in no condition for further exploration in the
dark.

Down we stumbled over the red rocks, racing with the
falling light of day, the muscles much relieved for the time
by the new sensation of descending. But on reaching the
couloir we had to check the pace, for it had told on us very
considerably.

I had been stumbling wearily down the snow that filled

124 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the couloir for what seemed to me like ages, with hat and
helmet bound close about my ears, and eyes fixed on Land's
heels in front, when, on emerging from the couloir on to the
great slope, I raised my goggles for the first time since we
had left the summit, and looked around. It was fortunate for
me that I did so, for in my tired condition I might have so
plodded on to my journey's end without seeing what I can
only describe as the most sublime and gorgeous colouring I
have ever beheld.

The sun, a great ball of blood-red fire in a cloudless sky,
was dipping into the waters of the Pacific. Rapidly it sank,
and disappeared from view. Yet, as if still struggling for
supremacy with the fast-approaching night, an after-glow of
surpassing beauty spread over land and sea in a series of
magnificent changes of colour. The mighty expanse of
water from north to south, together with the sky above it,
was suffused with a fiery red glow. While the red in the
sky remained, the waters, through a variety of intermediate
shades of colouring, turned slowly to purple and then to blue.
And yet we were not in darkness, for with the sun's departure
the risen moon declared itself with wondrous brightness,
penetrating the thin atmosphere and flooding everything
with its colder light.

The effect produced by such a combination of brilliant
moonlight and glorious sunset was beautiful beyond words.
For during half an hour that wonderful glow rested on the
horizon of the Pacific — a great red line of subdued fire sus-
pended in mid-air, the darkness that had fallen like a pall
on sea and land beneath severing its connection with the
earth.

Nothing could be conceived easier in theory than the
descent down the great slope from the couloir to the camp.
But for men in our exhausted condition, it seemed a never-
ending labour. The two hours taken over the descent
seemed more like six, as with heavy, weary steps we
floundered down the steep snow or broken stones, from time
to time attempting to glissade in our anxiety to reach the
camp by the quickest means. Too exhausted to support

RETURN TO CAMP 125

ourselves with our axes, and with the snow in bad condition,
we had to give this up.

And now a word or two about my companion, the man
who shared with me the honours of the day.

A big-boned man, slightly above medium height, spare
almost to emaciation, Lanti Nicola always seemed trained
down to the finest point of condition. We had many times
to admire his excellent qualities as a porter, and this day's
experience gave me additional proof of his splendid powers
of endurance. Of the two I was by far the most done up.
He was more inured to the conditions of things than I was,
having taken part in all the earlier attacks on the mountain,
and being by now an old hand at battling with the atmo-
spheric difficulties on Aconcagua, whereas, compared with the
other members of the expedition, I was a raw recruit, this
being practically my first attempt. Again and again I begged
a rest, grumbling and disappointed that I seemed to derive
no benefit from the ever-increasing pressure. On the
contrary, the breathlessness and weariness continued to the
end, as I continually threw myself forward on my ice-axe
gasping, as in the ascent, until I gained relief.

The way seemed never ending, but our direction was
good, for the moonlight helped us, and soon we heard the
voices of the Pollingers, sent from the camp by FitzGerald
to meet us and bring us in. It was long after eight, how-
ever, before we reached the 19,000 foot camp. After this
I have vague recollections of seeing FitzGerald in a huge
bundle of clothing outside the tent, grasping his hand, and
hearing something about congratulations and hot whisky.
Later, of being bundled into the tent, of finding that I could
not get my hat or helmet to budge, as they seemed to form
a solid, frozen mass with my beard as foundation ; of making
feeble and pathetic efforts to do what is an athletic feat for a
man in prime condition on the seashore, viz. to pull my
sleeping-bag up my body and round my shoulders ; of hear-
ing something about Lanti going on to the lower camp with
the two Pollingers, and wondering how he could possibly do
it, and above all, of someone bringing me a hot drink. Hot

126 THE HIGHEST ANDES

food had always been looked upon as an uncertain quantity
at this camp. But the trouble and difficulty they must have
had to boil water in 20° of frost at nine at night, and make
this hot toddy, never entered my head at the time, though
the toddy did so immediately, and with it my recollections
ceased.

CHAPTER XII

A TRIP TO CHILE

H E day that Vines made the ascent was very cold. I sat
i in the sun, near our camp, watching their movements.
After passing Gtissfeldt's last cairn they disappeared behind
the northern arete of the mountain, and not until after mid-
day did I catch sight of them again, when I saw them skirting
along to the westward by the base of the final peak. I
watched them with the telescope as they slowly and painfully
made their way over the rough and broken ground. They
seemed excessively fatigued, for I noticed that they went
with great effort, and paused every few moments, leaning on
their ice-axes, and at times they would slip and fall. They
kept steadily on, however, and at last reached the couloir that
leads to the saddle. They seemed an interminable time
here, and I was even beginning to fear that they would
break down, when finally they quickened their pace and I
saw them stand on the saddle. They then walked up
towards the summit, and disappeared from view. A few
hours later I saw them coming down. By this time the sun
had set, and the night was intensely cold. I piled on the
fire all the wood I could find, and made as big a blaze as
possible, yet I was compelled to stamp up and down to keep
warm.

At about 7 o'clock the moon rose, and the great white
snow-slopes sparkled and scintillated under its bright light,
while seawards, to the west, a ruddy glow illuminated the
heavens, marking the place where the sun had set. The
wind had dropped, and all was still — still with that intense
quiet that is so oppressive at night, when one is surrounded
by these gigantic cliffs and peaks that seem to threaten those

1-27

128 THE HIGHEST ANDES

who invade their solitude. Range after range spread out
between me and the ocean, brilliant in the moonlight, giving
the feeling that one was standing on some extinct planet, for
there was not a trace of vegetation, nothing but the bright
white lights and shadows, like the scene one sees through a
powerful telescope of the mountains of the moon. Life
seemed a thing impossible in such surroundings, and as the
air grew colder and colder, I wrapped myself up in my
blankets and shuddered with an unreasoning fear that
perhaps even the very atmosphere might die out and leave
us frozen stiff in this frozen land.

I was brought back to the realities of life by hearing
Vines shouting to me. He was now nearly at the camp, and
after a few minutes more he arrived broken with fatigue,
parched with thirst, and covered from head to foot with ice and
snow, his beard and moustache being like one huge icicle, so
coated were they. I gave him a hot drink that I had pre-
pared, and got him into one of our sleeping-bags in the tent.
His nose was badly frost-bitten, and he was pretty well chilled
to the bone. Lanti said that he would prefer to descend to
our lower camp, so after I had supplied him with some hot
refreshment I let him go down with Pollinger.

Next morning Vines's beard was still covered with ice.
Even in the tent we could not thaw it out. We collected
together some of our effects and came down to the lower
camp, for I was feeling very ill after so many days passed at
19,000 feet. I had slept in all fifteen nights there, and it had
told heavily on my constitution. As the mountain had now
been climbed by Zurbriggen, and by Vines with Lanti, I
decided to go over into Chile for a week to rest and if possible
get strong again after the fatigues we had endured at these
high altitudes.

We soon reached our 14,000 foot camp, and after a good
meal we started down on foot for the Inca. I had sent a
man on the day before to send up our horses to take us down.
The animals, however, had not arrived, but we had not gone
far before we met them, and Vines and I then galloped down
as fast as we could. All went well till we reached the first ford.

WE CROSS TO CHILE 129

There was a huge quantity of water rolling down, as the day
was hot. I crossed first, but unfortunately my animal fell
into a hole at almost the first step. I was lucky enough to
be able to keep my seat and regain the bank. My second
attempt was more successful, and I got across without
accident. Vines drove his horse across, and descended the
river-bank to a great boulder, from the top of which he was
able to jump half-way across the stream. He arrived safely,
with only a wetting. We soon reached our base camp at
Inca, where we met Lightbody, who had left the Transandine
Railway to join us in our work. Vines was suffering acutely
from his frost-bitten nose, which was much swollen. I left
Lightbody in charge of our camps, and on the evening of
1 9th February Vines and I started for Chile. We left the Inca
at about 5 p.m. and reached Cuevas for dinner. At about
10 p.m., after the moon had risen, we started out to cross
the Cumbre Pass. The people at Cuevas assured us that
we should be attacked and killed on the Pass, but we did not
listen to them. During the whole of our work, extending
over seven months and more, in these regions, we were
molested on only two occasions. The people are, as a rule,
peaceable, and the upper valleys uninhabited. I have not heard
of any combined system of highway robbery on these passes
during the summer months.

The night was a perfect one, and we greatly enjoyed
our solitary ride. We reached Portillo in Chile early in
the morning, but only stopped here a short time to rest
ourselves and the horses, and then pushed on to Salto del
Soldado, the terminus of the Chilian part of the Transandine
Railway.

From here we went on by rail to Los Andes, where
we remained for a few days. For two nights I was very ill,
suffering from fever and nausea brought on, no doubt, by my
prolonged stays at our high - level camp, and seeming to
have ruined my digestive organs completely for the time.
From Los Andes we went to Santiago, remaining there
for a day only, as it was very hot ; we then went down to
Limache, where we stayed for a couple of days, going on
9

130 THE HIGHEST ANDES

afterwards to Valparaiso. But as my stay in Chile did not seem
to be doing me any good I decided to return to the Inca next
day. I was taken violently ill that night in Valparaiso
with a high fever, and the doctor thought at first that I was
about to have typhoid : I recovered, however, in a few days.
Before returning to the mountains we were anxious to make
some arrangements to test if it would not be possible to
heliograph direct from our 19,000 foot camp to Valparaiso,
as from the camp we could see the coast-line very distinctly.
Mr. Dinnigan, of the West Coast Cable, very kindly offered
to set up a heliograph upon the heights just above Valparaiso,
and keep it aligned on the mountain side, where our camp
was situated, during certain hours of fixed days that we
should arrange by telegraph from Vacas. I returned from
Valparaiso to Los Andes better in health than I had been
for some time, thanks to the kindness and hospitality of Mr.
Ball. At Los Andes we picked up the horses we had left
there, and started by road for Juncal. During our stay the
animals had got completely out of training. Habituated as
they were to pick up a scant livelihood from the withered
and dry snow-grass upon the Andes, the unaccustomed rich
green forage of Chile had proved too great a temptation for
them, and they were so fat when we arrived that it was with
difficulty that we could make the girths meet round them.
We had not gone very far before we saw that it would
be impossible for us to reach Vacas with them that night,
and we decided to leave them at Salto del Soldado and hire
other animals to go on with ; we could then send our arriero
over from Argentina to fetch them when we returned. As
we were riding along the road from Los Andes to Salto we
met a Chilian gaucho, who followed us in a rather suspicious
manner. As our horses were so much out of condition,
whilst he was well mounted, we were powerless to get away
from him. He stopped at a small posada, where he apparently
met several of his friends, for we afterwards saw him come
on reinforced by three companions. We pushed on as
quickly as possible, for the road was lonely. The man had
previously made one or two attempts to enter into conversa-

WE RETURN TO WORK 131

tion with us, trying to run his animal up alongside as near as
possible, but we had succeeded so far in keeping him off.
Fortunately for us several parties mounted on horseback
passed us on the road, and therefore these men did not
succeed in getting us alone ; had they been able to do so, I
feel convinced that they would have attacked us. We were
the more suspicious as I had just drawn ^50 in gold from
the bank in Chile, and I was afraid that in some manner
these men had learned the fact. When we arrived at Salto
we succeeded in getting a coach that took us up to Juncal,
and next morning we hired mules and crossed the Cumbre,
reaching our camp at Inca soon after midday. Here I met
Lightbody and Gosse, who had been working together since
we had left. Lightbody had run a series of levels from the
rails of the Vacas station to the mouth of the Horcones Valley,
and had also completed a triangulation that we had begun
at Inca. Gosse had spent his time in collecting and in
managing the camp for Lightbody. I quote a couple of
amusing extracts from his diary : —

4<4/^ March. — Besides the cattle which are driven over
the pass from Argentina into Chile, there is one other kind of
live-stock, which I have seen exported. I was skinning birds
in camp at Inca to-day, when I heard a loud squeaking going
on. On looking round I saw down the road towards Vacas a
man approaching on a mule and leading another mule by a rope.
The second animal was loaded with two large wicker crates,
and at each step the mule took a loud squeak was audible.
At first I took this noise to be caused by the wicker itself, or
by the harness, but when the noisy little cavalcade drew near,
I found that the crates were filled with small green parrakeets,
which gave a squeak of terror every time the mule took a
step/'

" While all the others were in Chile, one Sunday afternoon
I received a note from a lady, who said that she and her
husband were staying at Inca, and would so much like to try
to convert my 'foreign guides.' I asked the porters if any
of them would care to go, but I am sorry to say that only one
candidate came forward, in the person of Lanti, who did not

132 THE HIGHEST ANDES

understand a word of English, and scarcely any Spanish. He
started off, however, and about an hour afterwards he returned
with a knowing look in his eye ; a few moments later all the
porters began to come to me, one after the other, to say that
they would so like to go and hear the English missionaries.
It looked well indeed for the missionaries, that they should
have managed (speaking only in English, as I afterwards
heard) to convert so stout a Catholic as Lanti in so short a
time. I had given leave to three of the others to go, when
my suspicions were aroused by Lanti coming and asking
permission to go again. This I refused, and when the other
three returned to camp, I made inquiries. I found that the
missionaries conducted their services in the bar of the inn,
and that, after service, each man in the congregation was
asked what he would take. This latter part of the ceremony
was apparently the only one Lanti had understood."

Next day Vines went up to the high-level camp to see
if it would not be possible to set up the heliograph communica-
tion which we had arranged for in Chile. Lightbody and I
remained behind and went over the trigonometrical work of
the survey round Inca. A few days later we went up to the
14,000 foot camp to meet Vines, and to see what success he
had had with the heliograph. As we started late in the
afternoon, it was not until long after dark that we reached
the upper camp, where we found that Vines had just come
down from the 19,000 foot camp. He reported a great
amount of snow and intense cold. Moreover, he had been
unable to set up communication.

CHAPTER XIII

BY STUART VINES
THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE CATEDRAL

ON the 1 6th of March I descended to the 14,000 foot
camp from the high camp on Aconcagua, where I had
been attempting for some days to make heliographic com-
munication with Mr. Dinnigan, late instructor of signalling in
the Royal Engineers, who had a station some ninety-seven
miles away on the heights of Placilla above Valparaiso, and
was on the lookout during certain prearranged hours of the
day, and of the night as well, because I hoped with such a
clear atmosphere and a bright moon to be able to get luna-
graphic communication also. Indeed I had obtained a
"shadow-spot" without the slightest difficulty; but sad to
relate, our old enemy, the weather, spoilt all my chances of
success, though I remained there several nights alone. Soon
after I reached the valley camp I was joined by FitzGerald
and Lightbody, who had come up from Inca to fix the
longitude of the place. The news from Tupungato and the
south was of such a dismal nature that all thought of pene-
trating that part of the country was abandoned for the time
being, and they had come to spend some days at the head of
the Horcones Valley fixing positions. I had spent a very
lonely time during the week, so I gave them a hearty welcome.
Unfortunately, as I did not take the precaution that night of
turning in first I had reason to regret that I was not still
alone. The three of us shared the Whymper tent : two other
small tents were used by the porters. FitzGerald had thrown
himself down on one side, and Lightbody's most elaborate
couch of sheepskins, ponchos, and sleeping-bags, encased in a

133

134 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Robert's valise, had been carefully and neatly spread on the
other. I humbly and thankfully crept into the narrow space
— about two inches wide — they had so considerately left for
me. FitzGerald is a restless sleeper and his elbows are
sharp. Lightbody has a habit of sleeping heavily in more
senses than one. How well they slept, how sharp Fitz-
Gerald's elbows were, how unmovable Lightbody's bedstead,
I shall ever remember. The next night I resigned the
place of honour, and hacking up a bed in the debris with
my ice - axe, took a sleeping-bag and Robert's valise and
slept outside. But a circummeridian observation of Jupiter
at ten o'clock in 1 6° of frost and a biting wind before turning-
in, and a small gale fall night, made me wish once more
that FitzGerald and Lightbody had never come up from
Inca.

As the greater heights were for the present out of the
question, FitzGerald suggested that I should take the
brothers Pollinger and make the ascent of the Catedral, a
mountain on the western side and at the head of the Horcones
Valley, overlooking the glacier basin. It stood in a very
conspicuous position overlooking the Cuevas Valley and the
Chilian Andes to the west. Moreover, its summit was not
more than seven miles from the summit of Aconcagua. My
purpose was to take bearings of certain positions as a help to
those surveying below, get some photographs of the summit
of Aconcagua and the peaks to the north-west, and more
especially to collect geological specimens in order to see how
they compared with those from Aconcagua. The summit
was not then reckoned at much more than 5000 feet above us,
being about on a level with the high camp on Aconcagua ;
so that an unusually early start was not necessary. The
night in the open with a biting wind had not refreshed me,
and I had vowed to sleep inside the tent in future, however
restless the other occupants might be. We were off at half-
past six, and as we made our way across the valley to the
huge moraine heaps guarding the snout of the Horcones
Glacier we made a careful examination of the mountain. The
northern and eastern sides of the Catedral, which rises from

THE FIRST SLOPES 135

the glacier, were rocky and precipitous, and probably the
rocks were in as brittle and ruined a condition as those on
Aconcagua. The southern side consisted of a great ntvd or
snow-slope through which rocks here and there appeared.
Pollinger made out what he thought to be one or two
crevasses higher up. The easiest route was on the left hand
side of the n6v6 on the south-west side of the mountain,
where the snow-slope seemed to lead towards the summit.
This would mean a long and tedious walk, followed by a
wearisome tramp for hours up the snow ; we therefore made
for the point where the southern snow-slope and the eastern
rock face seemed to rise from a platform above the Horcones
Glacier. We crossed the glacier stream and ascended the
moraine. Some yellow patches on this side of the valley
had long attracted my attention, and I turned to the left,
somewhat out of our direct route, in order to examine them
closely, and obtain some specimens. I found I had to cross
a deep gully and scramble some distance up another before
reaching these patches, and the detour took me far longer
than I had intended. I did not, however, consider the time
wasted. The yellow patches were evidently composed of
sulphur with some iron in it, from its strong smell and the
red tint here and there. We now resumed our former
direction, and, scrambling up for some little way, came to a
plateau or basin where there had been snow or water. Indeed
all the ground was covered with more or less fine earth both
in the basin and on the slopes near it, produced, no doubt,
by the action of the wind and melting of the snow ; for the
ripples on the ground had all the appearance of soil that had
been carefully prepared by the harrow to receive seed,
though somewhat stony in places.

Every step was now taking us higher and farther away
from the mighty mass of Aconcagua, and what the view to
the south lacked in beauty and softness, it made up in im-
pressive grandeur. We had been living for so many weeks
under the crags of Aconcagua, that we had no chance of gaining
a more general impression of the details of its formation and
its vast proportions. Leaving the plateau we crossed the

136 THE HIGHEST ANDES

great mass of debris leading up to the eastern precipice of
the mountain. Great boulders of brown rock lay on all sides,
hornblende andesite, like the summit of Aconcagua, blackened
on one side by exposure. Numerous loose stones, with vein-
like cracks filled with what I thought at the time to be
crystals, arrested my attention. The specimen I took with
me was examined at a later date, and my "crystals" proved
to be merely some white mineral. The delay caused by this
cursory collection of specimens by no means pleased the
Pollingers, who were giving all their attention to the question
of the route to be taken, for we had passed the precincts,
and were beneath the walls and buttresses of the Cathedral
itself.

It was nine o'clock, and we had only ascended some 2000 feet
above the camp, being at a height of close upon 16,000 feet.
To compare with specimens collected from a similar height
on the opposite rocks of Aconcagua, I chipped a piece from
the solid rock wall of the mountain.1 The crumbling state
of the edifice on this side made us decide at once to ascend
by the snow route, so skirting the edge of the rock wall, we
made our way round to the southern side of the mountain,
and began the ascent of the great snow-slope. The way was
very steep and we laboured up the deep snow, Joseph
Pollinger, who was leading, rather forcing the pace as a
reminder to me that there was to be no more geologising
until we reached the summit. An hour's fatiguing tramp,
bearing gradually away from the rock wall, and westwards,
brought us to a wall of ice twenty feet in height, beyond which
were signs of crevasses, and we put on the rope. We
reached the top of the ice wall at ten o'clock and halted for
breakfast.

We rested here for twenty minutes, and glad we were to
do so, for the way had been steep and the going had been
very hard over the deep and powdery snow. There was no
doubt about the wisdom of choosing the Catedral for ascent.
It was the only peak that gave an uninterrupted view of the
northern and western sides of Aconcagua from base to

1 See Appendix, p. 322 (i) and (3).

POLLINGER IMPATIENT 137

summit. But even now I wished the odd seven miles
between the summits of the two mountains were nearer
fourteen. For the vast mass seemed still to hang right over
us, and I could not yet form a clear idea of its proportions.
I looked into the valley beneath, and realised as never before
how unearthly in its dreariness and desolation the last and
highest reach of the Horcones Valley is, — walled in on one
side by the rugged rocks of the Dedos, cliffs and crags
dotted with yellow patches, and on the other by the ruined
battlements of Aconcagua built by successive flows of lava,
high perched amongst which, at a height where one would
never have expected to see it, were masses of white gypsum.
The numerous white pieces, I might almost say boulders, of
this deposit which we had so often ridden amongst in the
valley directly beneath bore witness to the composition of the
white masses above. Everything, as far as the weather was
concerned, was as it should be, and I looked forward to
another fine view, to getting some excellent photographs of
the summit of Aconcagua, and perhaps to be able to make
out Zurbriggen's stone man with the aid of the glasses. I
could see the surveying party far below. They were watch-
ing us, and no doubt wondering at our slow progress, and
why we were not already near the summit. The younger
Pollinger here broke in upon my meditations by declaring
that if an hour's rest was to be the only outcome of the
splendid pace he had set us during the last hour, we had
much better have come slowly. He was right, so seeing that
it would not do to remain longer, we started on again. At
eleven we saw the summit to the north. Here a discussion
arose, for our surest way of reaching it would be to turn to
the left until we reached the western side of the mountain,
and then wind up northwards by the snow-slope to the
summit. There were several reasons against taking this
route. We had been tramping for two hours over snow, and
the detour mentioned would necessitate a similar tramp for
two or three hours more. This would have been all very
well had we not wasted so much time, but a cold wind had
sprung up, there were already signs of the weather not

138 THE HIGHEST ANDES

holding out. I feared the clouds that had a habit of col-
lecting round Aconcagua in the afternoon would spoil all
chances of a view of the summit. Lastly, a shorter route lay
due north of where we were, the only drawback to which was
that it went up a steep rock face which would offer considerable
difficulty. Above this wall of rock the way was more or less
easy, between rocks, ice and snow, to a cornice, leading to
the summit. The longer route would not get us to the
summit much before three, and as the Pollingers thought the
rock wall could be negotiated, we decided on the shorter
one. We stopped, therefore, to examine this route. Some
nieve penitente, or ice-needles (so called by reason of their
similarity to crowds of white -robed penitents), led up in
steep gradation to a snow platform, about four feet wide,
from which the cliffs rose up. Joseph pointed out a spot
about fifty feet up where a ledge covered with deep snow
ran almost diagonally across its face. If we could only reach
the right-hand end of this ledge we could traverse the face
of the rock to the extreme left where a chimney or gully
would take us direct to the snow arete above. The opinions
upon the subject of whether or not this route would be
feasible were somewhat conflicting. The ledge was no doubt
deceptive in appearance, for it had a large mass of snow
clinging to it, giving the impression that it was a broad and
easy path. Louis Pollinger urged, on the one hand, that this
would probably afford an insecure foothold ; his brother,
however, maintained that the only difficulty to be encountered
would be found in the first fifty feet which it was necessary
to climb in order to reach the ledge ; after that, he averred,
it would be all plain sailing. I was rather inclined to take
Joseph's point of view, so I threw in my casting-vote, and
elected to try these rocks. Joseph led the way, and scrambled
with considerable difficulty up the first twenty feet or so.
The wall was exceedingly steep, and it was with great
difficulty that he managed to proceed at all, as the rocks
were in a very crumbly condition, and did not afford a very
secure hold for hand or foot. I followed him, and I must
confess I did not like our position. It seemed to me that we

A DANGEROUS LEDGE 139

were risking too much to avoid a detour which had only the
fault of being long. However, as Joseph thought it could be
done, and as I knew that he was a first-rate guide, I followed
him without much hesitation. The ledges on which we had
to cling were extremely narrow and filled with snow and ice,
while the wind now blew with terrific force, numbing and
freezing our finger-tips, so that at times I had no sensation
whatever in them. Joseph Pollinger is a lightly-built man,
and can climb like a cat. I found many places that he had
been able to go over safely were very much more difficult for
me, weighing as I did nearly thirteen stone. The rocks
crumbled, the footholds broke away, but at last I stood
beside Joseph. With numbed and frozen fingers I could
only just manage to cling to this place, while Joseph slowly
made his way to a spot some ten feet below the ledge, whence
he called down that he was afraid the traverse did not look
as easy as was expected, but that he was " ganz sicher " for the
moment. He was now about twenty feet above me, a little
to the right, and the rope between us was tight. As I was
some distance from the snow below, Louis was obliged to
follow, and we were — all three of us — on this rocky face.
One by one we took up higher positions, and Joseph after
considerable struggling succeeded in reaching the ledge
itself. I called out to him to discover what it was like, but it
was some time before he made up his mind. He seemed to
take ages scraping the snow off the ledge, while we with
numb fingers patiently clung on below, the wall being so
steep that it took all our strength to keep our precarious
footholds. Joseph finally reported that the ledge was all right
for a short distance, but that beyond there was a point
impossible to negotiate ; at the same time he said that the
rocks on which he was standing were so dreadfully rotten
that he could not hold on where he was very much longer,
and that we must descend at once to the snow plateau, as he
felt his handhold slowly crumbling away from under his
fingers. He said he would not move until we were safe off
the face of the rock. The situation was critical. In order
to go down I was forced to unrope myself, and having

140 THE HIGHEST ANDES

done this Louis Pollinger came up to where I was, so
that he might render his brother assistance, I meanwhile
cautiously scrambling down to the snow platform beneath.
As I was thus engaged several showers of small stones
came from above, and I heard the exhortations of the
two men begging me to be as quick as possible. I looked
up and saw Joseph about to descend. He had put his ice-
axe on the ledge, and was peering round to find the safest
way to descend, while Louis and I shouted suggestions to
him. The rocks by which he had ascended for some ten feet
beneath him were very rotten and almost perpendicular, and
it seemed impossible that he could come down by this route.
Louis tried to ascend to his brother's assistance, but nothing
would bear his heavier weight. The next moment Joseph
appeared to have found a secure handhold, some way to
one side, when suddenly the rocks to which he clung
gave way and he fell forwards. I was foolishly standing
immediately beneath him, and a shower of stones was
the first warning I got of the impending catastrophe. I
threw myself back on the snow-slope only just in time,
for the next instant, with a terrible cry and amid an
avalanche of rotten rock and debris, Joseph crashed down
on to the very spot where I had been standing. A moment
later I saw him on his hands and knees deep imbedded
in the snow.

We were at his side directly, yet for more than a minute
he remained as he had fallen, refusing to move or take the
slightest notice of our anxious questions, an awful look of
horror on his face. He was perfectly dazed by the shock.
Collecting his thoughts, he rolled over on his side and began
to gasp and groan, and then he seemed to lose consciousness.
I applied my flask to his lips, but it was fully ten minutes
before we could get a word from him. The information we
at last got was of the worst. He lay and muttered, " My
back, my back ! " In order to get some better idea of his
condition, I persuaded him to try and stand up. A groan of
anguish was the only answer, and he described himself as
"ganz gebrochen." Gently at first, and then more vigorously,

AN ACCIDENT 141

we examined, probed, and rubbed him. At length to our
great joy, he made no objection to the somewhat rough
handling we resorted to, and we found that, though he was
terribly stunned and shaken by the fall, no bones were
broken. The soft snow had not only broken his fall, but
saved him from pitching forward down the slope on to the
ice-needles beneath, where he must have been cut to pieces.
Yet his escape with so little injury was nothing less than
miraculous : he fell with his head not six inches from one of
the sharpest pinnacles of ice — a lurch forward and his brains
would have been dashed out. We laid him down on the
snow, and began to discuss what it was now best to do. We
could not leave him where he was, and continue the ascent ;
we could only wait till he recovered a little and then try to
get him safely down. At the mention of the word " descend,"
Joseph roused himself: a liberal pull at the flask, and he said
he could stand up if we gave him a hand. In fact in ten
minutes he said he was ready to continue the ascent, but
begged us to go very slowly. We were delighted to see this
change, and though we did not think for one moment there
was any chance of getting him to the top, his words
proved conclusively that no bones were broken. The short
cut had been a failure, and now there was nothing for it
but a long and weary tramp westwards over the snow ; in
fact I do not think one of us thought we should ever reach
our goal. We were all disheartened, and Joseph groaned
at every step. Suddenly Louis called my attention to a
break in the cliffs, which so far had been hidden from our
view. If we could ascend by it, it would lead us almost
directly towards the summit. On examination we found
some step -cutting would be required. The question was
whether we could get Joseph up or not. He had brightened
at the very first sight of this new route, and remarked with
more enthusiasm than accuracy that he was feeling quite well.
We roped again, and slowly and carefully ascended.

In half an hour we were on the snow above the rocks. A
great cornice overhung the north-east side of the mountain
overlooking the Horcones Glacier, and continued along the

142 THE HIGHEST ANDES

arete to the summit. This curious formation of snow is made
by the wind perpetually blowing and drifting, till gradually a
great mass of overhanging ice forms itself on the leeward side
of the ridge, frequently, as in this case, actually overhanging
the precipice. These cornices form one of the greatest
dangers that Alpine climbers have to contend with. It was
only a few weeks before we started for South America that Dr.
Max Giinther and his two guides, Roman Imboden and Peter
Ruppen, perished by a fall through a cornice on the eastern
arete of the Lyskamm. They were on the eve of making an
expedition to the Himalayas when they were thus unfortun-
ately killed. Before that there had been many accidents
from these treacherous overhanging ledges of snow. If you
go too near the edge, on the one hand, the whole mass of
snow may break away and precipitate you to the valley
beneath ; while, on the other hand, if you get too far away from
the crest you are sometimes in danger of falling down the
slope on the other side. Louis led us along as near the edge
as he dared.

His brother now becoming disheartened by the distance
the summit still appeared away, began again to complain of
his injuries ; in fact, a few steps more, and he sat down
begging us to go on — he would wait for us. This was no
place to leave an injured man, and after a little wine and rest
we persuaded him to make yet another effort. Crawling
along the edge of that cornice with the third man on the rope
a cripple was no pleasant task, and whenever we could get a
chance we turned away from it down the steep slope on our
left. There was the usual disappointment accompanying the
ascent of a new peak, for the actual summit was a great deal
farther off than we supposed, and again and again Joseph
rested and doubted. However, Louis and I persuaded, and
Joseph persevered, and at one o'clock we all three stood upon
the summit of the Catedral.

The wind was intensely cold, and there was by no means
an ideal light for photography. I made Joseph more or less
comfortable in a sheltered spot, while Louis busied himself
with the construction of a stone man. The actual summit

THE SUMMIT REACHED 143

was free of snow, and consisted of brittle rock of dark grey
and brown colour, precipitous on the side overhanging the
Horcones Glacier to the north-east, and on all other sides
falling away in great snow - slopes. The summit rock is
hornblende-andesite. l

Aconcagua hid its head in cloud, so I busied myself
taking other views and bearings. To the north I looked
down upon the snow mountains that encircled the Horcones
Glacier, most conspicuous amongst which was the Cuerno,
a mountain which from certain points of view has a resem-
blance to the Matterhorn. From the Catedral I had my
first look into the valley which runs parallel with the
Horcones to the west — the final stretch of that enormous
valley formed by the Mendoza River, with its mouth at Boca
del Rio, some twenty miles south of the town of Mendoza.
A tributary valley, even more bare and desolate, if that were
possible, than the Horcones, ran from it to the western
snow - slope of the Catedral. The particular view that I
climbed this peak to obtain, however, namely, the summit of
Aconcagua, was still cut off from me by cloud ; so I sat down
with Louis on the rocks at the northern edge of the summit,
to make a few notes and wait in hopes of a clearer view.
Once more to-day I was to be reminded of the dilapidated
state of the Andes. While quietly sitting by Louis I
stretched out my arm for a piece of rock of peculiar shape.
In a moment — as it had done with Joseph an hour or two
before — the whole ground gave way beneath me. What had
seemed hard rock a minute ago was nothing but crumbling
rubbish. In another minute I should have been sliding down
with a shower of debris, and have gone over the precipice
on to the Horcones Glacier, had not Louis, with wonderful
quickness, seized me by the arm and held me up.

After nearly an hour on the top, Aconcagua was still
enveloped in cloud. I waited a little longer, and at length
got a fairly good view of the summit, with clouds below.
At three o'clock we began the descent. Joseph was stiff
and cold, but said he felt better as soon as the descent began.

1 See Appendix, p. 323 (2).

144 THE HIGHEST ANDES

He suffered great inconvenience from having no ice-axe,
as he had placed his on the ledge above him just before he
had fallen. In the first place, we should want it badly for
the descent, and moreover, having left one on the top of
Aconcagua, and three having been broken at one time and
another, we could not afford to lose this one. I therefore
proposed we should descend to the cliffs above the scene
of his accident in order to see whether we could secure it.
We could not see it from above, but we knew it must be
there as it had not fallen with him. Joseph, being the
lightest, would have been the best man to let down, but his
condition made that impossible, so it was decided to let me
down. It was a question whether the rope would be long
enough to reach to the ledge, moreover the others had to be
very careful how they placed themselves, owing to the
crumbling condition of the rocks, which we now fully
recognised as an ever-present source of danger. They
lowered me with about forty or fifty feet of rope by the
very chimney we had proposed to ascend. I reached the
western extremity of the ledge, walked along it for a couple
of yards, until a buttress of rock barred the way, held on
while they changed the position of the rope above, and on
receiving the word "ganz sicher," let go my hold, dangled
round the obstacle, and perceived the ice-axe almost within
my reach. I shouted up for more rope, but word came back
that there was little more to give. It was therefore hopeless
to attempt to get hold of the axe and bring it up with me,
so the only thing left to do was to dislodge it, in hope of
being able to find it on the descent. As it was a little
beneath me, I tried throwing and kicking down stones, but
without success ; so, with a shout of warning, I stretched as
far as I could, gave a kick with my toe, and the dislodged
axe fell clattering amongst the nieve penitente below. I
scrambled back with the aid of the rope, and thankfully
reached the Pollingers without mishap.

It was now nearly four. The descent was slow, as we
had repeatedly to wait for Joseph, but otherwise it was
without incident. We reached the camp at half-past six —

THE DESCENT 145

Joseph very sore and tired. We rubbed him all over with
spirits of camphor, and got him into a sleeping-bag. He
passed a wretched night, and in the morning his back was
terribly stiff, and he spent a painful day being conveyed down
to Inca on mule-back.

CHAPTER XIV

WORK IN THE HORCONES VALLEY

LIGHTBODY and I spent the day that Vines was
ascending the Catedral in finding the true meridian
at our 14,000 foot camp, and in triangulating the altitude of
the surrounding peaks. When he returned we decided to
leave on foot next day for our base camp. The days were
getting very short, and we feared that winter would soon be
upon us ; it was therefore necessary that we should make
our attempt upon Tupungato as soon as possible. Vines's
painful experiences at the 19,000 foot camp a few days before
indicated plainly that any ascent made now would be far
more difficult than it would have been earlier in the season.
Nothing is more fatal to success than the long nights one
has to spend at high altitudes at this season of the year;
proper rest is not to be had inside one's tent, and the
monotony of the long sleepless hours, coupled with the
intense cold, produces deep depression.

At daylight next morning, we started down, wishing to
reach our base camp as early as possible, to make immediate
arrangements for the Tupungato trip. We followed the
old route by the riverside that we had taken when travelling
on foot down the valley. Between this camp and that under
the forked peak the river winds among old moraine beds,
cutting for itself a passage two or three hundred feet deep in
places. The slopes are composed of great rolling stones,
and as we were walking along the base of these by the river
edge we nearly had a bad accident. I was in front, picking
my way carefully so as not to dislodge any of the lower
stones of the slope, and thus start an avalanche, and we were
all keeping our eyes on the upper slopes for fear lest some

146

ROUGH WALKING 147

rock from the top should roll down on us. The torrent was
continually eating away at the base of these slopes, and
avalanches of stone fell repeatedly in the course of the day.
By a clumsy slip I disturbed a large, loose pile of stones ; they
started rolling; the stones above them commenced to come
down, and in a few seconds the whole slope was moving
under my feet, while, to make matters worse, big rocks
started from the top of the slope and came bounding down
towards us. We were obliged to jump and run as quickly
as possible over this moving mass to reach the solid ground
a dozen yards in front. It was very difficult to keep our
balance, stepping as we did upon these rolling stones, for
to put a foot between two of the stones would have meant
breaking an ankle. We were fortunate enough to reach
a place of safety without anything more serious than a
sprained ankle on my part. Luckily none of the big stones
from the top of the slope had struck us, although we
had some close shaves. We were obliged to concentrate
our attention at the last upon skipping over these moving
stones, and had not a moment's time to look about us and
see where the falling rocks were coming. My ankle was
very painful, and retarded our progress considerably. When
we reached the ford below the Paso Malo I was unable to
jump from the top of the high rock as we had done before,
consequently I got thoroughly wet whilst crossing the ford,
besides being nearly carried away by the force of the
water. We reached the Inca camp late that night in a
bedraggled and sorry condition. Zurbriggen was there, and
was horrified on hearing of the accident on the Catedral.
He took it very much to heart that he had not been present,
and said to Vines — " If you do go out without me — you see !
You do get killed."

On the next day we began to prepare for the attack on
Tupungato, on which expedition I finally decided to send
Vines and Zurbriggen, and to remain myself in the Horcones
Valley. My reasons for this were twofold. In the first
place I was exceedingly anxious to complete the traverse of
the Horcones Valley, and to make complete measurements

148 THE HIGHEST ANDES

to determine the height of Aconcagua. Lightbody had now
finished the levels up to the mouth of the valley, and I
wished the further triangulations to be as nearly perfect as
it was possible to make them. If I accompanied Vines on
this trip to Tupungato, winter might have set in by the time
we returned, and that which I considered the most important
part of our work would be unfinished. Secondly, after my
failures upon Aconcagua I came to the conclusion that I
should only be a drag upon the party, and perhaps ultimately
spoil their chance of success. Vines was in excellent health,
but the trip to Chile had not improved mine ; I had
a fearfully bad bronchial cough, and was spitting blood, so
I was not really in a fit condition for camping at high
altitudes. It was of course a great disappointment to me,
but in work of this kind one must sink all personal considera-
tions if one wishes to be successful. I therefore despatched
Vines and Zurbriggen next day, telling them to get an arriero
at Vacas, as I would keep our man Jose* with me and go up
the Horcones Valley with Lightbody. I sent word down
to Gosse, who was then shooting with Lochmatter in the
Vacas Valley, to come up and join me in my work. There
were still some photographs to be taken from our high-
level camp at 19,000 feet, and as Lightbody had never
been up there and was anxious to see the place, I sent him
up with two of our porters, asking him to take a round of
photographs, to pack up our luggage there, and to bring
everything down and meet me in the valley below.

Next day I started up the Horcones Valley alone with
Jose*, and slowly pushed up the traverse survey station by
station. After a day's work alone in camp, feeling the need
of some company beyond that of Jose*, who was rather
gloomy and morose, I rode back to our base camp and
collected Lightbody's dog Stella and her three puppies.
The puppies I put into a canvas sack, while the mother
meekly trotted on behind. It was a real relief to have them
in camp, as the loneliness of these barren valleys has a most
depressing effect upon anybody who has no human companion
to converse with, especially when the nights are so long.

JOSfi'S VIEWS ON CAMPING 149

Gosse came up upon 26th March and joined me. He at
once took charge of the camping arrangements, as it was
necessary for my work to move our camp every day a few
miles farther up the valley. I had found that Jose was
incapable of striking a tent and re-pitching it in one day.
To his way of thinking, so weighty a job as this should take
two or three days, as follows — first, one should have a day
to strike the tent ; next, a day to ride down to Inca and
celebrate the occasion by numerous drinks ; and then another
day on which to return and re-pitch it, with perhaps a friend
to help him. However, I found this method inconvenient,
as it compelled me to sleep in the open two days out of three.
My work here was of a more or less monotonous character ;
I will therefore only quote one day from my diary, in order
to give the reader a general idea of what I was doing.

" On 27th March I arose before dawn, and having told
Gosse that we would have our camp moved from the lake
where it now stood to some suitable spot just beyond the
Paso Malo, I set out with Lochmatter and my theodolite to
continue the traverse of the valley. Our work that day was
rendered both difficult and painful owing to the fact that we
were obliged to cross the torrent of the Horcones many times.
Our horses were busy transferring our camp, so we were
obliged to go on foot, and the repeated fording of the ice-cold
river necessitated our getting wet to our waists. I then had
to stand for hours by my instrument, taking rounds of angles,
while the cold wind that was blowing seemed to go through
me.

" At five o'clock I was obliged to give up : the sun had
set behind the hills some time since, and it was too bitterly
cold to continue. Just as I was finishing, Jos6 came down,
driving a mule before him. He seemed in a very excited frame
of mind, and told me volubly a long story in Spanish. All
that I could make out was that one of the pack-mules carry-
ing the provisions had got caught by the current in the second
ford, and thrown over and over, and that the packs had been
lost. I was extremely annoyed at this accident, for it seemed
to me, as the water was very low, that it must have been

ISO THE HIGHEST ANDES

owing to gross negligence on the part of the arriero. I left
my theodolite where I was working, ready for the next day,
and hurried up to the camp. When I arrived I found my
worst fears realised. There was no tent pitched and no
luggage, only two wet blankets lying on the ground. Gosse
told me that as Jose* was driving the mule up the steep part
of the Paso Malo the animal slipped on the edge and fell, its
hindquarters going over the precipice while it held on by
its fore feet. Josh's thoughts were entirely turned towards
saving the mule, and in his anxiety to do so he cut the rope that
bound the pack on the animal's back. The mule was saved
by this manoeuvre, but all the luggage was lost. Among
the things that had gone into the river, and that I regretted
most, was my Paradox gun."

Gosse and I prepared to sleep out during the night,
wrapped in our ponchos ; but we had not remained thus very
long before Jose* arrived with some horses and mules, bringing
up the rest of the encampment. We got out our big tent and
put it up in the night, a very difficult operation, as it was
pitch dark, there being no moon at this time. We had
to feel for all the guy-ropes, and succeeded in putting every-
thing up crooked, tripping over the ropes, pinching our
fingers, and losing our tempers. We then found that all our
sleeping-bags had been carried away with the luggage, and
we were obliged to lie down without any covering. The
puppy dogs came up in a sack as usual, and they whined and
howled most of the night, owing to the cold. We had no
blankets for them, and were obliged to let them sleep between
us, covered by our coats.

The next day I spent in continuing our traverse, and on
the following day Lightbody returned from the 19,000 foot
camp, giving me a most lugubrious account of his suffer-
ings there. The snow, he told me, was falling again,
and he had given orders to the porters to bring down
everything, as it would be impossible to do any more
work at those altitudes that year. Already he had had
several frost-bites, and he did not dare to run the risk of being
snowed up for a long time at one of those inhospitable camps.

LIGHTBODY'S SUFFERINGS 151

Lightbody gave me the following account of his work.
He left me upon 23rd March, and continued up to the 14,000
foot camp, where he spent the night. Next day, with two
porters he climbed up to our high-level camp. He told
me that his sufferings had been intense on this climb, and that
towards the end of the time the cold and the altitude had had
an almost deadly effect upon him. The first night that he
spent up there a tremendous gale arose, which loosened the
guy-ropes of the tent, and they had hard work to fasten them
again. The men with him seemed to have suffered as they
had never done before, and he told me that many times
during that night he felt as though he must die. All ambition
ceased in him, his one idea being centred in an intense desire
to get down. This was the first occasion upon which he had
gone to the camp, and it was indeed trying for him to have
done so just as winter was coming on, and even the men with
him, who had been there so often, had suffered more from
breathlessness than on any of their previous experiences. He
told me that during the next day the cold was so intense that
the men sat down, and absolutely cried, great tears rolling
down their faces, simply because of the cold, which they were
powerless to resist. In spite of all these difficulties, however,
he succeeded in taking some photographs. Knowing this
camp, and the feelings that one experienced while at these
altitudes, I appreciated what a plucky performance this was.
Nobody can conceive, unless he has tried to work under
similar conditions, the feeling of utter lassitude that over-
takes one. I have heard people complain of the same sort of
feelings from acute sea-sickness. Having suffered badly from
that malady myself I can say that a man could go about and
cheerfully do his work while suffering from the worst attack
of sea-sickness far more easily than he could take his
pocket-handkerchief out to blow his nose at an altitude of
19,000 feet.

The following morning, unable to bear the strain any
longer, Lightbody reluctantly gave orders to the men to
strike the camp, and bring everything down. He then
returned to the 14,000 foot camp, and remained there for

152 THE HIGHEST ANDES

some days, taking a series of photographs upon the glacier.
He and the men were still suffering from the effects of those
two nights spent at 19,000 feet a week before, and their frost-
bitten fingers bore ample testimony to the torture and anxiety
they must have been through. Lightbody now joined me in
my traverse work, and together we were able to push on
much more rapidly. We soon finished the valley up to the
junction or fork, and again moved our camp to a spot some
two miles below the foot of the Dedos, in plain view of the
top of Aconcagua.

-'""

CHAPTER XV

BY STUART VINES
HEADING FOR TUPUNGATO

PANNIERS stocked with provisions and equipment for
an attack on Tupungato had long been lying at Vacas.
But as far as the weather was concerned it seemed probable
that they would remain undisturbed for some time to come.
Almost the last week in March had come before the boisterous
gales and unsettled weather gave way once more to clear
skies and bright sunshine.

I galloped down to Vacas on the evening of 24th March,
Zurbriggen had gone down the night before, and Lanti had
been sent for from the Vacas Valley, where he was in camp
with Gosse.

At the posada there was a scene of unusual anima-
tion. The change in the weather had brought a crowd of
travellers from Mendoza, eager to seize this opportunity of
getting over into Chile. With their arrival the Villa Longa
Express Company had sprung into life, the patio was crowded
with arrieros, the corral with mules and horses.

Inside the crowded comedor I espied Gosse and Zur-
briggen, both busily engaged in worrying a very tough steak,
as if their lives depended on it. I sat down and joined in
the struggle, and of course the conversation turned on the
weather. Fiorini, our host, gave out that the change foretold
an unusually fine autumn, and shepherds and arrieros agreed
with him, but they were equally unanimous in assuring us that
Tupungato had a private climate of its own, and that we need
not think for one moment Tupungato was about to shake off the
storm clouds that surrounded it because of clear skies elsewhere.

153

154 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Reports of a similar kind had reached me from Mendoza.
While Zurbriggen was having his injured shoulder cured there,
he had listened with a smile to these stories of the stormy and
inaccessible mountain. Amongst other doleful presages, odds
had been freely offered against any of us ever making the
ascent. Thereupon the tough old Alpinist had promptly
made a "book," and now there seemed every possibility of
several fresh entries being made in it. In fact, a most
unusual interest was taken in our movements, and many were
the suggestions and warnings offered. One aged gaucho, with
a twinkle in his eye, opined that what we were after was gold.
He then held the company's attention by telling us that
not far from the top of Tupungato was a lake of great depth, —
the extinct crater, I mentally decided, — around whose shores
were immense caves ; and that somewhere thereabouts lay a
vast quantity of gold, though whether it was on the shores or
in the caves, or at the bottom of the lake itself, I could not
make out. Only one man had ever climbed to it, and on
returning for the means of securing his wealth, had been
murdered. His murderers, it seems, had then made an
expedition to the mountain, lost their way, and with poetic
justice perished in the snow. He added that he himself
was the only man who knew the secret road to this un-
told treasure ; but I did not understand why he was still a
humble shepherd at Vacas, instead of a millionaire in
Buenos Aires. It was necessary, however, to leave these
fascinating legends to make transport arrangements for the
morrow.

Fiorini, the inn-keeper, had supplied us with four mules
under the charge of an arriero, who rejoiced in the auspicious
name of Fortunato — a man, he informed us, who knew more
of the Tupungato Valley and its difficulties than any other
muleteer. He also gave him a character for punctuality and
promptness which he did not in the least deserve, though he
has since perforce become acquainted with these virtues.

We calculated on a three days' journey with pack-mules
to the base of Tupungato. It lay some thirty-five miles to
the south as the crow flies, but the roughness of the valleys

FORTUNATO EXPOSTULATES 155

and the tortuous windings to avoid obstacles would no
doubt nearly double the distance. Zurbriggen had already
penetrated some way up the valley, and his tale of swollen
rivers and unfordable torrents was not precisely encourag-
ing. For every reason, therefore, it was necessary to start
early on the morrow. Fortunato declared that every
arrangement in his power had been made. So — influenced
by Fiorini's glowing testimony to his punctuality — we told
him to be ready to start at six, and retired to rest. Gosse
and I found beds prepared for us in one of the mud-floored
hovels, dignified by the name of bedrooms. The young
hunter had enjoyed great sport up the Vacas Valley,
which, according to his account, swarmed with guanaco,
condors, and foxes, and, until we fell asleep, he regaled
me with amusing stories of the chase.

At daybreak Zurbriggen, Lanti, and I stood in the patio
surrounded by panniers, rucksacks, and bundles of tents, but
no Fortunato and no mules. It would take us half an hour
to catch the mules, but Fortunato, with his lasso, could per-
form the same feat in five minutes, if so minded. So
Zurbriggen went in search of him. He found him taking a
tender farewell of his wife, broke in upon the affecting scene,
and bustled him back to the corral.

As soon as we had the mules in the patio and com-
menced to pack, Fortunato was again found wanting. For
he asked me in a dazed sort of way if the senor really
meant to go up the Tupungato Valley. On my replying
in the affirmative, he said that in that case the mules
would all want reshoeing. If the senor would confine him-
self to civilised routes, well and good — but, caramba /
in the Tupungato Valley ! And the man turned with a
shrug of his shoulders and a look of disgust on his face.
Only half-shod as they were, he protested, they would go
lame in a few hours over the rough ground and sharp
rocks. We reserved our remarks for the evening, when he
would be far away from the posada, and would find it less
easy to throw up the task. On examining the animals, we
found that there were only a dozen shoes among the four, and

156 THE HIGHEST ANDES

some of them hung on loosely by a nail or two. In the
Andes mules and horses require frequent shoeing ; for they
are shod cold, and the shoes soon get cast when they are off
the high roads.

Zurbriggen took in the situation at once, and went in
search of Fiorini, who, after much delay, obtained seven
pairs of new shoes, with rough appliances for shoeing. He
assured us that these were all there were in Vacas. But, he
added, "You'll be all right, I have a lot of horses grazing
about six miles up the valley. You will be sure to pick up
some of their cast shoes, or if you don't, you may catch some
of these animals and pull off from them any shoes you want."

Owing to these delays, we did not get off till past nine
o'clock. The passengers for Chile started at the same time,
and we all galloped up the road together. A detachment of
the Argentine Military Police, who were in search of one of
the numerous delinquents escaping from one Republic to the
other, accompanied us, and gave an imposing appearance to
the cavalcade. A mile along the high road and we came to
the junction of the Cuevas and Tupungato valleys. Our
ways divided, and after many farewells and good wishes, we
left them and plunged through the ford across the Rio
Mendoza. From the plateau on the opposite bank we had
one of the finest effects of Cordilleran scenery. At the far
end of the great pass road, overhanging the Cumbre Pass,
some twenty miles westwards, rises the imposing pyramid of
Torlosa, its black rocks and hanging glacier very clear and
beautiful in the morning light.1

The traveller over the pass road turns westward at this
point, and this giant of the Andes, over 19,000 feet
in height, bursts into view with startling magnificence.
This first close acquaintance with one of the great heights
impresses every spectator ; he plies his arriero, or guide, with
questions, and invariably swallows the information that this
is indeed a spur of the mighty Aconcagua.

1 This view of Torlosa is seen in the illustration opposite p. 291, though since the
light is behind, the effect of the contrast of black and white is lost. The illustra-
tion opposite p. 301, taken with a telephoto-lens, is, however, more successful.

ROUGH PATHS 157

The sight of the great white dome of Tupungato,
seemingly so near to us —

" Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky,"

gave the lie to the stories of chronic storm and cloud ; the
clear sky and the wide flat valley before us, like an easy
causeway to its very base, made us eager and full of hope,
and we told Fortunato to put the pack-mules to their best
pace — it would be time to slacken when we reached the
torrents and defiles that loomed so large in his imagina-
tion.

We forced our way through the resisting thorn bushes, so
luxuriant that some might always be called trees, and now
and again we galloped over green pastures where horses were
grazing.

We had ridden but a few miles by this easy route when
suddenly our way on this side of the valley was blocked and
we were compelled to ford the Rio Tupungato. Fortunato
showed us the place to cross, which, though it did not look at
all inviting, afforded a firm gravel foothold, and we were soon
on the other side. It was pleasant to cross over dry-shod,
but thoughts of the keen frosts on the heights which were
evidently keeping back the unmelted snows, mingled with
our pleasure at escaping a wetting

The heights gradually converged, our path became con-
fined to the river-bank, and we recognised that Fortunato's
description of the route as rough was no exaggeration. Great
masses of fallen rock, descending from the cliffs above to the
water's edge, lay right across our path. The stones, on an
average twice the size of a man's head, hard and unworn by
the forces of nature, presented a surface of sharp jagged
edges, and this giant's causeway was tilted to an angle of
40°. We dismounted, watched the loads, and coaxed the
beasts forward. Boulders soon blocked the way, and it was
interesting to watch the pack-mules as they manoeuvred their
panniers past obstacles to right and left, and wriggled in and
out among the rocks. A worse place for beasts of burden
cannot be conceived. The crevices between the sharp stones

158 THE HIGHEST ANDES

continually entrapped their feet, and bleeding fetlocks were
the result.

It was nearly two by the time we had passed over this
difficult ground, and on reaching a little green spot at the
water's edge, we unloaded and bathed the animals' legs in the
river.

The valley now widened out again, and, ascending to the
top of a mass of loose shingle that filled it from side to side,
we beheld a great flat plain spread beneath us, its surface
covered with grey pebbles, over which the river ran riot.
No doubt it had once formed the bed of a lake, which silting
and denudation had filled and drained. Far away to right and
left the hills rose from the flat plain in brown, red, and purple
slopes, bare and bleak enough, but soft in comparison with
the barren wastes in tbe Horcones Valley, their monotony
relieved by the green banks of long grass that waved at their
base. Here and there, where the slopes were broken by
some mountain torrent, a giant talus would force itself far
into the centre of the plain, thickly covered with yareta,
the ubiquitous thorn bush of the Andes, whose root is indis-
pensable for firewood to the shepherd and pioneer.

We made our way across the flats to pasturage on the
left hand side of the valley, and halted an hour before sunset,
for men and animals were weary with their struggles amongst
the rocks, and Fortunato wanted to give his mules time to
feed on the good pasturage hereabouts before reaching the
scantily covered slopes above.

We still had much to do. One by one the animals' feet
were overhauled. The rough stones had played havoc with
the hoofs, and half our reserve stock of shoes was called
into requisition. Zurbriggen's knowledge of farriery piqued
Fortunato into using his utmost skill, and further dilapida-
tions in this direction appeared unlikely. We pitched no
tent, but slept among the long grass.

I must now introduce to the reader another member of
the party. Fortunato had with him a magnificent specimen of
the guanaco hound, answering, as the advertisements say, to
the name of Paramillo. Paramillo was very shy at first, and

PARAMILLO'S EXPLOITS 159

by no means ready to make friends with gringos, whom he
looked upon with distrust. Although quite a young dog, he
had already gained a reputation as a mighty hunter.
Numerous trophies at Vacas testified to his prowess : the
young guanaco bleating in the patio, the numerous fox-skins
on the walls, all had the same history : " Paramillo caught
that in the Vacas Valley," or, " Paramillo brought that home
one day last winter." As he gradually made up his mind
that we were hunters too, and that we had common interests
in life, he laid aside some of his exclusiveness. Zurbriggen
and I vied with each other in heartily coveting this splendid
beast. He stood about two-thirds the height of a Scotch deer
hound, similar in build, length of hair and shape of head,
though somewhat thicker set, and in colour a tawny yellow.
The illustration opposite p. 167 shows Fortunate holding him
in front of our camp.

We were off again at daybreak, after some difficulty in
catching the animals, who were loth to leave the luxuriant
herbage.

We had lost sight of Tupungato, as the valley turned
away from it to the right, running due west to the water-
parting, and Zurbriggen, pointing ahead, said, " Fix your eyes
on the right hand slope of the valley in front : in a few
minutes you will see the twin brother of the Weisshorn."
And sure enough, as we slowly neared the turn in the valley,
over the brow of the hill in front, a white peak, a saddle, and
then a magnificent giant of ice and snow burst into view.
This, Fortunato informed us, was the mountain of Pollera, so
called owing to its resemblance to the short, hooped petticoat
women wear hereabouts. There certainly was some re-
semblance in its outlines to the shape of a lady's skirt, as the
white folds fell from its topmost pinnacle and spread out at
its feet.

We ascended the valley on its southern side over one
talus after another, where the thorn bushes grew in great
profusion. As Tupungato had hidden its head, and the
valley ran west, I did not see exactly the route to take. But
Fortunato pointed out a narrow gorge on the left side of the

160 THE HIGHEST ANDES

valley, which he told us would take us south and eventually
to Tupungato. The path, he said, was far from easy, and he
warned us to be extremely careful, for he had known of many
animals, driven up to be pastured in the valleys beyond, being
lost in this defile. I have a shrewd suspicion that Fortunato's
knowledge of this route points to his connection with the
smuggling trade. There are, I believe, passes over the
frontier chain on either side of Tupungato which a man bent
on avoiding the customs may negotiate in good weather.

To enter by the narrow gorge was impossible, and our
only course was to ascend the valley side for some thousand
feet and make our way far above the river-bed. At Fortun-
ato's suggestion, we all dismounted, girths were tightened,
loads reset and adjusted, and the most valuable packs placed
on the strongest mules. Their shoes were overhauled once
more, and the work of the previous evening proved good.

We soon found Fortunato had not over-estimated the
risks to be encountered. Our route lay across a steep slope,
with the torrent from three hundred to one thousand feet below
us, according as we ascended and made our way over the
buttresses of rock jutting from the slope, or descended to
crawl beneath them.

Where these buttresses occurred, quebradas, or ravines,
seemed to run out from the torrent bed, cutting a circular
abyss in the mountain side, round which we had to creep, the
only footing being bare and slippery rock, often at the same
angle as the mountain slope itself. I was riding a nice little
mare, an animal of some blood compared with the usual run
of mountain ponies, in fact, quite a smart little hack. I did
not trust her over these slippery places, however, and dis-
mounted, though Fortunato begged us all to remain in the
saddle, saying that a mountain horse only falls when not
ridden. This may or may not be so, but my animal was not
of the true mountain breed. The best horses and the
steadiest in an emergency were, we found, the most slovenly
and evil-looking. The true mountain steed has a careless
and indifferent way of treading in dangerous places, as if
wandering peacefully along a country lane.

A DIFFICULT QUEBRADA 161

The other horses were wonderfully sure-footed, and
Fortunato and his pony showed a recklessness which seemed
little short of madness. With the pack-mules it was different.
They had barely room to tread on the slippery rock, which
sloped down to the gorge on the right, and rose in precipices
on the left. The panniers, which kept catching on the rough
surface of the rock, threatened every minute to push them
off their legs into the abyss below. It was exciting to watch
a mule laden with one's most precious belongings wriggling
round these uncomfortable places. We were powerless to do
anything more than shout from behind or give a lead in front.
It was impossible to unload them all where two men could
not stand abreast ; moreover, they were in the midst of it
before we could get at them.

An hour of hard and anxious work and our difficulties
were nearly at an end, when a quebrada, larger and deeper
than those yet encountered, lay right across our path. We
could not get round the head of this ravine, and our easiest
course was to descend into it and climb out by the opposite
side. Fortunato led the way in his reckless fashion, and was
at the bottom in a moment, where he stood talking to the
animals as they carefully stumbled, slid, and slipped almost on
their haunches after him.

The ascent on the other side presented no difficulty to
within a few yards of the top. But the previous hard work
began to tell on some of the animals. The mountain pony
will go anywhere if sufficiently urged : the mule discriminates.
He is a wonderfully clever climber up to a certain point, but
there is a limit to his pluck. He cannot be forced to do what
he personally considers impossible. We tried every means,
and eventually, by forcing the horses up first, got the mules
to follow ; but the last of the caravan, when within a few feet
of the top, fell back on its haunches. I was behind, but the way
being too narrow for me to get at its head, I shouted to
Fortunato, who seized the halter and tried to get it up. Our
efforts were unsuccessful ; a jerk of its head, and Fortunato's
grip was shaken off. Then with a plunge or two it rolled
over on its side, fortunately by this movement unhooking the
ii

1 62 THE HIGHEST ANDES

packs, which I was just able to seize and keep from following
the mule, as it went bounding and rolling down the steep
incline. Then on the verge of the precipice the poor beast
made a desperate struggle to regain a footing, while anxious
faces watched him from above. With a tremendous plunge,
however, he fell backwards and disappeared from view. I
sent Lanti down to secure the harness, and shoot the animal
if not already dead. Mingled cries of exhortation reached
us from below, and soon, to our surprise, Lanti appeared
leading the mule. It was a sorry-looking beast by this time,
cut and bruised in every part of its body ; but it seemed to
have sustained no serious injury, and, lightly loaded, continued
to work for the rest of the day.

At last the gorge widened and we could descend to a more
comfortable road in the valley, where we were glad to find
more long grass. All were in need of rest ; we unloaded, as
usual, watered the beasts and let them feed for an hour.

On resuming our way we found the river-bed flanked, now
on one side, now on another, and often on both sides, by
sloping terraces of gravel. In attempting to describe these,
I cannot do better than quote Darwin, who, though speaking
of the valleys at a somewhat lower altitude, gives a graphic
account which represents equally well the valleys we ascended
from here to Tupungato : —

All the main valleys on both flanks of the Chilian Cordillera have formerly
had, or still have, their bottoms filled up to a considerable thickness by a
mass of rudely stratified shingle. In central Chile the greater part of this
mass has been removed by the torrents ; cliff-bounded fringes, more or less
continuous, being left at corresponding heights on both sides of the valleys.
These fringes, or, as they may be called, terraces, have a smooth surface, and,
as the valleys rise, they gently rise with them . . . From their uniformity,
they give a remarkable character to the scenery of these grand, wild, broken
valleys. In width the fringes vary very much, sometimes being only broad
enough for the roads, and sometimes expanding into narrow plains . . .
Higher up the valleys, the terraces have frequently been removed on one or
the other side, and sometimes on both sides ; but in this latter case they
reappear after a short interval, on the line which they would have held had
they been unbroken. Where the solid rock has been reached, it has been
cut into deep and narrow gorges.1

1 Geological Observations, p. 290, 291.

A TROUBLESOME MULE 163

Darwin remarks that these terraces afford great facilities
for the construction of roads. This we observed at once,
and being in the river-bed, determined to gain the smooth
surface above at the first opportunity. But how to scale the
" cliff-bounded fringes " ?

Using our spurs freely, we were able to force the horses
up the slope to the terrace above. But the mules were very
obstinate. Half-way up they swung round and jumped back
into the valley. A strong black mule was put to the task,
while we stood below and urged it on. Driven by our shout-
ings and the sting of Fortunato's lasso, it careered up the
debris at the foot of the cliff. Then came some yards of hard
and slippery stone ; there was a futile struggle, and it swung
round and fell backward nearly on the top of us. We were
just able to spring out of the way in time. A third trial was
made, and at last we managed to get him up. The mule
which had been the hero of the last fall was then put to it,
Zurbriggen leading him by the halter, with the same chorus
of shouting and whip-cracking below. Man and mule reached
the rocks, but in the tug-of-war which ensued, Zurbriggen
came off worst, for the mule dragged him right down to the
bottom. Too much time was being thus wasted, so we
unloaded, and Lanti and I joined in. As usual, the mule
gave a jerk at the top, and down we all came in a heap. At
last we got a rope and dragged him up in this way. In such
a case as this the horse is so much better than the pack-mule
in the Andes ; for the horses, though with a struggle, all
managed to carry their riders to the top at the first attempt.
We were soon able to take the line of the river-bed again,
for the valley became wider as we ascended, opening out
once more in a great flat plain, from which the mountains
rose abruptly. After riding on for an hour and a half, we
found that this valley also ran west to the frontier, and, for
the second time, we turned up a valley to our left. Here we
saw guanaco at frequent intervals. Paramillo became more
alert than ever, for throughout the day he had trotted on
ahead of the caravan, taking for granted that our object was
hunting and not climbing mountains ; now and then he would

164 THE HIGHEST ANDES

stop and gaze earnestly up at the heights to right or left.
There was hardly a spot on either side of the valley that he
did not carefully examine all the way from our camp in the
morning to Tupungato ; and very careful examination is
needed, as anybody who has stalked deer in the Highlands
will easily believe, for guanaco, even in great herds, are
difficult to see, especially when at a great height. So we
worked our way, choosing the best route, now on one side of
the river, now on the other, often forced to wade in the river-
bed itself. At last we found ourselves about a hundred feet
above it on an old guanaco track. This was doubtless good
enough for the guanaco, but another story for laden mules
and horses. I rode on ahead, and, having passed the diffi-
culty, came down again into the river-bed, where I halted
and awaited the caravan. Our course next lay along the
bed of the stream, which again widened out, and, to our
astonishment, we saw, far in the distance, a great bank of
green grass leading down to the water's edge — an ideal spot
for a night's camp after a hard day. It was getting dark, and
we made all haste to reach this pleasant resting-place. But
the banks were steep, and springs above had rendered the
grass at the river's edge far too wet and sodden for camping,
so we determined to ascend the bank and see what we could
find above. This move was disastrous ; the whole place was
a swamp ; the mules began to plunge violently, and Fortunato
had his work cut out for him to get them down again. Two
mules fell and had to be unloaded as they lay. I was
fortunate in striking a drier route. Looking back, I saw
Fortunato and his pony frantically struggling in a bog. The
animal — only a young one, but as clever on its feet as a
monkey — recovered itself for a moment, and then fell side-
ways down the bank. Fortunato was equal to the occasion.
As soon as he felt his horse falling, he threw himself down
the bank clear of the horse, and it was well he did so, for the
animal did not recover itself till it had turned completely over
several times. Fortunato had fallen head foremost into the
bog, and had to be dragged out by Lanti.

The party reached the terrace above quite worn out, and

AN OASIS 165

some of its members far from dry or clean. We looked
around once more for a camping-ground. Instead of the
usual arid waste, we were surprised to see that the springs
had created a small oasis — two small ponds at the foot of the
hills surrounded by coarse grass.

CHAPTER XVI

BY STUART VINES
THE FIRST ATTACK ON TUPUNGATO

AS we approached the camping-ground in the dusk of the
long and trying day I have described, we saw that a
little tragedy of animal life was about to be enacted. On the
water were a few ducks, and at the far side, creeping down
between the rocks, we spied a very large dog-fox intent on
supping. Our approach was unnoticed both by the hunter
and prey. But where was Paramillo ? There was no need
to ask. He had taken in the whole situation long before,
and was intent on stalking the stalker. The ducks, now
scared, rose and flew away. Alarmed at this, Reynard
looked up, caught sight of Paramillo, and in a moment turned
and made straight up the mountain side with a good sixty
yards' start, the dog in full pursuit. We watched for a
minute, thinking that Reynard was running to earth and the
chase would soon be over, but there was fine sport coming.
The path up the steep mountain side suited Paramillo excel-
lently, for he gained at every yard ; so the fox changed its
course, and sweeping round, began to descend. Fortunato
loosened his bolas and handled them affectionately.

It was a splendid contest of speed. They swept down
the mountain side at a tremendous pace, and no sooner had
they reached the valley some two hundred yards from us than
Fortunato clapped spurs to his horse and galloped full tilt
over the rocks after them, swinging his bolas and shouting at
the top of his voice to the hound. A jingle of spurs, and the
whole field was swinging recklessly down the wide terrace
towards the river. For weary riders and tired steeds, over

166

A FOX HUNT 167

ground strewn with rocks and boulders, and deeply scarred
by quebradas — down one side and up the other — the pace
was certainly trying. We heeded nothing, only too glad to
break the monotony of the long day in such glorious fashion.
After half a mile or so, I found myself tearing down a dry
torrent bed with Fortunato in front, the rest of the field
nowhere, Paramillo within thirty yards of the fox and still
gaining. We lost sight of them for a moment, and then
suddenly the arriero, without drawing rein, slipped from his
saddle and disappeared from view. I galloped up and
jumped off. In the hollow beneath me the fox had turned to
bay. But for the fact that Fortunato was dancing round
with bolas ready, waiting for an opportunity to use them,
there was little to choose between the combatants, for the
fox was far bigger than his fellow of the shires. It was
going to be a splendid fight. After the first rush they fell
over and over, snarling and snapping. Nothing could have
been more clever than the guanaco hound's tactics. He
threw the fox off and stood waiting for an opening.
Fortunato saw his chance and rushed forward to brain the
animal with his bolas. But an ugly snap at his wrist made
him draw back, and the hound, rushing in, got the fox by the
throat. Dog and master had played this scene before and
understood each other perfectly. Again the beasts separated,
and we tried to interfere, but again Paramillo seized the
throat, this time in so firm a grasp that for ten minutes no
persuasion could make him let go. When the contest was at
an end we examined the hound for wounds, and found that
he had come off without a single scratch.

In triumph we carried Reynard back to the ponds and
green grass. In size he was, as I have said, far larger than
the English fox, and tawny rather than red in colour.
Zurbriggen did the skinning while we prepared supper.
This episode sealed the bond of friendship between the dog
and ourselves. Paramillo no longer regarded the gringos
with suspicion ; he received our congratulations with delight,
became a favourite with us all, and enlivened many an hour
in camp by his playful ways and great intelligence.

1 68 THE HIGHEST ANDES

We had made a considerable ascent since the morning,
and it was now both dark and cold. There was plenty of
yareta, no longer indeed a tree or even a bush, but a crawling
humble weed, hardly a foot high, and all root. For purposes
of firewood this was a distinct advantage, and its blaze
enabled us to sleep again in the open. Soon we were
snoring in a circle round the fire, while Paramillo, still useful
in the night hours, curled himself round his master's feet and
protected them from the frost.

Next day, Saturday, 27th March, a somewhat late start
was made. The animals when disturbed at their morning
meal showed more reluctance to move than ever. While
they were being laden I took a look round. High above us
a mighty glacier peeped over the eastern slope of the valley,
its ice and snow sparkling in the early sunshine — a delightful
spectacle after the bleak rocks on which our eyes had rested
so long. I saw in it a great resemblance to the glacier of the
Weisshorn, as seen from Randa. No doubt it was an off-
shoot of the La Plata group, which should lie not far
to the east of it. Every man saddled his own beast,
for saddles need careful adjusting when numerous sheep-
skins, ponchos, and cloths, part of one's bedclothes, act
as a foundation. It is this custom of " packing" beneath
the saddle that gives the mounted arriero in the Andes
an appearance of such great height. Except the clothes
on the rider's back, everything he carries goes under the
saddle.

As we started we looked eagerly ahead, knowing that we
must be nearing the precincts of the giant with whom we had
come to do battle.

Still for many hours the mountain remained hidden.
Soon after midday we ascended the valley side, and looking
ahead I beheld a memorable scene. The valley spread itself
out and divided, and Tupungato, from base to summit, rose
before us. An immense distance still separated us from its
white height. The huge mass threw out spurs and ridges,
topped with dark pinnacles of rock. A spur of gigantic
proportions ran out some six miles northwards, towering high

DIFFICULTIES 169

above the heights around, yet itself several thousand feet
lower than the dome.

Beneath us a wide plain marked the confluence of the
valleys, and everywhere lay perfect and wonderful examples
of Darwin's sloping terraces, their bare gravel surfaces dotted
alternately, and at regular intervals of about a yard, with low
stumps of yareta and tufts of coarse grass. We rejected the
southern valley and chose the one to the right, leading
directly to the mountain. Ahead of us this valley was again
divided by one of the off-shoots of Tupungato pinnacled by
aiguilles, the left branch pointing to the dome, the right in
the direction of Pollera.

Having ascended a gentle gradient all the way from
Vacas, we had attained a height of 10,000 feet. We saw no
valley that would conduct our mules to 14,000 feet, as the
Horcones Valley did in the case of Aconcagua, for where the
ridge of rocks divided the valley, the ascent became suddenly
more abrupt and vegetation entirely ceased. The ramparts
of Tupungato were evidently much more formidable than
those of Aconcagua.

This introduced serious obstacles. Our base camp would
have to be made at a low altitude : the way was inaccessible
for further mule transport after that point, everything would
have to be carried on men's backs to a far greater height, and
our porterage was extremely limited.

It was still early in the day, and we determined to push
on as far as possible, hoping that we might take camp and
mules up higher. We ascended to our left by a steep route,
where there was pasturage, but no means of obtaining water,
for the torrent was in a cleft far beneath us. We looked on
ahead up a steep and narrow gorge. Would it be possible to
take animals up it ? Another fifteen hundred feet would make
all the difference. Anyhow a retreat was necessary, for water
and pasturage we must have at our base of operations. So we
returned and made our camp in the valley beneath, and in
the afternoon I set off with Zurbriggen to make a reconnais-
sance. Above the gorge the valley side was too steep for
mule traffic ; the torrent bed would be dangerous from ice in

iyo THE HIGHEST ANDES

the morning and from the rush of water later in the day,
while the other side was formed of a confused mass of sharp
broken stones for the greater part of the way. Baffled, we
retraced our steps to the camp, supped, and discussed the
situation. Zurbriggen, not to be put off by obstacles of this
kind, and sanguine of success, proposed to me to give up all
idea of a night on the mountain and make the ascent in one
journey from the base camp. I replied it would be the
longest day's climb I had ever attempted, but that I was
ready, if he thought it possible — so little at the time did we
appreciate the immense distance that separated us from the
mountain. Eventually, our ideas moderated, and we decided
to spend Sunday, the 28th, as high up as possible, and try
to reach the summit on Monday.

Lanti and Pollinger started off early next morning on
horses, with the strongest mule laden with the barest
necessities for a night on the mountain, while Zurbriggen and
I made our way down to the stream in order to soak our
boots thoroughly before starting ; a very necessary precaution
where the dryness of the climate so affects the leather that
the nails become loose and are easily wrenched out by the
rough ground.

As we hurried after Lanti and Fortunato, by a somewhat
different route than that of the day before, we began to realise
heights and distances better, and again discussed the matter
of transport. Our experiences on Aconcagua had taught us
that one of the surest obstacles to success in climbing to
great heights was anything approaching to inertia caused by
fatigue, and we had always been careful to take a day's rest
before attempting an ascent. Now we saw ourselves forced
to carry heavy loads some four thousand feet if we hoped to
make a bivouac at about 14,000 feet, and to lose a day
might be fatal so late in the season. There was but one
thing to do — the mule must somehow be got up another two
or three thousand feet.

We found the caravan waiting for us above the gorge,
Fortunato about to unload and return. We explained to him
the situation and our intentions, and after a good look at

MULES AT HIGH ALTITUDES 171

the route he said he would do his best, but asked us to take
all responsibility of accidents to the animals.

We reached the torrent bed without mishap. Progress
was very slow ; we three kept pushing the mule from behind,
while Fortunato gave a lead by manfully riding, or rather
scrambling ahead on horseback. He refused to dismount,
saying that where he could go his horse could carry him.
The beast kept his feet in wonderful fashion in ice and water ;
far better in fact than I did, for stepping on an ice-covered
boulder, I struck the inside of my left knee against a rock.
I suffered acute pain for the moment, and then thought no
more about it.

Thus we reached a height of 12,000 feet, and Fortunato
said he could go no farther. Indeed it looked as if he were
right ; the water poured over the rocks ahead, and for the
moment I did not see how we ourselves were to get out of
this cul-de-sac. Zurbriggen descended a short distance and
found a way out of the gorge on what appeared like moraine
above. This was a great discovery ; the going on the
moraine was comparatively easy, and we were able to ascend
another five hundred feet. There was no doubt about this
being the animal's limit ; so, unloading, we sent Fortunato back,
and spreading out the baggage, made yet another selection,
reducing its weight still further by leaving behind the
Mummery tent and Robert's valises. Lanti carried the
sleeping-bags and provisions ; Zurbriggen and I the extra
clothing, photographic and other instruments.

I shall not easily forget that fifteen hundred feet up the
steep moraine, which seemed to fill the head of the valley. I
was suffering agonies, for when half-way up a sharp pain had
followed the blow on my left knee. By loosening putties,
knee-straps, and garters I gained some little relief, but for
the last five hundred feet I was almost dead lame.

At three o'clock we reached the summit of the moraine
and the end of the valley. We were in a kind of basin about
14,000 feet above the sea, filled with moraine heaps and the
remnants of a glacier, shut in on all but the north-east side, by
which we had made our approach. On two sides of us black

172 THE HIGHEST ANDES

cliffs towered high above ; on the south an enormous ladder
of nieve penitente, rising some two thousand feet, showed the
obvious route to the summit. The encircling heights afforded
good shelter from storm and wind, and we threw down our packs.
It was a wild and desolate spot, the only outlook being down
the valley towards our base camp, where we saw Fortunato
still struggling in the torrent bed. He had probably found
the descent as bad as the ascent, or he would have reached
the camp before this.

We scooped out a sleeping-ground with our axes beneath
the shelter of a boulder, with a wall of ice on one side, and
the torrent on the other, but having neither food nor sleeping-
bags for three men in case of emergencies, we sent Lanti back
to the valley camp, with orders to come up as early as possible
in the morning to relieve us with our loads on the ascent.

My knee being still very painful, I feared I should be
unable to start on the morrow. Loosening everything in
order to secure free circulation, I kept descending to the
torrent, and applying cold compresses until late in the night.
I imagined I had bruised a vein. At last I took a block
of ice and placed it on the painful part inside my stocking,
and turned in. This proved a painful but excellent remedy.

Land's voice from below roused us early next day. He
appeared fresh and well, and said he was going to the top
with us. A sample of the weather in the shape of racing
grey clouds appeared above the aiguilles to the north-west,
and our hearts sank. We made straight for the nieve penitente
wall to the south. The wearisome monotony of ascending
between these pinnacles of ice which rose in steps never
less than two feet in height,1 for nearly three hours, was
most trying, especially for me, for I did not dare to make
full use of my left leg. We were more weary than we had
bargained for when we reached the top of the ladder, and
for the first time a feeling of disappointment and doubt took
hold of us.

1 The illustration opposite p. 174, from a photograph taken half-way up these
needles at 15,000 feet, gives a good view of similar smaller ladders of nieve
penitente, with Pollera and Navarro in the background. Our route lay to the
left of the illustration.

DECEPTIVE DISTANCES 173

Before us a snow plateau stretched to the base of the
huge northern spur. This enormous mass rose 1500 feet
above the plateau, and by a gentle gradient, ascended to the
dome. Beneath us the ridges were topped by a succession
of savage aiguilles.

"Look? What's that?" we exclaimed simultaneously.
What was that dark mass to the north that for the moment
blotted out all other thoughts ? It was Aconcagua, startling
in its magnitude at sixty miles away, overwhelming in its
solitude and isolation. If this is what we see from the lower
slopes of Tupungato, what magnificence of view is yet to
come ! We pushed on over the snowfield to the base of
the spur.

The distance, however, utterly deceived us, as indeed
did all heights and distances on Tupungato, and an hour
passed before we arrived, depressed and weary, at its base.
We struck the ridge many miles from the summit, almost at
its lowest point, and sat down to rest. Lanti now looked
up at the crumbling slopes of the spur above us, and said he
could go no farther. The announcement coming from so
strong a man, depressed us still more, and foreboding failure,
Zurbriggen and I took what we most needed from his pack
and continued the ascent without him. Two hours of weary
toiling up the rotten surface of the slope brought us to the
summit of the spur. In an instant our field of vision was
doubled. All Chile lay before us, but the enormous width
of the spur prevented us from seeing the extent of the valleys
immediately beneath it. The increasing grandeur of the
scene had the effect of rousing our ambition, and we turned
upwards once more towards the dome.

It was half-past one, we were a little over 18,000 feet,
and for two more hours we tramped up the never-ending
gentle slope ; the dome came nearer and nearer, but we
never seemed to reach it. How sadly had we underestimated
the distance to be traversed !

And now came the coup de grace to our hopes of success.
Clouds that had been rolling up all day from the west
gathered round the dome, burst in storm, and rolled down

174 THE HIGHEST ANDES

its sides towards us. The sturdy Lanti, starting from the
lower camp at 10,000 feet, had broken down after ascend-
ing some 6000 feet. We had reached a height of 19,000
feet, having started at 14,000, and were both thoroughly
tired out. We sat down under the scanty shelter of a
boulder, and decided to retreat,1 realising better the great
difficulty of the task before us, and bearing in mind the
scantiness of our porterage, equipment, and provisions, the
lateness of the season, and the necessity of a return to Vacas
before another attempt could be made. All we could do
was to leave a record of our ascent thus far. So I placed
a card in a bottle at the foot of the boulder, announcing that
Zurbriggen and I had been driven back from this ridge by
storm on the 2Qth of March 1897.

1 The surface of this spur, or satellite, of Tupungato is composed of debris,
with here and there boulders of moderate size rising from it. It is from one
thousand to two thousand yards in width, and slopes towards the dome at a
gradient of about one in six. Not a sign of snow or ice is to be seen upon its
surface, though its south-east side near the dome is similar to the south-east face
of Aconcagua, sheer rock and ice fall from base to summit. No mountain side
could be more exposed to the fury of the wind, and, as in the case of the north-
west slopes of Aconcagua, the nature of its surface is no doubt due to its being
swept clean by the terrific force of the wind.

CHAPTER XVII

BY STUART VINES
MORE ATTEMPTS ON TUPUNGATO

WE turned our backs on the summit and retraced our
steps, and such relief did the descent of this gentle
slope afford us that we halted and debated whether we could
not yet make the ascent, so near did the base of the dome
appear. But we had misjudged distances the whole day,
there was a storm — no doubt the chronic storm spoken of by
our friends at Vacas — raging round the summit, and we
turned to descend to the snow plateau.

The nieve penitente ladder was not reached till five, and
the monotony of the steps, like unending pyramids, exhausted
us. In comparison, after a long rest at the night bivouac,
where we found Lanti, the descent to the main camp seemed
child's play.

As we neared the camp, feeling thoroughly disheartened.
Paramillo came bounding up the hill, greeting us in his own
boisterous fashion. We tried to explain to him that we were
returning defeated, but he heeded not, — we had returned
from that stupid mountaineering, and had evidently now
come down to hunt guanaco with him.

The next morning everything was packed inside the tent,
the guy-ropes and poles slackened to let it collapse, and half
convinced that the Argentine stories of chronic storms on
Tupungato were something more than a superstitious
exaggeration, we started for Vacas. More tents and
provisions would be required, and, above all, more porters.
We had hardly started before Paramillo spied a large herd of
guanaco moving along at a great height above us, and tried

176

176 THE HIGHEST ANDES

to lure us on to hunting. It was a long time before we
ourselves could see them, as the slopes they were crossing
were almost identically the same colour as the skins of the
moving herd. Paramillo looked appealingly at us, received
a word of encouragement from Fortunato, and made straight
up the mountain side to head them off and drive them down
to us. Should we join in the chase ? It would take us
considerably out of our way, and after all, were we after
guanaco or Tupungato ? It could not be both. So calling
Paramillo in, we hurried on to Vacas.

I had changed my horse and was now riding an animal
we called the White-eyed Kaffir, from a white patch that
surrounded one eye — certainly the ugliest quadruped I had
ever set eyes on, but perfect in slippery places, so I took
Fortunato's advice and did not dismount when we came to
the scene of our previous troubles. When we came to the
quebrada where the mule had fallen, Fortunato treated us to
an exhibition of the qualities of his pony. Galloping up to it,
his horse hesitated on the very edge ; down came his huge
spurs upon its sides, and man and beast toppled over the cliff
together. I hastened up and saw the game little beast some-
times sliding on its haunches, sometimes jumping down the
steeper places where the rocks appeared, now swinging to
one side, now to another to avoid obstacles, but keeping up
the same break-neck pace the whole two hundred feet to the
torrent bed below. Zurbriggen was filled with admiration, and
promptly made overtures for the purchase of the animal. He
was impatient to conclude the bargain on the spot, saying that
was just the horse for him, and though he had to wait, as it
was Fiorini's property, he bought it as soon as he reached
Vacas. The price, I believe, was forty dollars — not quite

The weather changed again, and at sunset we could see
Tupungato clear and peaceful once more, after the storm that
had raged around it all day. So Zurbriggen and I left the
pack-mules, now unladen, early in the morning, hurried on,
and reached the mouth of the Tupungato Valley at noon
on the second day. I proceeded at once to Inca to find

VILLA SIEJA'S FAREWELL 177

FitzGerald and make arrangements for another attack at
once.

It was not until the 2nd April that I could again start
for Vacas. On the way I overtook a horseman magnificently
apparelled in a flowing black poncho lined and faced with red,
a wide sombrero, and the usual gigantic spurs. It was no
other than old Villa Sieja, a shepherd and arriero who had
always taken a most fatherly interest in our movements. But
why this holiday attire ? After the first greetings — he was a
most courtly old gentleman — I told him I was going to
Tupungato, and asked him where he was off to in this royal
fashion. He muttered the word "Tupungato" several times
in a sad voice, and then said, " To-day, senor, I leave the
mountains for the plains of Mendoza. It is my habit always
to do so on the ist of April, when winter begins. I am
a day late. I am going for a hard-earned holiday with my
friends. My two sons left yesterday. In the course of a
week all these valleys may be blocked with snow. One
never can tell after the ist of April. So the senor is going
to Tupungato ? Has he not seen the numerous little crosses
on the pass road ? "

I tried to get him to take a more cheerful view of the
situation, but at Vacas he bade me a solemn farewell with
" courtly foreign grace," saying he was sorry not to see "el
Jefe del Expedicion " to warn him of coming disaster, and
departed with the remark that it was a matter of great grief
to him that such a fine young senor should be doomed to so
early and terrible a death.

Long before daybreak on Saturday, 3rd April, Zurbriggen
packed off Fortunato and the caravan of pack animals. We
had now with us Joseph Pollinger and Lochmatter, besides
Lanti ; also extra mules, all picked animals, laden with three
weeks' provisions. Every man was mounted in order to save
as much time as possible, as I hoped, by forcing the pace, to
be able to reach our Tupungato camp in two days.

An English physician in Valparaiso, Dr. Cannon, had been
very anxious that we should try a herb used for relieving both
men and animals at high altitudes in Bolivia and Peru. In

178 THE HIGHEST ANDES

consequence of a letter from Dr. Cannon to FitzGerald,1 I
had written to our friend Mr. Ball, in Valparaiso, and he had
most kindly put himself to a great deal of trouble in procuring
me some of the herb.
The directions were :

FOR MEN. — A cup of tea made from the herb with boiling- water in the
morning, or to be smelt frequently while ascending ; even at times
chewing the dry herb.

FOR ANIMALS. — A bunch tied to the bit, so that the mule inhales its
strong odour while ascending.

During this journey and attack on Tupungato, I gave chacha
coma a trial. I considered that if there were any merit in the
herb, it would be well to get the whole party used to it, by
making a brew two or three times a day from the time we
left Vacas. It has the appearance of a dried-up bramble,
bright yellow in colour, and with a yellow - white flower

1 323 BLANCO, VALPARAISO,
loth March 1897.

DEAR SIR, — As one who, although a stranger to you, takes an interest in
your explorations, I venture to give you a hint which may be of use in your future
mountain ascents.

Some years since a man came into contact with me as a physician, and he had
just come from the higher Andes of Bolivia where he was surveying. He told me
that a plant called by the natives " Chacha Coma " was found there growing near
the snowline, and that it was a most wonderful remedy for " puna " or shortness
of breathing caused by rarefied air, both for men and animals such as mules. He
said that by smelling the plant, or tying a bunch under the nostrils of the mules,
the breathing immediately became easy. He promised to send me a sack, in order
to try it medicinally in asthma, etc., but the sack never turned up.

This was some twelve years since. Last Saturday the same gentleman came
in again to see me, and reminded me of his promise to send the plant, saying that
he had not returned to this district afterwards.

I said, "Why, that is the very thing for Mr. FitzGerald, since the great
difficulty in scaling great altitudes seems to be the difficult breathing."

He promised at some future time to send the herb, which may be most useful
medicinally.

I do not know the man's name but he lives in Huasco, is a civil engineer, and
is now in the city here awaiting instructions about some railway to Huanillos salt
deposits. He is to be found at Messrs. Vaughan & Co., merchants here, Calle
Blanco, and I have no doubt will provide you with the plant and give you all in-
formation, so as to make a trial in your coming explorations. I have no doubt
that "Excelsior" is your motto, and that perhaps you will even have a try at
Mount Everest later on.

Wishing you success. — I am, your obedient servant,

DR. RICHARD CANNON.

A BOLIVIAN HERB 179

somewhat resembling edelweiss. Sticks and leaves were
put each morning into a saucepan, boiling - water poured
on, and the whole left to soak a minute or two. Sugar was
used according to taste. Then, calling up the porters, I served
half a cup all round. Each one would drink, thank me, and
say it was very good. But they never asked for more, and
I feel sure there was far more politeness than sincerity in
their gratitude. Doctors say that a great many patients
amongst the working-classes of England think nothing of a
remedy unless it has either a striking colour, a nasty taste, or
a strong smell. If the last two qualities are proof of a
medicine's value, then chacha coma must be an excellent
remedy, for it possesses a distinctly nasty taste and has a
very strong pungent smell.

During this second journey up the Tupungato Valley, as
we had two extra porters to help us, I made a point of having
all the animals unloaded over the bad places. No doubt
considerable delay was caused by this, but we made up for it
on the good ground, and reached the Tupungato camp late
on the afternoon of Sunday the 4th.

Soon after we had reached the camp an extraordinary
incident occurred. The porters were busy getting the tent
up, and Zurbriggen and I were sitting at the camp-fire
drinking the tea of theyerda matt, which we invariably indulged
in at our lower camps, when I noticed a whirlwind on the top
of the high terrace bank opposite. Though we felt no wind
at all where we were, columns of dust quite fifty feet in height
were moving along the top of the bank, blades of grass, small
sticks from the yareta, and even large stones being whirled
along. Soon we noticed that the roaring noise accompanying
the phenomenon was increasing, that the columns increased
in size, and that there were now three of them. And here
my observations ceased, for I suddenly felt as if I had been
hit violently over the head, was knocked backwards and fell
to the ground, with what seemed to me half the camp-fire in
my face. My gourd of boiling mate* went all over my face,
and I was insensible for a minute or so — it was lucky the
boiling-point was low. When I looked round I found that

i8o THE HIGHEST ANDES

Zurbriggen was also sprawling on the ground. The porters,
arranging the Barrow tent twenty yards away, felt nothing,
and the tent was uninjured. It took some time to get things
together. The fire had been completely blown from its grate
of stones, our store of thornwood was scattered over the hill-
side. Plates, mugs, and wooden boxes had sailed away up
the hill behind us to a distance of a hundred yards. I much
regretted that I had not been a spectator of the whole
incident. Something had hit me hard between the eyes,
and I had a big swelling on the back of my head, where I
think I must have struck a boulder behind me. I vowed as
I rubbed my sores that in future I would not sit and criticise
when the wind became frolicsome, but take proper pre-
cautions.

As I had been riding now for two days, I determined to
do some hard walking, so started up the steep grass slope at
the back of the camp with the intention of trying to get a
view of the sky low down to the north-west where all the
storms originated. I tried my powers to the utmost, both
legs and lungs, and after two hours reached the camp in
the dark. Fortunato had prepared pochero for supper, an
inevitable dish that one can never escape in this part of the
world, consisting of boiled beef, potatoes, onions, and some-
times cabbage, served in more civilised parts in a soup plate
with much gravy.

And now for our plan of action. I urged strongly the
advisability of making a night bivouac some three thousand
feet higher than on the first attack, in order to lessen the
distance of the final ascent. But Zurbriggen pointed out
that now we had Lochmatter and Joseph this would hardly
be necessary. They would be able to take all the burden
of the packs off our shoulders ; moreover, he had been making
a careful examination of the slopes of the great spur, and had
discovered a shorter route that would enable us to avoid the
loose surface and take us from the snow plateau almost
straight on to the dome. We therefore decided to sleep
once more at the old 14,000 foot bivouac.

We were disturbed in unceremonious fashion from our

LANTFS GRIEF 181

slumbers next morning by Paramillo bursting through the
fastenings of the tent, and dancing a species of sword-dance
on the top of us. It was useless to protest, as we were
prisoners in our sleeping-bags. There was no necessity for
an early start, so, after a substantial breakfast and the usual
ordeal of chacha coma, the porters started up at ten. Two
strong mules were laden with provisions and sleeping-bags
for five men for two days. Zurbriggen and I started at noon
and reached the limit for mules soon after two. On our way
up the steep moraine we met Lanti returning with a sad face
and a tale of woe. He had had the misfortune to break a
bottle of wine. We did not spare him in our remarks on the
subject, and he calmly sat down on the debris and wept
bitterly, where we left him. Zurbriggen seemed much moved
by this little incident, and said this was another peculiar
instance of the effects of the altitude. " Here is Lanti Nicola,
the stoutest-hearted man I ever knew, a terrible fellow in the
Valley of Macugnaga. For when the report goes round that
Lanti is on the war-path all the inhabitants shut themselves
in their houses and bar the doors. And now he breaks a
bottle of wine and it breaks his heart, and he cries like a
child." The thermometer dropped rapidly at the bivouac as
soon as the sun left us, and the water froze on the cups and
spoons while Zurbriggen was washing them. However, we
had the luxury of a tent, and passed a good night.

It was perfect weather, but intensely cold when we started
a few minutes after 6 a.m. to make our second attempt
on Tupungato. We reached the snow plateau at 8.45 and
halted for breakfast, to which I alone did justice. The guides
were content with a sip or two of wine and a few raisins.
Now Zurbriggen showed us his new route. Instead of
crossing the snow plateau as before to the foot of the great
spur, we turned to the south, and ascended the spur, close to
where it joined the dome, up the rocks, using the rope — a
much more interesting route than by the crumbling side of
the ridge. The weather still continued bright, though the
cold, in spite of the sun and the good pace we were making,
was still very bitter. A rest was taken on the top of the

1 82 THE HIGHEST ANDES

rocks. We sat down with our faces to the east, and it was a
wonderful sight which disclosed itself to our view. We had
ascended high enough to look over the single range to the
east, and the endless pampas of Argentina lay beneath us.
It was astonishing to me to find ourselves so close to the
eastern limit of the Cordilleras. I saw also for the first time
the continuation of the main Tupungato Valley, from the
point where we had left it to form a camp on the 2;th.
It ran round to the south-eastern side of Tupungato. And
there this great valley that we had ascended for over forty miles
terminated — not in glacier, as I fully expected, but in a lake,
the water of which looked muddy brown, like the waters of
the Nile. Could this be the lake of gold of which our friend
at Vacas had told us such glowing stories ?

Double gloves and helmets were now a necessity, and yet
we were still in comparative shelter. What, then, would be
the temperature on the top of the great exposed ridge ? At
11.30, after cutting steps for some little distance,1 we found
ourselves on the summit of the spur, with the dome rising
up on our left, seemingly close to us. All eyes were at once
directed to north and west. What was our fate going to be ?
A few fleecy clouds were coming from the Pacific. That
Tupungato was going to indulge in his usual afternoon
storm we felt certain, but we were in good time, and ought
to be up and down again long before that occurred. We
were not deceived in our forebodings as regards the temper-
ature, and we emptied the rucksacks for all the extra clothing
available. We were making our way southward tc the dome,
and the wind struck the right side of our faces with such
bitter force that we could no longer look ahead. Besides this,
we were on debris again, with the inevitable result that we
began to feel the exhaustion caused by an altitude of
over 19,000 feet, and soon found a long rest necessary.
Zurbriggen gazed anxiously to the north-west, and asked me
if I didn't think it better to take some photographs, as he was
not quite easy about the pace at which those clouds seemed
to be approaching.

1 Right hand side of illustration opposite p. 186.

ANOTHER DEFEAT 183

It was too cold to remain long. We were huddled together
on the leeward side of a rock, round which the wind whistled
mercilessly. It was now midday, and from this time on
everything went badly with us. The wind became more
violent, the cold increased, the storm-clouds drew nearer and
nearer, a sullen persistency about them foretelling mischief.
Juncal and the Leones were already wrapped in storm.
Worse than this, Zurbriggen began to be very sick. He
had no doubt been feeling ill for some time, but had said
nothing about it. His voice was full of chagrin as he con-
fessed his condition to me. He could not understand it.
He had never felt like this before. He tried a little port
wine, and said he could get on if we went a little slower. He
looked very bad, however, and groaned at every step.
Certainly he was in no condition to continue the ascent. But
nothing would make him turn back, though he was suffering
intense pain, and the effort of will he exercised in continuing
was truly heroic.

Another mishap also occurred. We missed Lochmatter !
But looking back we saw him shuffling up the gentle sloping
debris so slowly that he seemed almost motionless. We
shouted to ask what was the matter. He answered feebly,
and as if ashamed to confess it : " Nothing's the matter :
it's my legs, I can't make it out ; they won't work any more."
It was a ridiculous situation. Here was a strong and
powerful young fellow, with a splendid physique, carrying but
the lightest of loads, saying that nothing was the matter but
that his legs had given out. I had had experience of this
paralysis of the lower limbs on Aconcagua, and recognised
the necessity of sending him back. We told him to continue
down the gentle slope of the ridge for a couple of hundred
yards, and signal to us if power had returned at all to his
legs. He said he was sure they would be all right as soon as
he began to descend. The signal was given, and as Joseph
was still strong and Zurbriggen said he felt a trifle better, we
continued to struggle with the elements. But the clouds had
reached their old playground, the dome, and I began to
realise that the peak might be again snatched from us by

1 84 THE HIGHEST ANDES

storm. But as we were now ascending the dome itself,
we imagined we were at a height of 21,000 feet, and
therefore could not be far from our goal. We sought shelter
every ten minutes, finding it impossible for any length of time
to beat up against the wind, which forced us out of our course
like boats without keels going to leeward. Zurbriggen grew
worse, and at two o'clock, on coming to an overhanging rock,
we made a protracted halt. It was at anyrate an intense
relief to get out of the wind, and we determined to wait for
half an hour and see if there was any chance of the storm
abating. After a bit I crept up above our sheltering rock to
see if any improvement had taken place, and saw at once it
was hopeless to wait. The whole sky looked threatening,
and as a matter of fact, if the sky had cleared, I do not
think we could have reached the summit. Indeed I doubt if
under any circumstances it would be possible to reach the
summit from our bivouac at 14,000 feet, — certainly not
at this time of year. We told one another we were but six
hundred feet from the summit, but it is a common error
in the Andes to imagine one is but a few hundred feet
from the top when one is really three times that distance
from it. I came down and joined the other two, almost
perished with cold. Zurbriggen's condition was alarming,
the storm reached far below us, enveloping the great spur
and the air was thick with clouds. It would have been
madness to proceed or even to delay. This was to be
our last attempt, for the season was now over, and with
bitter feelings I followed Zurbriggen and Joseph down to the
spur. For Zurbriggen's sake, we went very slowly for a long
time, and he gradually got better as we descended. At five
o'clock we found Lanti preparing some hot brandy and water
at the night bivouac, and certainly Zurbriggen needed some-
thing of the kind. He lay down and said he could not go a
step farther, but the stimulant revived him, and after I had
described the luxuries of a night at the base camp in
sufficiently glowing terms, he consented to continue the
descent.

Paramillo's joy at our return was unbounded, but Fortunate

FRESH PLANS 185

greeted us with the remark that he knew we could never
succeed, and went on to preach the philosophy of the school
of the courtly Villa Sieja, telling us that we should be snowed
up and never get back to Vacas if we did not start soon.

I felt more convinced than ever that the great distance to
be traversed, the effects of the altitude, and the shortness of
the days, made it impossible to ascend the mountain from so
low a level as 14,000 feet at this season of the year. Yet
everyone seemed too dispirited to accept the suggestion that
I had at heart ; namely, that we should carry our night
bivouac some three thousand feet higher up the mountain
and make yet another attempt ; so we turned in with the
order for a return to Vacas the next day uncancelled.

I never saw men drink so much tea as we all did the next
morning. One brew after another was made and finished :
our thirst seemed unquenchable. After an effort to slake it
had been made, however, I propounded my plans: "Now,
Mattias, we will rest here to-day, make a bivouac below the
spur at 17,000 feet, and you and I and Joseph will sleep
there to-morrow night. From there we will make the ascent
the day after, and return triumphantly with the top of
Tupungato to Vacas on the loth."

Zurbriggen pointed out the great risk we ran from frost-
bite in sleeping up at those heights so late in the season, with
the nights so long and the days so short, but after some
discussion it was decided to wait and see what the weather
would be. We were all thankful to lie about and rest. We
watched the storm-clouds moving about the summit of
Tupungato all the morning, and could see that the wind had
not yet abated.

I wished very much to use this day of rest in exploring
the main valley and the Rio Tupungato to its source, and
examining the shores of the "lake of gold." So after the
midday meal I set off on horseback with Zurbriggen and a
camera. We had a very fine view up a side valley of the
whole south-eastern face of Tupungato,1 examined the summit
of the dome, and adhered to our opinion that the highest point

1 Illustration opposite p. 186.

1 86 THE HIGHEST ANDES

was at its northern extremity. This was from a distance of
some nine or ten miles. Then after some two hours of feats
of horsemanship amongst snow and ice, we found we could
ride no farther, and as we wished to reserve our legs for
Tupungato, we retraced our steps without getting as far as
the lake.

The 8th April was a fine morning, with no wind. Prepara-
tions were immediately made for restocking a new bivouac
at 17,000 feet, — some three thousand feet higher than the old
one, — and the three porters were sent off at eight o'clock.
Zurbriggen and I reached the summit of the nieve penitente,
made our way across the snow plateau, and about four in the
afternoon reached the foot of the great spur, where, some
little distance on the rocks above us, we espied the porters
still busily pitching the tent. Lanti and Lochmatter had
carried the heaviest loads, and were now sent back to the
base camp, with instructions to come up and meet us on the
following day. Lochmatter had proved, many a time, that
19,000 feet was the greatest altitude he could attain, while
Lanti had tired on the first attempt, and had not the slightest
ambition to make the ascent. As Joseph Pollinger had been
fit and well, so far, we determined to keep him with us. The
little tent was pitched lengthways against some cliffs form-
ing part of the spur, the opening to the north. The
whole sky was dull and overcast, but the clouds were high.
It was, however, comparatively warm, and altogether I did
not like the look of things at all. So when Zurbriggen pro-
posed that the descending porters had better come up at mid-
day and take everything down, whether we were successful or
not, I demurred. However, they were all so strongly against
making further attempts should this one fail, that I reserved
my persuasions for a more favourable time, and contented
myself with the order that the tent should not be moved on
any account. Our quarters were not what could be called
spacious for three by no means small men — 3 \ x 4 x 6 feet for
three men would be overcrowding even in a London slum.
The tent was the lightest we had, with separate flooring of
macintosh sheeting, and supported only by ice-axes at each

A TERRIBLE NIGHT 187

end and numerous ropes. During the evening I took care
to keep the conversation from turning to the all-important
subject of the weather, for the stillness and warmth of the
air foreboded no good, and I avoided a discouraging topic.
Joseph ensconced himself near the rocks, Zurbriggen in the
middle, and I on the outside. Our overcrowded state gave
warmth if it did not give comfort. The ground beneath us
was intensely cold, and indeed this was not to be wondered
at, for we subsequently discovered the porters had pitched
the tent on debris-covered glacier.

I had slept about three hours when I was suddenly
awakened by a tremendous roaring sound, which seemed to
come from far above us to the south. To describe it I
cannot do better than quote my remarks written on the
spot: — " THURSDAY, 8th April 1897. Zurbriggen, Pollinger,
and self bivouacked in small tent, 17,000 feet, base of great
spur, on rocks close to ice. Calm and warm outside when
we fell asleep at 8 p.m. Awful noise from above me to south
woke me. It must be thunder. I listened intently. No, it
is wind — but there is no wind. Around the tent it is motion-
less. Roaring above continues, increases, becomes deafening.
Zurbriggen and Pollinger start up. Both declare it is
thunder, but come round to my opinion that it is an awful
storm raging round the dome of Tupungato — for that is its
direction. All hopes of an ascent on the morrow are there-
fore at an end. Tent in dangerous position right beneath
rocks. A pitch-dark night, the cold intense, can't decamp,
impossible to find our way down. Our only alternative to
remaining to move on to the snowfield. The noise increases,
the storm is evidently growing in strength and approaching.
Lying and listening — sleep out of the question, the roar is
awful — like Niagara — impossible to hear one another speak.
The storm is upon us — grasp the ice-axes to keep the tent
from being wrecked. Sleeping-bags no protection. The icy
wind penetrating everything cuts us through and through ;
glacier beneath. Sound of falling stones above — may be
crushed any moment. But how can we move ? Past mid-
night, storm furious — for three hours we lie huddled, fearing

1 88 THE HIGHEST ANDES

that some rock from above will crush the tent. The guy-
ropes give way — complete wreck. The wind fallen a little at
dawn — all exhausted fall asleep. Awoke at 6.30. No one
spoke. Wind outside tells its own tale — madness to go
higher. No human being can live on that great exposed
ridge with hurricane at zero — crawl out — a hopeless dawn.
Thermometer at 5°. Sit in silence, knowing we must
retreat."

We all three recognised the inevitable, but no one liked
to put it into words. This was the end of Tupungato for us.
We sat in silence. However, we were miserably cold, and
at eight o'clock made a stir in order to get something hot to
drink. Pollinger suggested we should finish up everything
and pull down the tent and decamp. We were too tired and
too disheartened to move. I had no suggestions to make.
There was no need to start early, so we eked out a miserable
morning. But a thought struck me. A small flask of old
liqueur whisky had been brought up for emergencies. Why
not finish this too ? I set about preparing it hot, with sugar,
and gradually we threw off our depression. Zurbriggen and
Pollinger sat up and had a hot argument about Alpine
accidents, their causes, and how they should have been
avoided, and when the question of retreat arose, I broke it to
them that I intended, even now, to make another attempt,
and proposed to leave the tent standing. I put it to them
that after this tremendous storm we were sure to have a spell
of fine weather. My keenness made me eloquent, the toddy
made them indulgent, so that at noon we left everything as
it was, and started down. Once more we had to confess our
failure to the ever-energetic Paramillo.

Fortunato preferred the open, and always slept on
the leeward side of our tent. We had given him a sleeping-
bag the night before, and, with Paramillo curled round his
feet, he had fallen asleep, muttering, "mucho lindo." The
weather was nightmare enough to us all day, yet I dreamed
that night that someone kept shouting, " Mucho malo tiempo !
O malo, malo tiempo!" Then I awoke. It was dawn, and
the voice was that of Fortunato outside. The words so

RENEWED HOPE 189

exasperated me that my legs itched to kick him, — if the
weather was still bad, he needn't advertise the fact, — but to
a man in a sleeping-bag kicking is out of the question, so I
contented myself with shouting to him that discussion must
be confined only to good weather.

He was right, the weather was "mucho malo." Yet it
might improve, so we rested a day — a day during which I
wandered about ostensibly geologising, but really watching
the weather in general, and the top of Tupungato in particular
from every point of view. Chacha coma was served plentifully
that day, and we had onions with all our meals. But all the
herbs in the world won't change the weather, and it was with
great anxiety that we looked out of the tent on the morrow.

Sunday, i ith April, was a glorious day. Cold it certainly
was, but that was a good sign. Lanti and Lochmatter
started early to provision the bivouac, and after the necessary
soaking of our boots in the torrent Zurbriggen and I started
at ten, and reached the high bivouac at four. It was a bright
cold evening, and we were hopeful. Lanti and Lochmatter
descended, while Zurbriggen, Pollinger, and I once more
squeezed ourselves into the tiny tent for the night.

CHAPTER XVIII

BY STUART VINES
TUPUNGATO ASCENDED

OUR fourth attempt on Tupungato was made on i2th
April. The night had been bitterly cold, and none
of us slept very well. The small Mummery tent, in
which I was packed with Zurbriggen and Joseph Pollinger,
was now pitched in a safer position, where there was no
danger of rocks from above falling on us, yet the ground
underneath was still so near the ice that it chilled us to the
bone as soon as we lay down. During the night the
thermometer sank to 24° below freezing, but fortunately
there was no wind — a great improvement on the zero
with a hurricane of four nights before. Remembering
our experience of frost-bite on Aconcagua in the early
morning, we decided to risk nothing by climbing before
sunrise. We had two alternatives before us, either to crawl
out of our tent and start in the night-hours before sunrise,
thereby spoiling a good night's rest, greatly needed, if not
an absolute necessity for a day's work at such high altitudes,
with the additional hardship of the cold of the early morning,
and the risk this involved ; or, on the other hand, to start,
after taking something hot, at daybreak, and reach a height
of 21,000 feet at one or two o'clock, the warmest time of
the day, fortified by a good night's rest for that terrible last
thousand feet, with the disadvantage, and risk, no doubt,
of a descent after sunset, exhausted by the ascent. It was
the cold and the wind we dreaded, especially so late in the
season, and the cold was far less after sunset than before
sunrise ; therefore I think we pursued the least risky course,

190

NOW OR NEVER 191

and the one most likely to lead to success, in starting
late. It was half-past six before we crawled out of the
tent, and there was no guessing what sort of weather was
in store for us, as the western horizon, which always gave
the best indication, was completely shut out from our view
by the great wall of the spur under which we were encamped.
We set to work to boil water for the coffee with the wind-
proof kettle and spirit-stove ; but again we had an example
of the unwillingness of methylated spirits to burn quickly,
for the water took an unconscionable time to boil. I ate
some food, but the guides refused to do more than drink
coffee. At seven we made a start. It was still intensely
cold, and Zurbriggen and I set out in our ponchos — garments
far better adapted for riding than for climbing. In selecting
the route, our chief thought was how best to avoid the
broken and crumbling surface over which we had already
toiled.

This was now our third ascent of the spur. The first
had been made by the broken slope on the northern side,
which we had found very fatiguing, and the second by the
rocks nearer to the actual dome of Tupungato, where the
rope had been needed. Zurbriggen led us now by fairly
firm ground half-way between the two previous lines of
ascent, I came next, and Joseph Pollinger brought up the
rear. This order was maintained during the greater part
of the day. I knew well enough that this would be our
last attack on the mountain — it was now or never. The
season was already so far advanced that the rigours of winter
were beginning to be felt, and the danger of frost-bite at
these high altitudes had determined us, whatever might be
the result of the fourth attempt, to leave Tupungato, and
return to Vacas as soon as possible.

Nothing of any importance happened until we reached
the top of the spur. Although we had chosen a fresh line
of ascent, the soil underfoot was still much the same as
before. There was the same dreary slipping on the rotten
ground, the same relief when the ground was firm. As we
ascended, the necessity for halts became gradually more

192 THE HIGHEST ANDES

frequent. It was at half-past nine, when we were some
fifteen hundred feet above our camping-ground, that we
reached the summit of the ridge, about 18,500 feet above
sea-level. After ascending another five hundred feet, thinking
it better to take a long rest before going farther, we sat down
under a boulder and tried to make a meal.

Now I must discontinue the ascent for a moment in order
to discuss this meal. My reasons for doing so are that
I cannot lay too much stress on the question of nourish-
ment taken on such an exhausting climb at so great an
altitude. Nine days before we had purchased bread at Vacas
as a pleasant change from the eternal biscuit. In the dry
air this had gradually become harder and harder, so that it
now resembled nothing so much as a piece of pumice, and
one's mouth became quite sore in eating it. Still, I preferred
it to biscuit. Before starting from the base camp two days
before, I had packed some of this bread. Happily we had
been able to secure really tender beef from Fiorini, and I
had had a piece of fillet carefully grilled over the camp-fire.
Unlike the rest of the men, I found food necessary and most
beneficial at these great altitudes, and on this bread eleven
days old and the fillet I made a hearty meal at over 19,000
feet. I have every reason to be thankful I did so. The
guides, however, remained true to their conviction that food
had better be avoided while climbing, and contented them-
selves with a sip or two of wine. They attempted the ascent
of Tupungato without a morsel of solid food ! I quite
agree that they were right not to take food if they felt an
absolute distaste for it, but I have a suspicion that their
reluctance to do so was the result of their experience in Switz-
erland at lower altitudes, and that they decided not to
eat before considering whether they could do so or not. It
seems to me all a matter of digestion : if a man at these
heights cannot digest, let him take no food, but if he is
fortunate enough to be able to digest, even if he has no par-
ticular inclination towards food, let him take it by all means,
provided there is no actual repugnance. Anyhow, I am
sure I could not have got to the top of Tupungato without

THE QUESTION OF FOOD 193

it. On Aconcagua we felt no inclination to eat, but then,
it being impossible at these great heights to get warm food,
there was nothing at all to tempt the fastidious palate of a
man in a more or less exhausted condition. Now I had hit
upon something tempting, though cold, and I shall ever
feel grateful for this really excellent meat supplied us by
Fiorini : it was the only tender beef (we only once touched
mutton) that I came across during our whole seven months
in the mountains. There was certainly one great obstacle
against our obtaining such cold nourishment in the Cordilleras.
The great herds of long - horned cattle that arrive at
Vacas or Inca — the latter some 9000 feet above sea-level —
are very different animals from the sleek beasts that were
driven to Mendoza some weeks previously fresh from the rich
pasture grounds of the pampas. The fat, tender animal
from the pampas is shod with iron, and driven up some
10,000 feet. Naturally it arrives at these heights, after
its tramp of 150 miles, no doubt an excellent specimen of
training and muscular development, but hardly in first-rate
killing condition. A few weeks' grazing in the pastures of
Chile should intervene before the butcher's knife. There
is a great difference at Vacas between "road" beef and
4 'rail way" beef. But the cattle that come by train to Vacas
are only a portion of the vast herds that pass over to Chile
in the summer months, though neither can be recommended
for tenderness or flavour. I was lucky on this occasion in
obtaining meat that one's teeth could penetrate. A tender
piece of fillet of beef, grilled over the camp-fire, whether
hot or cold, must be always tempting to the appetite, and
there is no question of its keeping fresh in such a climate.

When we reached the summit of the ridge, we were able
to take stock of the weather. It was a perfect day, without
a cloud in the sky. Even the hilltops on the Pacific coast
were entirely free from haze. Nothing could have been
more encouraging, for it was from that quarter that all the
storms that had hitherto assailed us had come. The wind
was as before in the north-west, and still very cold ; but it
was as nothing compared with the hurricane from which we
13

194 THE HIGHEST ANDES

had suffered on the second attempt. These signs cheered
us greatly, and we started again at ten o'clock, feeling more
hopeful of success than ever before. Zurbriggen now pro-
posed a new route. Instead of turning towards the south and
ascending the gentle slope of the ridge to the dome — as we
had done on the two former occasions — he pointed out that
we should gain relief from the wearisome monotony of
tramping up the debris-covered surface of the spur, by
making our way to the ridge of rocks on the western or
Santiago side, leading towards the summit, where we should
have a firm foothold. As we marched on in that direction,
I noticed that many of the stones in my path were covered
with a white deposit. In some cases it nearly enveloped them
in a thin layer, but elsewhere, it lay over them in lumps, and
I even found pieces of this superficial deposit lying loose.1 It
seemed to be a white mineral of some kind. Many of the
stones on the surface of the spur were hollowed out in the
centre, and cup-shaped. Professor Bonney, after hearing my
description of them, has suggested that they were probably
volcanic bombs thrown from the prehistoric crater of Tupun-
gato, twisted into this peculiar cup-like shape by their flight
through the air and sudden cooling. Unfortunately, I could
not find a specimen small enough to carry away with me.

There are many difficulties in the way of collecting
geological specimens en route for the summit of a high moun-
tain. When ascending, the specimens lie naturally closer to
the eye, and invite collection ; but it is scarcely possible to
gather them, for on the way up, and at such an altitude,
one's pack must be kept as light as possible. When coming
down, on the other hand, the specimens are not so noticeable,
being farther from the eye ; one is frequently driven down
by storm, and has no chance of looking about. It is also
generally late, and too dark to discriminate and collect.

At half-past ten we reached the rocks on the western
side of the spur, and began to climb them. Up to this time
I had worn my poncho — it was a fairly long one, fashioned
to cover the knees when riding, but so inconvenient for

1 See Appendix, p. 327 (IX. and XII.).

A NEW VOLCANO 195

walking that I could not take it with me up the rocks,
though I knew how intensely cold it would be on the
summit, and as I hoped to get there early enough to remain
a considerable time, I had looked forward to having it with
me. The scramble up the rocks was most interesting;
these did not present any great difficulty, and we were able
to dispense with the rope. In spite of the fact that the
ascent was more abrupt than by the former route, and
required more exertion, none of us seemed at this time to
be much affected, though we were considerably more than
19,000 feet above the sea. I always look back upon this
part of our ascent of Tupungato with particular pleasure.
It was before our troubles began, and while we still happily
imagined that we should reach the summit about two o'clock.
The rocks we were climbing formed a narrow ridge, like a
balustrade between the spur and the dome of the mountain,
rising about eighty to a hundred feet from it on one hand,
and descending in sheer precipice some four thousand feet
to the valley on the Chilian side. As we ascended, the
view was superb, for we looked right over the edge of the
rocks into the valley beneath us, and far away to the west.
At our feet, as it seemed, was spread out a wide plain
intersected by rivers ; beyond was a great range of hills
running north and south, which could hardly have been less
than 12,000 feet high. This immense line of cliffs, about
twenty miles from Tupungato, diminished in height towards
the north, but not very far from this extremity was a sight
that instantly arrested our attention. It was nothing less than
a volcano in full eruption. The discovery took my breath
away, for I had always understood there was no volcano in
these regions, dormant or active, except the lofty San Jos6 due
south of Tupungato. We halted and looked at the volcano
long and intently. The clearness of the atmosphere at this
time in the morning — it wanted yet half an hour to noon —
enabled us to observe its features with accuracy. The whole
structure of the crater was peculiar. There was no cone, and
the opening was not in the summit alone, but an enormous
V-shaped aperture, tapering towards the bottom, seemed to

196 THE HIGHEST ANDES

run from the top of the cliffs to their very base. In the
distance it had the appearance of an immense grey talus
turned upside down. From the top of this opening there
poured forth vast volumes of dark brown steam, which
floated away through the air for a dozen miles towards the
south-east. A curious circumstance of the early morning
now came back to my mind. When ascending the slope of
the great spur from the east, and entirely cut off from the
view to the west, we had, all three, been conscious of a
strong smell of burning. As Zurbriggen was directly in
front of me, and my nose was not far from his boots, I
imagined that the strong smell was of burnt leather, from
his having put them too near the fire at the base camp
the night before. I now realised that this sulphurous
smell had not been caused by burnt leather, but that the
wind must have been more from the west earlier in the day,
and so have brought the fumes of the distant volcano
towards us. Zurbriggen was as much struck as myself by
the remarkable sight, and declared that, though in the jet of
steam it bore resemblance to the numerous volcanoes he had
seen in New Zealand, its shape and structure were entirely
different. I proposed photographing it at once, and taking
bearings, which would probably have involved a delay of
more than half an hour. Zurbriggen pointed out, however,
that we could not be more than two hours from the summit,
and that as the day was clear and settled, we should get an
even finer view of it from above. We all felt in good
condition, and not in need of a rest ; so we pressed on, and
I contented myself for the moment with making a very rough
sketch of the volcano in my notebook. Two hours had
been spent in coming up these rocks, and at 12.30 we left
them for a wide couloir filled with snow, which we imagined
would shortly bring us to the summit. We cut a few steps
in the snow here and there, and sometimes returned to the
rocks, where they afforded an easier route. In this way we
ascended for an hour, with frequent halts, and were now at
an altitude of 20,000 feet.

We had felt comparatively little fatigue while moving over

POLLINGER BREAKS DOWN 197

easier ground and at a lower level. But at so great a height
every increase in altitude tells at once, and exhaustion now
began to come quickly upon us. My legs moved heavily,
and I made the sides of the couloir re-echo with my heavy
breathing. No one spoke a word. Zurbriggen strode on in
front of me, and frequently looked impatiently ahead, evidently
expecting to see the summit of the mountain loom up every
moment over the brow of the slope we were ascending. We
had had ample opportunity of examining the nature of this slope
from different points of view to the north, and we were
convinced that the highest point lay on this, the northern
side of Tupungato. Two days before, when I had taken
photographs of the mountain from a point nine miles away
in the valley, whence we could see the several peaks rising
above the circle of the dome, Zurbriggen and I had fully
discussed the matter and concluded that, unless the mountain
stretched away a great distance to the south, the northern
peak must be the highest. The moment was at hand when
we should know whether our conjecture was right. As we
marched on, I looked time after time at Zurbriggen, and
admired the steady pace he was keeping, wondering whether
the heaviness of my legs would increase, and how long I
should be able to follow him. Joseph Pollingerwas behind
me, and I fancied he must be watching my efforts with feelings
in which admiration had a very small part. He was an
excellent guide, and, although I did not know how he had done
on Aconcagua, as he was never with me on that mountain, he
had always lasted out well on Tupungato. Suddenly, about
half -past one, we all three paused by common consent.
One of us had stopped abruptly, and the others stopped too,
without a word being uttered. Zurbriggen and I turned
round and looked at Pollinger, who was lying flat on his face
and groaning. He was suffering violent pains in the abdomen,
and he declared between his gasps that he felt very sick and
ill, and could not go another step higher. We were anxious
to take him with us, so I tried to persuade him that he would
be all right after a short rest, and proposed that Zurbriggen
and I should divide his pack between us, so as to make things

198 THE HIGHEST ANDES

as easy as possible for him. But, as he still insisted that he
felt far too ill to go on, and seemed to have a great desire to
descend as soon as possible, we gave up trying to persuade
him. ''Let me get down lower! For God's sake let me
descend ! I shall die if I stop here ! " was his only answer to
us. Yes, he was right. The only remedy for his illness was
to descend with all speed to a lower altitude ; he would be
well if only he could get down a thousand feet or more. I
then discussed the matter with Zurbriggen, and determined
on the route he should take. If he descended by the couloir,
and walked along the whole length of the spur until he came
above the camp, and then turned to the right and descended
to it, he would be able to gain shelter without risk. He would
find Lanti there, and could wait for us, or go down still farther,
as he felt inclined. We had always found descending such
an efficient remedy for the sickness, that we felt confident he
would be all right again at 18,000 feet. I divided his pack
with Zurbriggen, and we decided to leave everything that we
should not absolutely need, including a rucksack, behind.
Pollinger said he felt much better already, and would wait a
little longer and rest where he was. As we could watch him
for a considerable distance, we continued the ascent, telling
him to signal if he did not feel all right. Then we went on
our way, and looking back from time to time, we were thankful
to find that he made encouraging signals, and that his pace
increased until we lost sight of him on the distant declivity of
the mountain.

I was now feeling in no very good condition myself, as
the difficulty of getting enough oxygen out of the rarefied
atmosphere became every moment greater. My breathing
grew at every step more and more laboured. The sides of
the couloir which we were still traversing seemed like prison
walls to my lungs. It would be a stretch of imagination to
suppose for one moment that there was less air in such a
place. But I had suffered far more from breathlessness in the
couloirs and enclosed places on Aconcagua, and instinctively
felt that my breathlessness at this moment was due to the
same causes. The air seemed "flat" to my thirsty lungs,

EXPECTANCY 199

where it was not stirred and freshened by the wind. It is
interesting to note what Mr. Freshfield says on this subject of
the "stagnation of the air" in his account of the Ascent of
Mount Elbruz.1 "The gale which nearly defeated us saved
us from mountain-sickness. I have compared the accounts
of many mountain travellers, and it seems apparent that those
who suffer from ' rarity of the air ' do so mostly on still days
and in hollows rather than on ridges. From De Saussure's
time * the stagnation of the air ' has been complained of. I
have myself been on Mont Blanc three times, and once only,
the day being perfectly still, did I suffer in any degree from
nausea and headache. On that occasion I had been living at
6000 feet for some weeks previously, and was in exceptionally
good training. Two years later I came straight out from
England and felt no inconvenience of any kind, although the
pace from the Cabane Vallot to the top was hurried." This
is particularly interesting as it coincides exactly with my own
experiences when we reached the great arete of Aconcagua,
and still more with those I am about to relate.

Gradually we began to emerge from the couloir, and, look-
ing ahead, beheld at last what we had so long desired to see.
It was the northernmost peak on the dome of Tupungato,
which, according to all our calculations, ought to be the very
highest point on the mountain, and this peak was the one we
had selected when looking from below. It was nearly two
o'clock, the hour at which we had calculated to reach the
summit. We felt confident that in half an hour we should be
rewarded for three weeks of struggle and hardship, and
should have hours before us to look upon one of the finest
views ever beheld by man, for the sky was absolutely cloud-
less. Slowly, and with short steps we tramped on, our eyes
turned towards the summit, when suddenly, without a moment's
warning, Zurbriggen sat down on the ground and exclaimed,
" I am finished — I go no farther! " Fearing that the strain
had been too much for his heart, I was greatly alarmed, but
when I asked what was the matter he only pointed in the
direction of the peak, and declared that he could go no farther.

1 The Exploration of the Caucasus, vol. ii. p. 168.

200 THE HIGHEST ANDES

I saw in a moment the cause of his collapse. Looming
up beyond the nearest peak, which we had expected to be
the highest, was another peak far to the south, and certainly
higher by a good two hundred feet. " That point," said Zur-
briggen, pointing a dismal finger at it, " is an hour away from
where we are, and I cannot do it." In the greatest anxiety
I asked him to tell me his symptoms. It appeared, however,
that there was nothing more the matter than exhaustion,
and the effects of sudden disappointment. " It's my legs ! "
he answered. "They will not carry me a step farther."
I tried to persuade him that the southern peak was scarcely
half an hour away from us, though I knew only too well that
he had probably underestimated the distance, although in
the clear air it looked only a few steps. He was not to be
persuaded, however, that the distance was less than he knew
it to be. I thought it possible, nevertheless, that after a
rest and some stimulant he might be able to resume the
ascent. Half a bottle of wine had been reserved for the
summit, but I now gave it to him, and said, " Look here,
Mattias, if you sit down behind this rock sheltered from the
wind and take twenty minutes' rest, and promise me to drink
the whole of this wine, I am convinced you will reach the
summit. I will take your rucksack, the camera, and things,
and go on a bit to see how the land lies." Leaving him
behind me, I turned my steps with bitter feelings once more
towards the summit. For nearly a month we had tried
together to conquer this hoary-headed giant ; we had made
four separate attempts and had suffered severe privations and
many disappointments ; and now, when success lay almost
within our grasp, I felt that I was likely to reach the summit
alone, and I seemed to have no heart left in me for the task.
Zurbriggen's exhaustion was not hard to account for.
He had led the way all day, and had tired himself out by
doing so ; for the labour of the leader of a party up these
slopes is very much greater than that of any of his companions.
At these altitudes every step must be made with the view of
expending as little exertion as possible. Those who follow
have not the trouble of selecting the footholds, and can mark

YET ANOTHER PEAK 201

where the man in front has slipped, and profit by his
experience. Moreover, his foot by slipping makes in the
loose ground a firm place for the next man to step in ; so
that the man behind gains as much as the leader loses.
After I had gone thirty or forty yards, I hesitated, and then
stopped. It was painful for me to go on without Zurbriggen,
and I almost decided to wait for him. But on looking back
I saw that he seemed to be doing better, and was now
seated under the shelter of the rock, solacing himself with a
pipe. After all, I reflected, I could do no good by waiting
for him, and probably he would make a greater effort if I left
him and pushed on. So I resumed my way alone and strode
out as vigorously as I could.

I was now well free of the stifling couloir, and there was
a cold wind blowing which seemed to refresh me, while with
each step that brought me nearer to my goal, I gained new
energy, and my excitement rose. Between the northern
peak — the cause of our first disappointment — and the higher
point which I was now making for, there was a wide bed
of black volcanic scoria, across which I moved at a pace
which fairly astonished me. Amidst the general gray, pink,
and brown colour of the mountain surface, and the patches of
white snow which lay here and there, this black volcanic bed
stood out in marked and peculiar contrast, looking for all the
world as if it had been brought there in cart-loads to fill up
the depression. Having crossed it, I came to the base of a
ridge leading to the peak. I even increased my speed — I
know my legs ached and that my breathing was laboured,
but I did not heed the suffering and it did not prevent me
from rushing on at what seemed at this height a mad pace.
The steep slope of the ridge made no difference. I stopped
for rest and breath as often as before, but between the halts
the pace was maintained. It was shortly after three o'clock
when I reached the summit of this peak.

Alas, another disappointment was in store. As I set my
foot at last upon the highest point and looked eagerly around,
a most unwelcome sight presented itself. Far away on the
southern edge of the mountain-top, which until now I had

202 THE HIGHEST ANDES

never seen, another peak rose up, and seemed to challenge
supremacy with that on which I stood. Between me and it
was a wide depression. I brought my Abney level to bear
upon it, and my fears were realised. I was not yet on the
top of Tupungato : the new peak was considerably higher
than the one I had surmounted. I felt that it would probably
take me an hour to reach it, but I believed myself quite equal
to the new task. I looked back. Zurbriggen was still
sitting on the very spot where I had left him, and I had
small expectation that he would ever reach the summit of the
mountain. This was very disheartening, but there was
nothing for it, and without halt or rest I set out for the third
peak.

In front of me to the left lay a great field of snow, and
to the right a rock arete. Either might be selected as the
route, but I did not know the condition of the snow, and
considered that the safer way lay by the rocks. With more
haste than prudence I scrambled down them, elated by the
view which every moment widened out before my gaze, for
I was crossing the western side of the dome, and each step
increased my first sight of the outlook to the south. I reached
the end of the rock arete, and, without resting, hurried across
the bed of the depression and began at once the ascent of the
opposite slope. I had at least four hundred feet to climb, but
I kept up the same pace until at last I gained the top.

It was 3.45, nearly two hours later than the time at
which we had expected to be upon the summit. I had
surmounted the third of those baffling peaks, but were my
labours really at an end, or was fresh and fatal disappointment
in store? It was almost with a sinking heart that I looked
around. But one desperately anxious glance told me enough.
No other and loftier peak rose before me. Everything was
beneath my feet, and at last I stood on the highest point of
Tupungato.

CHAPTER XIX

BY STUART VINES
THE SUMMIT AND THE DESCENT

I WAS on the summit of Tupungato at last, and all my
efforts and disappointments were more than repaid. I
stood on a great mound, in shape like a pyramid with a
blunted top some two yards wide, rising several hundred feet
above the general surface of the dome. Its whole surface
was entirely free from snow and covered with loose rocks
and debris, though this debris, from the appearance of things,
was a mere superficial deposit, close beneath which lay a
solid rock foundation. I picked up the highest piece of
rock, the veritable tip of the mountain,, which lay loose on
the ground and was an excellent example of the stones that
lay around. As this, however, was far too large for me to
carry down, I flung it to the earth, when it broke in half
and disclosed a hollow inside, in which was a quantity of a
substance like glue or gum, transparent, hard and brittle,
probably fused matter and glass. The half I brought
away with me proved, on examination,1 to be a very
fine specimen of andesite, riddled with fulgurites, or tubes
melted out by lightning. Having thus examined my
foothold and secured the fallen monster's head, I threw
down the rucksack, and without the loss of a moment set
to work to commemorate the ascent by a stone man — a cairn
that would be a sufficient memorial of the FitzGerald Expedi-
tion to future climbers of Tupungato. But though they were
interesting and valuable from a geological point of view, the
stones on the summit did not lend themselves well to the

1 See Appendix, p. 330 (II.).

203

204 THE HIGHEST ANDES

construction of a stone man. The larger and heavier ones
were frozen to the ground, and most of them, resembling
pumice in structure, were much too light and brittle for the
substantial edifice I wished to erect, for was I not standing
on the very spot where the storm-fiends of the Andes gathered
daily for their wildest orgies ? I had, therefore, to descend
ten or twenty feet every now and then to bring up more
durable material. It was hard work, but I went at it with
an energy that surprised me, and, though panting for breath,
I was not seriously distressed. I felt fit and well, and was
satisfied I was doing an immense amount of work. After
some considerable time spent at high altitudes, one becomes
so accustomed to working slowly and deliberately that the
fact that one is doing little at the cost of much labour does
not strike one very forcibly. It was only by comparison,
therefore, that I felt I was working quickly, for the excitement
and the glorious circumstances of the situation kept me going.
Secondly, there was no longer any necessity for me to
husband my strength. The highest point had been reached :
I could now let myself go. The disproportion between the
labour and its results only became evident to me after-
wards when I calculated and summed up the outcome of
my labours on the summit of Tupungato. The exertion of
gathering and piling up the heaviest stones I could find
kept me warm, which was very necessary, for there was a
strong wind blowing, and the thermometer registered 19° of
frost.

I had scarcely been working for more than ten minutes
when I heard a shout, and looking up saw Zurbriggen on
the northern peak I had just left. As I afterwards learnt,
he had felt so much revived by the rest and the wine I made
him drink, that not long after I had disappeared from view
on the peak he pulled himself together and decided to follow
me, thinking I had already reached the summit. He got
there only to find himself again disappointed, but seeing me
already on the last peak, and engaged in the work I have
spoken of, he promptly followed. I waved my arms in answer
to his shout, and went on with my task. As he began the

REJOINED BY ZURBRIGGEN 205

descent towards me, I had hopes that it would ease and rest
him for the ascent of the final few hundred feet. Not many
minutes after I saw him he was descending the snow slope
at a great pace. It was a shorter and quicker route than
the rock arete that I had followed, and in a very short space
of time he was within fifty feet of me. I ran down to meet
him, and grasped his hands. Now that we stood on the
summit together, I felt that at last Tupungato had really
been ascended. As soon as he had breath enough to speak,
he turned to me with a smile, and said, " Now I'm off to
Mendoza to settle my book, and make those men pay for
doubting the FitzGerald Expedition." And for some time
after, I caught him muttering the words, " ten to one, indeed !
. . . doubt Zurbriggen . . . Mendoza ..." and chuckling to
himself. He was quite his old self again. The wine, the
rest, and the pipe had worked wonders, otherwise the fresh
disappointment that awaited him on surmounting the second
peak must have made him give up the attempt. He helped
me to put the finishing touches to the cairn, which, when
completed, was a solid and substantial erection, about four
feet high, that might even bid defiance for many years to
Tupungato's furious storms.

It was now half-past four, and no time was to be lost.
I wrote on one side of my card, "FitzGerald Expedition" \
and on the other : —

"Stuart Vines, with Mattias Zurbriggen, Swiss guide,
made the ascent of this mountain on \ith April 1897, after
three attempts, being stopped by storms."

Also the following words upon a leaf of my notebook : —

"Joseph Pollinger came with us from our bivouac, about
17,000 feet, below ridge on north side of mountain, but turned
back sick about 1000 feet from the summit. Temp. 13° Fahr.
Zurbriggen and I reached the summit at 3.45."

My card and the piece of paper I enclosed in a wine
bottle, which Zurbriggen placed at the base of the cairn and
carefully covered over with stones.

206 THE HIGHEST ANDES

In spite of all the bad weather we had suffered from
throughout our work — and indeed the weather experienced
during this summer was described by the Meteorological
Office in Santiago as without a record — we had no cause to
complain on the days of the two chief ascents. The circum-
stances were very similar. Both summits were reached
about an hour and a half before sunset. But the I2th of
April even surpassed the i3th of February, the day of my
ascent of Aconcagua ; for now in the whole expanse of sky
around, over ocean and land, I could not discern a single
cloud. Only in the direction of the Pacific a haze hung over
the mountains, and to my great disappointment, I could gain
no further view of the volcano seen earlier in the day. I
accounted for this by supposing that the haze which hid it
from sight was probably caused by the smoke of the volcano
itself, the wind having shifted and dropped, so that the
vapours now hung in a cloudy form around the mountain.
This haze was not due, I thought, to the weather, for in all
other directions the view was magnificently clear. In the
brilliant air the spectacle that lay before us wras one of
extraordinery extent and grandeur. Range beyond range
of mountains stretched away towards the great plain of
Santiago, forty miles to the west. Far away, beyond the
hills that almost seemed to lie at our feet, stretched the
great waters of the Pacific, a tract of blue ocean sparkling
to the horizon, and clearly visible, although the distance from
Tupungato to the sea-coast is not less than 130 miles. The
view from the top of Tupungato is in many ways even finer
than that obtained from Aconcagua. The expanse of ocean
visible towards the west is less vast, but there is ample
compensation in the outlook over the great unending plains
on the eastern side. The pampas of Argentina stretched
almost without a break from our very feet to the South
Atlantic Ocean. The position of Tupungato could be very
clearly defined : it forms part of the great frontier barrier
between Chile and Argentina, which is also the water-
parting of all the rivers to the Pacific and Atlantic. I could
see those glittering rivers winding like ribbons through the

A MAGNIFICENT VIEW 207

pampas, spreading fertility around them, and scattering plenty
through the land — a sight which contrasted strikingly with
the turbulent and unending array of rugged peaks and ridges
that surrounded me on every side but this. Though
Aconcagua lies in Argentina, yet the view from its summit
towards the west over Chile is far more interesting than
that to the east. From the summit of Tupungato the
conditions are reversed — Aconcagua seems to belong to the
Chilians, Tupungato to the Argentines ; and in order to gain
a really perfect idea of the Cordilleras of the Andes at this
latitude, one ascent does not complete the picture without
the other.

The Andes seem to rise up from Santiago in ever-ascend-
ing gradation, until at last they culminate in the immense
mass of Tupungato ; beyond, they fall abruptly away ;
mountains disappear ; and a country almost fen-like in its
monotonous flatness succeeds. Our nearest neighbour on the
Argentine side was the pyramid of the Cerro de la Plata, not
more than twenty miles to the north-east. It seems to rise
from a mass of high mountains surrounding it on every side
and merging imperceptibly into it, so that it possesses no
well-marked or definite base of its own. Its height has been
estimated at 19,200 feet. The chain on which I stood, the
frontier boundary between these two great States, ran south-
ward towards the Peuquenes or Portillo Pass, trampled each
year by the iron-shod feet of many thousand head of cattle
passing from the rich pastures of the pampas to supply the
mining settlements on the coast of northern Chile, and on to
the volcano of San Jose", reckoned at some 19,500 feet,
and Maipo, the scene of Gussfeldt's triumphs in 1883. On
the Chilian side scores of dark rocks reared their heads, a
sinister array of precipitous impossibilities from which any
climber would turn away in despair. And to the north the
same great barrier ran : at my feet the great mountain-spur
on which we had suffered so many hardships and disappoint-
ments from wind and weather ; beyond, a snow arete leading
up to the steep walls of ice and rock that support the virgin
cone of Pollera, in shape not unlike the Weisshorn, so well

208 THE HIGHEST ANDES

known to Zermatt climbers ; and, towering above the Pollera,
the pyramid of Navarro. Then in one great curve sweeping
westward to the lofty glacier perched high between the two
peaks of Juncal, and thence northward again, the clear-cut
features of this immense ridge ran to the Cumbre Pass.

Looking along this distinct and sharp-edged chain to
north and south, it was hard to understand how any frontier
question between the Republics could come about. But
indeed it is not here that the boundary dispute arises. It is
the exploration of the rich country to the south, the Patagonia
of former years, where the mountains are lower and the
natural features less clearly defined, that has raised the great
question which now divides Chile and Argentina, and leads
them at times to the brink of war. The danger of a conflict,
however, is not so great as it sometimes seems to those who
hear the resolute language indulged in by both sides, for it is
a singular fact that with the advent of spring each year there
comes a spirit of peace and goodwill between the two States,
spreading its benign influence abroad as long as summer
lasts and the passes over the Andes lie open. With autumn,
and the closing of the passes by the heavy snows of early
winter, the war spirit is born. Argentina sends up troops to
Mendoza, Chile mobilises her national guard. On each side
the militant party is bold and reckless, and remarkably out-
spoken in language, so long as fighting is impossible and they
cannot get at each other. But as I looked down on this
great line of division between two unfriendly States, I
wondered how long this game of bluff would continue, and
whether a few years hence the white bones of men would not
be mingled with those of the cattle lying strewn along the
passes of the Andes, in silent witness to the perils of those
great mountain ways.

The subject of Aconcagua as seen from Tupungato deters
my pen. In our many struggles up its flanks, we had often
gazed with ever-increasing wonder on the mighty contours
that rose above our heads. I remember the first occasion we
beheld it we all stood gazing at it in silence until one of the
porters broke the spell by ejaculating, " What's that ? " That

THE SURFACE OF THE DOME 209

Aconcagua was a high mountain we well knew. We had all
suffered from its height. But when near at hand it was quite
impossible to realise the vastness of its proportions. Not so
from where I now stood on a pinnacle sixty miles away. I
had long known it was over four thousand feet higher than
any mountain within thirty miles of it, but it looked ten thousand
feet higher, as it reared its immense head and shoulders from
amongst its neighbours, like some huge rock towering out of
the waves of the sea. It stood before me without rival.
Even the great crags of Juncal did not challenge it, though
they were almost thirty miles nearer. Facing us was the
wall of that enormous precipice. Dark and sinister it
looked, for this southern face of almost perpendicular ice and
rock seldom sees the sun. Behind Aconcagua, but almost
forty miles farther and too far off for comparison, I could see
the white slopes of Mercedario. Then I turned my eyes
upon Tupungato itself and surveyed the surface of the dome,
an undulating plateau at my feet covering an immense area.
It is comparatively free from snow, except on the eastern side,
where enormous snowfields fall over the precipice and sink
down almost to the great moraine-filled valley beneath.1 On
the plateau comparatively little solid rock appears above the
surface, the same denuding agencies having been at work as
on Aconcagua. Three peaks — or rather three huge debris-
covered mounds — present themselves, one on the northern
side, one to the east, and the highest to the south. I traversed
the plateau from end to end, and, as on Aconcagua, discovered
no traces whatever of a crater, though the nature of the rocks
and the general shape of the summit tend to make one believe
that its volcanic origin is of more recent date than that of
Aconcagua. The peak on which I stood was as a mere
excrescence on the enormous circle of the dome, whose
sides, bellying at the top and falling sheer below, cut off
all view of the valleys lying beneath the base of the moun-
tain. This prevented me from seeing the nature of the
southern and south-western face. Sixty-two years before,
Charles Darwin beheld this side of Tupungato, when cross-

1 See illustration opposite p. 186.

210 THE HIGHEST ANDES

ing the Portillo Pass on 22nd March 1835, and he says
of it :—

"We had a fine view of a mass of mountain called
Tupungato, the whole clothed with unbroken snow. From
one peak my arriero said he had once seen smoke proceed-
ing ; and I thought I could distinguish the form of a large
crater. In the maps Tupungato figures as a single mountain ;
this Chileno method of giving one name to a tract of
mountains is a fruitful source of error. In the region of snow
there was a blue patch which no doubt was glacier,
a phenomenon that has been said not to occur in these
mountains." l

It is extremely unlikely that there would be anything
approaching a crater half-way down the southern slopes of
the mountain. I presume, therefore, that Darwin thought he
could discern the outlines of a crater in the three peaks rising
above the dome, or perhaps in the rock arete by which I had
reached the summit.2 As to the arriero's remark, it only
shows that the mule-drivers of the Cordillera played with the
truth sixty-two years ago as badly as they do to-day. It is a
peculiar fact that right above the spot where Darwin made
this observation, but behind him to the south, there is a great
hanging glacier, which cloud must have prevented him from
seeing.

I took the compass bearings of the principal surrounding
heights, and then setting the little camera on the cairn, I
took two views of Aconcagua, one of La Plata, and one of
the eastern peak of Tupungato and the pampas. I would
gladly have taken more, but we had now been more than an
hour on the summit, and Zurbriggen, not without cause,
became very impatient to go. It was nearly five o'clock, the
sun was getting very low over the Pacific, and in less than an
hour it would set. It was tempting Providence to remain.

During these seventy minutes on the summit I had
worked as I never worked in my life. The cairn, the record,
the bearings, the photographic views, the examination of the

1 Voyage of the Beagle, vol. iii. chap. xvii. p. 397.

2 See illustration opposite p. 218.

THE HARDSHIPS OF PIONEERS 211

dome, formed my tale of work, and yet I had not half seen
all there was to see. Why had I not time to wander at
leisure over that great summit ; select specimens from every
one of the peaks ; examine more carefully its contours, and
try to form an opinion as to the reasons of the total oblitera-
tion of the ancient crater ? This must be left to others. I
hope to hear of the ascent of Tupungato by some geologist
in the next few years. Let him start early in the season,
and, apart from the altitude, all he will have to fear is the
wind-storms. It has often been remarked in mountaineering,
since the first ascent of Mont Blanc, that the pioneers make
far too much of the hardships they endured, and the diffi-
culties of their ascents. It seems to me that those who come
after do an injustice to those who have gone before. What
one man has done, another can do, or feels confident that
he can, and this confidence is itself a great factor of success
at high altitudes. Dangers and difficulties seen and experi-
enced for the first time always seem, nay, are more terrible
than after they have been overcome and described. Mr.
Leslie Stephen said of his first ascent of the Rothhorn, "The
next traveller who makes the ascent will probably charge me
with exaggeration. It is, I know, very difficult to avoid
giving just cause for that charge. I must therefore apologise
beforehand, and only beg my anticipated critic to remember
two things : one, that on the first ascent a mountain, in
obedience to some mysterious law, always is more difficult
than at any succeeding ascent ; secondly, that nothing can be
less like a mountain at one time than the same mountain at
another. " l

Zurbriggen was right ; it would be worse than foolish to
wait a moment longer. We had no camp awaiting us at
19,000 feet as on Aconcagua, and the distance to our 17,000
foot bivouac was considerably greater than that which
separated the camp on Aconcagua from the summit. At
the high bivouac there was little food and no methylated
spirits, so we planned to reach the base camp in the valley
that night by pushing on in the moonlight, on which we could

1 The Playground of Europe > chap. iv. p. no.

212 THE HIGHEST ANDES

rely for the greater part of the descent. With much reluct-
ance I shut up the camera, and put it in my pocket. As it
was, I had given too much attention to my photographs and
too little heed to surrounding conditions. To manipulate the
camera properly gloves were out of the question, and photo-
graphing on Tupungato with 19° of frost and half a gale
blowing is dangerous work — as I was quickly reminded by
finding that two of my fingers were frost-bitten and lifeless.
I showed them to Zurbriggen, who seized them in his
powerful grasp and instantly started down, forcing me to
follow. Down the slope of the peak and across the hard
snow of the eastern slope we made our way hand in hand,
Zurbriggen crunching my lifeless fingers in the most merci-
less manner as we went. He was saving time as well as my
fingers, for I was loth to leave the spot so hurriedly, and
tried vainly to snatch a specimen or two with the other hand.
The edge of the dome, eight hundred feet from the summit,
commanded a magnificent view over the mountains and
valleys near, and I insisted on taking two more photographs,1
Zurbriggen waiting with impatience, and demanding after this
delay that we should press on with all possible speed. We
plunged down the couloir by which we had ascended, but
the ground unfortunately was very rotten, and we had not
gone many yards when the pace and the tired state we were
in began to tell, and Zurbriggen, putting his foot on a loose
piece of rock, slipped and came down on his back with great
violence. Before leaving the summit of Tupungato he had
hastily packed away the monster's head — the topmost rock —
in the inside pocket at the back of his coat. It was on this
that he fell, and the top of Tupungato, as if in revenge for
being thus carried from its home, bit him badly in the back.
A volley of oaths rang over the mountain, and Zurbriggen
lay on his back writhing. Under ordinary circumstances it
would be absurd to suppose two able-bodied men could not
descend this couloir with care in safety, but, now the excite-
ment of the summit was over, we suddenly realised how tired
and feeble we were, and the rotten state of the ground

1 See illustration opposite p. 197.

THE GATHERING DARKNESS 213

became a real danger to us, for we stepped heavily, and our
foothold on the stony surface was uncertain. Zurbriggen lay
where he had fallen for some time groaning, but I, in my
turn, preached the necessity of pressing on unless we were
to spend another uncomfortable night at the 17,000 foot
bivouac, and he pulled himself together once more. Straight
down by the slopes of snow from the dome, we at length
reached the great spur, which, with its gentle descent,
afforded much relief to our weary limbs. Night was closing
in, and we determined to push on to the bivouac by the
route with which we were best acquainted — i.e. to descend
the spur for its full length and then turn sharply down the
slope on the right to the great snowfields which lie at its
base. Owing to the gathering darkness I was unable to
collect any specimens. At six o'clock we reached the point
where the descent to the snowfields began. At last we
must bid farewell to the great horizon line of the Pacific,
into which the sun was dipping, and we stood in silence
gazing westward, our faces suffused by the light of its last
rays. It seemed impossible to tear ourselves away, but
suddenly Zurbriggen turned to me and asked where I
intended to sleep. It was quite enough — visions of comfort
in the camp below, and dreary reminiscences of the lofty
bivouac where we must stop unless we made haste, deter-
mined us to hurry on, so leaving the sunset behind us, we
turned our backs on the west and dived down the long
slope eastward.

I shall never forget the weary struggle down that steep
declivity of broken stones and crumbling rock. The light
had faded, and whether one hurried or went slowly it was
impossible to avoid falls. Our arms were too tired for us to
support ourselves by our axes, and soon we began to realise
that we should never reach the main valley and its sheltering
camp that night, even if it were possible to find the way by
moonlight. I stumbled along, trying to remember what
provisions for supper had been left at the bivouac. It was
all that we had now to look forward to. Suddenly my
attention was arrested by the magnificent spectacle of the

214 THE HIGHEST ANDES

afterglow following the sunset, as it hung in the eastern sky
over the pampas. A line of fire, as it seemed, was spread
across the heavens, slowly changing to colder tints. The
rainbow of shifting colours that hung thus in the far-distant
east in the twilight, was even more wonderful than the sunset
we had seen from Aconcagua. The effect was extraordinary,
for, the eye being unaided by any sight of foreground leading
up to it, this fiery streak seemed assuredly some startling
meteoric phenomenon. All objects at a great distance seen
from a high mountain have, to the inexperienced eye,
especially at first sight, the appearance of being lifted up too
high. The observer looks down for the horizon, — and lo ! it
is high above. The higher one goes the greater is the
illusion. This lasts only for a time, for the eye is led by
the ground beneath, the slope of the mountain, the ranges and
valleys between, up to the distant blue line, and the horizon
humbles itself and resumes its proper place. Now here
there was nothing to lead the eye or to teach it that this band
of fire across the dark arc of heaven had any connection with
the earth. I shall never forget its grandeur. The colours
turned pale and faded out, night came on, but the moon
shone brightly in the sky, and bathed the wide expanse of
stony peaks and aiguilles beneath us in its sombre light.

At eight o'clock we heard a voice calling from below, a
distant shout and then another. We soon recognised it as
the voice of Lanti, and he came up to meet us and reported
that he and Lochmatter had been at the bivouac since mid-
day, and that Pollinger had arrived about three in the after-
noon, seeming fairly well and strong. It seems that after we
left him he had taken the descent very easily, and each step
downwards had relieved his pains and given him fresh life, so
that after two hours' rest and some food he had descended
with Lochmatter to the valley camp. As soon as 'we reached
the bivouac, Lanti tried to get us some supper, but nothing
would induce the self-cooking tin lamps to work or the
methylated spirits to burn, and we went supperless to bed.
Thus ended one of the most eventful days of our work in the
Andes, and of my life.

AT THE BASE CAMP 215

Next morning, as soon as the sun appeared above the
Plata range, we were moving about and warming our aching
limbs. We had been too tired to sleep much, although, after
so many hours spent above 19,000 feet, we no longer suffered
from the altitude at 17,000 feet. It was a glorious day, and
we did not leave the scene of so many hardships until ten.
The descent to the base camp was long and wearisome ; it
was one o'clock before we stumbled in at last, feeling quite
exhausted. The sun was hot, and even Paramillo was too
much overcome by heat and sleep to come out and meet us
with his usual boisterous greeting, which at last we really
deserved. A substantial meal was prepared ; we drank the
one flask of wine that had been left, and made merry, resting
in the sun until evening, Joseph Pollinger was sent out to
the high camp once more to bring in the rucksacks, rope,
ponchos, etc., that we had been obliged to leave behind us on
the great spur. In the morning we had seen these articles
marking our course of yesterday, and I wished if possible to
recover them. I knew FitzGerald wanted me to return to
Inca and join him in the high valleys at the base of Acon-
cagua, as soon as the ascent of Tupungato had been made.
I therefore discussed with Fortunato the possibility of making
the journey to Vacas on the morrow. His opinion was that
two horsemen unhampered by a baggage train might accom-
plish the journey, if the animals gave no trouble over the
difficult passes, and did not lose their shoes or go lame on the
rough ground. It would be necessary, however, to start
before daybreak and ride till after sunset. I anticipated no
trouble with the horses, which had so far proved themselves
equal to anything, so I resolved to make the journey next
day, cost what it would. That night we caught the best of
the horses and hobbled them in readiness near the camp, and
I gave orders that, as soon as the porters had brought down
the tent on Tupungato, the caravan should follow us with all
speed to Vacas. We turned in at an early hour, and the
camp was soon wrapped in profound sleep.

At 3.30 next morning Fortunato aroused us. It was pitch
dark, and the cold was intense, but we soon had a blazing

216 THE HIGHEST ANDES

fire of yareta. I was determined to start with the very first
light of day. We were taking no tents or sleeping-bags, and
did not relish the idea of being caught by night at this season
of the year, even at the comparatively low altitude we should
reach by that time. We crouched round the crackling fire,
impatiently waiting for the light, with our horses standing by
ready saddled; but at 5.30, although it was not yet dawn,
we could delay no longer, and started in the dark, giving our
horses their heads, and letting them find the way for us. As
the first streak of sunrise struck the white top of Tupungato
far above us, I looked up at the old giant. All that had
passed might have been a terrible dream. I could scarcely
realise that after all those weeks the ascent was over at last,
and the topmost rock of Tupungato safe in my rucksack en
route for examination in London. Now the winter snows
might descend, tempests might rage, thermometers fall their
lowest — we were no longer the slaves of the weather. Feel-
ings of regret crowded in with those of elation and content-
ment. During our hard and long struggle I had become
familiar with the magnificent panorama seen from our bivouac
on the spur, and had learned to appreciate it the more each
time I beheld it. Of the view from the summit I had seen
enough to make me long to gaze upon it for hours, instead of
minutes.

The angle of my horse's back, as he descended into a deep
quebrada, called my attention to the route along which we
were feeling our way. Three ponchos over thick clothing
afforded little protection from the biting wind which came up
the valley, and we both suffered intensely from the cold. It
was very tantalising to watch the warm sunlight high above
us on the sides of the valley, and we looked eagerly ahead
for the spot where we should come under the influence of its
rays as the shadow-line slowly descended. We turned corner
after corner, only to dive again for another half-hour into
some icy passage between high walls of rock. Not till three
hours and a half had elapsed did we come into the sunlight,
which brought us intense relief and enjoyment for at least an
hour. But we had soon had enough of it, for by ten o'clock

IN THE TUPUNGATO VALLEY

THE RIDE TO VACAS 217

the heat was overpowering. We reached the main valley at
noon, and an hour later dismounted to water our horses. We
had ridden nearly eight hours without drawing rein. As we
lay resting in the sun, a magnificent spectacle was before our
eyes. The great white peak of Pollera towered into the
clear air high above us, and it was hard to believe that this
was indeed the same summit which only a few days ago we
had seen beneath our feet, when looking down upon it from
the crest of Tupungato, some 12,000 feet nearer the sky.
Verily, man is never satisfied. The same thought was in
both our minds — regret that we could not add Pollera to our
list of triumphs. Zurbriggen thought the peak would afford
by far the most difficult climb of any mountain he had seen
in the Andes, that it would take a week of very hard work,
even if we were fortunate in hitting on the best route, for a
camp would have to be formed if possible a few thousand
feet up its slopes. We fell to discussing the routes up the
different sides of the mountain, until the time for rest expired
and we had to saddle our horses and resume our way. It
was half-past six when we reached the junction of the Rio
Tupungato with the Rio Mendoza, and crossed the ford to
the great pass road. Our game little animals then broke into
a gallop, and they kept it up steadily all the way to Vacas,
where we arrived at seven o'clock. We had been nearly
fourteen hours in the saddle, and had covered upwards of
fifty miles. Rocks, boulders, and dried-up torrents formed
our way, and we had traversed difficult and precipitous passes.
Outside the huts at Vacas was the usual crowd of peons,
shepherds, and cattle drovers with their dogs and their huge
clanking spurs — all gazing, as was their wont, at the distant
Tupungato, its white slopes still lit up by the afterglow.
This evening, we soon learned, the mountain had a special
and piquant interest for them. The mountain drover is a
born gambler. Often when two caravans have met on one
of the passes across the Andes, their leaders have fraternised,
and spent the night with cards, until the loser has gambled
away all his ready cash, then his poncho, his big spurs inlaid
with silver, his clothing, and last of all his packs and mules.

218 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Thus in the morning the two caravans have become one, and
go off in the train of the winner, while the loser, sad and
denuded, departs alone. Our attempt on Tupungato was a
welcome sensation to those eager spirits. The odds had
been heavily laid against our success, and there was betting
even against our return ; our sudden reappearance at Vacas
caused, therefore, some excitement, and a good deal of money
promptly changed hands. Fiorini insisted on uncorking
some special champagne for us, and as we were very thirsty,
we drank. Our lucky star was still in the ascendant, for we
were alive next morning.

Fiorini having sent an arriero early next day to FitzGerald
with the news of our ascent, we rested that day at Vacas, and
anxiously awaited the arrival of the caravan, men, and baggage
left behind. It came late in the evening. Joseph Pollinger
had spent a night at the 17,000 foot bivouac, and had
succeeded in picking up all that had been left, up to 19,000
feet. The volcano, he said, he had seen in great activity,
vast volumes of smoke rolling up towards the western slopes
of Tupungato.

Next morning we were annoyed to find that the arriero
had returned without going farther than Inca, so that
FitzGerald was still without news of us. I resolved at once
to push on myself, leaving Zurbriggen behind at Vacas, and
bring the report of our success that day. I had left FitzGerald
at Inca on the ist of April, and it was now the i6th. It
was arranged that should he hear nothing from us in two
weeks' time, he should send down to inquire, but I knew he
could ill afford to do this, as he needed all the men available
to carry the heavy instruments he was using in the high
valleys. In an hour and a half I reached Inca, where I hired
a fresh horse from a troop that was being driven over to
Chile. I was to pay a dollar if I brought it back the same
night, and two dollars if I kept it until the next day. Not a
ruinous price, I thought, until I had ridden on a few miles,
and found that neither whip nor spur would get more than a
sluggish jog out of the animal. I had got far enough to
sight the lake in the Horcones Valley, when I spied two

MEETING WITH FITZGERALD 219

horsemen coming towards me. Their costumes were not
those of arrieros, or of our own porters. They had the
appearance of travellers crossing the Andes, who had turned
up the Horcones Valley by mistake, and they seemed to be
looking for something. As soon as they saw me they came
in my direction at full gallop, and drew up in front of me.
Their town clothes were covered with mud and dust, and
they were the most weary-looking men I had seen since our
recent struggles on Tupungato. They seemed also to have
great difficulty in settling certain differences of opinion
between themselves and their mules. With much gesticula-
tion they addressed me at a great pace in Spanish, and I was
just preparing to explain to them their mistake, and direct
them the best way to reach the main valley once more, when
I caught the word " Tupungato." What had those men to
do with Tupungato ? Suddenly it dawned upon me that they
had penetrated up this valley to interview me. I addressed
them in French, and sure enough, one of them explained
that they were correspondents of La Union of Santiago,
specially commissioned to seek me out and get the first
account of my ascent ; that they were staying at Inca, and,
having heard that I was up the Horcones Valley, had come
to look for me. They had endured great sufferings, they
said, and were glad it was now possible to return to civilisa-
tion. Then they began to put a series of questions to me.
But as I considered FitzGerald had the right to the first
news, I pointed out that it was very late in the day, and that
they had better return to Inca at once, as it was extremely
risky to be caught in this valley by night.

Later I saw four horsemen coming towards me, and soon
made out FitzGerald, Lightbody, Gosse, and Mr. Ball of
Valparaiso, who had heard the news of the ascent of
Tupungato and had ridden up to tell FitzGerald. They
were coming down to Inca for Easter. We were all very
ready for a rest, and as we were in great spirits we celebrated
the occasion by a stampede at full gallop all the way to Inca
in the brilliant moonlight.

CHAPTER XX
THE LAST OF ACONCAGUA

AFTER Vines had joined us we continued with the
survey traverse and levelling of the Horcones Valley.
The whole of our party, consisting of Lightbody, Vines, Gosse,
and myself, together with our porters and arrieros, were now
collected together in one great camp in the open plain of the
valley, just below our old tent under the forked peak.
From here we had a splendid view of the topmost peak of
Aconcagua lying due south from us. We had measured
the height from many stations, but as a method of checking
our work, and of making doubly sure that we had made no
mistakes, we very carefully measured a base-line on this level
plain, and made a fresh and independent triangulation of the
mountain. This occupied us for many days, as our base-line
from here was, owing to the formation of the country,
necessarily a small one. We therefore took very elaborate
pains to get our measurements absolutely correct. The
altitude angles were measured with three theodolites, and
checked with the sextant, these altitudes being repeated
again and again at various times in the day, so as to minimise
any errors that might possibly creep in owing to refraction.
The angles and altitudes, when worked out, corresponded
exactly with our previous heights, so we were at length
satisfied that the measurements were as correct as it lay
within our power to make them. We then turned our
attention to continuing our traverse to the head of the
Horcones Valley. Meanwhile Lightbody made a series of
plane-table sketches from all our trigonometrical points,
which we plotted out, to get the detail of this valley as
perfect as possible.

220

TRIANGULATION 221

On 24th April, at an early hour in the morning, Vines and
I started up to the head of the valley for the last time, in
order to reach our 14,000 foot camp, and finish our work.

The days were getting much shorter now, and everything
gave us the impression of approaching winter — dull, leaden
skies, and bitterly cold nights. We had set ourselves the
task of finishing our triangulation at the head of the Horcones
Glacier. As we rode up the valley we found the streams a
mass of hard ice, and the rocks all glazed and slippery with
icicles. I had sent on a couple of men with our instruments
before sunrise, to avoid delay, and by about 1 1 a.m. we
reached our old camp. The ground here was covered with
snow, and a cold biting wind from the north-west made our
work very trying. We at once set ourselves to carry out the
measurements we required on the glacier, and continued thus
employed until 4 p.m. ; then, as it was getting late, we decided
to make the last trigonometrical station at the head of the
valley on a great pile of loose stones that lay on the glacier.
The sun was now setting, and the Catedral had already cast
its long shadow across us. During the last of our observa-
tions at this point we got our finger-tips severely touched by
frost, for the screws upon our instruments were so cold that
our skin peeled off as we touched them. It was impossible,
we found, to adjust them properly with our gloves on. At
about 5 p.m. I turned homewards, and it was with a feeling
of great reluctance that I looked for the last time at this vast
amphitheatre of ice and snow that had been the scene of so
much of our labour. Many a day had I gazed out on it from
our high camp with a feeling of utter hopelessness and bitter
disappointment. Then all the forces of nature seemed to
have combined to hold me back in my work ; even the
elements themselves threatened at times to overwhelm our
little camp, while many a weary day was wasted in waiting
to see if it were not possible to overcome the fearful nausea
that disabled me. Many a time had I crossed this glacier on
my way to our upper camp, full of health, vigour, hope, and
ambition ; then, alas, how many times had I passed down,
walking in the same tracks, disheartened, dejected, weary,

222 THE HIGHEST ANDES

hopeless — my work still undone, while I was mentally and
physically broken by cold and suffering, and failure stared
me in the face — to return once more to an attack that at the
time seemed well-nigh in vain. Just as we were leaving,
the sun set, lighting up the scene with a fiery glow. I turned
once more to look on this great glacier surrounded with
snowy peaks, before taking leave of it for ever. Though we
were now in the shade of evening, the sun having disappeared
behind the neighbouring hills, the great battlements of
Aconcagua still rose up on our right, bathed in sunlight, the
shadows gradually creeping up its sides, till at last darkness
like a cloak enveloped the peak, and only the summit
remained tinged with red. Recollecting the lateness of the
hour, and the long rough track that lay before us, we hurried
towards the spot where we had left our horses, and mounting,
we pressed on as fast as the dangerous way allowed. It was
soon night and the stars gradually came out. Suddenly,
before we had gone more than a mile, the light seemed to
come back, as if the sun were rising again, and once more
the great crags of Aconcagua rose above us, bathed in a
ruddy brightness which seemed to invest them with even
more than their wonted mystery and grandeur. This strange
afterglow was caused, no doubt, by the reflection of the sun's
rays, now invisible to us, from the surface of the Pacific
Ocean to the clouds. It lasted but a few moments, and
disappeared as suddenly as it came, leaving us in utter dark-
ness, our eyes still dazzled by its radiance. The night was
cold, and we pressed onward, reckless of consequences, trust-
ing to the instinct and intelligence of our horses to find the
way safely through the defiles. It was nearly midnight when
we reached our camp.

The next morning, our work at the head of the valley
being completed, and the mountain being measured, it only
remained for us to make the exploration of the south face.
Vines aad I rode up the eastern branch of the Horcones
Valley, to make a general reconnaissance, and to see how we
could best place our trigonometrical stations. This was the
first time we had penetrated into this valley, and we were

A HURRICANE 223

much struck by the magnificence of the scenery there. The
approach to the great dizzy precipice of Aconcagua, some
10,000 feet in height, was an experience never to be for-
gotten. We were unable to get very far that day ; in
fact our intention, as I have said before, was only to get a
general idea of how to approach the valley. A great glacier
flows down, filling the whole of it, but this glacier is
covered with masses of stone and moraine, and we were able
to ride our horses over it. There are few places that an
Andine pony will not climb to. At some points we had to
dismount and lead our animals, as the coating of snow and
sand over the ice was so thin that the horses' feet broke
through, and they slipped about desperately. We had
several narrow shaves, but fortunately no serious fall, and we
returned late that evening and rejoined Lightbody, full of
enthusiasm at the remarkable views and scenes that had
greeted us.

Early next morning we carried our theodolite up and
commenced the survey. We pushed along with it until about
two o'clock in the afternoon, when we had reached a path half-
way up the valley, and at such a height that we could see
right on towards the end of it. The wind had been terrific
that day, and we had had great trouble in steadying our
instrument sufficiently to take accurate observations. We
left the theodolite built round with a pier of stones, intending
to return next day and take a few more heights of the
surrounding country. Our next business was to secure some
photographs of this marvellous scene. Vines and two men
put up the camera at the top of a small moraine heap, holding
the legs tightly against the blasts of wind. When we were all
ready to take the photograph, and I was about to take the
cap off, a fearsome hurricane of wind swept down the valley.
It blew Vines and the men off their feet, and we all of us
went rolling over and over, the camera getting considerably
battered up. I mention this scene particularly to give the
reader some idea of the force of the wind in these valleys.
When three men steadying themselves as firmly as possible
are unable to hold up a light camera weighing about ten

224 THE HIGHEST ANDES

pounds, it is easy to imagine that photography and survey-
ing under these circumstances present a difficult problem.
Later on we made another attempt to take a photograph, and
this time we were more successful, as we built a stone pier on
which to steady the instrument. This done, we sent the men
back to camp, while Vines and I determined to ride on to the
head of the valley. We worked our way over to the east
side, and soon got into a small, narrow, flat plateau that lay
between the mountain slopes and the glaciers, covered with
smooth, hard sand. On this we were able to gallop along at
a good pace, and we soon approached the base of the great
rocky foundation of Aconcagua. The illustrations of this
valley were not taken by us at that time, as unfortunately the
photographs we took that day proved a failure. Lightbody,
in the following spring, penetrated again into this inhospitable
region, and took the illustrations which appear in this
chapter.

This precipice, over two miles high, comes down at an
extremely abrupt angle, the great overhanging glaciers which
cover the face of the mountain splitting and turning in
fantastic shapes, by reason of the excessive declivity of the
slopes on which they lie. The valley forms a small amphi-
theatre at this spot, which is quite hidden from view from any
point in the Horcones Valley. The whole scene that lay
before us was new. Vines, of course, had seen it from the
summit, but then a view from the base, looking up the great
precipices, is as a rule even more impressive and imposing
than the same seen from above. It is then that one
realises most completely the colossal proportions of these
immense crags and precipices. The day was getting late,
and already the long shadows slanting across the valley
warned us of the setting sun. So thrilled and entranced
were we at the prospect that lay before us, however, that we
were unable to wrench ourselves away, and we stood there,
watching the sun slowly sinking, the lights receding, and
the dark shadows slowly enveloping this great basin. A
slight mist arose from the ice and floated about, its biting
cold breath occasionally sweeping across us and chilling us to

GREAT PRECIPICE ON ACONCAGUA

A WONDERFUL SUNSET 225

the bone. It was then that we remembered, for the first
time, how far we were from camp, and the thought compelled
us reluctantly to turn our steps homeward. It was entirely
through the sagacity of our clever ponies that we covered the
first few miles safely, for I am sure that neither Vines nor
myself paid any heed to the route we were taking. We were
both of us twisted round in our saddles, eager to get the last
glimpse of this stupendous amphitheatre that had been so
long hidden from the gaze of man. We wondered if the
Incas had ever penetrated into these recesses, and if so,
what their feelings had been on first gazing upon this unique
sight. Had they taken it as a matter of course, and let it
pass unnoticed by them, or had they also been awed by the
majesty and the overwhelming mass of the mountains ? Had
they been reduced, as we were, to speaking almost in
whispers lest they should break the sacred stillness of these
mysterious precincts ? As the sun set we again saw that
marvellous afterglow we had seen two nights before, but this
time we looked from the other side of the mountain, and the
effect was still more striking and magnificent, for it tinged the
great white glaciers on the face of Aconcagua with wonderful
pink and purple hues. The whole mountain shone out, and
seemed to raise its head miles and miles higher than before :
it seemed gradually to tower almost out of sight. Then some
clouds blew up towards the peak, and it disappeared, hidden
by the black night that was upon us — its evening cloak of
clouds.

We now had to give serious attention to the problem of
getting home. The way across the glacier was steep and
slippery, and several times we lost our way. When finally
we arrived in camp it was about ten o'clock at night, and
Lightbody and the men were already organising a search
party to go out and look for us. We arranged to go back
next morning to this same valley as early as possible, to take
more photographs, and finish the detailed survey. We woke
up on the following day, however, only to find the ground
covered with white snow, and a dull, leaden sky above. As
I feared this might possibly mean a break-up of the weather,
15

226 THE HIGHEST ANDES

and the advent of the true winter snow, I thought it advisable
to strike our tent and push down. We accordingly did so at
once, loading up our tents and equipment upon all the animals
then with us. When we reached that part of the valley just
above the Paso Malo, and the ford in which Zurbriggen had
been so nearly drowned, we decided to pitch a small camp,
leaving most of our things, as from here we could equally well
explore the east head of the valley ; and besides, we were
much lower and nearer to the Inca, in case of heavy snows.
The passage of the Paso Malo was very difficult on this side.
The path we had built up upon the face of the sheer smooth
stone had to a great extent been worn away by the repeated
passage of mules up and down the valley, coming to and from
our camps. Some time before, I had given strict orders that
nobody should ride across this pass, and that no valuable
luggage should be taken on the mules, but carried across by
hand. I had always lived in dread that somebody would lose
his life on this most dangerous place, for if once anyone fell
or slipped down some six or seven feet there would be no
hope of recovering him ; he would roll down the whole way,
and be for ever lost in the river. On this occasion we un-
loaded all our mules, and carried the luggage carefully across.
We then drove the animals down slowly one by one, and
watched them as they traversed this perilous spot. Vines,
who had come down in front, had mended it to the best of his
ability, but it was impossible to do very much, as there was
really no place to build up from, — always upon the slope of
the smooth and slippery rock. Nothing is more painful than
to stand and watch animals crossing a dangerous gulf like
this, and to be unable to give them any assistance. They
had to be driven straight at it, and allowed to take their time,
and we had to trust to their marvellous instinct and intelligence
to guide them safely over. The horses all passed safely, for
these intelligent animals pause before the dangerous points,
and look at them carefully, even stooping down and sniffing
at the ground, as if to determine its solidity by that means.
The mules, however, came out badly. They would not pay
any attention, and came shuffling across the worst places

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Ma1-

^Wr^-TK-iftJt •--.••-"• ,'.-.. $L

A MULE IN PERIL 227

with the same confidence and negligence they would have
shown had they been walking down the high road. Three
of them slipped and fell at the worst places, only just managing
to recover themselves in time. One we felt quite sure was
lost, but he managed in some miraculous way to slide along
and recover himself, and crawl back to the path again, looking
merely tired and bored the while.

When we reached Inca, the weather slightly mended. I
determined to send Vines over to Chile, to see if he could
possibly reach the volcano he had seen smoking from the top
of Tupungato. He knew that it could be got at by ascending
one of the valleys which start from near Santiago. The
question was, however, which valley ? The survey of these
valleys is exceedingly rough, and they are by no means
clearly marked, the positions of the high peaks being
naturally the first points that a mountain survey starts from.
I have no doubt that the Commission de Limites will bring
out a much more correct and detailed map of the country, as
they have been through most of these valleys by now. I
sent Zurbriggen with Vines in case he should have any
climbing to do, while I decided to remain with Lightbody,
and to see what more could be done in the Horcones Valley.
I told Vines to take Josd, and as many mules and horses as
he wanted for his luggage, and he was to send Josd back as
soon as he reached the railway at Salto del Soldado.

In the following chapter Vines will tell the story of this
journey.

CHAPTER XXI

BY STUART VINES
A LOST VOLCANO

THE volcano seen by myself and Zurbriggen from the
great spur during the ascent of Tupungato was re-
garded by FitzGerald as an important discovery of volcanic
activity in the vicinity of the city of Santiago, and he therefore
desired that Zurbriggen and I should cross over to Chile,
make our way to Santiago, and there get information about
the valleys to the east, and make transport arrangements.
We started from Inca at 2 p.m. on Sunday, 2nd May, crossed
the Cumbre and reached Portillo at seven o'clock the same
night, where our friend Louis gave us a hearty welcome. The
next morning we reached the Transandine Station of the West
Coast Cable Co., at Rio Blanco. Here Mr. Tuffield, Manager
of the "West Coast," has a charming little bungalow by the
roadside, at the junction of the Rio Blanco and Rio Aconcagua.
The valley of the Rio Blanco, with its luxuriant vegetation,
is particularly beautiful to anyone descending from the arid
wastes above. About three miles down the valley is the
terminus of the narrow-gauge railway that is intended some
day to join hands with the line from Mendoza to Vacas. On
this day there was no train. We therefore called on Mr.
Tuffield to ask him to telephone down for an engine and
trolly to come up and take us to Santa Rosa de los Andes.
He was away, but his wife immediately telephoned to him, and
all arrangements were made. This was not the first time
nor the last that we had reason to be grateful to Mr. Tuffield
for his great kindness and hospitality to us. Between Juncal
and Santa Rosa there is not a single place of any kind where

228

RIO BLANCO 229

travellers over the Andes can obtain food or shelter, and
people of all stations in life, from the Ministers of foreign
countries down to the Irishman who has slipped away from
some ocean tramp and escaped to the hills, have one reason
and another for calling at Tuffield's house. Some receive
valuable information, and some food. No one is turned
away from that hospitable door. The first words that came over
the telephone in answer to my inquiries were, "My wife will
ask you to lunch," but they were needless : Mrs. Tuffield had
already done so. My reply was, " I lunch only on the
condition that you dine with me to-night in Santa Rosa, and
that you order the dinner." Tuffield accepted my conditions,
and I accepted his wife's hospitality at Rio Blanco. I had no
sooner sat down than my hostess asked me whether I had
heard about the duel. I had not. What duel ? And then
her daughter took up the conversation and told me the story.
As far as I remember it was as follows : — General A., a
retired officer of the Chilian army, a deputy and a duellist
of great fame, though a man of considerable age, had a
quarrel with Major B., an officer who had distinguished
himself in the Civil War of 1890, owing to some aspersion
cast by General A. on the officers of the National Guard.
General A. set his heart on fighting, evaded the laws, shut
himself up in his estancia in the country and practised
shooting. He would speak to no one, and for days the
only words he was heard to utter were — " I will shoot him
dead ; I will kill him ! "

A duel was arranged, but could not take place in Chile, so
again evading the police, the principals made their way by
road to Santa Rosa and on to Salto del Soldado with the
intention of fighting on Argentine soil. " Oh, yes," said Miss
Tuffield, "it was very exciting. It was in the middle of the
night, two nights ago. Two carriages drew up at the door,
and we had never seen real carriages up here before. The
people wanted food and drink ; they said they were famished.
They were going over to Argentina. What for ? Oh, never
mind — important political business. We couldn't understand.
We gave them food. One party came in, and the other re-

230 THE HIGHEST ANDES

mained outside. They wouldn't speak to one another ; and
then mother said, ' I believe it's a duel,' and told Enrico, he's
our mozo you know, to saddle Santano, our swiftest horse,
and follow them. They had disturbed the whole house, and
everybody was up, but in ten minutes they were off again
in the dark, Enrico after them.

"And at the door next morning — ten coaches! All the
people from Chile ! And everybody talked at once. Soldiers
banged at the door, woke us up again, and asked if anyone
had passed in the night. Suddenly everybody was silent.
Somebody was galloping down the road from Juncal. Yes,
it was Enrico, swaying from side to side in the saddle,
swinging his spurs, and shouting, ' Un medico / un medico / por
Famor de Dios un medico / ' Oh ! he looked terrible. He could
hardly see out of his eyes for dust, and when he got to the
gate they helped him out of the saddle and Santano fell down
as if he were dead. Poor Santano! He has not eaten
anything since, and drinks, drinks, drinks — I'm afraid he'll
die ! Enrico ! Just think ! From the Cumbre in two hours !
The duel was fought at six ; he was here at eight, and it takes
passengers seven hours at least from the Cumbre to Rio
Blanco." "What news did Enrico bring of the duel? — did
he see it ? " " Oh no, they were clever : it was very early in
the morning. No sooner were they on the other side at the
top of the pass in Argentina than they got behind some rocks
and fought quite quietly. Everybody says the General reserved
his fire and wouldn't shoot. Then Major B. raised his arm
and shot into the air. And then the General shot straight at
him, hit him in the head and he fell down as if dead. They
found Enrico coming up the pass after them and shouted,
' Get a doctor for heaven's sake.' He knew nothing, only
that Major B. was dying and General A. was unhurt.'

" More people came from Chile, more newspapermen, and
a doctor, but we sent for another. And then hours — hours
after, the two coaches came galloping down from Juncal, they
stopped at the door, and the doctors rushed out, and that
bad General came in. He was quite mad : he walked up and
down the room and said, ' I knew I'd kill him, kill him, kill

A DUEL ON THE FRONTIER 231

him,' and rushed from one reporter to another, and told them
what they were to say and what they were not to say, and then
we heard the whole story. Everybody was very excited, and
they all came in, and were very hungry and very thirsty, and
they thought it was a restaurant, and wanted to pay mother
for what they had. The doctors said Major B. could only
live a few hours ; he was shot in the head, and the bullet had
gone right round his skull under the skin. They would not
let him get out of the cab and come in : we wanted to take
care of him. They took him in that jolting cab twenty miles
to Santa Rosa. Oh, he's terribly bad ! "

Such was the interesting account given me by Mr. Tuffield's
daughter of this extraordinary duel. I am here glad to be
able to add that I saw Major B. some months later, thoroughly
recovered from his extraordinary and desperate wound, at a
review of cadets at the Escuela Militar in Santiago.

But the telephone rang us up, and Tuffield's cheery voice
shouted, " Your engine was sent up half an hour ago." So we
got on to our horses and galloped down to Sal to del Soldado.
It was a most amusing and interesting ride, down the thirty
miles of railway to Santa Rosa on the little engine, with two
seats behind like the back seats in a gig. The stationmaster
at Salto told us we had too much luggage to take down on
the steam trolly. He was quite right — we had. Tents and
mule panniers were scattered all over it. Some were hung on
at the side, some were in the coal-box ; in fact the driver and
stoker could hardly move, and Zurbriggen and I had to hang
on anyhow. Our drivers were Englishmen, and they took us
down the steep inclines and round the sharp corners in true
sporting style. Every now and then a donkey or calf would
stand across the line, and only just move away in time as the
brake was clapped on with full force.

Arrieros seem to use the line as a highway for their cattle,
and horsemen in wide sombreros and short, coloured ponchos
would come dashing down the line towards us — their horses
swerving cleverly to one side not a second too soon, as we
dashed past with a wild whistle. And so shouting and
whistling and applying the brake, we arrived at los Andes

232 THE HIGHEST ANDES

without any more serious mishap than having run over a
couple of barn-door hens. Tuffield met us at the station, —
this was my first return to civilisation for several months, —
and we spent a jolly evening. And then it began to rain,
while snow fell in the mountains, and we were prisoners at
the Hotel Commercio for several days. Santa Rosa is an
extremely picturesque place in dry weather, but commend
me to any other spot when it is wet. The water comes
through the roofs, and the streets are knee-deep in mud.
At last on the 6th I started to Santiago, and here we
continued to wait for the weather to clear up. After
interviewing numerous people, military and civil, I came to
the conclusion that our best course of action was to go down
to a country town called San Jose de Maipu, some thirty-five
miles south of Santiago.

On Sunday morning, Qth May, I started down by a small
private railway which ran south to a place called Puente Alto.
It was a clear, bright morning after the rain — I have seldom
seen the atmosphere appear so thin and clear. The fresh snow
that had fallen on the heights overhanging Santiago made
the scene one of dazzling brilliancy. The magnificent range
of the Cerro del Plomo with its glaciers and precipitous crags,
thirty-five miles to the north-east of the town, was particularly
striking. John Hicks, an English mechanic, accompanied me
as interpreter. He had lived for years in this neighbourhood,
and yet he showed a remarkable ignorance of the mountains
which he beheld with his eyes every day of his life. We
went to an inn kept by an extraordinary gentleman by the
name of Gussmann, perfectly Spanish in his origin in spite of
his name. I inquired of everyone about the large mountain
to the south-east, and nobody knew its name : one man called
it the Cerro del Colorado. I took bearings, and felt certain
that it was Tupungato. I was astonished to find I could not
obtain a horse — in this country where everybody is on horse-
back. They promised me horses, but when it came to the
point, I found there were none. Every man in the place was
drunk, and why ? It was Sunday, and it was the season of
the year when chicha was being drunk. I have heard some

A SAINT'S DAY IN CHILE 233

people describe chicha as a species of champagne. They
could not have had the same sort that I drank — a muddy
yellow-looking liquid, in appearance like orange juice, in taste
somewhat like cider, though made from the juice of the
grape : and, as far as I could see from the results around me,
extremely intoxicating. To one who had not spent Sunday
in a town in the plains of Chile, the scene around was of an
extraordinary nature. In order to reach Gussmann's tavern
from the railway station, we had to make our way from one
end of the village to the other. Crowds of picturesque wild-
looking fellows, with enormous jingling spurs were lolling
round the bodegas, from which proceeded loud shouts of
merriment. Soon we came upon more exciting scenes. A
crowd was standing at a safe distance watching three horse-
men, who, though evidently in the last stage of intoxication,
were still able to keep in the saddle. The game seemed to be
for the horsemen to ride at anybody on foot, and if this person
ran for protection into the houses, to gallop full-tilt after him.
The hunted pedestrians seemed to enter into the spirit of this
rough horse-play with as much zest as their pursuers. A
horseman would dash towards a narrow doorway of some
house, duck his head and disappear. There would be a
crash, and the sound of a general break-up inside, and the
man would appear again generally backing his horse out,
where the room was too small to turn. It was interesting to
watch their perfect control over their horses in spite of their
condition. The spur seemed to play an important part in the
guiding of the animal, and these picturesque-looking ruffians
swayed about from side to side in the saddle, but they
never fell. Hicks turned to me and said, " I am afraid,
sir, they have been having a little more than usual to-day."
Then he made some excuses about it being some particular
saint's day; but he added, "For God's sake, humour them
whatever they do." And I soon found that he had to practise
what he preached. He seemed to have many acquaintances
amongst the crowd, and was forced to submit himself to many
endearing embraces before we reached Gussmann's. Except
that I had to shake hands with three or four of the more

234 THE HIGHEST ANDES

pressing of these revellers, I was in no way molested.
Gussmann was also in a lively state of intoxication. I came to
the conclusion that as nobody was fit to attend to business,
it was better to return to Santiago. There was no train back
for some time, but the stationmaster and his wife, who were
both decidedly tipsy, offered chicha and sundry amusements
to while away the time.

Mr. Kennedy, the British Minister, took me that day to
see the Minister of Foreign Affairs, in Santiago, Senor Morla
Vicuna, and I had a very interesting chat about the great
boundary question between Argentina and Chile. He
showed me a map of the south, and, pointing to a large space
on it, covering three degrees of latitude, where there was
neither mark nor name, he said, " When Mr. FitzGerald has
finished with Aconcagua, tell him to go down south and
explore this piece here, and we will call it Tierra del
FitzGeraldo.

I learnt that it was no good going down to Puente Alto
on Monday, as the inhabitants would require that day to get
over their Sunday's revellings; so that it was not till Tuesday,
the nth, that I started again, got a coach with four horses
abreast, and arrived at two in the afternoon at San Jos6 de
Maipu. There we found a very decent inn kept by a French-
man. He had been there many years, and I understood
" knew all about the mountains." I mentioned Tupungato,
and he said, 4< Oh, yes! Tupungato. My son knows it quite
well. He has ascended it many times with ladies from my
hotel." After that I sought no more information from our
host. The next day we started at daybreak on horseback to
find out the lie of the country, and determine on the best
route to take. We had not been riding two hours when
Zurbriggen complained of feeling ill, and we were forced to
return. He was suffering from an attack of dysentery, and I
had to send for the doctor. On the i3th I remained with
him, hoping that he would be able to start the next day. But
he was no better ; so on the i4th, taking two arrieros and a
couple of mules, I started alone for the Yeso Valley, which
leads to the Portillo Pass. It was an extremely picturesque

THE YESO VALLEY 235

ride along this road southwards ; the inhabitants, amongst
whom were a great many half-castes living in huts made
solely out of the branches of trees. These dwellings seemed
to me suitable enough for summer, and though I noticed that
their owners were busily engaged in patching them with
green branches for the approaching winter, they promised to
afford but a very poor protection against the snow which
often falls in this valley. We made our way as far as possible
up the Yeso Valley, and camped at an altitude of some 6000
feet. I had much trouble with my two men to make them
move quickly. It was a warm night, so I did not put up the
tent, and we made ourselves comfortable round a fire. At
least, it would have been comfortable but for the fact that in
the middle of the night I must have moved in my sleep too
close to the burning embers. I found them getting extremely
warm, and then I was nearly suffocated. I woke up to find
the lower end of my eider-down sleeping-bag one mass of
charred feathers.

Early the next morning I determined to start up the
mountain side to some height above, to see if I could
recognise any of the views of the country that I had seen
from the top of Tupungato. I hoped to get bearings of
that mountain, and perhaps even see something of the
volcano, which I was fully convinced must now be within
ten or fifteen miles north of the Yeso Valley. I set
apart sufficient food, some instruments and ponchos, and a
complete change of clothing, saying that I would return to
the camping - ground at midday. I arranged that one
arriero, Rodriguez, should take the pack-mules, and go on
in advance ten miles up the Yeso Valley to the foot of the
Portillo Pass, to a spot well known to me and to the other
arriero, Tomas. Tomas was to accompany me fifteen hundred
feet up the mountain side, and then return and wait for me
at the camping-ground. All seemed nicely arranged, and
I started at 6 a.m. on horseback up the lower slopes.
The snowline after the recent bad weather was extremely
low, coming down to within two thousand feet of our
camp ; so, repeating my instructions, I sent Tomas back,

236 THE HIGHEST ANDES

and proceeded on foot. For five hours I tramped through
the heavy snow, often above my knees, and in places
badly drifted, but could gain no satisfactory view of the
country. It was heavy dull weather, and I could see no
distant peaks. So I aimed for some high tableland, going
many times out of my way to traverse wind-swept patches
where the snow was less deep. The weather showed no
signs of clearing, and after an uncomfortable scramble up a
couloir filled with snow and rotten rocks, I reached a peak
which seemed to be the highest point for many miles. The
Yeso Valley beneath me was clear, and I could see a fine
hanging glacier above the point where that valley turned
westwards to the Portillo Pass. In the direction of Tupungato
I could see nothing, and cloud lay between me and the north.
My aneroid, which I had had adjusted at the Meteorological
Office in Santiago, read 20.65 inches, on the top. It was later
than I had intended, and so I turned to descend. I found the
gully filled with hardened snow, and was enabled to glissade
some two thousand feet at a splendid pace, and at two o'clock
I reached the valley, drenched to the skin, and terribly
hungry. Tomas was waiting with the horses, and I asked
him for the bundle I had left behind, containing the change
of clothes, ponchos, and food. In my tired and hungry
condition, his answer impressed me considerably. " Senor,
Rodriguez has taken them : I did not tell him, and he started
before I returned from accompanying the senor up the
mountain. If the senor had arrived two hours ago, we could
have caught Rodriguez up in a short time, but now I fear he
has a good ten miles start of us." I mentally consigned
Rodriguez to the infernal regions, and crawled, dripping,
into the saddle. My animal was a sluggish brute, I had no
spurs, and Tomas's ideas of hurrying were meagre. After a
mile or two Tomas pointed out to me that there was a low
road and a high road. The camino bajo was a mere bridle
track by the bed of the river, which led into the Laguna
Seca or Laguna de los Peuquenes of the Yeso Valley at
7000 feet. The camino alto, he informed me, was broad and
good in summer, but was impassable now, being entirely

RODRIGUEZ' DESERTION 237

blocked by snow-drifts. Therefore, Rodriguez would have
taken the camino bajo. We decided to do so too. We
reached the Laguna Seca at three o'clock, and proceeded up
it for some time, but no signs could we find of Rodriguez.
It was now exactly twelve hours since I had tasted food,
except for a few slabs of chocolate which I had taken in my
pack.

The valley beyond the lake was covered with deep snow.
It was bitterly cold, and there were no rocks under which
to shelter from the wind. Telling Tomas to follow me, I
returned once more down the Laguna Seca. Then Tomas
informed me that there were some huts used by the cattle
drivers in summer at this lower end, and he was certain
we should find Rodriguez there. The reader can imagine
with what excitement we approached these huts. We
shouted ; Tomas said he must be asleep, but I could see no
mules. We came up to them — they were empty. It was
now eleven o'clock at night. " Will the senor come to the
foot of the camino alto. We may see tracks in the snow."
The floor of the hut was wet mud and the ground around
marshy. I therefore consented. Tomas was right. In the
snow where the camino alto turned into the Laguna Seca
were tracks of mules and horses, which Tomas assured me
belonged to Rodriguez' caravan, for he dismounted, struck
a match, and examined the footmarks. "See," he said,
"this mule has no shoe on its off foreleg, and this mule has
only one shoe. I know they're our mules. See, senor, two
mules and a horse," as he examined them carefully. "And
you see they run back over the pass. Rodriguez has
returned this way to find us." It was pitch dark — for two
hours we tumbled among the snow - drifts in the pass. It
seemed unending work following these tracks, and at i a.m.
I told Tomas I would go no farther. I cleared away the
snow under some rocks, and with the saddle, a worn - out
sheepskin, and my poncho for covering, spent a miserable five
hours waiting for the dawn. At noon the following day, we
found Rodriguez encamped on the same spot where we had
rested two nights before. His excuses were futile. There

238 THE HIGHEST ANDES

was no doubt about it ; the depth of the snow in the valleys
beyond Laguna Seca and the look of the weather had made
his heart fail, and, in dread of being snowed up, he had
returned. In spite of Tomas's entreaties on his behalf I gave
him the thrashing he deserved, and made him get us some-
thing to eat as quickly as possible, for I was half-frozen and
almost dead with hunger.

After a substantial meal I felt inclined for sleep, but I
could not afford to lose another day, so slept in the saddle,
and arrived at the western foot of the Portillo Pass in the
evening. I climbed to a neighbouring height and examined
the country round. All the valleys were blocked with snow,
and the air was thick with cloud. The pass was impossible,
and Tupungato, which is not more than ten miles from
this spot, was entirely hidden from view. I could not see
a mile around me. Even in the very brightest weather
I doubt whether it would be possible to penetrate up
these valleys — which looked to me like one huge drift.
We turned and floundered back to the Laguna Seca,
where we spent the night, and the next day returned to
San Jos6 de Maipu. Zurbriggen was still feeling weak
and ill. Torrents of rain had been falling for hours, and
there seemed no chance of the weather clearing. It was
out of the question to work in the valleys at higher altitudes.
The little town itself was white with snow, and I determined
to return to Santiago. There I found a message from
FitzGerald, who had also fled to Mendoza owing to bad
weather, telling me to join him as soon as I could get over
the Cumbre Pass.

In a few hours I left Santiago for Santa Rosa, where,
after much discussion at the railway station, the stationmaster
decided to let the train start. He told me I should find
the pass road not improved during the three weeks I had
been away in the south. He added, "You will also find
the prices of transport have gone up considerably." ' And
who are all those military-looking men ? " I asked. " The
Argentine Boundary Commission, returning for the winter,
after their work on this side of the frontier," was his reply.

THE COMMISSION DE LIMITES 239

4 'They have been waiting for ten days to get over. I
have not let a train go up for a fortnight." At Salto we all
crowded into a coach, and galloped off for Juncal. The
stationmaster was quite right, the prices were extortionate.
At Rio Blanco, Tuffield came out and stopped the coach, and
would not dream of letting me pass without refreshment.
He said, " Surely you are not going up on the roof again?
I thought you had returned to civilisation. It is a terribly
early winter, and Rio Blanco is no place to be in such
weather. You won't be able to go much more than another
five or six miles in that coach ; then they will probably have
mules for you, but I doubt if you will be able to get farther
than Juncal." I told him I could walk. I said these officers
of the Boundary Commission have hired riding mules over to
Cuevas. "Then," said Tuffield, "they won't get their money's
worth. It is a common trick of the arrieros at this time of
the year to make you pay for mules for miles of road where
it is impossible to use them." At Juncal my friends did not
like the look of things, so stopped for the night, but Zurbriggen
and I ascended to Portillo. The next day the caravan arrived
with the Boundary Commission, ten other passengers, some
dozen arrieros and not fewer than fifty mules. They were
determined to force a way over to Cuevas and catch the weekly
train at Vacas. Zurbriggen, Louis, and I watched them for
some time winding up the snow ; now one arriero taking the
lead, now another. " They're doing very well," said Louis,
4 'but they can't possibly get past the drifts below the second
casucha some two miles further on : they will be forced to do
the worst part of the pass on foot in spite of all the animals
they have."

Three hours later I started alone on foot, as Zurbriggen
had to go back to Juncal for some of our baggage that had
been mislaid. Only for a short time could I use the tracks
of those who had gone before, for there above me was
the long winding caravan, making no further progress.
Had they lost the way, or was the snow at last too deep ?
I made straight for the top of the pass by a short cut, and
when above them I looked back upon an extraordinary scene.

240 THE HIGHEST ANDES

The mules were wandering in the snow, most of them
unladen, the packs were lying everywhere, and arrieros and
passengers were grouped together, while forcible adjectives
in Spanish came to me over the snow. Some difference had
arisen between the Chileno mule-drivers and the Argentine
passengers. Two men rushed to a mule, began pulling the
packs off and throwing them in the snow. Several of the
blue-coated commissioners interfered, angry at seeing their
valuable instruments so roughly handled. I heard on one
side, " You contracted to take us over on muleback to Cuevas,
and you Chilian rascals shall do it," and the blue-coated men
drew their revolvers, and threatened to shoot. " Neither we
nor the mules will go a step farther ; the snow is too deep.
Shoot if you like — we are not afraid of Argentine bullets,"
and though unarmed, the arrieros laughed at them. Then
the voices became more subdued, and a move was made to
the casucha hard by. I did not envy them a night in that
narrow hovel. The wind got up, it began to snow, and I
proceeded on my way ; got to the top of the pass, and
glissaded down almost the whole way to Cuevas, where I got
a bony beast, without a saddle, and floundered through the
drifts to Inca, arriving at five o'clock that evening. So
ended my vain hunt for a volcano. I accomplished nothing,
and the tale has no importance ; but perhaps this little glimpse
of travelling in out-of-the-way Chile may be good for half an
hour's interest.

CHAPTER XXII

THE HORCONES VALLEY IN WINTER

HP HE day after Vines left for Chile was a perfect one;
JL the sun was warm, and Lightbody and I agreed that
we should have another week or so before the winter snows
came in earnest. We therefore arranged to go back up the
Horcones Valley, do a little photography, and run our
traverse up some of the side valleys. Vines's arriero,
Fortunato, who alone was with us now, as Jose* had gone
with Vines and Zurbriggen to Chile, begged us not to go
up this valley, saying we should be snowed up and all lose
our lives. I told him he would have to go, and I had no
more time to listen to his nonsense.

The next day Gosse started with a number of pack-
mules, two porters, and the reluctant Fortunato. As we
had still important work to finish, Lightbody and I did not
start till late in the evening, and the dark had long fallen
before we reached the tent. I pause at this moment
before recounting the evil fortune that overtook us and
finally destroyed all hope of further work, for I am reminded
of a plan adopted by Mark Twain in one of his recent books.
It had often annoyed him, he says, in reading other people's
books, to come across descriptions of the weather every few
pages ; they interrupted the continuity of the narrative, they
withdrew one's attention from the characters, and those
people who had to read about weather anyhow, feeling that
the world is already full of it, and that it might at least be
kept out of books, threw down the volume in disgust. Yet
he realised that weather affected human plans — how warmly
I can support him there ! — and that it could not be left out
of any book that pretended to deal with life as it is. Besides,

1 6 241

242 THE HIGHEST ANDES

he was conscious that he could write about weather as well
as any man. He therefore conceived the idea of making a
sort of weather appendix to his novel ; he described states
of weather and atmospheric effects, thunderstorms for the
crisis of peoples' souls, sunsets to accompany pathetic deaths,
glowing noon-tides to go along with picnics, moon-rises for
the love scenes, and slight showers to get the comedy
characters under one umbrella. In the body of the book
not so much as a snowflake of winter nor a beam of summer
sunshine was permitted to appear. Then, as the entranced
reader hurried through the tale, when he felt himself parched,
so to speak, for want of weather, he could turn up the
appendix and select any sample that seemed good to him,
taking the circumstances of the story and his own private
tastes into consideration.

Perhaps I am unwise to quote this humane system, for
readers of my record may wish heartily that I had followed
it myself. In self-defence I may be allowed to say that I
defy any writer, no matter how gifted, to confine the weather
on and around Aconcagua to an appendix. Such a plan
would simply have this result : the appendix would be the
book, and everything else would sink insignificantly out of
sight. Perhaps after all this might have been the wiser
plan in attacking the subject ; to have started out fairly to
make a compendium, a dictionary, an encyclopaedia of
weather in the Andes, and allowed our work, meagre
beside the ceaseless toiling of the elements to produce
new kinds and worse kinds of weather, to leak out by the
way.

As it was, a tremendous storm arose on the?- very night
that we reached that tent at the fork of the Horcones Valley.
Keen and ready for some difficult but interesting work, with
our porters, mules, instruments, cameras, and the rest in
particularly fit condition, we had to lie and listen to the gale,
amidst whose violence I could detect the persistent, stealthy,
and most unwelcome arrival of the snow. As soon as the
light came in the morning and we looked outside, we saw
the whole country-side covered with it. It seemed as if the

A RETREAT 243

words of Fortunate were coming true, and that we were to
be snowed up.

I am not, and never shall be, any friend to snow. There
are times when I would have said that I hated rain more
than anything, and other times when I could have declared
that wind was the most unbearable form of weather. After
all it is only wind that bullies you ; no other weather ever
does that. But on mature reflection I think I hate snow
most. There is a low, surreptitiousness about snow, which
revolts a mind of even average straightforwardness. You
never know how much you are to have of it. An hour, an
afternoon, or a week ; in the neighbourhood of Aconcagua
towards the middle of May, it is wiser to count upon the
week.

I thought it prudent to move down at once. We had a
great deal of luggage at this camp, — far more than we could
possibly load on our animals, — so I picked out a few of the
more important things, and told Fortunato to take them
down to Inca as best he could, saying that we should follow
on foot. This I did early in the morning, as I did not want
the horses and mules to get blocked by the way. Lightbody,
Gosse, and myself started out at about two o'clock. We had
waited till then, hoping that perhaps the weather would
moderate, for if it had, we might still have been able to do
some work. As the snow still continued to fall in immense
quantities, I realised that it was wiser not to stay another
night, and to risk being snowed in. The wind was blowing
heavily, and the cold intense. We suffered keenly in the
descent ; the tracks of the animals were completely covered
up, so we had to make our own tracks the whole way.
Towards the end, as we were nearing Inca, we were almost
overcome with the fatigue of ploughing through the new
snow, and the difficulty we had in breathing — surrounded as
we were by eddies of the fine drifting snow which filled our
nostrils — was extreme. Still we reached Inca safely, just
as it got dark, to find that Jose* had returned over the
Cumbre Pass, with the mules that Vines and Zurbriggen
had taken with them. It had been a most difficult task

244 THE HIGHEST ANDES

coming down from Cuevas, but fortunately he had got
through. We were greatly relieved, for we had feared that
he might be cut off on the Chilian side, and that we should
never see our animals again on this side of the water-parting.
The snow continued to fall all that night, and next day it was
deep all over the country.

I need hardly write here of the disappointment we felt.
All hope of our work cut off; the season at an end; five
animals in the camp who could no longer find any food for
themselves ; only three days' supply of maize in hand ; that
miserable Fortunato clamouring to be allowed to leave for
Vacas ; and, worst of all, or so it seemed to me at the time,
a large number of most valuable instruments, notebooks,
undeveloped plates, and general impedimenta, which I was
under no circumstances prepared to abandon, shut up and
buried in incalculable snows at the high-level camp. First
it was necessary to deal with Fortunato — the Jonah of this
expedition, as I shall ever maintain. He implored, he wept ;
gusty southern sobs rent his bosom beneath the soiled tatters
of his arriero's poncho. " If I stay another day," he gulped
out, " I may not get down to Vacas again this winter. I
think the snowfall is going to be tremendous, and I do not
think that anybody in the Cordilleras will be able to move
for the next fortnight." Undismayed by the vision of the
inhabitants of the Cordilleras rooted to the spot and
becoming snow men where they stood, we yet found the
opinion far from cheering. But we had to let him go, and
take with him some of our animals, keeping with us five
only ; and we begged him, if possible, to send up further
supplies of maize, of which I had a cart-load at Vacas.

The outlook, however, was undoubtedly growing very
serious. It seemed impossible for supplies to be brought
upon the animal's backs, since they would not be able to
make the journey heavily laden through the heavy snow.
Dr. Cotton, our host at the inn, suggested that the best
course would be to build a sledge ; accordingly we went to
work, and spent all that day manufacturing a weird vehicle
out of timbers that were being used for the construction of

WE BUILD A SLEDGE 245

a new wing to the building. We built, Dr. Cotton assisting
us, a strong but heavy sledge, and got it out next evening ;
all our five horses and mules were attached to it, and we
started off in great style to put it to a practical test. Soon,
however, we found that the runners were not high enough,
and that it was unable to ride over the top of the soft snow,
being " towed under," like a boat made fast behind a steamer
with too short a painter. We then made another attempt,
and young Lochmatter volunteered his services, declaring
he was accustomed to make sleighs in Switzerland — in fact
I gathered he was a sleigh-maker by profession. This was
fortunate, as our ideas on the subject were rather crude. He
soon made a splendid sledge for us, raising the body two
and a half feet above the runners. That evening Fortunato,
unable apparently to quit the scene of his sufferings, came
up from Vacas with some telegrams. He said that the road
was in a fearful condition, that he had only just managed
to get through, and that it would be impossible to bring up
maize on the animals' backs. He was again overwhelmed
with fear of being snowed up, but we induced him to stop
until next morning. Paramillo, his dog, a creature of great
heart, and in every way a finer character than his master,
was with him. I am constrained to record, though I would
willingly consign the fact to the appendix, that the snow
had been falling all these days, and already the inn was
nearly buried.

On the Friday morning, the 7th of May, the situation
was about as critical as it could be. We had no more maize
to give our beasts. The mules wandered about outside the
inn, sometimes forcing their way in at the doors and eating
the very bedclothes off the bed when they got the chance.
They consumed, that morning, two wicker-chairs and a
large quantity of the roof of one of the rooms, which was
composed of bamboo overlaid with mud. This could not
be allowed to go on — for one thing, the furniture of the inn
would not last long. That member of the expedition who
was generally charged with commissariat duty, and prided
himself on his powers of gauging the rate of consumption of

246 THE HIGHEST ANDES

victuals per man, per mule, per anything in fact, went into
the matter with his accustomed practicality, and reported to
me, with due solemnity, that, setting aside the crockery and
the batterie de cuisine, which, though he might be wrong, he
ventured to believe would have a fatal effect upon any
animal so careless as to eat it ; and taking into consideration
merely the bedding, mats, curtains, and woodwork of the
inn, we could not hope to keep the pack-mules at their
kicking weight if this outfit was expected to last them more
than eight, or, at the outside, nine days. At which point,
it was borne in upon us, that if the mules wrecked the inn
and ate the roof, we should be left to the mercy of the
elements, with no protection save a dinner-service and an
old frying-pan or two.

It was absolutely necessary to make a move without
delay. We arranged, therefore, to start for Vacas upon the
new sledge, and put all the five animals to it. Jose* upon
his horse, and Fortunate upon his, rode as postillions
on either side, while we urged our animals from behind,
and Paramillo danced ahead, barking and rolling over in
the fine snow, very happy. The sleigh went fairly well,
though we had one or two close shaves in some heavy drifts ;
but if we did not actually upset the thing, we succeeded in
spilling ourselves out of it many times. As we approached
Vacas we found the snow getting lighter and lighter, till,
about two miles from the railway station there was none
left, and we were obliged to drag the sleigh across the hard,
stony ground. Late in the evening we reached the posada
at Vacas. I need hardly remark that it snowed again that
night, and next morning. As there was nothing whatever
to be done, I suggested to Lightbody that we should take
the train down to Mendoza, and say good-bye to the many
friends who had been so kind to us, and helped us so much
in our work. Since we had it in our minds to return by
way of Chile, we should not see them again, and such a visit
seemed a more agreeable means of filling in this disheartening
time than any other. Accordingly we took the down train
that morning, leaving Gosse and Dr. Cotton to return to

MERCILESS WINTER 247

Inca, whither they were to convoy some maize for the
feeding of the horses. Lightbody and I spent several days
in Mendoza, the telegraph daily depressing us with the
intelligence that the weather still continued doubtful. As
soon as we heard that a slight thaw had set in we returned
to Vacas, and there, where he had been for several days,
I found Jose" in a shockingly drunken condition. With the
weather as it was, I think it would have been difficult to
convince a person of slender intellectual resources that he
could have been more profitably employed. We got hold
of him, balanced him more or less upon his mule, and drove
him up to Inca before us.

The next few days Lightbody was ill, and unable to get
about, while it became evident that the weather had completely
broken up. There was no blinking the fact that winter was
really upon us, and that if I wished ever to get back the
things I had left up the Horcones Valley, it would be
necessary to press up at once, irrespective of whole dictionaries
of weather, as every storm increased our difficulties, while
the sun was now too low in its declination to melt the ice
and snow that blocked these valleys. Next day I despatched
Jose", all the porters and some mules with pack-saddles, at
an early hour in the morning. Soon afterwards Gosse
started, and I left at 11.30. A gale of wind was blowing,
and it was hard to find one's way between the drifts. The
tracks of the men who had gone before were, of course,
completely obliterated ; in a word, all the obstacles we had
encountered on our way down were present, in a rather
more paralysing form. I pushed along as quickly as possible
to catch up with my party, but I was unable to go very
fast, as great detours had perpetually to be made to avoid
banks of snow.

Alone, with no other soul in sight, with no sound save of
the wind, horrid in my ears, though homely enough, I do not
doubt, to the great mountains whose one playmate, whose
born companion it is, I rode upon my way. No climber
willingly attempts his work in such circumstances ; the task
would be, of course, absurd ; the finest weather, the picked

248 THE HIGHEST ANDES

heart of the season, is wanted for undertakings of any moment
among peaks of magnitude. Yet it often happens that,
owing to variations in the season, miscalculations of its
character and development, the most cautious explorer finds
himself face to face with weather the very antithesis of what
he would desire. It must be remembered that the " plant"
of an expedition like mine is composed of instruments which,
apart from their initial cost, become indescribably dear to one
in the course of one's work. This may sound incomprehen-
sible to the reader ; I can only say that the theodolite or
camera with which one has achieved the most cherished
results, over which long days or nights have been spent, in
connection with which one's best and most delicate capacities
may have been strained to the utmost, which one has rescued,
preserved, and restored amidst hair - breadth escapes and
moving accidents by flood and field — risking, it may often be,
one's own safety and that of one's horse in the effort — these
things become beyond expression precious. The notebook,
faithfully carried in an inner recess of the coat and drawn out
at evening time, when the sense of physical exhaustion has
been numbing and the inclination to rest, to laisser aller, the
only live feeling in one's mind ; drawn out and filled with
painful, stiff, and conscientious memoranda (not untinged by
irony and the rough sarcasm of a man at hand-grips with life
and death) — things like this are more than one can bear to
leave. I write, I am aware, in extenuation of, almost in
apology for, the account that is to follow. Many might
blame me, as the leader of such an undertaking, for my action
in this matter. I am even inclined to blame myself now, as
I look back upon it, for risking life to such a point for such an
end. But that day I had no scruple. I did not act hastily,
and I acted in the only way that seemed possible at the time.
A man who any day may meet with some moment which might
easily be his last but one, does not view risk and danger with
the same eyes as the man who holds this book, leaning back
in an arm-chair at his club or hearth. The occupant of
the arm-chair may have ten times the pluck of the man who
is mountaineering, but he would not choose so hardy a

ANDINE SNOW 249

course — simply because the danger comes more sharply
home to him by reason of its contrast with his security.
At no time is the mountaineer one - hundredth part as
comfortable or as safe. So his habitual discomfort and
insecurity make his danger less dangerous and his risk less
acute. I do not wish to suggest that my reflections took
this turn on this particular occasion : far from it. Being
alone, I was more disposed to recognise some of the
compensations of a poor climber's life. It is a privilege,
no matter what distress it brings with it, to see the scenes
that I saw upon that ride. Here was Nature looking and
acting in the "grand manner," among fitting surroundings,
duly costumed, with marvellous mise en scene. The difference
between a Greek heroic drama — such a tragedy as " CEdipus
the King," played two thousand years ago when Athens was
in her prime under the blue Hellenic skies to an audience
among whom Pericles and Phidias might be spectators, the
walls of the theatre of Dionysus yet erect to encircle it — and
a twopenny-halfpenny farce in some playhouse of the Strand,
with scratch company, scratch jokes, and every parody of
life vulgarised — this difference is not more marked than
the unlikeness between that moment of epic winter in the
Andes and a snowstorm on Primrose Hill.

Nothing can surpass the grandeur of these vast ranges,
thus clad in their winter dress. White, cold, a veritable
valley of desolation, the long, gray shadows proclaiming the
winter sun, though the hour was but little after midday. The
feeling of solitude about the place was indescribably poignant
and seizing. I had passed and repassed the same spot
earlier in the season, but then, though there was in reality
the same solitude, everything spoke of life. Now it was the
cold of death — the white mantle of annihilation — something
that the brain cannot compass, but that strikes and over-
whelms one with despair.

I rode on up the valley through the deep drifts, the
falling snow, driven by the wind, nearly blinding me the
while. The sky was of a leaden hue ; small fleecy clouds
raced across from peak to peak, torn in shreds, as it seemed,

250 THE HIGHEST ANDES

by the jagged rocks that flanked us on either side. My horse
was numb and stupid with cold, covered from head to foot
with matted snow, a creature divorced from his element,
stunned by the incompassable nature of his surroundings.
In the deeper drifts we at times rolled over and over in the
light, powdery stuff till it seemed as if we must be suffocated.

All the time I could see no traces of Gosse and the
mules. Here and there where the wind had not reached to
blur the record of their passage, I saw fresh footprints of my
pioneers, so I kept on, sometimes riding, sometimes on foot.
At the bend of the valley, near the little lake of Inca, I saw,
about a mile away, some black spots moving on the white
ground, and was glad to know that, so far, no ill had come to
them. The wind went down slightly, and I was able to make
better progress. Still the drifts got deeper and deeper, and
it was with difficulty that I managed to force my terrified
horse along. In another hour I was up to them. They
were crossing a great plateau of deep snow, and our animals
sank so far that at times we were left standing on the thin
crust which was just strong enough to hold us up, while the
beasts floundered below us, their backs just on a level with
the surface.

At last I came up with Gosse. He told me a doleful
tale of their difficulties, and how they had nearly lost one
animal in a drift. We were getting to the point where we
used to ford the river in the summer. In those days we
dreaded these fords as most dangerous places. Now there
was practically no water at all ; only the slenderest little
stream trickled under the ice, whilst the snow covered it, so
that we could ride across without difficulty. The snow grew
deeper and deeper as we advanced, and there were places
where we thought that we really must give up, that we
could not drag or force the animals through. Moreover, the
horses were getting unmanageably frightened ; they had
nearly lost themselves several times in these vast drifts of
fine powdered snow. They would plunge about on these
banks till the stuff, entering their nostrils and mouths, almost
choked them. To make things worse, it came on to snow

STRUGGLING ONWARD 251

again. We pushed along, fearing the darkness would be
upon us before we got through the worst places, which we
knew were to come. At the old first ford, instead of follow-
ing the path that we usually took, we found it better to stick
to the river-bed — that one place of all others we had so
carefully avoided during the summer. We had several nasty
falls here, the animals keeping their feet with difficulty upon
the great boulders glazed with ice, and covered with their
deceptive mantle. The day got darker and darker, while the
snow fell more and more heavily. The air was so thick with
flakes, that it was with difficulty that we could see each other
and keep the caravan together. Soon the river-bed was so
bad, that we were obliged to take to the steep bank, and
work our way diagonally up a precipitous hillside. I got off
and tried to lead my animal, but this I soon found to be too
dangerous. The snow was too deep for me to move quickly :
in fact, it was up to my waist, and when my horse plunged,
his legs seemed to be whirling all over me. After receiving
two nasty kicks, I tried the plan of driving him from behind ;
but this, too, I found to be impossible, for the poor frightened
beast refused to move when he no longer saw me. I was
therefore reluctantly compelled to mount again, and to urge
him slowly forward while he fumbled and blundered along.
Several times I thought he would have rolled down the whole
slope, or started an avalanche, so recklessly did he plunge.
The mules behaved much better. It should be remembered
that the animals were necessary to us to bring our heavy
luggage down from our camp, otherwise I think we should
have done better on foot, for it was more a case of winter
Alpine climbing, and hard climbing at that, than of riding ;
besides it was unspeakably cold to sit thus helplessly in the
saddle, and watch the horse fight for his life, and incident-
ally for one's own life too. This valley was superb, covered
and muffled in its great blanket, the river-bed full of huge
masses of tortured ice, which in places formed great caverns,
with innumerable icicles hanging from the roofs. There was
an unearthly sentiment of mystery in these white masses ; the
place looked far greater and larger, and the mountains higher ;

252 THE HIGHEST ANDES

and, as the wind swept down in blasts, carrying before it
sharp and cutting granules of ice, it seemed as if existence
must be impossible in such a place, so unhuman, so immeasur-
able was the loneliness of it all. As I looked around at our
little troop, the men and horses seemed only just alive under
the influence of it. Nobody spoke, and at times one of us
would come to a stop, and remain perfectly still for minutes,
paralysed by the overwhelming cold and odds that we were
fighting against.

When we reached the top of this great slope, we found
a tract that was fairly free of snow, as the wind had swept
it almost clean ; but we had to pay the penalty in wind and
driven ice. The horses would turn again and again, unable to
face this cutting blast, which came like a flail, and stung like a
whip of wire. They would stand with their backs to it, trem-
bling all over ; pitifully willing and gentle, yet obviously so
unnerved that they knew not what they were doing. Their
long shaggy coats were by this time matted with snow and
icicles, while all of us were covered and plastered with snow
frozen on to us from head to foot, as we had been rolled
over and over many times in the drifts. Still the camp was
above us, and there were those instruments and notebooks
and photographic plates that we could not dare, could not
bear to forego. And we knew this was our unique oppor-
tunity. Never again should we return, never again face, with
its memory upon us, the experience that we were now winning
through. For winter, the first of winter, but as bitter as her
heart, was upon us, and we knew that in another week this
valley would be blocked so hopelessly that it would be im-
possible to penetrate into the recesses of it, till the spring
sun had melted the snows. Doggedly, inflexibly, we forced
our way on, and gradually neared the second ford. Only the
second ford and this more than a mile from our tent ! And
now the only obstacle we still lacked arose and joined this
sombre-souled little band — darkness ! Darkness — and we
had yet the Paso Malo to cross. Should it prove as bad
as to our gloomy presage seemed inevitable, there would be
nothing for it but to bivouac for the night in the open, on

THE TENTS AT LAST 253

this side of the Pass ; and strange though it may seem, this
prospect, though far from agreeable, was powerless to enhance
our depression. Even the length of the night — and nights
were desperately long now — over fourteen hours — combined
with the impossibility of lighting a fire, could not plunge us
in a lower depth of despondency. We cheered up somewhat
at the ford, which gave us no trouble, for, as I have said
before, there was no water in the river — all was frozen.
Better still, the snow had ceased to fall, and the clouds had
rolled away ; cheerful little stars were shining when we reached
the old place where we had had so many narrow escapes,
and, to our surprise, owing to the immense amount of
snow that was packed over it, we were able to get across
more easily than ever before. My watch showed seven
o'clock when we reached our tents — how thankful, how
exhausted, I dare not say. The men had been upon the
march for nearly ten hours to do that which took us only an
hour and three-quarters in summer.

The tents were, of course, completely buried, but we
scratched away some of the snow in a sheltered spot, to
let the horses and mules stand for the night. The mules
had taken the journey much more philosophically than the
horses, and, shall I say, than ourselves? Nothing seems
to shake the nerves of a mule. Even in the most dangerous
places he remains as blase* and as slipshod as when cantering
over the plains. He realises none of his responsibilities,
presenting thereby an example to the human mind which
it might safely follow, for he does his work much better
than if he carried a full equipment of nerve-cells and was
loaded with a complete and complicated and ever-present
sense of just what is at stake. He is always ready, at
the most critical places, to fall with the same cheerful sang
froid with which he would stumble and roll you over on
the highroad. There is some sort of legendary belief in
which the English tourist is carefully inoculated, to the effect
that mules are absolutely sure-footed, and pass along the
crumbling verges of precipices as though suspended by an
invisible string from paradise. To the man who has

254 THE HIGHEST ANDES

travelled in the Andes and lost his best camera or even his
breakfast through the reckless shuffling of a mule among
loose boulders, this faith is no longer tenable. As a matter of
fact, my experience is that horses are the more trustworthy
animals.

The reader may recall that we had two tents pitched at
this camp ; I told the men to make themselves as comfortable
as they could in the large Whymper tent, while Gosse and I
crawled into our small mountain tent. It was bitterly cold, and
we had unavoidably brought in large masses of snow with us ;
besides, the tent was already half-full of snow that had silted
in through the doorway, and we were obliged to spend some
time in clearing out a fresh space to lie down in, and in
rescuing our blankets and sleeping-bags from under the mass
that lay upon them. Still, a faint glow of satisfaction warmed
us. We had done what we set out to do ; we had reached
our tent ; the precious belongings were within our grasp.

I had lit a couple of lanterns, and was turning my atten-
tion to certain elementary cooking operations, when a cry
from Gosse startled me. "Shut the door! shut the door!" he
cried excitedly, "don't let him get out!" This puzzled me for
a little, as, to begin with, there was no door to shut, and, in
the second place, I was not conscious of there being anybody
in the tent but ourselves. I turned to Gosse, wondering if
the cold had slightly deranged his mind, and I saw him make
a sudden dive across me, and apparently try and secure some
imaginary body. I was now quite convinced of his insanity,
when he relieved my mind by saying, " Don't you see there
is a live mouse in the tent ? " Then I understood that the
collector's instinct, which takes precedence of all others in a
naturalist, had now thoroughly got hold of him. He upset a
tin of ground coffee, and also two tins of food which I had
opened. Fortunately the food tins were frozen hard ; even
had they not been, I do not think that a little trifle like this
would have checked him in his wild scramble round and
round the tent. I was soon fired by his enthusiasm, and in
a few minutes we were plunging from side to side, while our
little covering, only 3 feet 6 inches high, swayed in a most

A SIMPLE MEAL 255

alarming fashion, and I could hear the guy- ropes outside,
taut and stiff with their mass of icicles, cracking one by one.
We were happily soon able to secure the animal under a heap
of blankets. Gosse seized him eagerly, and bottled him,
while I turned my attention to the rearranging of the
interior, now sadly wrecked. I lighted a small spirit-stove,
and, at the end of an hour, had succeeded in warming some
water. It was not hot enough to make tea or coffee, so we
decided to add a little whisky and condensed milk to it, and
sup off that, with some dry biscuits. Gosse had the tin of
condensed milk, which he had been heating over the stove
to thaw it, and he began to pour spoonfuls of the thick white
fluid into the warm water. As he got towards the bottom of
the pot he suddenly exclaimed, "Why, here is another mouse!
Poor little beast! It must have slipped into the tin while
feeding." He extracted it, dripping with thick milk, from the
pot by the tail, and eagerly bottled this specimen also. My
own mind was dwelling on the fact that this was the last tin
of milk we had up here, and besides, it would take another
hour to heat more water. We were, therefore, obliged,
to consume this beverage, though I must say I judged from
the flavour that the mouse had died some weeks before. As
we were sitting by the lighted candle, smoking our pipes, and
preparing to go to sleep, we observed that the large basin
of whisky, milk, and water between us was gradually begin-
ning to freeze. We watched the small crystals of ice forming
all over it, first a thin skin, then by degrees a thicker and
harder coat. We did not drink any more, and next morning,
when we awoke, it was frozen into a solid block. We
suffered considerably from the cold that night, as may be
imagined, and in the morning we were still just as thickly
matted and encrusted with ice and snow, while the icicles
upon my beard and hair had not thawed. I sent the men at
once to get the theodolite we had left a few miles up the
valley, towards the south face of Aconcagua; their path,
luckily, was not difficult, for the wind had swept the valley
almost entirely free of snow. They returned a few hours
later with the instrument. It had been fine in the morning,

256 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the sun having shone for half an hour, but presently great
banks of clouds approached from the north-west, and the
wind began to moan fitfully, while now and again would
come a slight flurry of snow. I decided it would be best to
make for our camp on the Inca as soon as possible, for a long,
protracted snowstorm here would have cut us off hopelessly
from our friends below, and our camp was not provisioned
for more than four weeks at the outside.

What I most feared was to be caught between the two
camps in one of these terrific blizzards, when the blinding
particles fly so thick and fast that it is impossible to breathe.
This frequently happens to those crossing the ranges in
winter, though all along the Pass there are shelter-houses,
sometimes only a mile apart, or even less ; yet parties are
caught out between two such refuges, are overcome, and die
in a few minutes.

By ten o'clock we had struck our camp, and packed every-
thing on the animals. Going down seemed almost worse
than coming up, for on this day the wind was flying more in
eddies, and the way in a more dangerous condition, though,
on the whole, it was not so cold, and we had the advantage
of having the wind behind us. We progressed slowly, keep-
ing to the route by which we had come up, yet, owing to the
blinding storm, our tracks might have been searched for in
vain, and the valley looked as lonely and as untrodden as
on the day before. Gosse and I rode part of the way, but
Gosse's horse got into a highly nervous condition, and he had
several very dangerous falls, owing to the wild plunging of
the beast. Several times I thought Josh's animal was going
to lie down and give up, but he managed to get it along. I
had taken great precautions against frost-bite, having seen
to the gloves and the clothes of the men before starting, and
impressed on all the party the necessity of stopping at once,
if frozen, and having the affected part rubbed with snow.
Owing to these precautions being rigorously enforced, we
were fortunate enough to escape all injury, and we arrived
late that evening in triumph at the Inca, bearing down all the
articles we had gone up to rescue. Man, horse, and mule

SUCCESSFUL RETURN 257

came back in safety, and lived to fight again another day ; but
I shall always remember the cold, the suffering, and the hard-
ships of the two days and that night spent in the Horcones,
and I am still uneasy sometimes at the thought that I risked
the lives of men to bring back these inanimate companions
and the records of our work.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE POSADA AT INCA

HPHE day after our return was the 24th of May, the
i Queen's birthday, and Her Majesty's health has
seldom been drunk amid more dreary surroundings. Snow
was still falling all round us, the mountain sides were riddled
and streaked with the tracks of fresh avalanches, and the
valleys were rapidly being blocked by deep drifts. I was
reluctantly forced to recognise that our work that season
was now at an end, and that beyond taking a series
of photographs of the mountains clad in their winter gar-
ment, we must look upon our labours in these valleys as
finished.

I spent the day in making arrangements to send all my
Swiss and Italian men home, so that they should not miss the
climbing season. I also had to take steps to get the masses
of luggage containing our equipment, specimens, etc., down
to the plains. Our base camp was now nearly obliterated by
the mass of snow that had fallen, and we had been obliged to
take refuge with Dr. Cotton in the little posada at Inca. We
had sufficient maize for our animals for a short time, but the
horses were looking poorly, and they could not be induced to
touch this maize, though the mules throve upon it.

That evening the wind rose, and great drifts and banks of
snow filled the courtyard at the Inca inn. The wind howled
during the night, and it seemed as if we should be snowed up
for good and all, so fast did these great drifts accumulate,
blocking up the doors and piling themselves upon the roof.
The provisions at the inn were not very plentiful, and
generally the outlook was black. In spite of the cold and
dismal surroundings, however, we managed to make merry,

258

DEPARTURE OF THE GUIDES 259

and toasted Her Majesty in the last bottles of wine that
were left at the Inca.

The next morning, day broke over a wild and dreary
scene of driving snow. We might have been in some small
outpost in the Ural mountains, from the desolate and lonely
aspect of the scene that day. I sent Pollinger down to Vacas,
with orders to come back with Jose*, three horses and a mule,
and all the fodder that they could carry. The snow continued
to fall, and again drifted in the evening, till the rafters of the
ceiling began to bend and crack from the weight. Next
morning we tried to shovel some of it away, but the effort
was vain, for fresh snow drifted upon us so quickly that we
could make very little impression. The storm was now at its
height, a veritable blizzard. Pollinger returned with the
horses alone, without fodder. He reported that the drifts
were so deep in the valley that it would be hopeless to
try to get the horses through with any loads on their backs ;
besides, Jos6 was, as usual, hopelessly drunk at Vacas. I sent
all the men down towards evening with two horses, as the
storm abated slightly. A little cream-coloured mare we had
was too weak and fatigued to accomplish the journey, so we
had to keep her at Inca. The men were to return to their
own country under the charge of Zurbriggeru

We were now left alone, with nothing but native labour to
rely upon. On the morning of 3Oth May the storm broke,
the sun came out, it grew warmer, and the snow thawed in
places during the day. The little mare was very ill during
the morning, and died in the afternoon of rapid pneumonia.
We did everything we could to save her, but her case was
hopeless. Jose* came up at last with more men, but no hay
fodder, and that morning we decided to make an expedition
to our base camp to clear away the snow which now com-
pletely covered it. The journey took us two and a half
hours, though the distance was not more than half a mile.
The snow was so deep that we sank in up to our armpits
the whole way, and were obliged to push a passage with the
weight of our bodies. We took it by turns to lead, and were
all much exhausted when we reached the camp. Although I

26o THE HIGHEST ANDES

had a very large bell-tent set up here, which would accommodate
as many as twenty people, and numbers of other tents, pack-
ing-boxes, panniers, etc., covered with large tarpaulins, we
were unable to see anything at all ; in fact the only sign of
the existence of our camp was a slight mound of snow, and
about four inches of the centre pole of the big tent sticking
up through it.

We spent the whole day, with spades and shovels, digging
out a passage round our luggage, and we brought a few
things back to the inn that evening, but the digging had left
time for almost nothing else.

The next few days passed in bringing up such portions of
our luggage as we were able to move through the heavy snow,
and piling them in an empty room at the inn. We also brought
all the firewood we had collected at the camp, for the firewood
at the inn had completely run out, and now that there were
some four or five feet of snow spread over the whole country-
side, there was no possiblity of collecting the dead sticks and
under-bush that, as a rule, furnished the posada with fuel.
Our communication with Vacas was cut off for the time, and
it was impossible to bring much upon the backs of the animals
through the heavy drifts in the valley. We had already been
reduced to pulling up the floor boards and burning them to
cook our meals.

The iron-grey pony that I had myself ridden during the
whole of my work in the Andes was taken ill at this time ; he
refused his food, and finally died. We could not induce him
to touch the maize ; and though we tried him with everything
we could think of, including condensed milk and cabin biscuits,
he would have none of them. Losing this animal was a great
blow to me, as I had become much attached to him ; he had
carried me faithfully through many a dangerous passage, and
had saved me from many an accident in the cold fords of the
Horcones torrent.

One of those days a poor German tramp came over on
his way to Chile. He seemed very ill and weak, and was
absolutely unequipped for a winter passage of the mountains.
We did all we could for him, each of us supplying him with

JOSH'S MUTINY 261

various portions of clothing and equipment, and he left us on
the evening of 3ist May. We urged him very strongly not
to attempt the crossing, but he seemed absolutely bent upon
it. Next morning I met a peon who had slept that night
at the casucha next the inn. I asked him if he had seen
this German, and he mentioned in a casual way that he
had seen a man dying by the roadside as he came along,
about a mile from the inn. He had left this unfortunate
fellow-creature insensible, without a thought of offering him
assistance. I was greatly shocked at this news, especially as
I only heard it some twelve hours after the event. Vines was
furious with the man, and for a moment entertained a pas-
sionate thought of executing rude justice on the spot. I
dissuaded him, however, from this intention, and suggested
that the best thing for us to do would be to set out and see if
we could not find the German. The peon shrugged his
shoulders in true Chileno fashion and said, " Of what use is it ?
The man is dead by now, and the next snowstorm will cover
him." We went out and searched for a long time, but found
no trace of the man, but afterwards we heard that he had
passed the night in one of the casuchas. He had evidently
been able to drag himself that far.

The weather now began to cloud up and assume a
threatening aspect once more, and that night the snow
commenced to fall again. Next day Vines rode down to
Vacas to see what could be done about the removal of our
luggage, and to send off some telegrams, amongst them one
of congratulation in reply to a message announcing the birth
of the son of dear friends at home. He returned the day
after in a violent snowstorm, reporting that it was raining at
Vacas, but that as he came up the valley, and before he
reached the Penitentes, the rain changed to snow. Some
peons came up with him, and we entered into negotiations
with them for the transport of our luggage to Chile. We
had offered this contract to our man Jose* some days before,
but he had failed to get anyone to do anything for us.
When we came to settle with these new peons, Jose* seemed
excessively dissatisfied, and retired to the kitchen in a most

262 THE HIGHEST ANDES

discontented frame of mind. He sat up a great part of the
night talking to the men, and we felt that there was trouble
brewing. We were never able to find out exactly what was
the true story — whether Jose had threatened them if they
carried the luggage, or in what way he had managed to turn
them against us. At anyrate, on the following morning they
all came in to look at our luggage. They lifted it up, said it
was too heavy, and then filed out of the room one by one,
leaving us alone. We rushed after them ; we offered them
more money, asked them what they wanted, but it was
useless — they would not carry it under any condition. Our
anger and chagrin knew no bounds. Here we were caught,
we did not know for how many weeks, absolutely at the
mercy of these natives, for without them we certainly could
not move our belongings. The snow might fall again, and
we had missed the favourable opportunity given by the thaw
of the last few days, when we knew that the track over
the pass was fairly good. It was already clouding for
another storm, and in any case it would take us many days
before we could find other men. I sent for Jose and told
him roundly that it was all his fault, and that we knew he
had intimidated the men. His demeanour was exceedingly
bold and aggressive ; he did not attempt to deny the charge,
and, moreover, did not take off his hat on entering the room
— a great mark of disrespect for a Chilian arriero. I told
him in few but forcible words exactly what we thought of
him ; but as he did not seem in a frame of mind to receive
these remarks respectfully, Lightbody, who had had years of
experience in dealing with this most difficult class of men,
seized him and prepared to hustle him out of the door.
Instantly he drew his knife, but next moment he dropped it ;
Lightbody, perfectly ready for this move, had gripped his
wrist with lightning rapidity, and given it such a twist that
the man screamed with pain. In a second he was thrown to
the ground, and without more ado Lightbody carried him to
the door and gave him a gentle but firm drop-kick, which sent
him flying some fifteen feet out into the snow. All this took
place far more rapidly than I can narrate it. Jose had come

JOS£ EXPELLED 263

into the room, addressed us, and left us in this elegant
fashion, all in about ten seconds of time. There was nothing
more to be done ; the man was Chileno, and everyone knows
that a Chileno never forgives a blow ; that he would have a
knife into one of us if possible for the morning's work, was
certain. It was for us now to be exceedingly cautious how
we went about at night or in lonely spots, for this man
would most assuredly lie in wait for one of us. It had
always been our rule to be armed in these districts, so we
decided that, if the man attacked us, he should be allowed no
mercy.

Next day Dr. Cotton and Lightbody went down to Vacas to
see what they could do about getting more peons to take our
luggage. They returned next morning with some fresh men,
and we considered ourselves fortunate. This time we had
Jose in, and explained to him beforehand that he would
show a due regard for his own welfare by not tampering with
our new porters.

On the same afternoon, Vines, Lightbody, and I set out
to take photographs at the head of the Horcones Valley,
some three miles distant ; also to take some views of the
surrounding country in its winter covering. This occupied
us the whole afternoon ; and though we were desperately
tired when we returned, we were amply repaid by the beauty
of the scenery. The day was clear, the sun shining brightly
and nearly dazzling us with its reflection from the newly-
fallen snow. The mountains looked most awe-inspiring with
their great mantle of white, while Aconcagua, with its
colossal crags and precipices, came out very sharply upon its
south side, looking even more majestic than usual, with its
huge load crumbling and breaking away in many avalanches.

That evening the Argentine post for Chile arrived, having
succeeded in forcing its way up the valley. They had some
thirty bags of mail, which they had packed on mules, and to
make a path they had driven up a great herd of these
animals in front, unloaded, so as to cut a passage. When
we met them, they were attempting to get on to Cuevas,
or perhaps to the casuchas in the Paramillos, that night.

264 THE HIGHEST ANDES

But on hearing from us of the great drifts through which we
had had to force our way, they turned back to the Inca for
the night. The rooms of the inn were now in a terribly wet
and cold condition. We had more or less cleared the roofs,
but still the snow had melted on them and soaked its way
through the mud ceilings, and the water was dripping in
everywhere, compelling us to shift our beds from side to
side, and to cover ourselves with macintosh sheets to avoid
getting wet through. The common-room had a tin roof,
which was fairly water-tight in places ; besides, there was a
small stove in this room, a luxury not contained in any other
of the apartments. Gosse had been suffering for some days
past from a bad cough and sore throat, so we moved a bed
for him into this room, hoping that the extra dryness and
warmth would cure him.

On the morning of the 7th, Jose* set out early with three
horses and two mules for Cuevas, taking our luggage. I sent
Lightbody to take charge of it to Chile, while I thought it
better to remain for another day or two and see the rest of
our luggage moved down to Vacas. Cotton volunteered to
accompany Lightbody, as he wanted to get out of the
mountains for the winter, and Vines decided to go as far as
Cuevas with them, and help in case Jose" proved troublesome.
Vines' tale of this trip to Cuevas will be found in the next
chapter.

They left upon a dull and dreary morning. It was not
actually snowing, but the sky had that dull, grey, leaden hue
which in the Andes invariably foretells the advent of a heavy
storm. I spent the day in clearing the snow off the top of
the room in which I had put Gosse's bed. In the evening he
seemed much worse, high fever declaring itself, and I made
him go to bed. Soon the fever reached such an alarming
point that I feared pneumonia. The room was fearfully
damp ; but that I could not help, as the firewood ran out, and
I was reduced to burning the floor and the woodwork of the
building, cutting out those beams in the roof which I thought
could be spared without a catastrophe. I sat up all that night,
watching by his bedside, and keeping a roaring fire in the

GOSSE'S ILLNESS 265

little stove. All the woollen garments I could find I crowded
on him and about his bed. The wind howled terribly, and
the snow began to fall fast in the early morning. My fear
was that Vines would be caught at Cuevas, and be unable to
rejoin me, and that I should thus be left all alone with Gosse,
which would be a terrible position for me, if he got worse.
I should have nobody to send for assistance, and the winter
snows had cut us off to such an extent that we were com-
pelled to rely upon ourselves for everything that we needed.
These thoughts were not cheering for me as I spent that
lonely night watching for the symptoms that I so much
dreaded. Fortunately he was slightly better in the morning,
but I was still very anxious, and in the afternoon of the next
day he was again worse. Just as dusk was setting in, and I
had given up all hopes of seeing Vines for perhaps weeks to
come, I heard someone rap outside the door, and, when I
opened, to my delight I saw Vines. It had been snowing
steadily all day, but with great pluck he had managed to
rejoin me. Our luggage, he said, was safely in Cuevas with
Cotton and Lightbody, and would be carried over on the first
opportunity. Jose" had apparently not covered himself with
glory, but I had cautioned everybody the day before to keep
a very close eye on him, to see that he played none of his old
tricks.

That night Jos6 got very drunk in the kitchen, and
was making himself unpleasant to the peons at the inn,
and threatening everybody. The comedor communicated
with the kitchen by a little door about three feet from the
ground, large enough to pass the plates through. To reach
the interior of the kitchen it was necessary to go outside and
walk round the whole building. I stuck my head through
this door, and told Jose* that he must leave the kitchen and go
to the casucha, as I could not have him in that condition
disturbing us. At first he did not pay the slightest attention
to me ; and finally, losing all patience with the drunken brute,
as I could not get round by the door — the snow having com-
pletely blocked it — I crawled through this window and
jumped down into the kitchen, some four feet below7. Jose*

266 THE HIGHEST ANDES

now thought it was about time to be moving, especially as
Vines, who was close behind me, came leaping through, head
first, and arrived in a heap on the floor ; so he took to his
heels, and went to the casucha. Vines, who had rather hurt
himself in his wild leap through this small window, — a form
of entrance which must have resembled the method by which
Harlequin enters the stage in a pantomime, — was not satisfied
with the flight of Jose", and did not rest until he had turned
out several of the postmen who were also the worse for
liquor. The kitchen having thus been thoroughly cleared,
we returned by the same route by which we had come, in as
elegant and dignified fashion as possible, always with regard
to the risk of being attacked in rear at the moment we were
crawling through, which would have been embarrassing, to
say the least.

CHAPTER XXIV

BY STUART VINES
THE PASS IN WINTER

BY 7th June it seemed at length possible to make a final
start with our baggage for the Cumbre Pass and
Chile. Snow had not fallen for some days, and we thought
it would be better to make a move as far as Cuevas, where
we heard peons were waiting to convey the mail-bags over
the Pass. • These men would be quite willing to let the post
wait if they could get more lucrative employment with us.
It was a dull, gusty morning. We sent Jose* on in advance,
with three mules and two horses heavily laden with the
thirteen panniers for Chile. The man was still in disgrace,
smarting under the thrashing Lightbody had given him. His
movements had therefore to be watched, for we could not
trust him long out of our sight with the valuable baggage he
was in charge of. Lightbody, Cotton, and I started at noon
on foot, with two men from Inca, Alfredo and Acosta, as
extra porters.

But now that, after so many delays, we were really able to
extricate ourselves from our wintry surroundings, another
trouble arose. Owing, no doubt, to the complete climatic
change that had taken place in the last ten days, the heavy
snows, melted by the sun, turned the Inca, usually so dry and
dusty, into a streaming slough of slush : the water poured
through the roof of the inn and down the walls : our bedding
and clothing were damp and clammy. Philip Gosse had
developed what we thought at the time was only a slight cold
and sore throat, but FitzGerald thought it advisable to stay
behind with him and follow us to Cuevas on the morrow.

268 THE HIGHEST ANDES

This was the first occasion on which we had reason to
employ native porters, and I was much struck with the footgear
worn. Their light home-made alpagatas of untanned hide
were bound round with any old rags or cloths they might have
handy ; over this they fastened a sheepskin, shaped so as to
be brought up and secured round the ankle. As we trudged
along to Cuevas I compared the tracks made by Lightbody, in
boots, and Acosta — who carried a heavy load — in these foot
bandages. There was no doubt that the peon scored very
considerably in the snow. Whereas the hard crust on the
surface frequently gave way under the boots, the sheepskin
bandages passed quietly over, hardly leaving a track behind
them. But the greatest advantage arising from this footgear
lies in the fact that its looseness and warmth allow a free
circulation, and make frost-bite almost an impossibility.

During the last few days of sorting and packing we had
found many things we wanted to get rid of, and the peons
and porters had been glad to purchase different articles from
us. But what they most set their hearts on were our putties.
Nothing of the kind had been seen in the country before, and
they valued them highly, offering us as much as two dollars a
pair. This admiration did not extend to the numerous pairs
of climbing boots we had to dispose of, and one man, whom
FitzGerald presented with a very good pair, asked for putties
instead.

When we reached the wide, flat part of the valley beyond
the Paramillos del Inca, we found the traces of the last caravan
of mules making the journey not yet obliterated by the storms
that had closed the route. They had evidently ploughed
through at the time of a heavy thaw succeeded by a very
severe frost, and the subsequent snows had been swept off
the hard and lumpy track thus formed. It was toilsome
work ; we crossed the flats, and reached the foot of the hills
beyond, passed the graveyard with its numerous crosses
festooned with icicles, found a path that admitted of single
file still open on the road round the Paramillos, and, at half-
past four, came to the deserted and half-buried Customs
House ; but who would carry anything beyond the bare neces-

A BURIED STATION 269

sities of life over such a route at such a season ? There was
a depression in the smuggling trade, and the customs officials
had wisely fled to more comfortable quarters at Vacas.

At five we reached Cuevas, or that part of it that peeped
above the snow. The Rio Mendoza Valley, barred by the
heights of the Cumbre Pass, twines towards the north just
beyond Cuevas, and this northern reach acts as a funnel for
the great north-west winds, which sweep the snow from the
mountain sides and heap it up at this corner of the valley on
the luckless head of the little mountain station.

There was little to indicate that the place was inhabited,
but deep lanes, cut through the enormous drifts to the doors
and windows, showed that many hands had been at work
quite lately. Inside, there was no lack of life and population :
three men, whom I judged by clothes ill-fitted to surrounding
circumstances to be benighted passengers, were carrying on
a hot argument with a couple of peons, whose " patrons " they
evidently were ; a capitas and his band of peons, with an
enormous accumulation of post-bags, were waiting for a
favourable opportunity to cross the Pass ; and an unhappy-
looking bar-keeper, with numerous bottles of poison of various
colours and strengths ranged in rows on shelves behind him,
completed the list of inhabitants of Cuevas at this time, though
I was informed that the casucha and some sheds near were
full of imprisoned postmen and their mules.

The bar-keeper seemed to be having a lazy time, and was
not flourishing, as no one seemed inclined for the time being
to commit suicide. The fact was that during the last few
days there had been a gradual rise in the price of everything
at Cuevas, especially in the price of drinks, and the peons
fought shy of paying a dollar for a dram of spirits. Being
ignorant of the reasons for the prevailing abstemiousness and
the consequent gloom, we gave an impetus to trade by
ordering a brazier of charcoal and several bottles of beer.
We learnt later that the former was a shilling an hour, and the
latter four to five shillings a bottle.

Lightbody immediately began to treat with the capitas for
the conveyance of our panniers over the Pass. He had not

270 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the slightest hesitation in leaving the post-bags and taking on
our job, informing us that if the snow held up on the morrow
the crossing would be possible, for although it was very deep
on the Chile side, the peons would be able to plunge down
through it somehow, and that the wind had swept a great part
of it away on the Cuevas side, and the ascent to the Cumbre
would not be as bad as was imagined.

The carrying trade and postal service over the Pass
in winter is arranged on these lines : — A capitas, generally a
man with a little capital to back him in his enterprise, gets
together a band of porters at some mountain station, wherever
the mule service is interrupted for the time being. He under-
takes to find them in board and lodging as long as they are
under him — the lodging being a matter of no importance, as
the men sleep in the casuchas — and pay them so much a load
for what they carry.

The post arrives at Vacas, the capitas examines it, and
forms an idea of what it will cost him to take it up to and
over the Pass. He then treats with the postal officials, and
draws up a contract to deliver the mails at the station on the
other side wherever the mule traffic may be resumed.

No time is stated in the contract, and he takes all the risks
of delay by weather. In good weather probably he will treat
for ten dollars a load, and give his men six or seven dollars.
Should any private baggage turn up, he dumps the post-
bags on the spot and makes a new bargain, generally for
anything up to twenty-five dollars a load, according to the
condition of the passes and the impatience of the owner. His
porters will probably get two-thirds the amount he bargains
for per load.

As we sat and warmed ourselves over the brazier, the peons
came up one by one and picked out their loads. We were
disappointed to see that there were only five men in the band
besides the capitas. This, we thought, would mean the delay
and trouble of two journeys. But our anxiety was soon set
at rest on this point.

The panniers were chiefly filled with clothes, books, papers,
and photographic results, and had been packed carefully in

HEAVY BURDENS 271

order to distribute the weight as evenly as possible. They
were of the regulation size, a foot deep, two and a half feet long,
a foot and a half wide — wicker-work covered with Willesden
canvas. One of the peons came up and laid two stakes on
the table, took one of the panniers, lifted it up and down
several times to estimate its weight, and laid it on the two
stakes. Then, to our astonishment, he took up a second and
laid it beside the first, bound all together, attached hide
shoulder-straps, then got another peon to hoist it on his back,
and when all was fixed to his liking, walked up and down the
room by way of preliminary canter. Was it possible these
men would attempt to cross the Pass in its present condition
with a load which, in size and weight, a railway porter at home
would hardly care to carry a few yards ?

Our own porters, Alfredo and Acosta, volunteered for the
service as we were short of men, and we told them they could
arrange with the capitas about their loads and payment. I
noticed that they only took one pannier each, and asked them
why they, who were of a more powerful build than most of
the peons, were afraid to carry two panniers, and how much
the capitas was paying them for it. They said that he
was paying ten dollars a load or five dollars a pannier.
Alfredo explained that he had lived on horseback all his life
and was not used to such heavy portering, and that he was
quite content to carry one pannier over for five dollars.
Acosta said he had done a good deal of portering in his time,
and had carried the mails for many years, but he had
always avoided carrying loads beyond a certain weight. He
said, " I am fifty years old now, senor, and I am still a strong
and active man. If you notice, these porters are all young
men. Probably not one of them will live to my age. Some-
times they begin this work at twenty, sometimes at forty.
Anyhow, senor, they only last a few years at it. It kills them
in the end." They all looked strong men, except one, who
seemed in no way fitted for such work.

As Lightbody was successful in treating with a really
responsible capitas who could, without doubt, fulfil his obli-
gations— a man who knew the Pass well and would not dump

272 THE HIGHEST ANDES

our baggage on the snow and fly at the sight of the first
storm, there was no necessity for two of us to cross over with
it, and I felt it would be better to return to Inca and cross
with FitzGerald and Gosse.

The wind of the previous day had entirely dropped, and
heavy snow was falling when we began to stir at an early
hour on the Tuesday, 8th June. I consulted with porters
and arrieros, and found out that a large caravan belonging to
the postal service had been at Cuevas some days, and was
about to start for Vacas ; that with the madrinas, or "bell
mares," and my own troop of six animals, it would not be
difficult to force a passage to Inca, as there was no wind, if
an early start was made. I knew it would be foolish to
depend on the words "about to start" where the South
American arriero was concerned, and determined to set out
independently. If my horse could not carry me, I could
make my way on foot, for it was barely twelve miles. I
therefore told Jose* to bring round the White-eyed Kaffir—
an expert in facing weather of this kind. It was half-past
eight before the animal was ready, and then everything had
changed for the worse. The snow had increased in volume,
and a tremendous wind had risen. Never in my life have
I seen such darkness in daytime as was caused by this
snowstorm. I crawled out of the door of the hut, and found
the Kaffir patiently standing up to his withers in a drift
that had formed around him in the last few minutes. The
wind was from the west, and it was impossible to turn my
head in that direction, for the snow blinded me at once. The
storm was so violent, however, that I felt sure it could not
last. I left the horse standing, and with great difficulty made
my way to some outlying sheds where the arrieros had
quarters. These lay to windward ; so I put my head under
my poncho and struggled blindly forward, almost suffocated
by the driving snow. It took me ten minutes to cover the
200 yards to the sheds. Here I found about twenty mules,
besides my own animals, which had been ready packed before
the storm began. The poor beasts were almost buried
already. I entered some low buildings — a large shed, used

FODDER FAMINE AGAIN 273

for storing fodder for the winter, but empty, as no provision
had been made this year, owing to the snow falling earlier
than had been expected. Half a dozen arrieros crouched
round a fire. I began at once to discuss the situation ; two
of the men had crossed the Cumbre during the last spell of
fine weather, with three transport agents, who wanted to catch
the weekly train from Vacas to Mendoza, and were under
contract to get them to Vacas by the following night. They
declared that their "patrons" were grumbling at the high
prices charged for food at Cuevas, and did not object to
starting, as they did not know the risk they were running,
and thought that having crossed the Pass, the worst was over,
and all would be plain sailing ; that, if the senor could
persuade the postmen to start, their train of twenty mules
might plough through the drifts until the storm abated. So
I turned to the postmen. They had a woeful tale to tell. In
the first place they would lose the chance of carrying the
next posts up from Vacas if they delayed any longer, and
were naturally eager to start. But there were far more
potent reasons for getting away from Cuevas at once. They
had only brought enough fodder for their animals to last three
days, and they had now been five days there ; there was not
a grain of corn at Inca, and their animals would all die if they
did not reach Vacas in two days. Moreover, their own
provisions had run out, and it was ruinous to buy from the
passengers' quarters. They said there was safety in numbers,
that we could, at least, reach the casucha on the far side of
the Paramillos de las Cuevas, and that they would risk it, and
set out at half-past nine. If the transport agents and the
senor would start, and all would follow close on one another's
heels, there would be no great danger. So far as the animals
were concerned, I had much the same reasons for starting at
once, for the little maize I could bring up with the other loads
was nearly exhausted. When I made my way back to the
passengers' quarters, Lightbody and Cotton declared it would
be madness to start in such a storm, but as I found the
transport agents bent on following the post, I determined to
risk everything for the sake of the mules and horses.
18

274 THE HIGHEST ANDES

We started at 9.45 in the most blinding snowstorm I
have ever experienced. It was hardly possible at times to
see the tail of the animal in front, though following close on
its footsteps. By the custom-house the road runs through a
narrow gorge. This had been long blocked by gigantic drifts,
and a path made far up the valley side amongst the rocks.
To look after anyone but oneself was out of the question. I
do not know if the others fared as badly as my immediate
neighbours ; I could not see far enough to discover — I could
only hear the continuous execrations hurled at the luckless
animals in the long thin line in front and behind me. How-
ever, the caravan reached the flat ground by the river-bed on
the lower side of this defile, where I found Jose" and my beasts
all safe. If the storm continued I did not see how the animals
could get much farther, and the transport agents with their
tight town boots were quite incapable of going on foot. It
was all very well for me, with climbing boots, putties, and
gabardine. The going was easier on the flat where the
caravan followed the river-bed. This they could not do for
long, as we reached the dreaded Paramillos. The word
means, " little moraines." It is a kind of smaller pass
caused by an accumulation of moraine-like heaps, which had
at one time blocked the valley. The river had cut a deep
gorge through the barrier, on one side of which ran the road.
The entire work of progress was left to the animals them-
selves. They chose the way by the road now obliterated by
drifts ; the bell-mares went first, and with consummate skill
slowly forced their way down the narrow path, steering round
the drifts, or, when this was not possible, plunging through
them up to their necks. For some time the leading mare
seldom hesitated, and a shout from the arrieros far in the rear
of the train was enough to make the plucky beast forge ahead
again. But after a while halts became frequent, and the
arrieros seemed to go mad, in their wild hysterical way, as
they cursed and swore at their patient animals. Then worse
things happened : one mule fell after another, and, rolling
over, slid down the steep snow slope two hundred feet to the
river-bed. When they reached the bottom they made no

IN THE RIVER-BED 275

attempt to move, but lay almost buried in the snow, as if dead,
for the poor brutes had fallen more from exhaustion than
anything else. In a short time most of the arrieros were
down by the river-bed, for half a dozen horses and mules had
fallen, a horse and mule of mine amongst them. For some
little time their efforts to get the mules to take any more
interest in affairs — and they did not use the gentlest means —
were of no avail ; but after struggling waist-deep in the snow
they got them all on their feet, and we reached the casucha
at the foot of the Paramillos at noon.

Before us a vast flat field of snow stretched to within a few
miles of Inca, where the ancient glaciers of the Horcones
Valley had thrown a second barrier of detritus across the
valley. Snow filled this wide expanse to a great depth :
the graveyard with its crosses was nowhere to be seen ;
almost every landmark was obliterated. The only means
of crossing this plain, therefore, was by wading down
the river. There were about a dozen animals in front
of me as I passed the casucha. I watched them wind down
to the river-bed, and I had nothing to do but follow in
their track. No one seemed to be coming along after me, so
I took it for granted that arrieros and agents had given up
the struggle, and were staying at the casucha, regardless of
the fact that their animals were wandering on. I pushed
forward for some time without looking back, determined to
proceed by the river until I reached the second Paramillo,
where it became deep and rapid, and then leaving the animals
to their fate, force my way through the snow to Inca. My
only alternative was to remain at the casucha for the night,
but I was far too well acquainted with the habits of the
arrieros to relish the idea of becoming the tenth inhabitant
of such quarters for eighteen hours.

Fortunately the river flowed wide and shallow through the
plain, and the going was not difficult. Walls of snow rose
up on either side to a height of four feet. The mules
seemed quite content to wade, but it was otherwise with the
horses. The Kaffir tried repeatedly to break into the
wall on either side, and seized every opportunity of escaping

276 THE HIGHEST ANDES

from the river. At length there was a block. A bend in the

river brought us to some rapids where the water was deep

and the bed rocky. The beasts plunged about in the snow

for some time, and we were delayed some fifteen minutes. I

had not looked back for half an hour, in fact since leaving the

casucha. I now heard voices behind me, and peering through

the blinding snow, recognised the three agents. They seemed

in a pretty bad way, and explained to me that nothing would

induce them to stay with the arrieros at the casucha, for those

gentlemen had somehow procured spirits at Cuevas, probably

from smuggled stores, had ensconced themselves in the

casucha and set to work to drink, and as most were drunk

already, the agents considered it preferable to follow me — they

relied on me to bring them safely through to Inca. Now this

was what I had particularly wished to avoid : the responsibility

for three men quite unused to cold and snow and heights, their

boots and clothes utterly unfitted for such work, who had started

in the belief that they would not have to put their feet to the

ground and could ride comfortably all the way. There was no

reason, moreover, to believe that the storm would abate, for it

had been steadily increasing in violence all day. One of my

companions spoke French, and I explained the situation to him ;

—that probably it would be impossible to wade as we were

doing for another two miles, and that then the river entered

a gorge ; that the animals would be quite unable to force a

way through the snow on the Paramillos del Inca, to say

nothing of the drifts ; that it would need two or three men to

beat down the snow and give them a lead. If they were

capable of going on foot, well and good ; if not, there was

but one course to pursue — to return to the casucha. They

said they could not possibly turn round and face the storm ;

they had perfect faith in the senor ; and they would follow

him to Inca. I told them I would not take any such

responsibility, and that they had much better turn back. My

advice was unheeded, and so we continued down the river

for a little time. Two of the men grumbled at every little

difficulty, and soon one began to complain of his legs feeling

numb. This was enough warning for me. I told them they

A DIFFICULT JOURNEY 277

could go on alone, but that I was going back to the casucha,
and that if they cared to follow me they could.

For an hour we beat up stream again, against the blind-
ing snow, with our ponchos over our heads, forcing our
beasts along with the spur. At last shouts ahead pro-
claimed that the arrieros had finished their refreshment, and
were continuing the journey ; also that they were well
refreshed. It is no good talking to a drunken South
American mule-driver, so, though Jose was as drunk as the
rest, I said nothing. It was not exactly the time and place
to give him the thrashing he deserved. It was now one
o'clock, and we all hurried down stream, putting our wretched
animals to their best speed. The Kaffir swerved aside
from time to time into the snow, objecting more and more to
the water. It was impossible, however, to break through the
snow for more than a few yards, and I spurred the poor
beast back into the icy torrent. At about two we reached
the Paramillos del Inca, and further progress by the river was
at an end. The arrieros tried to make the animals lead the
way from the river-bed up the steep bank, which was breast-
high in snow, as they had done earlier in the day. The
bell-mares, however, seemed to have entirely lost their bear-
ings, and consequently the whole troop began to wander,
some up the river, some down, and in fact in every direction
but the right one. Then Jose went ahead, and tried to
force a passage with his horse, but after a few yards the
animal could not go a step further. There seemed no way
round the enormous drift between us and the road over the
Paramillos. It was clear that the only way to make further
progress was to dismount and beat down a way on foot. It
was now 2.30; we were still two miles from Inca, and the
storm was as bad as ever. I dismounted, and taking the
lead, beat a way in the direction of where the road should be.
With great difficulty I reached the top of the Paramillos. I
did not know whether the whole caravan was following me
or not ; my eyes were blinded at once, if I turned to look
back. A few mules, and then the arrieros followed close on
my footsteps. The latter had at last recognised the

278 THE HIGHEST ANDES

necessity of dismounting and going on foot. The agents
alone were mounted. As the pack-animals plunged about in
the drifts, they loosened their loads, and the halts were
interminable. Fortunately the loads were very light. I tried
to get the postmen to relieve me for a short time in the heavy
work of taking the lead, but soon gave this up. I could not
quite make out if they were unable or unwilling to do the
hard work, so I determined to do it for them only so far
as necessary ; viz., to the spot where the Paramillos ceased
and the descent into the plain commenced. I pushed on for
some time, and hearing no voices behind me, looked back,
and could only make out some mules following close on my
heels. I stood still and shouted, but getting no reply, made
an attempt to retrace my steps. To my dismay I found that
only three mules were following, and that after a short
distance our tracks were entirely obliterated. However, I
had reached the end of the Paramillos, and no doubt, as I
had been bearing too much in a bee-line for Inca, the
arrieros had turned by an easier route, or had found signs of
the road and followed it. I had the choice of turning to the
left, and trying to find the road, which leads by a circuitous
route to Inca, or of continuing on in the direction I was
taking, which would save more than half the distance, but
would necessitate fording the Rio Mendoza. I determined
to pursue the latter course, and soon found myself on the
edge of the cliff overhanging the river. Skirting along it for
some distance, I at length broke through the huge cornice
overhanging its edge, and slid down the snow, that had
drifted on to the face of the cliff, into the water. It was
deeper than I had expected, for I plunged in nearly up to my
neck. I reached the opposite bank, but could not find any-
thing to pull myself up with. Repeatedly I fell with great
masses of snow back into the icy water, but at last by swim-
ming down a few yards I secured a firm foothold. I landed
about three hundred yards from Inca, but my troubles were
by no means over. The snow, deeper here than I had so far
encountered on level ground, covered the thorn bushes ; there
was no vestige of a. path ; it was growing very dark ; I was

RETURN TO INCA 279

wet through and as cold as ice, and every miuute I fell over
the hidden bushes, burying myself in thorns and snow, a most
unpleasant combination of evils. In fact these last three
hundred yards took me exactly half an hour to accomplish.
Even when I had reached the Inca buildings there seemed
little chance of gaining entrance, so deep were the snow-drifts.
I wandered round for a few minutes, until I found a shutter
which I tried to open. A voice came from within ; it was
FitzGerald's, "Go round to the east side, and I'll let you in
by the window. The old door's blocked up with snow. We
haven't been out all day. Gosse has a beastly bad throat and
fever. Don't bring in too much snow and cold air. What
made you tempt Providence for twelve miles on such a day as
this?"

So ended one of the worst fights I have ever had with the
snow. I was inside the house before six. The last two miles
had taken three hours, though it was not fatigue that had
delayed me, for I was strong and well at the end of it. I
naturally felt much anxiety for my three fellow-travellers, the
horses and mules I had left to the tender care of Jose", and even
for the drunken crew of arrieros. However, at seven we heard
their mule-shouts on the far side of the river, and they arrived
shortly after eight. The transport agents were in the most
wretched condition. Two of them had to be lifted from their
horses. They could neither walk nor stand. One could do
nothing but lie on the floor in front of the fire and groan. ' A
tremendously stiff grog, however, brought them back to
comparative life again, and they were convalescent the next
morning. Of the six animals Josd had charge of from
Cuevas, only four could be accounted for the next day. The
black horse and a mule were missing. I was not sorry in the
end that they were lost, for they were the means of saving
one life, if not two, a few days later ; for two wretched indi-
viduals who were wanted by the police in Chile, and had
crossed the Cumbre in hasty flight, appeared at Inca late one
night riding the lost animals. They had reached the foot of
the Paramillos de las Cuevas, when one of them entirely
broke down with fatigue, and refused to go a step further.

28o THE HIGHEST ANDES

The other man, at his wits' end, wandered hopelessly off in
search of aid. He had not gone far when he saw our two
animals knee-deep in snow on the southern bank of the river.
As the beasts would not cross to him, he had to wade over
and fetch them. The poor beasts had spent two days and
nights in the snow, and could not possibly have obtained a
morsel of food ; for though mules are extremely clever in
scratching up the snow to a certain depth and nibbling the
grass and yareta beneath, the snow at this time was far too
deep for food to be obtained in such a manner. He took
them back to his friend, who in a few minutes would have
gone to swell the number of crosses at the foot of the
Paramillos, got him on to the horse and arrived at Inca some
six hours later. They were both frost-bitten, one of them
very badly, but we looked after them for a day or two, and
eventually got them down to Vacas and Mendoza.

The saddest part of the story is that we were in such a
state of famine at Inca that we had not a bit of hay to give
the two starved beasts. I tried them with broken biscuit and
maize, but they would touch neither. They died of starva-
tion, therefore, before our eyes, fortunately the only victims
of an experience that seemed at one time likely to have a
vastly more tragic ending.

CHAPTER XXV

LIGHTBODY'S CROSSING OF THE ANDES

BEFORE going further I must say something of Light-
body's adventures on the Cumbre Pass* when Vines
left him there on 8th June with that part of the luggage that
was to be taken over to Chile. It must be remembered that
the packages Lightbody had contained the whole of the
results of our expedition, and were of course of the utmost
value to us, as they represented our seven months' work. To
get these extremely precious articles across the Cumbre in
midwinter was a heavy responsibility.

When Vines left him in the morning it was snowing hard,
and a bitter north-west gale was blowing from the Cumbre.
All that day he was unable to move, for no living man could
face the terrible blizzard that swept down from the pass he
wished to ascend, carrying with it masses of fine snow as
hard and as cutting as splinters of flint. Several times that
evening he ventured out from the posada where they had
taken refuge, but found it impossible to struggle more than a
few yards from the door before he was driven back blinded
and half -choked by the blizzard. In the evening a few
travellers arrived, who had crossed the pass with the gale
behind them. They had been nine hours on the way, coming
on foot from Portillo, and they were in a pitiable state, nearly
dead from cold and fatigue. Several of them had actually
been carried a considerable distance towards the end of the
journey, for they had completely lost the use of their feet.
Even the peons, their guides and porters, who had helped to
carry them, declared that the weather had been fearful, and
that at times they thought they should be unable to get
through. However, as their passengers were very weak and

281

282 THE HIGHEST ANDES

ill they dared not stop in the casuchas lest these poor people
should die on their hands, and never pay them. Lightbody
and Dr. Cotton did what they could to help them, but all that
night they suffered greatly, and their groans testified elo-
quently to the privations they had endured. One of them
had his feet badly frost-bitten, though at the time they did
not know how badly. It was many days afterwards — the
very day before Vines and I started for Las Cuevas — that
one of these unfortunate men came down on muleback to the
Inca, his feet bandaged up. He told a terrible tale of his
sufferings during the time he had spent alone in the little
posada at Cuevas, with not a soul to talk to, and no medical
aid at hand. His feet had been seriously frost-bitten and he
had suffered greatly ; when he arrived he was in an almost
fainting condition, from the pain and agony caused by his
having to ride with his feet still terribly swollen and
inflamed.

Next day, during a lull in the storm, Lightbody attempted
some photography, but the work was carried on under great
difficulties, with what he thought at the time would be little
success. As a matter of fact, however, these photographs
came out very well.

As he was taking some of his views his camera was
blown over, and the ground glass in it smashed to splinters,
after which he was reduced to photographing with a small
fragment of the glass, holding it up at the back of the camera.
That he should have got such good results under these
difficulties seems marvellous, and tells of the patience and
care with which he worked.

In Lightbody 's diary, written up day by day on the spot,
which is before me as I write, he seems to have been over-
come by depression. These prolonged snowstorms, when
one is living in the cold, damp comedor of an Andine
posada, have a wearing effect on the mind ; the ceaseless
fall of snow, the short days, the grey skies, the uncertainty
of the supply of provisions, all combine to bring on great
and abnormal depression.

Towards evening the weather looked more promising,

THE PORTERS OF THE ANDES 283

and he resolved to make a start next day and attempt to
cross : so early on the morning of the loth, the porters began
to carry the luggage over the pass. The weight these men
bear at a time is somewhat extraordinary, for even to a
strong man without a load the crossing of the Cumbre in
winter is dangerous and toilsome enough. When one takes
into consideration, therefore, that these men took two of our
mule panniers apiece — making the load for each amount to
from 100 to 120 Ibs. — it seems indeed marvellous that they
do not more frequently die by the road when overtaken by
storms. Most of these porters are half Spanish, half Indian,
and have spent most of their lives upon this task. Many of
them are killed every year at the work, and it was only last
winter I heard with deep regret that one of the peons,
Sebastian by name, who had served us most faithfully, had
been overwhelmed by an avalanche. He was leaving one
of the casuchas on the Chilian side of the Cumbre, when he
and several passengers were hurled to their death. They
had been obliged to wait a long time in this casucha owing
to the inclemency of the weather, but on account of the lack
of provisions they were at last compelled to make an effort
to escape, and perished on the way. Some of these men die
on the pass from sheer fatigue ; others are starved in lonely
and inhospitable casuchas, while many are overwhelmed by
the sudden blizzards, or carried away, like Sebastian, by the
great avalanches that sweep the mountain sides. These men
are of a hardy race, a very different type to the ordinary
muleteer, who never sets foot on the ground unless he is
forced to do so. Some of them are honest and straight-
forward, but I fear the majority can only be described as the
land pirates of the snow. Whenever they can, they extort
their wages in advance before starting with the traveller's
luggage. Then, on arriving at a lonely place where there is
no help, they throw down their burdens and refuse to carry
them farther, or to lead their passengers either forward or
back unless they are paid on the spot some exorbitant sum.
This game continues until they have stripped the unfortunate
traveller of all he possesses. Lightbody, of course, was not

284 THE HIGHEST ANDES

ignorant of these practices. He had lived many years in
South America and knew the natives well : besides the
peons were aware it would be a mistake to try any tricks
upon us. They knew we were all well armed, and that we
should not hesitate to use our weapons if necessary. Before
starting they made an earnest appeal to Lightbody for an
advance of their wages, but we had long ago made it an
inflexible rule upon the expedition that no money should be
paid to any native for services rendered until their work was
actually accomplished. These petitions were therefore in
vain, and the march began with the best possible assurance
of their fidelity.

The hour at which they started was 6. 1 5 in the morning.
The sun had not yet risen, but it was a bright and starlight
night, and though the cold was intense, there was little or
no wind. For the first part of the journey they walked in
the track that the travellers of the previous day had made.
These tracks are called by the peons of the country a
"beueey." They walked steadily and continuously until the
summit of the pass was reached, taking less than two hours,
which even in summer would be considered quick going ; but
of course, owing to the terrible gales of the last few days,
this side of the water-parting had been swept clear of snow.
When they reached the top of the pass, as they were some
distance ahead, they waited for the porters to come up with
the luggage, for naturally they did not wish to let these men
out of their sight. In about an hour the porters arrived, and
the march was continued down the side to Portillo, the peons
being kept in front. Here and there the track led directly
under cliffs and bluffs where avalanches had fallen and buried
the track made by the travellers of the day before. Great
masses of newly-fallen snow hung on the slopes above their
heads, and instinctively they hurried on, for the peril was
great. At any moment fresh avalanches might fall from
those upper slopes and sweep them away. There was an
immense amount of snow on this side of the pass, and the
track along which the party was now struggling towards
Portillo was little more than a ridge of ice, slippery, narrow,

ARRIVAL AT PORTILLO 285

and sloping sharply downwards on both sides into fields of
soft snow. This had been made by the travellers on the
previous day. The sun had softened the snow, and a beaten
track formed which had frozen during the night, producing
a hard and narrow path of ice. It was like walking along
the top of a wall ; any incautious step would precipitate a
man on one side or the other into huge drifts of powdery
snow, where he would sink almost out of sight. These falls
are extremely trying, and the struggles one has to make to
get back to the track again are most fatiguing. Neverthe-
less, in spite of these difficulties, they reached Portillo in less
than six hours, of which quite an hour had been spent on the
top of the Cumbre waiting for the porters. Considering the
condition of the snow, and the immense loads the men were
carrying, this was remarkably quick time. At Portillo they
found comfortable quarters and good food, and the landlord
did his best for them.

Next day, in bright and clear weather, Lightbody went
back along the road he had already traversed, and took a
series of photographs of the Inca lake and the surrounding
country. The little party lingered at this lonely inn on the
plains of Portillo, thinking that Vines, Gosse, and I would
overtake them, and that we might then all continue the
journey together. They little knew at that time what anxious
nights we were passing at the Inca, on account of Gosse's
illness. They waited a few days, and then resolved to
proceed, rightly thinking it would be better for them to get
the luggage safely down to some civilised spot on the
Chilian side.

Lightbody recounts in his notes that, while staying at
Portillo, they had an opportunity of studying more closely
the characters of their guides. On their arrival at partial
civilisation they had thought it right to advance a small part
of the money due for work done. The reception of this
instalment had the usual consequence. All the wine and
beer that Portillo afforded was bought and consumed, directly
they had something in their pockets, and in a short time
they displayed an unwonted largeness of manner and freedom

286 THE HIGHEST ANDES

of discourse. An old man, the father of the company,
favoured them with a full flow of conversation. He was,
he said, fifty-four years of age, an antiquity of which he
seemed to be proud, but in spite of his years, which were
great for a man following his profession, this patriarch had
done even more than his fair share of the work. He brought
over the two heaviest panniers, piling on top of them his
own effects. The total weight which he had thus carried
across the icy ridge of the Cumbre amounted to over one
hundred and thirty pounds. This venerable quinquagenarian
told them many tales of adventure in the snowy passes, and
boasted of the great loads he had sometimes borne, naturally
making much of his own endurance and fidelity. He had
often, he said, started in storm and tempest to cross the
Cumbre while completely intoxicated, but he had always
sobered down on the journey, and never gone astray. Never
had he lost the goods entrusted to his care, but had always
faithfully turned up and completed his contract. Finally, he
produced a cow-horn, on which he proceeded to perform for
the entertainment of his hearers, and the noise he produced
on this instrument was certainly extraordinary. The notes,
although by no means harmonious in themselves, carried
far away in those still, rocky gorges and defiles, and re-
verberated from cliff to cliff in not unpleasing echoes.

In speaking of these porters, I may mention that the
weight of each pannier carried was between fifty and sixty
pounds, and the charge paid for each, over the complete
journey of nearly ten miles was about a sovereign.

Next morning the party started at 8.30, and arrived at
Juncal after an hour's good walking. The journey was
downhill, and some of the steepest slopes were descended
in a curious manner, which the natives taught them. It was
not glissading, — the snow had too recently fallen and was
too soft for that, — and it could scarcely be called toboganning,
unless of a very unusual kind. The way the natives conduct
the descent is as follows. Each traveller is provided with
a large and stout apron made of sheepskin, which is fastened
on behind, the wool next to his body. He then sits down

^fU'S> 3J V 8

^lpvlA'> °5

^lf.:^ "

NOVEL TOBOGGANING 287

upon it, gathers his legs together, and pushes himself off.
Protected thus against the roughness of the snow, he
descends rapidly, guiding himself with a pointed staff, and
steering in and out among the great and dangerous
boulders studding the mountain side. This way of sliding
down the snow-slopes is speedy and not unpleasing, but it
is impossible to take the luggage down in one's lap, and it
therefore suffers a great deal before the bottom is reached.
The men content themselves with rolling the panniers over
from the top of the slope, and, in their downward course,
they strike against projecting rocks, or occasionally land in
a deep drift, from which they have to be rescued. Finally,
when they are gathered together, it is plain they have not
been improved in strength or shape by the rough usage they
have undergone.

At Juncal Lightbody and Dr. Cotton parted from their
aged porter and his companions, and found themselves again in
the land of mules. They secured some animals both for
riding and for carrying the luggage, and continued to Los
Andes, a distance of some thirty miles, without further
adventure.

The snow soon disappeared, and they were at last able
to gallop along the dusty road that leads to Salto del Saldado,
where an immense ridge or dyke of rock runs across the
valley, dividing it into two. Through a narrow cleft or
gorge in this barrier the river forces its way. Lightbody
dwells with enthusiasm on the engineering of the Transandine
Railway at this point, and, indeed, a remarkable feat in
engineering enterprise has been accomplished here. Several
short tunnels have been constructed, and the railway, emerging
from one of them, crosses a short iron span bridge at a
great altitude over the river, and enters the opposite tunnel
on a curve. In summer the journey from Salto upwards
can, of course, be made in coaches, and in fact the whole
pass could be crossed in a carriage, but in winter the passage
is invariably performed on foot, after the manner just
described. Although for a strong man in good training
it offers no difficulties or serious hardships in fine weather,

288 THE HIGHEST ANDES

yet, if he is overtaken by storm, he is lucky indeed if he
escapes with his life.

They got through the Customs without difficulty as, by
the courtesy of the Chilian Government, instructions had
been forwarded to let them pass unmolested. As a matter
of fact these functionaries happened to be engaged upon
the important business of the evening meal, and did not even
accost or challenge them.

In the evening they reached Los Andes in safety, and
there Mr. Tuffield of the West Coast Cable Co. was able to
give them information concerning us. It was not of a
pleasant nature, for they learned that Vines and I were still
at Inca, snowed in, unable to move, with Gosse dangerously ill.

CHAPTER XXVI

WE LEAVE THE ANDES

THE day that Vines returned, namely, Qth June, Jose*
took his revenge — he bolted with our horses to Vacas.
I saw him four hundred yards away, galloping as hard as he
could, and driving the horses before him. I called on him to
stop, but he paid no attention, so I fired a few shots with my
revolver against a rock some distance from him, thinking the
noise might frighten him into returning ; but he kept on at
full speed. I should have been considered, in that country,
as quite justified in shooting him if I had wished to, for in
wild regions a man can commit no greater crime than that
of horse-stealing. Murder is looked upon as a gentleman's
act in comparison : etiquette says you may kill a man, but
you must not take his horse.

In the evening the refugees from Chile that Vines has
spoken of arrived with our horse and mule. Gosse was
slightly better, but we were still obliged to sit up all night
and keep the fire burning.

The day of the nth I again spent in clearing the snow
off the roof and cutting a way through to the doors, but
another great snowstorm was evidently coming up. The
man in charge of the Inca inn came up from Vacas that
evening, and reported that Jose* was in a terrible fright.
He swore to everybody that I fired my revolver so close to
him that he heard the bullet whistling by his ear. He also
said he was ill and unfit for work. That, of course, was simply
the result of drink — he had been drunk ever since arriving
at Vacas, and evidently intended to remain so for the
winter.

Next day the refugees from Chile continued their journey.
'9

2QO THE HIGHEST ANDES

I gave them a letter to the proprietor of the posada at Vacas,
begging him to look after our horses, and requesting him
not to serve Jose with more drink, as I wished him to be
sober two days later, when I was going to take Gosse down,
and if possible get him to Mendoza. He was better now,
but too weak to cross the Cumbre in winter, and as an old
friend of Lightbody's, Mr. Norton, had very kindly offered
him the hospitality of his estancia near Mendoza, I had
decided to send him down there till he got better. He
might then join us by train at Buenos Aires, when we came
round the Magellan Straits, which we intended to do a few
weeks later.

That night all our mules escaped, and next day Vines,
who had contracted a bad cold on his journey from Cuevas to
Inca, was completely laid up. Fifteen cargo mules came up
from Vacas to take down some of our heavy luggage which
we intended to send by rail home to England. The path
was fairly clear, and I got off a lot of our more valuable
instruments, etc., telling the men to come up again next day
for another load, and at the same time to bring some saddle
mules.

On the morning of i6th June they came up with twenty
animals. It was snowing again, but I got Gosse out, and
clothed him in all the blankets I could lay hands on, putting
him thus wrapped up on his horse. He resembled a huge
bundle, so thickly was he swathed, and he was only just able
to keep his balance on the saddle. I promised Vines that I
would force my way up the next morning, no matter what
the weather was, as he was still ill in bed, though not
dangerously so. At nine o'clock we set off. It was a risk,
of course, but if I had missed this opportunity of taking
Gosse down I should have had to wait another week, for
the Transandine train in the winter only comes up once a
week, and Vacas was far too damp a place, and the rooms
far too cold for Gosse to remain in with safety.

The journey to Vacas was an exceedingly difficult one,
and took much longer than we had anticipated. The high-
road was completely blocked with huge drifts of snow, and

JOSH'S THREATS 291

we had to fight out new passages for ourselves, mostly by the
river-bed. Consequently we reached Vacas only just in time
for me to get Gosse into the train that was then starting for
Mendoza. I found Jose* at the station, but when he saw me
he disappeared quickly round a corner and hid himself. I
did not see anything of him during the day, but towards
evening he came in a very intoxicated condition to the
comedor of the inn, and insolently demanded money. I told
him that if he presented himself sober at Inca his wages
would be paid him. However, his aspect was very threaten-
ing, and I was just getting up to clear him out of the room,
when he left hurriedly, telling me to have a care. I did not
pay much attention to him, in fact I did not see him again
that day, but the proprietor of the inn warned me that he
was threatening my life in the kitchen, telling everyone who
came in that he would have my blood before I left the
country. They told me he spent the evening drinking and
sharpening a large knife in an ominous fashion. On retiring
to rest, I therefore took the precaution of piling a few objects
in front of my door, so that should anyone try to force an
entrance in the night I might at least be awakened. The
room was terribly damp, there being several inches of water
on the mud floor. The night passed without incident. Next
morning I saddled my horse, and was about to start up to
the Inca, when the proprietor of the posada rushed out and
begged me not to go up that day, because Jose* had started a
couple of hours before with many friends, and taking two
bottles of liquor. I thanked him for his warning, and started
as quickly as possible. I was afraid Jose* might reach the
Inca before me, and give trouble to Vines, who was unwell.
I therefore galloped along as quickly as I could, the roads
above Vacas being fairly clear of snow. It was not until I
had nearly reached the Penitentes Mountain that the huge
drifts blocked up the fair-way. I had not gone very far
when, on passing a sharp bend in the road, I came face to
face with Jose*. He was not more than twenty yards ahead
of me, and had pulled up his horse right across the road.
He did not move, but stood there glaring at me. Being

292 THE HIGHEST ANDES

rather uncertain as to what might be the possible outcome of
this encounter, I cleared for action. What more especially
interested me was the question whether he had a gun. It is
a favourite habit of the Chilenos to buy American carbines,
and then saw off the end of the long barrel, reducing them to
a species of large pistol or revolver. These weapons are
very deadly at close quarters, and as they can be hidden
under the poncho, one never quite knows what is going
to happen.

I dismounted from my horse, and slowly approached,
covering him with my revolver. From the position in which
he was sitting I judged it was impossible that he could have
a gun trained on me, so I advanced boldly till I came up to
him. He was muttering and murmuring something that I
could not make out. I then grasped the fact that he was far
too intoxicated to do anything. I kicked his foot out of the
stirrup and gave him a sharp pull, whereupon he rolled
helplessly on to the snow. The cold seemed slightly to sober
him, and he attempted to rise. I then noticed that he had his
knife in his hand. I rolled him over and over on the snow a
few times, and left him there. It began to snow again, and
I drove his horse a little distance along the road to Vacas,
and left it, as I thought that it would be good for him to have
to walk home. I am sure that a walk such as that is about as
great a punishment as one can inflict upon a Chileno, and I
knew that if he arrived on foot at Vacas he would at once be
made the laughing-stock of all the peons and arrieros of the
country.

I had a bad time in getting to Inca from there. The gale
was in my face, and a blizzard blew with great violence.
Again and again I was forced to turn my horse's head round,
and stand back to the wind, covering my head with my
blanket so as to be able to breathe at all, so fierce were the
blasts and so fine and plentiful the driven snow. I finally
reached my destination as dusk set in. Some half an hour
after my arrival the post came up, and a number of extra
fellows with it. They were an evil-looking lot, the char-
acteristic type of the Chileno gaucho. One of them carried

DEPARTURE FROM INCA 293

a gun. These men I had seen hanging round Vacas, and I
understood that they were friends of Jose". Jose" was not with
them, but I gathered that they must have met him on the road.
We dined that night with a gun loaded with buckshot and a
five hundred express rifle on the table beside us, not to speak
of our revolvers. The men got very drunk, but did not make
any attempt to molest us. We took several precautions,
however, on retiring to rest that night, barricading ourselves
against possible attack. The rooms in the inn adapted
themselves to this sort of thing. Once the door was firmly
fastened, one would be fairly safe, unless of course someone
made a hole in the mud roof above one's head, a process
which can be performed without the slightest difficulty.
Travellers who wish to take extra precaution in this country
should adopt the method of sleeping under their bed instead
of on it, for then they do not offer such a good mark from
the ceiling.

Vines was much better now, so next day we made arrange-
ments to start. We had a peon with us, by name Alfredo,
who had been in the employ of Dr. Cotton all the summer
at the inn. He had promised to carry our small bundle of
clothes, and a friend of his was going to look after the animals.
We had decided to ride up to Cuevas, and then to send them
back to Vacas, where I had already made arrangements for
their disposal. As the mail was going up that day, and the
letter-carriers had an extra herd of mules to drive in front to
clear the way, we anticipated no difficulty in reaching Cuevas.
Early in the morning we started, giving Jose"s friends as wide
a berth as possible. The snow of the day before had ceased,
but the morning was by no means fine. There was a cutting
wind blowing, and low clouds rested across the valleys from
hillside to hillside. We pressed along as fast as possible,
knowing that at any moment we might be enveloped in a
blizzard of snow. As far as possible we followed the river,
and had fearful trouble in getting through some of the drifts,
having to make repeated detours ; at times, indeed, it really
seemed as if it would be impossible for us to force our way
through.

294 THE HIGHEST ANDES

About three o'clock in the afternoon we reached the little
graveyard just on this side of the Paramillos de las Cuevas.
Here we stopped for some moments under the shelter of the
casucha to stretch our legs. The men were getting nicely drunk
by this time. They had brought a large amount of spirits with
them, and this they passed round freely. Josh's friends also
began to assume a threatening attitude. We told our men to
stick close to us, but in this country it is really impossible to
know which side a peon will take in a fight. We kept our
eyes, with extreme vigilance, upon the gentleman with the
gun, and insisted on riding behind everyone, a natural pre-
caution in these cases. We also thought it prudent not
to pause and let the mail men get ahead, as we saw that
Josh's friends had made up their minds to stick close by us.
There was just a possibility, we thought, in case of a fight,
that the correos and peons might side with us. I noticed,
however, that these partisans of Jose* had been passing round
free drinks, and in this country that means a great bond of
friendship. Just as we started out again, in single file, Vines,
who was immediately behind me, called out to me to look
round. I did so, and perceived Jose* himself coming up on
his horse, not a hundred yards away. We continued on our
journey without taking any notice of him, until he had
approached within about twenty yards' distance. Then we
faced round, as if to go and meet him ; upon which he
pulled up ; we proceeded, and in this manner we kept him
at bay till we reached the Paramillos. The snow was then so
deep, and moving was so heavy, that we could no longer
pursue these tactics, and Jose* came up with us. He seemed
fairly sober now, and glared at us from under his big, black,
shaggy eyebrows. We got along, however, without any open
hostilities until we reached the inn at Cuevas. The last bit
of the journey, from the Paramillos onwards, had been
desperately difficult, and several times I thought that we
should have to give up, and sleep in one of the casuchas until
the next day — a prospect by no means pleasing, as these huts
are kept in the vilest and dirtiest condition imaginable. It
was after dark when we arrived and put up at the little inn.

JOS£ AGAIN 295

The cold was extreme, and there were no fires, so we prowled
up and down in the comedor, or common-room, trying to
keep warm. The food given us was practically untouchable,
and the bottle of red, sour native wine that we purchased
made us feel sick.

We were thus pacing up and down, smoking our pipes
and trying to keep up our fast-ebbing spirits, when Jose*
burst into the room, followed by his five companions. There
was a long narrow table running down the centre of the
room, and Vines and I remained on one side, whilst we
informed the men that they would be acting wisely if they
remained on the other side.

Jose* assumed a truculent air, and began to demand a
large sum of money, far in excess of the wages due to him.
I suggested mildly that if he did not keep silent we should be
forced to clear him out of the room again in something after
the same manner that Lightbody had followed. This cooled
him for the moment, and I then worked out, upon a sheet of
paper, the exact sum that was owing to him, and handed it to
him in the presence of his friends. Further, I proceeded to
give him my exact opinion of his conduct, which did not take
very long. His friends seemed rather fired at this, and they
all looked so threatening that we sharply ordered them out
of the room. At the same moment Vines vaulted swiftly
across the table into their midst, when they literally tumbled
over each other in their efforts to get out of the door.
Having disposed of these people in this manner we turned
in, telling our men that they might sleep in the inn, as we
gathered that Jose and his friends, being drunk, had assumed
rather a menacing attitude towards them.

Next morning we started early. The little inn was built
in the shape of half a courtyard, and so much snow had fallen
that we were able to walk quietly straight over the roof.
We got away unmolested with our men, but had not pro-
ceeded more than a quarter of a mile when we saw some men
start up from the inn and follow us. As Vines and I were,
however, walking at a fairly brisk pace they soon gave up,
and turned back. We gradually passed the men carrying

296 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the mail, who had started earlier than ourselves. They had
shocking loads — some of them amounting to as much as
1 20 Ibs., and it was terrible to see how they suffered under
these crushing weights. Their faces were almost green with
cold and pain, and they were obliged to rest every few feet.

Our passage up to the top of the Cumbre was not difficult,
for the wind had kept the slopes more or less clear of snow,
and the day was fine. By rapid walking we were able to
reach the top of the pass in less than two hours from leaving
Cuevas, and as the rise is some 2500 feet this was by no
means bad going. It was on the other side that our trouble
commenced, where we found the snow lying very deep.

The route to be followed could be traced by great poles
driven into the ground, the tops of which stuck out above the
drifts, whilst here and there could be seen a lonely dome-
shaped casucha or refuge hut. We suffered considerably
from thirst on this descent. The sun came out and shone
brightly, and as we had on a great amount of clothing, in the
expectation of perhaps encountering very cold weather, we
felt the heat very much.

The worst bit to cross was on the plains just before reach-
ing Portillo. The snow was above our waists, and we had
slowly to force our way foot by foot. When we reached the
little inn we were nearly exhausted, and although we had
intended to continue our way down to Juncal that night, we
decided to wait until next morning. Louis, the host of the
establishment, entertained us right hospitably. He gave us
a most excellent supper, the best meal that we had tasted for
many a long month. We sent Alfredo on to order a special
train for us next day from Salto del Soldado, to carry us on
our way to Los Andes, and also to have horses sent up for us,
so that we could ride down the long valley. Vines was still
rather weak after his illness, and I did not like to tire him
more than was necessary.

Early next morning we started down. We had not gone
far before we both became very ill, and were obliged to turn
back to the hotel. A wind was blowing with great violence,
and snow was falling heavily at the time. We waited a few

ARRIVAL IN CHILE 297

hours, and then succeeded in getting down to Juncal at about
ten o'clock in the morning. As we had ordered our special
train for nine o'clock that morning, and we were still fifteen
miles from Salto, we were beginning to get anxious lest they
should think that the weather had detained us, and that we
should therefore be forced to remain for the night at Salto,
where there was neither food nor lodging. We found no
animals for us at Juncal, and the proprietor of the inn
evidently wished to detain us there for several days. How-
ever, we at once started down on foot, and fortunately after
about an hour's walk we met the horses being driven up.
Our friend Alfredo had doubtless met many of his friends on
his descent the day before, and had forgotten about the
animals until the next morning. About three o'clock in the
afternoon we arrived at Salto, and found our little special
waiting for us. I speak of this as if it was a complete train,
but, to be accurate, it merely consisted of a small steam
trolly, with seats for two persons, which is used in the winter
months to convey people up and down from Salto to Los
Andes, the mail train going but once a week. We had a
quick run down, covering the twenty miles in fifty - nine
minutes. On the route we ran over a cock, and nearly
dashed into a calf. This, I fear, would have been as fatal to
ourselves as to the animal, for the little trolly had but small
wheels and was very light. If it had struck anything as large
as a calf it would have surely been derailed, and as we were
rushing along at a rate of about twenty-five miles an hour,
this trifling cause would have brought our doings to a full stop,
just as well as any of the more imposing dangers we had
luckily survived.

At Los Andes we were in the heart of Chilian civilisation
and luxury, so I may say that here ends our narrative of work
in the Andes. It was, however, seven months before we
reached England, and the reader may perhaps be interested
to know of the misfortunes which overtook us in the
meantime, for they were many and severe.

CHAPTER XXVII
CONCLUSION

WITH the heavy snows that fell in the early part of
June, I considered my work in the Andes to be at
an end. As the reader is already aware, my disappointment
was very great at being so prematurely interrupted when I
was convinced that I had at least three weeks before me in
which to complete one or two points in the survey, and
take duplicates of those photographs the result of which
might be doubtful. From Los Andes we went to Val-
paraiso, where we were the guests of Mr. Ball for three weeks.
During that time Lightbody and I developed many hundreds
of the photographs taken, and roughly printed off the
majority of them. The percentage of good results was very
large, but, as will so often happen, some of the views which
were particularly important to me had suffered in one way and
another. We had dreaded more than anything trouble from
the unsteadiness of the camera, caused by the wind, and
injury to plates and films by dust. Our surmises were
correct, for we found a great many plates and films spotted
and scratched by sand, but as Lightbody had made his
exposures as short as possible, without being instantaneous,
the plates had suffered less from shaking than was expected,
and the detail was in most cases clear and distinct. We
had not anticipated, however, that our double-backs would
have suffered so severely from the dryness of the climate
and shaking by continual transport : in many cases where we
had looked forward to good results our picture was scarred
with white fog-marks. So much for the full - plate results :
the views taken with the Lea Bridges camera were more for
surveying purposes, and not feeling so anxious about them, I

TYPHOID FEVER 299

did not develop them. The long spools of the panoramic
photographs, taken with the cycloramic camera, I had no
means at Valparaiso for developing. The results of Vines's
quarter-plate work at great heights were on the whole satis-
factory.

In ten days or a fortnight we were going to sail by way
of the Magellan Straits for Southampton — in fact our berths
were already secured — so I never imagined for a moment that
I should have time to put in finishing touches to my work.
Little did I think that the opportunity was already being
created ; for having completed our work of development, we
went to Santiago, and within a week I was down with
typhoid fever — that scourge that attacks every European
sooner or later in these parts. It was now the middle of
July ; by the end of August I was again well enough to
think of sailing. Berths were secured once more, but as so
often happens in typhoid, I suffered a relapse. By the end
of September I was convalescent, and Lightbody and Vines
strongly urged me, as the spring and summer were again
approaching, to allow them to go once more to the scene
of our labours, complete the list of photographs and add a
little to the survey work, whilst I proceeded by sea through
the Magellan Straits and met them at Monte Video. This
was therefore arranged, but again the unforeseen happened ;
Vines also fell a victim to typhoid, so that it was not until
4th November that Lightbody started alone for the moun-
tains, with the intention of doing some three or four weeks'
additional work. He set out with several small instruments
and a full-plate camera with telephoto attachment. In addition
to the completion of a few points in the survey of the Vacas
and Tupungato Valleys, he intended if possible to make his
way up the eastern branch of the Horcones Valley and take
an entirely new set of photographs of the great southern wall
of Aconcagua, for the wind had so shaken the camera
during the taking of the first set of photographs that, on
developing them in Valparaiso, I found them to be almost
useless for the purposes of illustration. Lightbody also
intended to ascend the mountain known as the Peni-

300 THE HIGHEST ANDES

tentes,1 or Iglesia, with a full-plate camera, and take a
panorama and numerous views from the summit. One of
the great objects he had in view was to take a series of
photographs, first with the ordinary lens, and then, where it
was possible, with the telephoto objective, without moving
the camera between the two processes.

He first made his way, starting on loth November, up
the eastern branch of the Horcones Valley to the foot of
Aconcagua. He says in his diary : —

" . . . We proceeded on our mules and at last had
Aconcagua in view from base to summit. The face
appeared perpendicular, with strata of rock showing between
masses of ice of immense thickness. We were at a height
of nearly 13,000 feet : I saw no animal life, and of vegetation
there was nothing visible. I was as fully impressed with
the awful grandeur of my surroundings as FitzGerald and
Vines had been when they first penetrated this valley in the
previous autumn. Clouds began to collect on the summit and
the wind howled fiercely though the day was bright. Two
hours' work saw me through with my ten plates, but during
the taking of the views I fear the camera was vibrating with
the wind, and the head-cloth flickered and cracked like a jib
with the sheets carried away in a squall."

The illustration opposite p. 222 gives the view looking
south from this point, and that opposite p. 224 shows the wall
of rock and ice with the summit of Aconcagua in cloud. I
should like to call attention to several illustrations of the
work done by Lightbody with the telephoto lens. Opposite
p. 30 we have a view taken from the mouth of the Hor-
cones Valley of the mass of Aconcagua, some fifteen miles
distant. The reader should observe the shadows on this
face of ice and rock, and the outline of the two peaks and
saddle between. On 2nd November Lightbody ascended
to a point of over 11,000 feet, a little to the south of
the Penitentes mountain, and took a photograph of this

1 I feel I ought to apologise for the frequent occurrence of this word. Giissfeldt
called a valley and mountain to the north of Aconcagua by this name. This
mountain here mentioned lies to the south of the Inca Valley. See Map.

PHOTOGRAPHIC RESULTS 301

same face with the telephoto objective at a distance of about
twenty-four miles. This view is reproduced in the photo-
gravure opposite p. 114: though the shadows and outlines
are seen greatly magnified, yet the distance is almost double
that referred to in the previous view. Of other work done
in this way are two views of Torlosa from twenty miles to
the east, near Vacas, both taken from much the same point,
the wide-angle on an afternoon in early June, midwinter,
(see opposite p. 291); and the long focus on a November
morning of the same year, on the opposite page.

In order to give some idea of the troubles of a photo-
grapher working with a full-plate camera in the high valleys
of the Andes, I will quote Lightbody's words with regard to
the illustration opposite p. 43. He was at the time up the
higher reaches of the Vacas Valley. He says : "In about
an hour I arrived at a place where there was a very fine view
of the eastern side of Aconcagua. I had never before beheld
the mountain from this point of view, and, much impressed by
its outlines, I took nearly half a dozen photographs of it with-
out changing the position of the camera. My reason for
doing this was that the sudden blasts of wind that came first
up the valley and then down made me feel certain that each
view as I took it was a failure. I hoped, however, from so
many, to obtain at least one good result. I shortened the
legs of the tripod, put them far apart, and tied a stone of some
thirty pounds' weight to steady them. Sebastian and I were
nearly blown from the ledge on which we had secured the

camera."

Perhaps the most successful of all his views was that of
Tupungato, opposite p. 157, taken from the valley some
thirty miles distant with the telephoto objective. The sprigs
of yareta in the foreground give a very characteristic touch to
the picture. This should be compared with one taken with
the wide-angle lens opposite p. 158, showing the level reaches
of the Tupungato Valley in the foreground. These two
photographs are taken almost from the same spot.

Lightbody eventually, after some three weeks' work, made
his headquarters again at Inca, and ascended that picturesque

302 THE HIGHEST ANDES

mass of cliff — the Penitentes, or Iglesia. To all who cross
the Andes by the Uspallata route the Penitentes are pointed
out as one of the wonders to be seen. This great wall of rock,
"cut by time and water, presents the shapes of perpendicular
pillars and buttresses some two thousand feet high, and is in
the imagination of the beholder the " Iglesia," or monastery.
On the steep red slope of debris leading to its base stands a
long line of black pinnacles of rock — the " Penitents," the
monks, toiling in solemn procession up the steep slope to the
portals above. I have heard many people who have crossed
the Andes say — "I saw the boasted marvels of the
Penitentes, and I frankly confess I do not appreciate them."
Now, had I not myself had the advantage of seeing them on
more than one occasion and in different lights, I should
probably have carried away the same impression. The effect
is to a great extent produced by the light. In the morning
or evening when the shadows are long, the effect is particu-
larly striking. I saw it once by moonlight, when the pro-
cession was both real and lifelike, and I thoroughly entered
into the feelings of my imaginative arriero, who, standing
quite still and beckoning to me to do the same, whispered,
" Stay a moment, senior, listen, and you will hear the monks
chanting." Lightbody first of all climbed the Iglesia,
14,000 feet, with a full-plate camera, and took a panorama,1
beginning at the north with Aconcagua and going round
westward to the south, and taking in Torlosa, Juncal, Pollera,
Navarro, and Tupungato. He describes his ascent in the
following words : —

"On Monday, 2ist November, I received news that Vines
was really convalescent, and that FitzGerald intended leaving
Valparaiso by the S.S. Oravia on the 23rd. I therefore
prepared to start the next day and finish my work by making
the ascent of the Penitentes, as I wished to join the ship on
its arrival at Monte Video on 3rd December. Leaving Inca
at daybreak, I reached the summit at i p.m., having ridden
all but two hours. My mule took me farther than most
people would care to ride, and not every animal could have

1 See panorama at end of book.

INCA INSCRIPTIONS 303

ascended to such a height. We had to pass along several
snow ridges and fields before reaching the summit, but the top
itself was clear of snow and constructed of rock of a crumbly
nature, precipitous towards the north, and having two points
of rock at the eastern and western extremity with a somewhat
deep depression between. Our line of ascent was from the
south, where a rolling tableland gives an easy approach to
the rock above. From this isolated position, for it was the
centre of a circle of great peaks, I gained the finest possible
view of all the country we had covered in our work of ex-
ploration amongst the mountains. Before me lay the noblest
panorama I had ever beheld. Aconcagua was magnificent,
and the distance which separated me from it — twenty-three
miles — was an ideal one for examining its vast proportions.1
I passed a very busy two hours taking photographs and
bearings from this point of vantage. The cold was bitter,
and quite windy enough to render photography, etc., difficult
and unpleasant. I had a particularly fine view of the Cerro
de las Rejas, that massive and precipitous ridge of black rock
and ice, the continuation eastwards of the Almacenes, and
also down the main valley of the Rio Mendoza as far as
Zanjon Amarillo. A bank of white clouds rolled over
Mendoza and the lower lands. After my photographs were
taken I had hardly sufficient time to get bearings of the
different peaks before their tops were enveloped in cloud. I
was interested to find on the saddle, between the two highest
points of rock forming the summit, the remains of four stone-
built walls which had formed a corral, — some twenty feet by
twelve in dimension. To me it had the appearance of the
ordinary walls built by the Indians to protect themselves from
the weather, but the position of this very substantial erection
on the top of such a conspicuous mountain pointed to it as a
centre of the ancient Indian worship. I had, unfortunately,
little time to spare, having many more photographs and
bearings to take, otherwise I should have examined the
stones for traces of Indian writing so frequently to be found
on such ancient ruins. I discovered a specimen of these

1 See illustration opposite p. 1 14.

304 THE HIGHEST ANDES

carved signs while doing some railway levels on the Trans-
andine Railway, at a spot not far from the Zanjon Amarillo.1
I do not know to what period they belong, but there is a
record that the early Incas came down as far as these passes,
and it is their supposed treasure that draws many a gaucho
to a lonely grave.

" We led our mules the greater part of the descent, and
arrived at Inca at half-past six in the evening.

" Somewhat late on the day of the 23rd I took the camera
with the telephoto attachment down the valley some three miles
below Inca, and took several views of the Penitent Monks
beneath the Iglesia at a time when the shadows cast by the
sun accentuated their outline.2

"On the 25th I descended to Mendoza, and joined Fitz-
Gerald on 3rd December at Monte Video."

This last entry in Lightbody's journal is our final word on
the Andes of Argentina. But before drawing my narrative
to a close I should like to quote a few notes from Philip
Gosse's diary, written in Mendoza a few months previously,
when, as the reader will no doubt remember, he had left me
amidst the winter snows at the little Andine railway station
at Vacas.

Phillip Gosse writes : —

"On my arrival at Mendoza, after leaving Inca, in May,
I had a very kind invitation from Mr. Norton to stay
at his finca or vineyard, until I was well enough to go to
Chile. This I readily accepted, as Mendoza is a dead and
alive place at the best of times, and to a stranger and an
invalid unbearable. Mr. Norton's finca is about fifteen miles
to the south of Mendoza, near to the village of Lujan. We
set out in a snowstorm, and Mr. Norton had no easy task
managing three very fresh horses in the light buggy, with his
hands stiff with the cold. For a ' gringo ' like me, it was
an exciting drive, as we went galloping through the deep
sand, the broad road now and then becoming so narrow
where it crossed a river by a bridge that there was only just
room for the buggy to cross, with six inches to spare on

1 See illustration on opposite page. 2 See illustration opposite p. 302.

GOSSE AT NORTON'S FINCA 305

either side between the wheels and the edge of the bridge,
which in this part of Argentina have no walls, or any kind of
protection whatever. We arrived at the finca an hour after
dark, and as we drove into the patio or courtyard, a pack of
all sorts and conditions of dogs surrounded the buggy, barking
in a most formidable way. But as soon as they heard
Norton's voice they became quiet, only now and then
growling when one of them came near me. A boy came
and took the buggy, and we entered a cheerful room with a
large fire burning, where Mrs. Norton, a charming Argentine
lady, awaited our arrival, with a good supper ready on the
table. The next day Norton showed me over the finca,
which consists of several thousand acres of cultivated land,
given up entirely to vine-growing. The chief and quickly
growing industry of the two provinces of Mendoza and San
Juan is this vine-growing. Almost all the men on Norton's
estate were Italians, gangs of whom go about together and
get engaged by contract. The chief enemy is the locust,
clouds of which come and destroy a whole vineyard in a few
hours. The vineyards are irrigated by the government canals,
and receive a stated amount of water daily. It did not rain
here during the whole of my visit, lasting six weeks, but snowed
twice. The birds most common round Lujan are the chingolos
or song sparrows (Zonotrichia pile at a], also there are a great
number of the Sycalis lutea, pretty yellow birds. Of condors I
saw a great many. In the vineyards there are large numbers
of kites, which the natives call ckimangos. These birds
seem to eat almost anything, and are great friends to the
vine-growers. One day I shot a chimango, which I found
had a large live toad in its beak. They are also said to
catch rats and mice. Carrion is perhaps their chief diet. A
curious sight is to watch these birds when there is ploughing
going on. The plough as it moves along is followed by a
flock of sometimes one hundred or more chimangos, who
utter shrill cries while they scramble for the worms turned up
by the plough ; in fact, so eager are they to get these luxuries,
that they will dive between the ploughshare and the plough-
man. When a chimango has got a worm, he will often go

306 THE HIGHEST ANDES

a little way ahead, and station himself on one of the vine-poles
in front of the plough, where he can eat his worm at his ease
and wait the arrival of the plough.

" In a field near the house there was a stunted prickly
tree, where a great many small birds used to roost, and often
I found a heap of feathers in the morning underneath it. I
couldn't think what creature it could be that fed on the birds,
so one evening I set a gin baited with a dead bird. Early
next morning I went to make my round of the traps, but
when I was quite one hundred yards from this trap I suddenly
became aware of the most disgusting smell imaginable. This
got worse and worse until I really felt quite ill ; so I made
a detour and got on the windward side of the trap, and on
approaching found a dark fluffy animal with a head very
much like that of a small pig, caught by one of its legs.
Then it suddenly occurred to me that this, of course, was a
skunk. Contrary to my rule I had come without my gun,
and it wasn't safe to get too near the animal if I wanted
to go near a human habitation for some weeks, so I
returned to the house for the gun. Just at the moment
I was going to shoot, the bull-terrier, who had followed
me without my noticing her, rushed at the skunk and killed
it, and then returned to me, very pleased with herself.
But when she was just going to jump up at me, I got
a whiff of the choking smell of the skunk which had got
on to the dog, and I had to drive her out of range with
stones. I was alarmed to see her galloping for home. I
followed, but before I got there I saw her reappear at the
gate in a tremendous hurry, followed by a regular storm of
sticks and stones. We couldn't let her come near the house
for over a week after. I had heard that the Indians buried
the skunks for a while and then skinned them under water,
so I dug a hole and put it in, having carried it at the end of
a stick at arm's length holding my nose with the other hand.
After ten days I dug it up again, and skinned it under water
in a little stream, and only smelt of it a little. I did not
try trapping any more skunks after that. All the live-
stock I had tried to bring for the Zoological Gardens had

GOSSE AT NORTON'S FINCA 307

died except one large mouse. I tried my hand at trapping
small birds, and managed to get some chingolo sparrows
and some chimango kites (Milvargo chimango) alive, which
are now in London. One of the kites I shot in the wing
and the leg, both of which were broken, another shot
passing through its crop, but about half an hour after I
quietly approached its cage and found it eating some raw
meat. Another one I caught in a gin, baited with a dead
rat.

" A serious enemy to the grapes, Norton told me, are the
foxes. These will come at night and go down a whole row
of vines, just tearing down a branch here and there, and
eating a few off each. Now and then a dog develops a
craving for grapes also, and the only thing to prevent it is to
shoot the dog.

"All the fields are separated by broad walls of hard mud,
which are the homes of no end of burrowing owls and
guinea-pigs (Cavia aperea). There was one ruined mud
hut, I remember, which was turned into a kind of flat for
these little animals, as they had made little terraces all about
the walls, and often I have seen one appear at one hole, run
along the terrace or balcony and disappear at another hole.

" I must not cease without a word about the spur-winged
or Cayenne plovers, as they are called. These birds go about
in flocks of two or three hundred, and prefer marshy ground
for feeding ; when a meadow is flooded, you may be sure of
finding the plovers there. I tried eating one, one day, but it
was very hard and stringy. It is a wonderful sight to see
the plovers wheeling round and round high up in the sky,
separating into regiments and reforming again, like an army
manoeuvring at the orders of some unseen general.

" The guinea-pigs I found such good eating that we often
had our dinner off them. They much resemble a very tender
rabbit. One day when we were driving home after visiting
some friends in Mendoza, Norton, who was driving, suddenly
drew up sharp, and called to me, as I was sitting in the back,
to get out quick, as there was an addition to the Zoo swear-
ing at the horses. I hurried round and found a small black

308 THE HIGHEST ANDES

ferret-like animal standing facing the three horses, and
evidently in a terrific rage. Luckily I had a large wire rat-
trap with me, into which I rather unceremoniously bundled
the small fury. He turned out to be a young Giron (Galictis
vittata). I kept him for a few days, and he became very tame,
and used to follow me about. But he was really too young
to keep, and one morning I found him dead at the bottom of
his cage. About this time I had two large chinchilla-like
mice (Phyllotis darwini) in a cage ; not thinking it necessary
to separate them as they looked so peaceful, I was horrified to
find one day that one of them, now in the Zoological Gardens,
had eaten his comrade."

APPENDICES

30fl

APPENDIX A

NOTES ON SPECIMENS COLLECTED IN THE CHILIAN
ANDES BY MEMBERS OF MR. FITZ GERALD'S
EXPEDITION

BY PROFESSOR T. G. BONNEY, D.Sc., LL.D., F.R.S.

(a) IN the description of these specimens it will be most natural
and advantageous to commence with those collected at the greatest
distance from the axis of the Andean Chain and at the lowest level.
The first specimen (22) was obtained in the Horcones Valley, some
distance east of Aconcagua ; on the left bank of the river bearing the
same name, to west-south-west of, and rather more than two and a
half miles in a straight line from Mr. FitzGerald's base camp. It is
a reddish limestone with part of the whorl of an ammonite.

(£) 23, collected a little more than a mile farther up the valley,
and on the opposite bank of this stream is a similar specimen. For
description of these two, see Mr. Crick's Note on the Fossils (p. 333).

(c) 12 (bis\ comes from the same bank of the river, above three
and a half miles farther up, and (9) from the slopes above on the
same side. This bears the label "K2 Camp, loose (7th April,
Gosse)." The specimen is about two inches in diameter, purplish or
blackish in colour, apparently coated with iron-oxide, with a little
of a whitish mineral and traces of malachite. It is not likely to
repay a more intimate examination, being either a vein product or
rock impregnated with metallic deposits.

(d} I. " K3 District, 12,000 feet, foot of mountain south of Acon-
cagua, large slabs appearing above sands and mud " nearly two miles
beyond the last described (c\ and on the left bank of the Horcones
River. It is a piece, about a foot long, of Gypsum " marbled " with
darkish lines, one face also being incrusted with a secondary deposit
of the mineral of which the specimen is composed ; it is stained
a reddish colour.

We come next to the specimens connected with the Torlosa
Valley. Taking these in the order of lettering, we find on the left

311

312 THE HIGHEST ANDES

bank near the mouth of the valley (barely a mile from the last
locality) : —

(a) " Found loose (Vines)." A flattish triangular piece, not quite
three inches in vertical height. Apparently a sedimentary rock con-
sisting of a grey silty material, which effervesces moderately with
hydrochloric acid, and is traversed by small veins of calc-spar ; there
is a reddish stain on the exterior. It was probably once a silt,
possibly containing much volcanic dust.

(ft) "Stone found in springs north-east base of Torlosa (22nd
April, Gosse)." A flattish specimen, with rounded edges about three
inches in longest dimension, coated externally with an ochre-brown
film, under which is a reddish-grey deposit ; perhaps showing some
indications of sulphur. These coatings conceal the actual material
of the rock. The spring is probably chalybeate, and possibly may
also contain sulphides or sulphates. It is added that the water was
bad to drink, and the information is not surprising.

(c) " Found just above water-line near springs, base of Torlosa ;
all the stones covered with the same white deposit." A rudely
triangular piece, a little more than two inches in greatest length, of
a rather hard compact grey rock, resembling a fine quartzose grit,
but with some specks of felspar. The rock itself appears insensible
to hydrochloric acid, but the white incrustation effervesces briskly.
Without more minute examination (which would be wasting time) I
cannot be quite certain of the nature of this rock, but it is not
improbably an indurated volcanic dust.

(d) "North-west side of dried -up spring (23rd April, Gosse)."
Four specimens of calcite evidently deposited by water. All consist
of two layers : one showing remnants of a third (at bottom). This
seems to be a muddy limestone (the calcareous constituent being
doubtless a precipitate). The next layer (about half an inch thick)
has a rather cellular structure ; over this is a slightly mammillated
outer coating (about one-fifth of an inch thick) of calcite or aragonite
in small crowded prisms. Both these layers are no doubt precipitates.
A fifth specimen is a little lump of a yellowish-grey colour, about
three-quarters of an inch in diameter, with some resemblance to the
concretions called " race," in the brick earth of the Thames Valley.

(e) " All the stones in water at mouth of spring like this (23rd
April, Gosse)." A subangular stone, so thickly coated with rust that
the rock itself is not visible. The water evidently is chalybeate ; the
stone is not likely to repay further examination.

GO See Mr. Crick's Notes, p. 335.

(g) In springs, under water (25th April, Vines)." The specimen
seems to be bounded by natural joint faces, which are covered with

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 313

rust, the water being probably chalybeate. A cut surface discloses
a compact dark rock with paler greyish spots. Microscopic examina-
tion shows a glassy base thickly crowded with lath-like microliths of
plagioclase felspar, minute pyroxenes, ferrite and opacite. Scattered
in this are larger grains of iron-oxide, some being hematite, and
several, not so large, of a pale green mineral. Of this three types are
noted ; some irregular in shape, are aggregates of a fibrous mineral,
in parts very dense, which has low polarisation tints, and resembles
a serpentine. These are occasionally bordered with a thin layer of
a clear mineral, and may occupy minute vesicles ; others, more regular
in form, show parallel cleavage planes. In the better preserved parts
of these some exhibit straight extinction, others that of diallage, and
slight differences in aspect may be noted. Hence I conclude that
both diallage and a variety of enstatite have been present, and that
the rock is a rather altered enstatite-andesite. A crack in it is filled
with hematite.

(fi) See Mr. Crick's Notes, p. 335.

(/) " South-east side, found below spring in quantities." Apparently
a chip of a dark limestone or a calcareous mudstone, almost covered
with a thin film of carbonate of lime.

(/£) "The north-west side of the valley in this rock (Vines)."
Small fragments, of a purplish-grey rock, resembling a rather altered
andesite. A green tint in some of the fragments suggests the
presence of minute epidote ; felspar can be distinguished ; dark spots
probably indicate pyroxene ; some calcite is deposited on one side (a
joint face) ; on the surface (probably similar) of a second chip is a
group of small radiating crystals of a colourless transparent mineral,
not effervescing with hydrochloric acid, and apparently rather too
hard for a sulphate. Possibly it is a zeolite, but it seemed needless
to carry the investigation further.

(/) "Loose in bed of stream (i7th April, Lightbody)." Four
specimens of a rather platy or foliated selenite, showing the clino-
diagonal cleavage faces. Apparently it has been formed in a
yellowish-grey clay.

(m) " Pure gypsum in quantities, mouth of valley, in debris and
in sand." The label sufficiently describes the specimen, which
evidently is a precipitate.

(n) " Mouth of valley in quantities (22nd April, Vines)." A slab of
darkish limestone (fairly brisk effervescence with hydrochloric acid).
Weathered surfaces are a pale reddish grey, showing a subconchoidal
fracture and a rather platy jointing; no signs of fossils. Not very
unlike one of the darker Carboniferous limestones of England, but it
might be of any age, from late Palaeozoic to early Tertiary.

3H THE HIGHEST ANDES

Near to it occurs (19) " Shingle behind K3 (22nd April, Vines)."
A small lump of gypsum, enclosing deep reddish-coloured bits, —
apparently of indurated mud.

(On the right bank of the stream come in succession (m) with
some more of («), (/), (/), (a), (/), (*), and then nearly on a line up the
slope (£•), (b\ (c) ; on the left bank in the same order is (h and /£), with
(d) roughly opposite to (ij).

1 6. The next two specimens come from high up on the east side
of the ridge bounding the Torlosa Valley on the west. " Whitish-yellow
streak running east to west through brown rock (17), same colour
throughout Torlosa." This is an elongated specimen (about three and
a half inches in length), defined by irregular joint faces. It is of a pale
pinkish-grey colour, with yellowish (felspathic) spots, and is of a
redder tint on the exposed surfaces. On microscopic examination
it appears doubtful whether any base remains ; probably that is now
devitrified : if not it is very thickly crowded with felspar microliths,
some of which are more like sanidine than plagioclase. Both these
minerals appear to occur among the larger crystals. All however
are rather decomposed, numerous microliths of sericitic aspect being
developed, which are often about one- tenth of an inch in diameter.
There are grains of iron-oxide (? hematite), and several rudely out-
lined prisms — less than half the length of the felspar — consisting of
a pale brown micaceous mineral, with opacite and ferrite. The
cross-section of one or two suggests that these aggregates replace
hornblende. A few small crystals of a nearly colourless mica are
present, and two or three of apatite (?). The rock has been an
andesite, probably with hornblende, possibly also with biotite.

17. A. This is a slab of fine-grained sandy mudstone of a rather
dark reddish-brown colour. Under the microscope the rock is seen
to be composed of small rather angular fragments of quartz and
felspar, the latter being the more abundant, and some of them
certainly plagioclase, with less angular fragments of felspathic lava,
devitrified or crowded with microliths, not often scoriaceous. Cavities
and the interstices of the ground-mass are occupied with a deep
brown material, probably largely composed of iron-oxide. There
are no signs of cleavage ; the rock is probably an indurated stratified
volcanic dust.

3. " K2 Camp. From solid rock ; also lying in debris on Col,
Buenavista Valley; seen also in many other places in Horcones
Valley at 11,000 and 12,000 feet (7th April, Gosse)." Seven lumps
of ore, the dominant material being a purplish-brown colour, inclining

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 315

to reddish. The ore probably is a mixture of iron and copper oxides ;
here and there are thin films of malachite. On the exterior of some
we find one or two crystals of a white mineral (? monoclinic). These
specimens throw no light on the general geology of the region, and
are very probably vein products ; they are only interesting as
indicating the presence of copper.

E. " In Horcones Valley, at foot of steep western base of Acon-
cagua— in large quantities everywhere standing up amid the rock
debris a little higher up the slope than the last." (2) A rather
wedge-shaped piece of gypsum, from about three to four inches long,
two and a half inches wide, and one and a half at the thickest part,
faintly tinged with red and slightly darker coloured on the outside.
The general form and the small hemispherical lumps on one surface
suggest that the rock is a precipitate. A second smaller fragment
is not materially different, except that it is harder than the thumb-
nail, so that probably some anhydrite is mixed with the gypsum.

F. (i) "Western side of Horcones Valley, opposite to Aconcagua,
from rock in situ on right bank of glacier stream, between 12,000 and
13,000 feet above sea-level." Two specimens of a warm grey-coloured
limestone, stained reddish externally, with impressions of ammonites.
(See Mr. Crick's Notes, p. 334.)

(2) " South - west base of Aconcagua, 13,000 feet, in great
quantities ; breaking through surface and also in masses ; found loose
in snow-bed (24th April, Lightbody)." A large block about one foot
long ; either curiously worn by stream action or else a deposit hardly
less singular, for it forms narrow ridges parted by deep furrows,
both very irregular ; colour white, no effervescence, hardness about
3 in the scale ; anhydrite ; possibly with a slight intimate admixture
of gypsum.

1 8. "Large boulders of this at foot of Aconcagua, in Horcones
Valley, 13,500 feet (28th April, Vines)." A specimen, about three
and a half inches in greatest length, of a dull purplish-grey rock,
having a rather rough surface, spotted with whitish felspar, and with
some extremely small filled-up vesicles. On examining a thin slice
it appears possible that a base remains, but it is thickly crowded
with felspar microliths, mostly plagioclase, and with specks, grains,
or rods, of deep brown iron oxide. The larger constituents (besides
the last named) include felspar, somewhat decomposed, but mostly
plagioclase, and a secondary pale green mineral with low polarisation
tints, one variety replacing a pyroxene, another filling tiny cavities.
Of the former one or two suggest a member of the enstatite group.
Though it is difficult to determine the species of the pyroxene, the
rock itself is indubitably an andesite.

316 THE HIGHEST ANDES

ACONCAGUA

We turn at this point away from the Horcones River at no great
distance below its glacier source, and on the north-west base of
Aconcagua, low down near bed of valley, find G and L. The former
occurs " in solid blocks, generally darker on outside ; associated with
large round pieces of Z." The specimen measures from two to
three inches each way, is of a dull purplish colour, speckled with
whitish felspar crystals, up to about one-tenth of an inch long, and
subangular dark spots, the largest being about one-eighth of an inch.
The other specimen, labelled " Same position from rock in situ''
is a compact grey rock, with a few minute cavities and very small
felspar crystals (up to about one-twentieth of an inch in length), and
some of a dark pyroxenic mineral, occasionally nearly one-fifth of an
inch long ; it is also speckled with a pale green mineral. Both
specimens have been examined under the microscope. In L the
more conspicuous minerals are: (a) plagioclase felspar (species un-
certain but resembling andesine), variable in size, sometimes rounded
or broken in outline. (£) Hornblende, also variable in size, the largest
specimen containing small enclosures of felspar. This constituent is
often darkened by opacite, has the crystalline form badly preserved,
and shows traces of a corrosion border, (c] Granules of iron-oxide.
These lie in a glass which is nearly colourless itself, but contains
some opacite and many minute microliths of plagioclase. The
section exhibits numerous small irregularly shaped vesicles, filled
with aggregates of a chloride mineral, giving rather bright polarisa-
tion tints, together with one or two enclosures of a slightly different
rock ; one of which appears to be almost holocrystalline, though the
constituents are small. Probably these are portions of a slightly
different and better crystallised magma which has been caught up
by the lava in its upward course.

Specimen G is not so well preserved ; the felspar, as above, being
largely replaced by a granular mineral, which affords fairly bright
polarisation tints, and in part at least appears to be dolomite, though
probably a silicate is also present. The mode of replacement is a
little remarkable ; sometimes, while part of the crystal is thus re-
placed, the remainder is fairly fresh-looking. The hornblende shows
corrosion borders of opacite, and is often darkened by the same
material. There is possibly a flake or two of biotite. The ground
mass differs but little from that of L, and the glassy base shows less
sign of decomposition than might have been expected, but there are
no vesicles. The specimens are varieties of hornblende-andesite.

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 317

M and O. " On moraine above the last two specimens, fallen from
masses with stratified aspect in cliffs above, which reach to the
western peaks." These seem to be different coloured varieties of the
same kind of rock. M is a piece, approximately four inches long
and one-third of this measurement in other directions, of a pale
pinkish-grey colour, but weathering externally to a slight yellowish
brown. It is compact in structure, the felspar crystals scattered in
it being so small that they are only just visible to the unaided eye ;
there are a few little darkish spots. The specimen O somewhat
exceeds three inches in its longest measurement, and has a rather
irregular and rough surface of slightly scoriaceous aspect. It is a
darkish grey colour, speckled with numerous crystals of a glassy
felspar, ranging up to about one-tenth or even one-eighth of an inch
in diameter, and with some running up to about one-quarter of an
inch, of a dark pyroxene, apparently hornblende. I thought it
unnecessary to have slices cut from these rocks, since they were
neither obtained in situ nor in a promising condition, but they are
obviously andesites, and probably represent the variety containing
hornblende.

N. " Higher up than the last two, from solid rock, very brittle."
A specimen of a rather pale grey andesite, containing felspar crystals,
generally less than one-tenth of an inch long, but in two or three
instances rather larger, and many crystals of a pyroxene, which run
a little bigger than the felspar, and in a few cases reach about one-
quarter of an inch, when they seem to enclose some impurity towards
the middle part. A few small cavities are visible, These felspars
under the microscope appear to be mainly plagioclastic, but one or
two may be sanidine. The hornblende has sometimes crystal out-
lines, but generally a corrosion border, and occasionally a second and
inner black band. There are also larger grains of iron-oxide. These
minerals are included in a base of pale coloured glass crowded with
felspar microliths, apt to be rather square in form ; augite microliths
may also be present, and a pale green mineral, the nature of which is
uncertain. Without chemical analysis it is difficult to say whether
hornblende-andesite or hornblende-sanidine-trachyte would be the
more accurate name for this rock.

K. "At 17,000 feet, on north-west flank of Aconcagua, in great
quantities from solid rock." A parcel of a fine sandy dust with harder
lumps of a yellowish colour, representing a very decomposed trachytic
lava or ash, probably the former. I expect that the condition of this
rock is the result of solfataric action, and that a " blow-hole " of steam
once existed at this place.

A and C. " Northern slope of Aconcagua, 1 8,000 feet, close to

3i8 THE HIGHEST ANDES

our camp." A is described as " a soft caking powder, dry, in large
quantities on the surface." It appears to represent a trachytic rock,
like the last, in an extreme stage of decomposition. C is " found in
veins in the solid rock ; also among loose decomposed rock." These
are fragments of a dull grey andesite, with small scattered whitish
crystals of felspar, up to about one-eighth of an inch in length. Some
of the fragments are partially encrusted with a whitish mineral, which
does not effervesce with hydrochloric acid, and varies in hardness,
being both less and greater than that of the thumb-nail (? a mixture
of anhydrite and gypsum). Some small black rather lustrous grains
or granules are visible, of moderate hardness, and one or two brownish-
black stripes (? produced by iron-oxide). Possibly this rock may
form intrusive veins in the other, but both seem to have suffered
from solfataric action. They appear to be hardly worth slicing.

H. "At 18,700, about one mile to north of our camp. Loose, not
in great quantities." These are small pieces of selenite, showing
crystalline structure, seemingly in rudely parallel flakes. When
scratched by the thumb-nail a slight " grating " is perceptible, as if
some harder particles (possibly anhydrite) were mingled with the
dominant mineral.

J. "Northern side of Aconcagua, at 19,000 feet — in great quanti-
ties at this level and higher over this face of the mountain." This is
a small lump of white, rather crystalline, gypsum, slightly stained on
one side with iron-oxide, and on the other with a green material,
perhaps of vegetable origin.

These two specimens must, I think, be products of mineral springs,
and the memoranda indicate that the latter must formerly have been
rather plentiful on this part of the mountain.

R. " Between the highest camp and the summit, about 1000 to
1500 feet below the latter, lying loose among debris at mouth of the
couloir leading into amphitheatre, in which I saw nothing like it."
A subangular specimen, just over an inch long and rather more than
half an inch in greatest breadth and thickness, greenish black in
colour, with a roughened surface due apparently to small constituent
crystals. This rock under the microscope is found to be holocrystal-
line, and to consist almost wholly of not quite perfectly developed
hornblende crystals, generally not exceeding one-fiftieth of an inch in
length, which are green and pleochroic as usual, and speckled with
opacite. The slice, however, contains a few larger grains of iron-
oxide, and occasionally interstitial felspars of small size, but in one
or two cases just large enough to show twinning, so probably it is
plagioclase. This specimen obviously is not a lava but almost a
hornblendite, and must have been broken from some more deeply

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 319

seated solidified rock, more basic in composition than the ordinary
effusive materials of Aconcagua. Fragments of crystalline and more
or less altered sedimentary rocks are not unfrequently ejected among
volcanic products, but they are usually partly or wholly embedded
in scoria or lava, except when, as sometimes in the Eifel, they repre-
sent the materials of the uppermost part of the crust in which the
orifice has been opened ; hence the occurrence of this specimen of a
rather uncommon rock in such a position is remarkable.

6". " Found on the summit plateau of Aconcagua." A rather
triangular flattish chip of rock, slightly over two inches in its longest
dimension ; compact in structure and greyish to yellowish-green in
colour (suggesting the presence of epidote), but slightly speckled and
mottled with a darker green, and traversed by a thin whitish vein.
There are a few small elongated cavities, apparently lined with
minute crystals of epidote. On microscopic examination a number of
grains of this mineral are recognised, often about 0.03 inch in diameter,
of a greenish-yellow colour ; some being dusty and of composite
aspect, others clearer and with more regular crystal outlines. The
ground-mass is micro-granular and is speckled with opacite, parts of
it having a pale yellowish-green tint like that of epidote, the whole
being spotted with rather larger clear granules, somewhat resembling
fragments of felspar. The more colourless, and on the whole pre-
dominant part of the ground-mass (in which the darker tinted
epidotes are rather more common), seems to be composed of minute
colourless granules and dusty opacite, so as to resemble some
speckled glasses, but on applying high powers this is found to consist
of granules (some rather scaly in aspect), among which I think both
epidote and felspar may be recognised, set in a uniform base. This,
however, is not isotropic, and affords with crossing nicols low tints,
more or less reddish grey, so that it also appears to be composite and
crystalline. The yellower part of the ground - mass, when thus
examined, is also found to be composite, some granules being a pale
but duller green than the others, and these in extinction and other
respects seem more probably hornblende than epidote.

I am not able to arrive at any definite conclusion as to the history
of this rock. I suspect that most, if not all, of its constituents, are
secondary in origin. The original rock evidently must have contained
a fair amount of lime and iron, with some alumina and a little
magnesia, besides silica, and must, I think, have been either a
pyroxenic andesite or a fine ash of similar composition. Had it been
the former I should have expected to find clearer traces of well-
formed felspar crystals, and so I incline to the latter view; for
pyroxenes seem to be less injured than felspars by explosions. The

320 THE HIGHEST ANDES

present condition of the rock may be the result of solfataric action,
but its position on the mountain is not very easily explained.

Q. "Loose specimen from near the summit." A lump rather
pyramidal in form, of a dull red colour, with a rough surface and a
slightly scoriaceous aspect. The removal of a slice proves this tint to
be more than superficial, besides disclosing many minute vesicles and
small crystals of whitish felspar, up to about one-twentieth of an inch
in diameter, and a few black specks, the largest of which measure
nearly one-eighth of an inch. The rock under the microscope is seen
to be rather vesicular. In consequence of this structure a very thin
slice has not been obtained, but a glassy base of a ruddy sienna-brown
colour is almost certainly present, which is studded with microliths of
plagioclase and some granules of iron-oxide. In it are embedded : (a)
larger grains of the last-named mineral, probably magnetite; (b)
plagioclase felspar with rather large extinction angles (measured from
the composition line) ; some are regular shaped, some zoned ; some
are clear, others contain enclosures probably of glass ; most of them,
I think, are labradorite ; (c) augite, pale olive-brown in colour, and
with a slightly corroded exterior, besides the " ruins " of a crystal,
apparently once distinctly larger than the rest ; (d) hornblende, with
a much more markedly corroded exterior, the colour, with transmitted
light, varying from a burnt sienna to a burnt umber-brown ; strongly
pleochroic, and changing from a pale raw umber to a rich sienna-red,
the darkest tint occurring when the vibrations are parallel to the vertical
axis of the prism. The rock is a scoriaceous hornblende andesite, but
is probably rather more basic than those already described, or, as
will be seen, than the next specimen.

B. "Loose fragment from the summit of Aconcagua, all the
neighbouring rock of the plateau, about seventy-five yards square,
appears to be the same." A rather triangular piece of rock, measuring
from five to six inches along the side, and about two and a half inches
in the thickest part. It is a warm purplish grey in colour ; the old
surfaces are rather speckled, and have weathered to a reddish or
yellowish-brown colour ; small whitish felspars and a black pyroxenic
mineral, with possibly some iron-oxide, can just be detected by the
unaided eye. A few minute vesicles are present. These larger
minerals prove on microscopic examination to be : —

(a) Felspars rather variable in size, often about one-fifteenth of an
inch long, much as already described, probably andesine ; (b) horn-
blendes, fairly regular in outline, but occasionally with blunted angles
or a corrosion border, sometimes even rounded ; pleochroic, changing
from pale greenish brown to a deep sienna-brown ; in one or two
cases forming a kind of skeleton, owing to the inclusion of small

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 321

irregular-shaped felspar crystals ; (c) a few grains or crystals of augite
of a pale brown tint inclining to green ; (d) iron-oxide. The base in
which these crystalline grains are embedded is sprinkled with opacite
and clouded with ferrite, being apparently a slightly decomposed
glass ; it is crowded with microliths of plagioclase, which give rather
small extinction angles. Hence the summit rock of Aconcagua is a
hornblende-andesite. This determination is fully confirmed by
a chemical analysis, which has been made for me in the Chemical
Laboratory of University College (London), by R. W. Gray, Esq.,

to whom I return
composition : —

my sincere thanks. The following is the

SiO2 = 60.32

A12O3 = 17.10

P2O5 = 0.05

Fe2O3 = 4.74
FeO 1. 12

MnO trace

CaO 3.51

MgO = 2.89
K2O 2.ii

Na2O = 5.06
H20 1.99

Loss on heating to 100° C. = 0.8 1

9970
Specific gravity . . . 2.609

Returning from the peak to the foot of Aconcagua, and resuming
the examination of specimens collected around the upper portion of
the principal (Horcones) valley, we have the following rocks : —

20. " West side between Buenavista Valley and Catedral. Patches
of this all over the sides of the valley from 14,000 to 15,000 feet (i8th
March, Lightbody)." A large rather heavy lump, about six inches in
greatest length, varying in colour from a light reddish grey to dark
brown, moderately hard, and with slight effervescence locally. I have
not made a more minute examination, as the specimen appears to
have no real interest. It is probably a mineral precipitate connected
with springs or solfataric action.

21. "West side between Buenavista Valley and Catedral. From
solid rock occurring frequently (i8th March, Vines)." An elongated
specimen, fully five inches in length, thickly coated with iron-oxide,
and showing traces of sulphur. From examination of a freshly broken
surface we see that the rock is a rather compact grey andesite, speckled
somewhat sparsely with small felspars and minute pyroxenes.

322 THE HIGHEST ANDES

CATEDRAL

" Height 18,000 feet, seven miles due west of Aconcagua."
(i) A fragment of an andesite, of a slightly darker grey colour than
(3), which see ; difference only varietal.

(3) A darkish grey rock, containing a rather large amount of whitish
glassy-looking felspar (the biggest grain being rather more than a
quarter of an inch across) and sundry spots of a dark green pyroxene.
On one side of the specimen is a whitish incrustation, which effervesces
rather briskly with hydrochloric acid, and in which are scattered a few
quartz crystals, variable in size, but all small. The exterior of the
specimen is generally stained with hematite. A slice examined with
the microscope shows a ground-mass consisting of a slightly ferrite-
stained material, studded with felspar microliths, and a little opacite.
On crossing the nicols these microliths give low polarisation tints,
and the surrounding material is seen to be an aggregate of rather
bright-coloured granules, indicating that secondary products have
replaced the original glass. The following minerals belong to an
early stage of consolidation : (a) plagioclase felspars (perhaps andesine),
fairly idiomorphic, showing albite twinning, and in the larger also a
zonal growth ; varying much in size, the biggest being about o. 1 5 inch
across. These include granules and microlithic streaks of a rather
fibrous mineral similar to that observed in the ground-mass, (b)
Ferromagnesian silicates ; these are present in considerable quantity,
but are all greatly altered ; they have apparently belonged to more
than one species. Some suggest biotite in their shape and in traces
of a close cleavage, and in one some remnants of this mineral seem to
occur ; others, however, are more like hornblende, and in some of
them a few tiny brown flakes represent this mineral or biotite.
Corrosion borders occur, the opacite of which often seems to granulate
into the ground-mass, and the interior is more or less darkened by
the same substance, (c) A third mineral, now consisting of a little
opacite and a granular mixture of a pale green mineral, giving low
polarisation tints (apparently a variety of serpentine) and of that with
bright tints (already mentioned) ; perhaps this represents an augite.
The rock is a hornblende or hornblende-biotite-andesite, but prior to
its final consolidation the ferromagnesian silicates were much injured,
and since then the whole rock has been attacked by water (? solfataric
action).

(4) Loose specimens. A rather flat piece, a little more than
three inches in greatest length, of a dark reddish ferruginous rock, in
which are vein-like cracks filled with a white mineral. The rock as a

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 323

whole is rather heavy, and seems in one part to contain some black
iron ore. The white mineral has a hardness approaching 4, and
does not effervesce with hydrochloric acid, though in one place it shows
a good cleavage suggestive of calcite. Hence it is more probably a
sulphate, possibly anhydrite. The rock seemed so much affected by
secondary changes as not to be worth cutting.

(2) " Summit rock ; but the whole mountain seems composed of a
generally similar rock." The specimen, which in greatest length is
about 4.5 inches, breadth 3 inches, and thickness not exceeding
2 inches, is a darkish grey andesite, weathering reddish, containing
felspar crystals, generally less than one-eighth of an inch, and dark
pyroxenes, sometimes slightly larger, differing only from the others in
the greater abundance of visible crystals. In this specimen the
microscope reveals distinct traces of a glassy base, speckled with a
pale green mineral, which also occurs in spots of greater size. The
larger ferromagnesian silicates are corroded, much as in the last case,
but the clear part is green, and shows bright polarisation tints ;
probably it is only another variety of serpentine. The same mineral
also occurs in small independent spots, with little or no opacite. One
or two grains of brown hornblende still remain. It is doubtful
whether biotite has been present. The felspars (plagioclase) are much
changed, being partly replaced by a mineral resembling an impure
calcite. The rock is hornblende-andesite, and its history has been
generally similar to that of the last one, but perhaps its original
composition was slightly more basic.

BUENAVISTA VALLEY

B. " Buenavista Valley (28th April, Gosse)." An incrustation of
a colourless but slightly iron-stained mineral occurring in minute
parallel prisms, no effervescence with hydrochloric acid, and softer
than the finger-nail: hence gypsum. A second specimen shows
two layers and apparently traces of sulphur. These probably are
solfataric in origin.

14. "A great deal of this below Col. (28th April, Gosse)." A
rather irregular-shaped piece, a little more than two inches one
way and a little less the other, somewhat heavy, and looking as if
impregnated with hematite. On one side is a rather mammillated
crust of a whitish mineral, of secondary origin, which also seems to
have filled some cracks. On microscopic examination we find an
extremely dark brown ground-mass, barely translucent in any part, in
which are several spots of clustered granules looking like a ferrite-

324 THE HIGHEST ANDES

stained carbonate, together with fairly well-defined crystals of a
water-clear mineral, idiomorphic, and occurring in elongated prisms
(probably monoclinic), and extinguishing up to angles of over 30* with
edges in the prism zone ; it has a moderate basal and a fairly good
prismatic or possibly orthopinacoidal cleavage ; is rather like a felspar
in general appearance, but I think is more probably one of the
zeolites. On the edge of the slice is part of a vein of calcite
(probably with some magnesian carbonate). I believe that secondary
action has quite obscured the original structure of the rock.

15. "Specimens of shingle in Buenavista Valley (28th April,
Vines)." Two of these have been sliced for microscopic examination,
with the following results : —

A is a dark purplish-red compact rgck, with subconchoidal
fracture and a slight banding apparently due to stratification. Under
the microscope it appears to be composed of little granules of a clear
mineral and (?) some glass, together with specks of ferrite, traversed
by irregularly outlined bands darkened with the latter mineral, one
or two dark specks suggesting scoria. Rather larger angular or sub-
angular bits of felspar are scattered about, which sometimes seem to
have received secondary enlargement, the very narrow border
including some ferrite. As the constituents are very minute, it is
difficult to be sure about this rock ; possibly it is a devitrified glass,
but I think it more probably fragmental, i.e. a volcanic dust, largely
composed of broken felspar.

B. Specimen (about 3X2jxiJ inches) of a mottled purplish
to pinkish-grey rock, resembling a rather stratified volcanic ash.
Under the microscope the greater part of the slice looks like a glass
(in colour a light dull brown, owing to the presence of minute
ferrite), which includes grains, usually small, of iron-oxide, and
a number of crystals, most of which evidently have been almost
entirely replaced by secondary minerals. The rock apparently was
once irregularly vesicular. The cavities, however, are now filled;
first a coating of mammillated structure was deposited, consisting of a
mineral in minute prisms, acting fairly well on polarised light, then
came a less regularly ordered prismatic or fibrous mineral, with
brighter polarisation tints— possibly chalcedony. The included
minerals are replaced by similar microlithic products, with more or
less included earthy matter. Some of them resemble felspar ; two or
three of larger size have been hornblende, one having the original
characteristic lozenge structure indicated by dark lines, and the
replacing materials in them seem not quite identical with those in the
last named. I think the fragmental aspect of the hand specimen is
illusory, and that the rock has been a vesicular hornblende-andesite,

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 325

which has been greatly altered by infiltration, probably from
solfataric action. Chalcedony may be among the secondary products,
but as some of the better defined prisms give an oblique extinction, a
zeolite is likely to be present.

4. " Spur between valley of Buenavista and tributary valley, debris
below cliff of it (28th April, Vines)." One of these is an irregular
lump, roughly three inches in diameter, of badly developed and
crowded crystals of selenite ; in another and smaller one the crystals
are rather more regular in direction. Also three pieces of rather platy
selenite, one about 4^ x 3 J inches, and a fourth, small, of satin spar.

I. Under the microscope this presents a general resemblance to
No. 3 of Catedral (p. 322).

n. A specimen of a purplish rock, nearly three inches in greatest
length ; colours stronger on cut surface ; apparently fragmental ;
slickensides on one surface, and three smaller fragments of the same,
also showing slickensides, but less perfectly. Under the microscope
the structure is rather obscured by decomposition and by deposit of a
secondary mineral, apparently a carbonate, approaching dolomite or
ankerite ; this also occupies cracks which are rather numerous in
places. The rock is composed of fragments, some are andesitic lava,
others (small) blackish or brownish, more or less scoriaceous ; some
possibly are a decomposed pyroxene ; one or two small zircons are
present. The whole mass is well cemented. I have doubted
whether this rock might not be a lava which has included fragments
of its own crust, but I think these are too numerous and various
to allow of such an explanation, and so regard it as an indurated
andesite-ash.

TUPUNGATO

XIV. " Rock in situ forming cliff by river, in valley north of
Tupungato, not part of the mountain itself." It has a fragmental
structure, the materials are volcanic, and the aspect is rather ancient.
Under the microscope it is seen to consist of subangular to angular
fragments of volcanic rock, with a few minerals. There have
been considerable secondary changes, by which the more minute
interstitial materials are obscured. A yellow-green filmy mineral
has been produced, which is present more or less all over the
slice, and in the fragments themselves ; it affords rather bright
polarisation tints, and is probably a hydrous mica. The bigger
fragments are devitrified, in fact every part of the slice affects
polarised light. The larger minerals represent : (a) quartz (small and
scarce — perhaps chalcedonic) ; (b) plagioclase ; (c) an altered pyroxene

326 THE HIGHEST ANDES

(rare) ; (ct) iron-oxide ; — none being really common. Among the
rock fragments are : (a) three or four clear angular bits, no doubt a
devitrified glass, the largest showing a distinct fluxional structure ;
(£) two or three varieties of microporphyritic andesite or trachyte, in
one of which is a grain of quartz; (c) three or four darkish dusty-
looking specimens, perhaps representing rather decomposed bits of
scoria ; small amygdales possibly occurring in one. Thus the rock is
an andesitic ash, and if it has not been exceptionally affected by some
local agent, I should conjecture it to be distinctly more ancient than
those on the upper part of Tupungato itself.

Two specimens with a general resemblance. VI. bears this label,
"opposite base camp in valley north-east of Tupungato, 11,000 feet ;
whole mountain side seems of this." X. is as follows : " On route
from the base camp up Tupungato, 15,000 to 19,000 feet; small
aiguilles of this breaking out of broken loose material. Frequent all
over north-east side of mountain." The shape of VI. is partly due to
joints which follow a rather irregular course, as we often see in a
dyke near its edge. The rock is compact, of a dull red colour,
a little mottled, spotted, and streaked with black ; the latter being
slightly dendritic at the edge, and apparently determined in its
distribution by the presence of minute cracks. The specimen is
sparsely speckled by felspars of a paler colour, not generally exceeding
one-tenth of an inch in length. X. is a rudely wedge-shaped
specimen, nearly five inches long, with a general resemblance to the
last rock, but paler in colour, and not stained with black ; showing a
fluxional structure, and indications of free quartz, besides containing
a small enclosure of a slightly different rock. Under the microscope
the minerals of anterior consolidation in VI. are seen to be felspar and
quartz. The former are the less numerous, generally imperfect in
their crystalline outline, sometimes distinctly fragmental, and once
or twice rounded ; affected by decomposition or possibly by heat, and
to some extent ferrite stained ; so far as can be ascertained they are
orthoclase. Of the quartz grains (which are the more numerous)
some retain, wholly or in part, their crystal outlines ; in others these
have been removed by corrosion. They have few enclosures, even
cavities being minute and not abundant. Some larger grains of iron-
oxide (? hematite) are present. The ground-mass for the most part
is microcrystalline, being a mosaic of quartz and ferrite-stained
granules, probably representing felspar, in which are irregular streaks
and patches of the same mineral in a different state of development ;
sometimes small idiomorphic crystals of the felspar occur in a ground-
mass of quartz ; sometimes the two assume a slightly micrographic
structure, and sometimes they form a coarser mosaic. In one or two

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 327

cases they are associated with grains of felspar apparently of earlier
consolidation. It is difficult to determine whether these little
patches are enclosures of rock in a slightly different crystalline
condition, which have been partially melted down by a later
magma, or whether they formed while the rock was in process of con-
solidation. On the whole I incline to the latter view, for they
seem to pass so gradually into the ordinary ground-mass, but I
think they may indicate slight original differences in the composition
of the magma.

The microscopic structure of X. is so generally similar to that
of VI. that a detailed description is needless. The two or three
felspars present in the slice seem to be replaced by a pinite-like
aggregate : the devitrification structure of the ground-mass is more
minute, and the fluxional structure is very distinct. These two rocks
appear to be quartz-felsite (quartz-porphyry of some authors) rather
than quartz-porphyrite, but I should not be surprised if in chemical
composition they were intermediate between rhyolites and dacites.

VII. "At 15,000 feet, north of Tupungato, very far from the
summit. Loose specimens, on a (?) moraine." A rather subangular
lump, in volume from two to two and a half cubic inches, showing
white felspars from one-eighth inch diameter downwards, and some
smaller pyroxenes set in a dark purplish compact matrix, in which
are many small irregularly distributed vesicles. Microscopic ex-
amination reveals a brown glass as base, which shows fluxion
structure, and is crowded with very minute lath-like felspars ; possibly
one or two rutiles are present. Scattered in this as a ground-mass
are larger crystals of the following minerals : (a) iron-oxide, generally
rather small ; (b) felspar, mostly plagioclase, some idiomorphic and
water-clear; others, not quite so regular in outline, enclosing more
brown glass, which occasionally forms almost half the grain ; but such
a one is now and then surrounded by a zone of clear plagioclase.
Some are about *o6 inch in the longer diameter, but they range down
to as small as *oo6 without any very definite break, though for general
purposes they may be grouped as large and small ; (c) hornblende,
brown and pleochroic ; sometimes fairly idiomorphic, sometimes with
a corrosion margin, occasionally with enclosed granules of (?) felspar ;
(d) augite — only one fair-sized crystal (though this mineral is
probably represented by several small grains) — clear, of a very pale
green tint, associated with some brown hornblende in such a way as
to suggest that the latter may be of paramorphic origin. The rock
may be named a hornblende-andesite.

IX. and XII. "From the great northern ridge of Tupungato at
19,000 feet." The former (which has assumed a redder but lighter

328 THE HIGHEST ANDES

tint in weathering) is a rather subangular piece about 3x2x1 inches,
showing whitish felspar, a blackish pyroxene and a little (?) biotite,
all running up to about one-eighth inch diameter, and set in a grey,
somewhat vesicular matrix with a rather rough exterior. On one
side is a superficial deposit of a white mineral. The latter, a small
piece of similar rock, is coated on one side with hematite. On
microscopic examination IX. is seen to consist of a colourless glassy
base, crowded with lath-like microliths of plagioclase, belonites of
(probably) another mineral, and some opacite. In this ground-mass
are scattered : (a) larger crystals of plagioclase, which in some cases
include the microliths just mentioned, or fluid cavities ; (b) a fair
amount of hornblende, the edges of the crystals not being corroded ;
and (c) two or three flakes of biotite. The rock accordingly is a
variety of hornblende-andesite.

XL "Great couloir leading up from ridge to the dome. About
21,000." This specimen is a grey compact igneous rock, speckled
with small white felspars, no doubt an andesite.

III., IV., V., XIII. These four specimens, together with II., which
represents the rock of the highest point, come from the summit dome
or plateau of Tupungato.

I. " Centre of dome of Tupungato, between two of the peaks."
A lump from three to four inches in diameter, not very vesicular,
inclining to be slaggy, in colour a very dark purplish brown, almost
black, speckled sparsely with small white crystals of felspar. On the
outside, and sometimes apparently occupying a small cavity, are little
spots of a white mineral, perhaps a zeolite. The rock evidently is a
scoriaceous andesite.

III. "Loose on top of dome of Tupungato, but solid blocks are
seen to appear above the surface." A specimen, measuring roughly
3x2x1 inches, of a whitish or cream-coloured rock, in which are a
fair number of small vesicles, partly occupied by a white mineral, and
felspar crystals of about the usual size (two or three cobalt-coloured
small patches on the exterior are probably accidental). On
microscopic examination this rock is seen to be in a very peculiar
condition. At the first glance one would take it for a slightly
vesicular andesite, not well preserved, containing in the first stage
of consolidation some iron -oxide, with crystals of felspar, and
possibly of a pyroxenic mineral ; the second of these having a curious
granular aspect, and the third a very muddy one. On closer ex-
amination we find that the ground-mass, except for a rather small
number of lath-like or flaky microliths, produces no effect on polarised
light, and the larger minerals, just named, prove to be in almost the
same condition. Those identified as felspar contain a few enclosures

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 329

of ground-mass, and show traces of the original planes of cleavage,
the material being in places clear, in others stained with a brownish
dust. The former acts very feebly on polarised light, rotation of
the stage just making the difference between darkness and a very
faint twilight, but bringing into view some brighter lines corresponding
in position with those of cleavage. The other material is less
translucent and has about as little effect on polarised light. The
altered pyroxenic mineral resembles hornblende rather than augite,
but biotite may also be present in one or two instances. The rock
most probably was once an hornblende-andesite, and evidently has
been much altered, probably by solfataric action. I should suggest
infiltration by opaline silica, were it not that the vesicles are
empty.

IV. " In quantities lying loose on the summit." A rather
irregularly formed lump, about 4x3x2 inches, of a slightly vesicular
rock, which might have been ejected among scoria. For its general
appearance we may refer to the description of the summit rock given
below. This one, however, is slightly paler in colour than it, being
a dull lavender grey inclining to purplish ; the scattered felspar
crystals are perhaps a shade larger, and so are those of pyroxene,
which occasionally attain to one-eighth of an inch. It exhibits some
fulgurites, which will be described below with those of the summit
rock.

V. "Centre of dome, between two of the peaks." Very dark scoria
like I., but distinctly more vesicular ; about two and a half inches in
greatest length ; one or two very small pyroxenes visible. Under
the microscope the minerals of early consolidation are found to be :
(a) iron-oxide; (b} hornblende ; (c) augite, as in VII., but more abundant;
(d) plagioclase, but here without glass enclosures. The last mineral
occurs of many sizes, though the majority may be distinguished into
those approximating to a tenth of an inch and microliths. The
extinction angles of many of the former correspond most nearly with
those of labradorite ; (i) a clear mineral, imperfect in outline and
cleavage, much resembling olivine, but as the extinction measured
from any promising line is oblique, I conclude it to be another variety
of augite. The ground-mass is so much darkened with opacite that
it is difficult to ascertain whether a glassy base is present, but dimly
outlined crystals can be seen with crossed nicols, like ghosts of
felspar (which may possibly indicate partially melted crystals) and
crowds of lath-like microliths. The rock is a scoriaceous hornblende-
andesite.

XIII. "Summit of Tupungato in large quantities." A rather
irregularly shaped piece of rock, about a cubic inch in volume, con-

330 THE HIGHEST ANDES

sisting of felspar (perhaps more than one species), a blackish pyroxene
and biotite (all often about one-tenth inch in diameter) set in a pale
reddish compact matrix, with a rather rough exterior, but apparently
not vesicular. No fresh broken surface. An andesite, with some
biotite and probably hornblende.

II. " Found loose in quantities on the top of highest of the three
heaps or peaks at summit of Tupungato." A block rather irregular
in shape, one surface being somewhat convex and the corresponding
one concave, but the dimensions may be very roughly given as
6x6x4 inches ; slightly weathered on the older surfaces (some being
fresh fractures). The rock is compact, except for a few minute
vesicles; in colour it is a dull purplish-brown or madder, and is
spotted with small white felspar, the largest of which vary from about
one-tenth to one-sixth of an inch in diameter. Under the microscope
this rock presents the same general characters as VII. The minerals
of early consolidation are : (a) iron-oxide ; (<£) brown hornblende, not
seldom fairly idiomorphic (much as before, but no corrosion borders),
very variable in size, and sometimes including grains of felspar and of
iron-oxide ; (c) biotite, only in a very few ill-developed flakes ; (d) one
or two small grains of augite. The felspar, plagioclase, is variable in
size, inclusions are inconspicuous; some of the larger grains are
broken ; these in extinction agree best with andesine, but possibly
oligoclase may be also present ; a small zircon is seen, and a few little
vesicles. The base is a glass, crowded with microliths, probably
felspar, and tinted with ferrite, though less strongly coloured than
VII. Thus the rock is a hornblende-andesite.

In this block fulgurites are abundant, commonly perforations, but
occasionally forming channels on the surface. The tubes not seldom
branch irregularly, and vary in size. When fairly circular in shape
the diameter ranges from about one-fifth to one-third of an inch, but
the latter measurement of course is exceeded at a fork. The irregu-
larity of their course makes a precise statement impossible. Where
the tube shows on a broken surface we see that it is coated at first
with a film, hardly so thick as the finger-nail, of a reddish-white or
warm grey tint, over which is a layer of glass of a greenish colour,
not unlike some of the lighter coloured varieties of common bottle
glass, and occasionally presenting in this respect and in fracture a
superficial resemblance to some varieties of olivine. This glass
appears not to form a perfectly regular coating, for sometimes it is
almost absent, at others it occurs in patches, the thickness of which
is about one-eighth of an inch ; while at others the tubes are almost
choked by it, but in the last case it forms an aggregate of separate
clots rather than a solid mass ; the interstices, in many instances at

DESCRIPTION OF ROCK SPECIMENS 331

least, being due to bubbles. In a section of one branching tube
the aggregated glass extends for about two inches inwards from the
surface, and for about one inch in a transverse direction at a short,
thick offshoot.

On careful examination of this material I came to the conclusion
that a thin slice could not be made, and that the attempt to obtain it
might seriously damage the specimen, so that I have studied the glass
by crushing some small fragments and examining the powder under
the microscope. The fragments vary in form, but flattish chips are
not uncommon, and occasionally they have a rather fibrous structure ;
curved surfaces are visible, probably indicating the former presence
of bubbles. The glass is of a very pale yellow tint, clear, containing
but few enclosures. These are either minute bubbles or very small
flaky microliths of ferrite and opacite.

In the fulgurites of IV., the tubes run slightly smaller than in the
last specimen, the glass is similar in appearance but just a shade
darker in colour. With a strong lens many minute vesicles, or their
broken surfaces, can be seen. Under the microscope the glass is
almost the same as in the other case, except that it seems slightly
more strongly coloured ; bubbles and definite flakes are perhaps
rather less numerous, but here and there are tiny brown patches.
The white film, mentioned above, occurs in specimens from both ; it
appears to be a layer of imperfectly fused rock ; the transition from
this to the perfect glass being very rapid. It is more or less opaque,
but signs of felspar microliths can be detected. Evidently the rock
was not materially affected by the lightening for more than about
a hundredth of an inch beyond the fused part.

By way of conclusion, I may call attention to the following points
in these notes: (i) the generally uniform character of the volcanic
rocks in this rather extensive region ; all the specimens, except
in one place on Tupungato (p. 326), representing closely related
varieties of andesite. To a certain extent this was true of the
collection made in the Ecuadorian Andes by Mr. E. Whymper, but
I think that his specimens exhibited a little more variety. (2) The
general absence of cellular materials. This collection does not
contain one piece of true scoria, and hardly any lava that is more
than slightly vesicular. The rocks from the summit of Aconcagua are
all but solid ; of those from the same position on Tupungato only one
includes some small cavities. On the first the crateral part of the
cone seems to have entirely vanished, and on the second almost as
completely. These facts are in accord with the testimony of the
photographs, that denudation has taken place, probably still continues,

332 THE HIGHEST ANDES

on an enormous scale. To this the great quantities of loose debris
on the slopes, the huge combes and precipices beneath the summit,
the terraced walls of lava and the rugged outlines of the peaks, all
bear witness. Not only so, but Aconcagua, at any rate, seems to
have been built up by successive flows of lava, like Mauna Loa in
Hawaii, rather than by explosive eruptions of scoriaceous material,
for the photographs of its cliffs recall, though on a vastly grander
scale, those of Snowdon above Glas Llyn or those beneath the summit
of the Puy de Sancy.

I may add that Professor Roth has described, in Dr. P. Giiss-
feldt's Reise in den Andes (p. 465), three specimens brought by that
explorer from the north-west flank of Aconcagua, and collected at
from 18,000 to 20,000 feet. They are (i) a much altered rock,
probably a " felsitporphyr," ; (2) a dark tuff, also altered, (3) a whitish
rock, probably a decomposed trachyte, impregnated with sulphur and
gypsum, indicative of solfataric action. A few rocks from other parts
of the Chilian Andes are described on pages 462 to 464.

APPENDIX B

NOTES ON THE FOSSILS FROM THE CHILIAN
ANDES COLLECTED BY MR. FITZ GERALD'S EX-
PEDITION

BY G. C. CRICK, F.G.S., OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM
(NATURAL HISTORY)

THE fossils which form the subject of the following notes were
sent to Dr. Woodward, F.R.S., etc., who has kindly handed
them over to me for examination. They were collected by the
members of Mr. FitzGerald's party during their expedition to
Aconcagua towards the end of the year 1896.

There are only six specimens. Two are labelled, " Torlosa
Valley" ; two " Horcones Valley " ; and two marked " F" come from
the western side of the same valley. The two last mentioned were in
situ on the right bank of the glacier stream at an elevation of from
10,000 to 11,000 feet above sea-level; the others were found loose
on the ground. Five of the fossils are in a reddish limestone, but
one, labelled " Torlosa Valley," is in a greyish crystalline limestone,
and has been very much rolled.

Only a very few fossils have been recorded from this locality.
The first specimens to be obtained were collected by Mr. Pentland
near the Puente del Inca, and determined by L. v. Buch l to be of
Upper Jurassic age. Darwin2 visited this spot in 1835, and gave a
detailed description of the section near the Puente del Inca. Traces
of fossils were observed in two beds which lithologically were very
distinct from each other, one near the base of the section being " a
stratum, eighty feet thick, of hard and very compact impure whitish
limestone, weathering bright red ; " the other, higher up in the
section, being a "yellow, fine-grained, thinly-stratified, magnesian
(judging from its slow dissolution in acids) limestone." Numerous

1 As consisting of: — Trigonia, resembling in form T. costata ; Pholadomya, like one
found by M. Dufresnoy near Alen9on ; and Isocardia excentrica, Voltz, identical with that
from the Jura. See L. v. Buch, Descrip. des lies Canaries, 1836, p. 472 ; and C. Darwin,
Geol. Obs. S. America, 1846, p. 193.

2 C. Darwin, Geol. Obs. S. America, 1846, p. 190 et seq.

333

334 THE HIGHEST ANDES

fragments of limestone, containing fossils, were scattered on the
ground, and from the nature of the matrix Darwin had no difficulty
in deciding that they were derived from the stratum near the base
of the section. D'Orbigny determined these fossils as Gryphcea,
near to G. Couloni; and A rca, perhaps A. Gabrielis^ and regarded
them as of Neocomian age. The few fossils obtained near the
Puente del Inca by Dr. Stelzner during his journey at the end of
1872 and in the early part of 1873 were determined by Gottsche1
as Gryphcza, cf. calceola, Ouenst, and Pecten (sp.), and considered to be
of Lower Oolitic age. So far as I am aware only Pelecypoda have
hitherto been recorded from near the Puente del Inca ; the present
collection therefore, although small, possesses considerable interest,
as it reveals the presence of Ammonites at this locality.

The six specimens (I.-VI.) constituting the present collection are
labelled as follows : —

T ic 7T"~l

II " /?" fThese are portions of one fossil.

III. "/" Torlosa Valley. On right-hand side going up to spring, loose in bed of valley.
1 2, OCX) feet (23rd April, Vines).

IV. "A" Torlosa Valley. (?) (Gosse).

V. "22" Horcones Valley. Found loose in Horcones Valley, 10,000 to n,ooofeet
(nth April, Lightbody).

VI. "23" Horcones Valley. Found loose in Horcones Valley, 10,000 to 11,000 feet
(nth April, Lightbody).

Specimens I. and II. are fragments of the same block of limestone,
each bearing the impression of a portion of the same Ammonite; VI.
is a portion of the whorl of an Ammonite ; III. and V. are Pelecypods ;
and IV. is indeterminable.

Cephalopoda. — This group is represented by the specimens I., II.,
and VI., all belonging to the genus Perisphinctes. Two of these (I.
and II.) are merely impressions of the opposite sides of the same
Ammonite on the surface of small blocks of limestone. This
Ammonite closely resembles Neumayr's figures2 of Perisphinctes
polyplocus (Reinecke) from the beds with Aspidoceras acanthicum, but
it is not sufficiently well-preserved for exact determination. The
other example (VI.) is a portion (about one-fifth) of the whorl of a
slowly-increasing, widely-umbilicated species of Perisphinctes. The
principal ribs are fairly close together, and usually divide on the
lateral area into three branches ; there is an occasional intermediate

1 Palaontographica, 1878, Suppl. Bd. iii. Lief 2, Heft 2, S. 40 ; Beitrdge zur
Geologic und Paleontologie der argentinischen Republik^ Herausgegeben von Dr. Alfred
Stelzner; //. Paleontologischer Theil, Abth. 3 ; C. Gottsche, " Ueber jurassische Versteine-
rungen aus der argentinischen Cordillere."

2 M. Neumayr, "Die Fauna der Schichten mit Aspidoceras acanthicum," Abh. d, k. k.
GeoL Reichsanst. Wien, Bd. v. S. 182, Taf. xxxiv. Fig. 2.

DESCRIPTION OF FOSSILS 335

single rib ; two ribs near the posterior end simply bifurcate, and
between these two ribs there is a constriction. The whorl is some-
what crushed, and there is no trace of the suture-line. Almost
precisely similar forms occur in the Kimmeridge clay of Dorset.1 It
also comes very near Neumayr's Perisphinctes selectus2 from beds
with Aspidoceras acanthicum, and Michalski's Perisphinctes Nikitini*
from the uppermost part of the Lower Volgian of Russia.

All the Cephalopoda therefore appear to be of Upper Jurassic
(Upper Oolitic) age.

Pelecypoda. — To this group belong the two specimens V. and III.
Specimen V. is merely the impression of two valves on the surface of
a small block of limestone ; these probably did not belong to the
same individual, one being somewhat larger than the other. A cast
of this impression shows that the fossil is probably a Trigonia, very
closely resembling, if not identical with, the species which Castillo
and Aguilera4 have described as Goniomya Calderoni from Upper
Jurassic rocks (Kimmeridgian and Portlandian) of Mexico. The more
nearly complete valve is 30 mm. long and 17 mm. high. The other
is more imperfect, and seems to have belonged to a larger individual.

Specimen III. consists of two valves, probably belonging to the
same shell, that have been displaced during fossilisation. They are
in a greyish crystalline limestone. Unfortunately the hinge cannot
be seen, and therefore the exact determination of the specimen is not
possible; the fossil, however, agrees fairly well with the figures of
Astarte andium given by Gottsche6 and by Tornquist,6 so we refer
it with some doubt to that species. Astarte andium occurs at the
Espinazito Pass, in beds which Tornquist considers to be of Bajocian
age.

Five of the fossils (two from the " Horcones Valley," one from the
" Torlosa Valley" and the two portions of the specimen marked "J?")
are, as already stated, in a reddish limestone ; these are apparently
of Upper Jurassic (Upper Oolitic) age. The other specimen (from

1 See Damon's Geol. Weymouth, 1888, Suppl. pi. xiii. fig. 3.

2 M. Neumayr, "Die Fauna der Schichten mit Aspidoceras acanthicum," Abh. d. k. k.
Geol. Reichsanst, Wien, Bd. v. S. 183, Taf. xxxiv. Fig. 3.

3 A. Michalski, "Die Ammoniten der unteren Wolga-Stufe," Mem. Com. Geol. St.
Petersbourg, 1890 and 1894, tome viii. No. 2. pp. 232, 459, pi. xii. fig. 5-7 ; pi. xiii.
figs. 1-3.

4 Castillo and Aguilera, " Fauna fosil de la Sierra de Catorce San Luis Potosi," Bol. Com.
Geol. Mexico, No. I. p. 9, pi. v. figs. 17, 18.

5 C. Gottsche, " Ueber jurassische Versteinerungen aus der argentinischen Cordillere,"
Palaontographica, 1878, Suppl. Bd. iii. Lief 2, Heft 2, S. 29, Taf. vii. Fig. 9.

6 A. Tornquist, " Der Dogger am Espinazito Pass, nebst einer Zusammenstellung der
jetzigen Kenntnisse von der argentinischer Juraformation," Pal. Abhandl. Dames & Koken,
Bd. viii. Heft 2, S. 170 (38), Taf. xx. (vii.), Fig. n.

336 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the "Torlosa Valley"), which is in a greyish crystalline limestone,
may possibly be of Bajocian age.

Although but few Jurassic and Cretaceous fossils have been
recorded from near the Puente del Inca they have been observed
at other places in this portion of the Andes. Darwin x has described
the section at the Penquennes Ridge, some sixty miles south of Inca.
Here the road crosses the ridge at a height of 13,210 feet above sea-
level. " The lowest stratum visible in this ridge is a red stratified
sandstone. On it are superimposed two great masses of black, hard,
compact, even having a conchoidal fracture, calcareous, more or less
laminated shale, passing into limestone." Between these masses a
bed of gypsum about 300 feet thick is interposed; these three
beds being estimated at a thickness of 3000 feet. The fossils
from these black calcareous shales were few in number and in a very
imperfect condition ; they were determined by M. D'Orbigny as of
Neocomian age.

Dr. F. J. F. Meyen,2 who ascended the valley of the Rio Volcan,
on the western side of the mountain chain and a little to the south of
the Penquennes Pass, found a nearly similar, but apparently more
calcareous formation, with much gypsum. The beds were vertical,
and at a height of 9000 feet above sea-level abounded with fossils of
Upper Jurassic age.3 Rather more than one hundred miles still farther
south, in the Sierra de Malargue, on the eastern side of the Argentine
Cordillera, between the Rio Diamante and the Rio Grande, beds of
Lower Oolitic age rest upon a Liassic conglomerate, and are con-
formably overlain by limestones containing a rich Tithonian fauna,
that pass continuously upward into rocks of Neocomian age.4

The fauna of the Jurassic rocks at the Espinazito Pass, some thirty-
five or forty miles north of Aconcagua, is one of the best known in
South America. Detailed descriptions of the section have been given
by Stelzner5 and by Bodenbender,6 and the fauna of the beds has

1 C. Darwin, Geol. Obs. S. America, 1846, p. 175 et seq.

2 Dr. F. J. F. Meyen, Reise urn Erde, 1834, Th. I. S. 357 ; Dr. F. J. F. Meyen,
" Einige Bemerkungen iiber die Identitat der Flotzformation in der alten und in der neuen
Welt," Nova Acta Leopold-Carol. 1835, Bd. xvii. pt. 2, S. 647-656; C. Darwin, 1846,
Geol. Obs. S. America, p. 181.

3 L. v. Buch, Descrip. Phys. des lies Canaries, 1836, p. 471.

4 O. Behrendsen, " Zur Geologic des Ostabhanges der argentinischen Cordillere," Zeitschr.
deutsch. Geol. Gesell. 1891, Bd. xliii. S. 369-420, Taf. xxii.-xxv. and ibid. 1892, Bd. xliv.
S. 1-42, Taf. i.-iv. ; A. Steuer, " Argentinische Jura-Ablagerungen, Ein Beitrag zur Kennt-
niss der Geologic und Pakeontologie der Argentinischen Anden," Pal. Abhandl. Dames &
Kayser, 1897, Bd. vii. Heft 3.

5 A. Stelzner, " Ueber die argentinische Cordillere zwischen 31° and 36° s. Br.," Neues
Jahrb. 1873, S. 726 ; A. Stelzner, " Beitrage zur Geologie und Palaontologie der argentin-
ischen Republik," 1885, Th. I, S. 106.

6 Bodenbender, in A. Tornquist, op. cit. infra, S. 137 (5).

DESCRIPTION OF FOSSILS 337

been carefully worked out by Gottsche,1 and quite recently by
Tornquist2 The last-named author distinguishes at that locality a
Liassic conglomerate, succeeded by Lower Dogger and Middle
Bajocian beds, upon which rest Lower and Upper Callovian strata,
these being followed by a Tithonian conglomerate. Tornquist also
gives a summary of our present knowledge of the Jurassic formation
in the Argentine Cordillera.

1 C. Gottsche, " Ueber jurassische Versteinerungen aus der argentinischen Cordillere,"
Palaontographica, 1878, Suppl. Bd. iii. Heft 2.

8 A. Tornquist, " Der Dogger am Espinazito Pass, nebst einer Zusammenstellung der
jetzigen Kenntnisse von der argentinischen Juraformation," Pal. Abhandl., Dames & Koken,
1898, Bd. viii. Heft 2.

APPENDIX C

NOTES ON THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE
ACONCAGUA VALLEYS

BY PHILIP GOSSE

Naturalist to the Fitz Gerald Expedition

WHEN Mr. FitzGerald so very kindly appointed me naturalist
to his expedition in the Andes, he was aware of my entire in-
experience with regard to everything connected with South America.
More than that, with the exception of having given some little study
to birds, I had no special knowledge of any one department of
zoology, and a complete ignorance of botany. I went out simply as
a collector. Before I started, Professor E. Ray Lankester was kind
enough to give me the practical piece of advice, not to attempt to
select, but to bring back at least one specimen of every form, small
and great, which I was able to observe. By an accident I was
deprived even of any help which books could give me, but I en-
deavoured to act strictly upon Professor Lankester's counsel. I am
perfectly conscious that, as the majority of the specimens I brought
back were quite commonplace, so the notes I made of the habits
and habitats of animals and plants must in the main be already
familiar to naturalists. Nevertheless, I tried to collect everything
and to note down everything I saw, in the hope that, as all was
independently observed, something might possess a little novelty and
freshness.

The first appearance of the Aconcagua valleys was discouraging.
At a first glance, the eye detected no signs of life, — no mammals, no
birds, and scarcely any vegetation except a prickly shrub {Adesmia
trijuga\ which appeared to cover everything with its miserable
growth. So empty of life did the whole landscape seem, that, when
I began to be used to it, and came back into camp with my birds and
insects and plants, Mr. FitzGerald playfully accused me of having
brought them from England with me in bottles, since he and the
others, having other things to think about, saw absolutely nothing
that was alive in any direction. I believe, however, that the empty

NOTES ON NATURAL HISTORY 339

dreariness of the valleys was really a very useful discipline for a
young and inexperienced naturalist, as it obliged one to keep one's
attention always concentrated. There was no temptation to wait
for the creatures to come to me, for in that case I should have
collected nothing at all.

Those who have read Mr. FitzGerald's book will know what the
general character of these high Andean valleys was. They were
desolate, monotonous, and dreary in the highest degree. A feature
of the life which was most discouraging to a naturalist was the hot
gale which blew every day from about 10 a.m. to sundown, burying
everything in a wind of dust. There was very little to be effected
in the way of collecting, except from sunrise to 10 a.m. Most of
my skinning of birds and mammals and pressing of plants had
to be done in the daytime, out of doors, because of the intense
heat, and sheltered as well as possible from the driving dust, since
I could not spare for this work any of the precious hours of the early
morning.

A reference to the map will show where my specimens were taken
and my observations made, namely, between Punta de las Vacas,
which is 7546 feet above the sea-level, and the camp 14,000 feet up
the Horcones Valley. While Mr. FitzGerald and the rest of the
expedition were in Chile, in June and July 1897, I was staying in
the remote finca de " Los Inglises," near Lujan, in the province of
Mendoza, Argentina. As this is a district which had not been visited
by a naturalist, and as the character of it is sub- Andean, I made
collections there also, but in the following notes I have always dis-
tinguished between my Aconcagua and my Lujan specimens.

I have only further to express my sense of the kindness which I
have met with from eminent naturalists since my return to England,
a kindness which my inexperience is not worthy of, but which I shall
always remember with deep gratitude. I name, in the following
pages, those to whom I am indebted, but I must particularly men-
tion here Mr. P. L. Sclater, F.R.S. Mr. Arthur E. Shipley, of Christ's
College, Cambridge, has been so extremely kind as to revise my
proofs. I should like here to thank Mr. FitzGerald once more for
his goodness to me, and for all his patience and help. I wish I
could have been more worthy of the honour he did me when he
entrusted me with this responsible post in his expedition.

PHILIP GOSSE.

1st July 1899.

340 THE HIGHEST ANDES

MAMMALIA

The native mammalia of this part of the Andes are very scanty.
The largest quadruped is the guanaco (Lama huanacus), which
resembles the Bolivian llama, except in having much shorter wool.
In the Vacas Valley these animals are plentiful. At first they are
very difficult to see, as they are exactly the same colour as the
shingle. They sometimes make a curious neigh, very shakily. This
sound is, I think, not solely used as a warning, because, once, when
I was concealed behind a rock, two guanacos came within forty or
fifty yards of me, and they made the noise as they strolled along, as
if conversing with each other. When walking, these guanacos seem
to glide about like shadows. If frightened, they will start off
galloping uphill at a great rate. One day I sent the porter who was
with me up the valley to see if he could drive the guanacos down to
me, and as he was doing this, I noticed that they simply trotted
behind a rock above him, to hide, and when he had passed, slipped
out again and went on feeding. They use their long necks to
reconnoitre, and see if any danger is in sight. The slot in the sand
on the level is like the mark which two long eggs might make at an
acute angle, the front of the toes being wedged further apart when
the track goes downhill.

It has hitherto been supposed that the puma (Felis concolor) does
not inhabit the high Andes so far south as Aconcagua. I found,
however, that the Indians consider that this animal is to be met with
on the low spurs of the mountain, at about 6000 feet above the sea
or even higher. One day, when I was riding with Dr. Cotton above
the Horcones Lake, suddenly a large yellow quadruped, with rather
short legs, leaped out from behind a rock, and slipped over the very
steep side of the cliff, above the lake. The mules, in a truly mulish
spirit, refused to move an inch further when we spurred them in the
direction where the animal disappeared. We therefore jumped down,
loading our rifles as we ran, and went to the edge of the cliff, but
when we got there, we could see nothing. This was the more
extraordinary as there was no cover for an animal to hide in.
What we had seen could have been nothing else than a puma, but
unfortunately this was the only occasion on which I met with one.
A great many of the mules and horses we saw had their ears torn,
which, the peons assured me, was done by pumas springing on the
animals' heads while they were feeding. The truth of this statement

MAMMALIA 341

I cannot vouch for, but I can think of no better reason for the
mutilated state of the animals' ears.

The only other large mammal of which there was any trace in the
Aconcagua valleys was the Patagonian fox (Canis azarce). The
highest altitude at which I saw a specimen of this animal was
far up the Vacas Valley (9000 feet). Here Lochmatter killed a fox
which was feeding on the body of a guanaco which I had shot the
preceding day. An account of my adventures with a fox which
haunted our camp at Inca at night will be found on p. 96. The
same species occurred plentifully at Lujan.

There seem to be only two species of mice in the Horcones and
Cuevas Valleys. The larger is Phyllotis darwini (Waterhouse), first
discovered by Darwin at Coquimbo, but of which I was fortunate
enough to bring home the only good specimens which have as yet
reached this country. This rare species has a long tail, large ears
and eyes, with a soft, almost chinchilla-like fur. I often observed
that, when I was trying to capture these mice, they would spring
against a wall or rock, which they very much resembled in colour,
and cling to it, motionless, in the hope of escaping notice. At all
times, they are much more sluggish than the European house-mouse.
The other species, rather like a vole, Akodon andinus (Philippi), is
much smaller than the former, the tail being quite short. This
latter species I found very common throughout this district — the
Horcones Valley, the Vacas, and the Tupungato and Cuevas Valleys.

This list of mammals is very meagre, but I am almost inclined
to think that it is exhaustive. The whole character of these barren
and exposed high Andean valleys is unfavourable to mammalian life,
and I did not hear even from the natives of any other striking forms.
At the K3 camp (13,500 feet), however, I should mention that I saw,
sitting under a rock, a rodent of a light brownish-red colour, with a
long snout, and tail of moderate length, which unfortunately escaped
me. For the identification of the two species I brought home, I
have to thank Mr. Oldfield Thomas, of the South Kensington
Museum.

At the Lujan finca I secured a young specimen of the grison
(Galictis vittata), of which an account is given from my diary on
p. 308. I believe these animals to be somewhat rare in the Mendoza
district. On the other hand, the skunk (Conepatus chilensis) abounds
at Lujan, where it is an object of the greatest detestation to the
rearers of chickens. On p. 306 will be found an account of the painful
results of catching a skunk in a trap. I was not so fortunate as to
secure a living armadillo ( Tatusia hybrida or Dasypus villosus) while
I was in Argentina, but that they are not uncommon is proved by

342 THE HIGHEST ANDES

the fact that on market-days scores of them are exposed for sale.
The flesh should be cooked in the " shell," and is considered a great
luxury. I tried it on several occasions, and was reminded of sucking-
pig with the addition of a "gamey" taste. The natives have a
gruesome belief that the most succulent armadillos are those which
are found in graveyards, and there is a special value set on peludos,
as they call them, which are warranted to have been caught among
the tombs.

II
BIRDS OF THE ACONCAGUA VALLEYS

The birds of which I offer the following notes were collected by
me at Puente del Inca and other spots in the Aconcagua valleys be-
tween December 1896 and May 1897. I have also added some
account of the birds I obtained near Lujan, in the province of
Mendoza, in June and July 1897. My warmest thanks are due to
Mr. Philip Sclater, F.R.S. and Secretary of the Zoological Society,
for the extreme kindness with which he enabled me to identify the
species.

Fam. Vulturidce. (Sub-Fam. Sarcorhamphince)
GREAT CONDOR (Sarcorhamphus gryphus)

Condors are very abundant in this part of the Andes. If an
animal dies they seem to appear at once on the spot, although a
little time before there were none in sight. We shot one which
measured ten feet from wing to wing. The natives call the condors
with the white on the back of their wings Oetres,1 but they are really
condors. A Scandinavian in Los Andes in Chile told me that he
had seen the condors feeding on dead seals far down the Chilian
coast, which shows that the popular idea in the country that condors
cannot live in low altitudes is incorrect. I saw several in Mendoza,
and in Lujan during the winter. There always seemed to be several
condors hovering about the rock above Punta de las Vacas, perhaps
because there were large herds of cattle generally passing through
into Chile in the summer, and the meadows also were usually full of
cattle.

1 Pronounced " Weetree."

BIRDS 343

Fam. Falconidcz. (Sub-Fam. Polyborince)
CHIMANGO KITE (Milvargo chimango]

These birds are very common in Mendoza, and I have seen them
up the Horcones Valley as high as 13,000 feet. They live on carrion
principally. When ploughing is going on in the vineyards, these
kites may be seen by the score, sitting on the posts, and flying down
as the plough passes, to get the worms that are turned up. They
utter a harsh cry. I caught two chimangos alive, one in a rat-trap.
The other I shot, breaking its wing and leg, another shot passing
through its crop, but he soon recovered, and may now be seen in
the Zoological Gardens. These birds seem to have very little blood.
I shot one through the heart with a Winchester rifle, and scarcely
a drop of blood appeared. They seem to eat almost anything.
Sometimes they kill young chickens, while insects (beetles, etc.) and
vegetables form a common diet. One evening, at dusk, I saw one
of these birds with something in its beak, which turned out to be
a large toad.

Fam. Falconidce. (Sub-Fam. Buteonince]
CHILIAN EAGLE (Buteo melanoleucus)

Above the hotel at Inca I found a large nest made of sticks, in
a cliff, my attention being drawn to it by the shrill cries of the young
ones. These were about the size of an ordinary domestic fowl.
Although I was near the nest for three or four days, I failed to secure
an old bird. The nest was on a ledge of a cliff, measured about four
feet across, and was lined with dry grass.

Fam. Strigidce. (Sub-Fam. Bubonina)
MAGELLAN'S OWL (Bubo magellanicus)

One specimen was shot and given to me at Punta de las Vacas.
Another, a live one, was also given me by a Scandinavian in
Los Andes, and I kept it for about four months. It came to an
untimely end, being killed by a peon with a stone.

Fam. Hirundinidce. (Sub-Fam. Hirundinincz)
BANK SWALLOW (Atticora cyanoleucd)

I have seen these swallows as high as the marsh at the second
ford up the Horcones Valley, about 11,000 feet. These birds nest
in the cliffs, and leave the higher altitudes as soon as the frosts come.

344 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Fam. Trochilidce. (Sub -F am. Polytmince]

HUMMING-BIRDS— TROCHILID^E
WHITE-SIDED HUMMING-BIRD (Oreotrochilus leucopleurus)

I shot only one species of humming-bird in the mountains. There
were three nests, one under the Inca bridge, another against a cliff
higher up the river, and the third on a boulder overhanging the
river. One morning, on waking a little before sunrise, having slept
out in the open, I heard a whirring sound, and saw one of these birds
hovering in front of me. It immediately perched on the brim of my
soft hat, flew away, and then perched there again for a moment.
These birds are most common round Puente del Inca in December
and January. I saw another species of humming-bird. One morning,
25th March, Mr. FitzGerald and I were getting ready to start up the
Horcones Valley from the Inca camp when suddenly a large brown
humming-bird, nearly the size of the Patagonian earthcreeper, and
about the same colour, flew about in the camp for a few seconds
and then flew away again. It had a long curved beak. It had a
much clumsier flight than the white-sided variety, and was far larger.
It was probably the Patagonian humming-bird.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub- Fam. Furnariince)
COMMON MINER (Geositta cunicularid)

These birds utter a very shrill cry, generally when flying, and run
rapidly when on the ground. They nest in holes in walls and
between stones, etc. ; and feed apparently on insects, for I found a
small black beetle in the throat of one of them.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Furnariince}
ISABELLINE MINER (Geositta isabellina}

This bird, which closely resembles the common miner, Geositta
cunicularia, is fairly abundant at Puente del Inca, although not so
common as the latter. It seemed to prefer living near our camp.
It builds its nest amongst the loosely-built walls and stone heaps.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub -Fam. Furnariince}
WHITE-RUMPED MINER (Geositta fasciata]

The habits and general appearance of this bird are much the
same as those of the two former species, Geositta cunicularia and

BIRDS 345

Geositta isabellina. I have seen all these as high as 12,000 feet in
the Horcones and Cuevas Valleys, though the specimens collected
were from Puente del Inca.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Furnariince)
BROWN CINCLODES (Cinclodes fuscus)

This, the commoner species of the two, I found up to 12,000 feet.
Almost under the Puente (bridge) del Inca, I found on Dec. 14 a
nest with three white eggs. The nest was made of horse-hair, and
placed under a large boulder near the river. These birds stop at
Inca during the winter, when all the other birds are gone. It may be
owing to the warmth of the hot springs, as I saw them nowhere
else during the winter ; in fact they seemed to have collected round
the bridge as if to take up their winter quarters there. Their habits
closely resemble those of our British Water-dipper, the nest and eggs
also bearing a striking resemblance.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Furnariince}
WHITE-WINGED CINCLODES (Cinclodes bifasciatus)

I only saw these interesting birds in the marsh between Inca
and Vacas. They are larger and handsomer than Cinclodes fuscus.
Collected in April.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Furnariince)
PATAGONIAN EARTHCREEPER (Upucerthia dumetorid]

These birds are fairly common at Inca. I saw them as high up
as the second ford in the Horcones Valley, about 11,000 feet. They
very often nest in holes in the banks of the roads. These holes,
which vary in length from three to six feet, they dig out for them-
selves with their long curved beaks. The nests, of which I brought
home a specimen, are made of bits of dry grass, with a depression
in the middle for the eggs. I never saw more than three eggs in
one nest. The eggs are pure white, smooth, and rather varied in
shape. These birds are solitary except during the breeding season.
I saw a few of them also in Lujan in the winter.

346 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Furnariince]
RED-TAILED EARTHCREEPER (Upucerthia ruficaudd)

Two specimens collected at Puente del Inca in March. During
the summer months I saw none of these birds lower than 10,000
feet. They are very inquisitive and tame. The natives call this
bird the " carpenter," probably on account of its habit of jerking
its body backwards and forwards, and also jerking its tail at the
same time as though in the act of sawing. When doing this, the
end of the tail comes within an inch of the bird's head. It also utters
a shrill, grating cry, like the squeak of a saw. In the winter-time
these birds lived close round the Inca; and I also saw one or two
of them in Lujan during the winter.

Fam. Anabatidce, (Sub-Fam. Synallaxince)
TIT-LIKE SPINE-TAIL (Leptasthenura cegithaloides)

I saw this quiet little bird two or three times between Inca and
Vacas. It seemed to be very shy, and was generally hopping about
at the base of a thick shrub.

Fam. Anabatidce. (Sub-Fam. Synallaxince)
SORDID SPINE-TAIL (Synallaxis sordida)

These birds are quiet and shy, and fly with a jerky motion,
spreading out their red fanlike tails as they go. They feed on
insects, and soft buds, etc. They are rather scarce at Inca; those
brought home were collected at Puente del Inca in January.

Fam. Tyrannidce. (Sub-Fam. Elaineince)
WHITE-CRESTED TYRANT (Elainea albiceps)

This bird lives in the Adesmia scrub, and feeds on the seeds of
the same. They disappeared altogether in the winter, nor did I
see any round Mendoza at this season. Male and female seem to
be closely alike. In dissecting one of these rare birds I had the
fortune to discover a hitherto entirely unknown parasitic worm, coiled
up close to the bird's heart. This parasite, of which a description
will be found on page 361, has been named Filaria elainece. Collected
9th December, Punta de las Vacas.

BIRDS 347

Fam. Tyrannidce. (Sub-Fam. Tceniopterince)
WHITE-TAILED TYRANT (Agriornis maritimd)

These birds are rather scarce at high altitudes, but I am told by
Mr. Smyth, the engineer of the Transandine Railway, that about
6000 feet they are more plentiful. I also saw them in Lujan in the
winter. The highest point at which I saw these birds was about
1 1,000 feet. In the summer they are shy, but in the winter they used
to live around the posada at Puente del Inca. I only once heard one
utter any sound, and that was at Inca in the winter. It was one note,
four or five times repeated, sounding like " Kank-kank-kank-kank,"
fairly loud. The flight is heavy, awkward and jerky, but quite
noiseless. I often saw them chasing smaller birds. They feed on
carrion. In the winter I have seen these birds tapping a hard
piece of meat on the roof of the posada to soften it.

Fam. Fringillidce. (Sub-Fam. Fringillince)
GOLDEN SISKIN (Melanomitris uropygialis}

I have never seen these siskins alight on the ground ; they were
usually hopping about, head or tail downwards, creeping and pecking
in the bushes or shrubs. They live in flocks varying from five to
twenty or even as many as thirty. Their food consists of seeds.
These birds seem to be of a roving disposition. Even during the
breeding season I never saw a pair singly, but always in flocks ;
their flight is very jerky. They do not sing a continuous song, but
only a few melodious notes, like those of our goldfinch. One cannot
call these birds shy, but they would never come and feed in the
neighbourhood of our camps. Their habits resemble those of the
British siskins. Collected at Vacas in December.

Fam. Fringillidce. (Sud-Fam. Passerellince)
GAY'S FINCH (Phrygilus gayi)

These brilliantly coloured birds are fairly common in the summer
at Inca, and I have seen them as high as 11,000 feet in the Horcones
Valley. I saw a few also during the winter months in Lujan, which
is fifteen miles south of Mendoza. The female is similar to the male,
only the colours are not so bright. They feed on seeds, insects, etc.
They nest in the Adesmia scrub, about five feet from the ground,
and five speckled eggs form the full clutch.

348 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Fam, Fringillidce. (Sub-Fam. Passerellince)
MOURNING FINCH (Phrygilus fruticeti}

This is a quiet retiring bird in habits, and sober in appearance,
the female being of a dark brown colour, whilst the male is absolutely
black in places. For a long time I had heard its song without seeing
the bird, as it is very shy. The song is a very sweet warble. Some
of the notes are almost harsh, and this contrasting pleasantly with the
more harmonious notes, gives the song a peculiar fascination. At
Vacas this species is fairly common, but I have seldom met with it
above Inca. They all disappear when winter sets in. They sing
mostly in the evening, when they become less shy, and I have heard
them singing on moonlight nights. The adjective " mourning " is
very appropriate, as the plumage in the male is mostly black, and
its song extremely sad. Collected nth December.

Fam. Fringillidce. (Sub-Fam. Passerellince)
PILEATED SONG-SPARROW (Zonotrichia pileatd]

These little birds were quite the commonest both round Mendoza
and higher up about Inca. Their general appearance and habits
reminded me very much of our common house-sparrow in England.
The native name for them is " chingolo." I found quite a number of
their nests, which generally contained four or five speckled eggs.
The nest is built of hay and lined with horse-hair. One nest I found
under a big stone, several others in the Adesmia shrubs, quite five
or six feet from the ground. I have heard these little birds
singing during the clear moonlight nights. The song consists of
a series of disconnected little runs of notes, not at all unpleasing.
I succeeded in bringing some of these sparrows home, and they are
now thriving well in the Zoological Gardens. I very seldom saw
them far from some habitation, but they were always plentiful in
the cultivated fields or near houses or camps.

Fam. Columbidce. (Sub-Fam. Peristerince]
BLACK- WINGED DOVE (Metriopelia melanopterd)

These doves began to arrive at Puente del Inca from about the
1 5th to the 20th of December 1896, and soon after that became
very common. Flocks of sometimes fifty or more might be seen

BIRDS 349

feeding on the seeds of the shrubs that grew along the banks of
the river. They all disappeared when the cold weather came.
They are seen as high as 12,000 feet. A little way below Inca
I came across a flock of them which must have numbered five
or six hundred.

Fam. ThinocorythidcB. {Sub-Fam. Thinocorina)
D'ORBiGNY's SEED-SNIPE ( Thinocorys orbignyianus)

A male and female were procured in the upper part of the
Horcones Valley, 23rd April, about 12,000 feet. I have since seen
these snipes several times in the Andes; but not lower than 11,000
feet. They are never found far from water, but always near a damp
marshy spot ; and are very difficult to see when on the ground, being
much the same colour as the shingle. They will sometimes come
within a foot or two of where one is standing before they can be seen.
One day I had been following a flock of these birds for about an
hour without getting a shot when at last I discovered one sitting
on a boulder. I shot it, and on going to pick it up could not see
it anywhere, but only blood and feathers. After a search of several
minutes I found two dead specimens close together, having failed
to see them before, so closely did their tints assimilate with the
surroundings. When they are flushed, they generally utter a short
sharp cry several times in succession. They look like moths with
their quiet, jerky flight. I saw one pair in the Horcones Valley as
high up as 14,000 feet.

Fam. Thinocoridce. (Sub-Fam. Thinocorince)
COMMON SEED-SNIPE (Thinocorus rumicivorus)

These birds live only where the ground is damp and marshy.
Before I was able to shoot a specimen, I often heard the bird flying
round and round the camp (at least so it seemed to me) in the
middle of the night, and uttering a noise rather like the croak
of a frog, only without the rough notes. When these birds are
calling, it is very difficult to ascertain where they are, although
perhaps they are quite close ta you all the time. Near the lake
above Inca, I found two old birds, with three little ones, all sitting in
about half an inch of water. They are fairly common in the marshy
parts of all the Aconcaguan valleys.

350 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Fam. Pteroptochidcz. (Sub-Fam. Pteroptochince)
SCYTALOPUS MAGELLANICUS

This specimen is the only one I saw in the mountains, and
was found near a waterfall. It had hitherto been supposed to be
confined to the Chilian side of the Andes. Collected at 11,500 feet,
Horcones Valley, in April.

t. Anatidce. (Sub-Fam. Anatince)
CRESTED DUCK (Anas cristata)

These ducks were sometimes seen during the summer on the little
lake in the Horcones Valley. When we first saw them, we mistook
them for geese on account of their size. They seemed to use the
lake as a halting-station when crossing the Andes, as they never
stopped more than a day or two.

BIRDS COLLECTED AT LUJAN, FIFTEEN MILES
SOUTH OF MENDOZA

Fam. Falconidce. (Sub-Fam. Polyborince)
CARACARA CARRION-HAWK OR CARANCHO (Polyborus tharus)

These birds are pretty common in the Mendoza district, but I
never came across them in the mountains. When seen from a
distance they look uncommonly shabby and disreputable, but on
a close inspection they prove to be quite handsome birds, with a kind
of crest. They are nearly as big as a good-sized turkey. I shot one
as it flew off the carcass of a dead donkey, and broke its wing.
It began to run across the meadow, I chasing it, until it was
"cornered." Seeing escape was impossible, it suddenly stopped
running, and, throwing its head far back, produced the most weird
cries, I suppose calling to its friends for help. In doing this the back
of its head almost touched its shoulders. These buzzards have very
strong talons, as I found to my cost when trying to catch one alive,
having as usual the " Zoo " in my mind.

Fam. Falconida. (Sub-Fam. Falconince)
CINNAMON KESTREL (Tinnunculus cinnamominus)

These kestrels were extremely common at Lujan. They seemed
to follow the flocks of chingolo song-sparrows (Zonotrichia pileata),
which often consisted of over two or three hundred birds.

BIRDS 351

Fam. Falconidcs. (Sub-Fam. Circince)
CINEREOUS HARRIER (Circus cinereus)

I think this harrier feeds mainly on the cavies, which are very
common in the neighbourhood of Mendoza ; but it also hunts and
kills small birds. I often, during the winter at Lujan, saw these
birds hunting in pairs ; they are very destructive in the chicken-
runs. Collected in June.

Fam. Troglodytidcs. (Sub-Fam. Troglodytince}
BROWN HOUSE- WREN (Troglodytes furvus)

There were usually two or three of these little birds round Mr.
Norton's house at Lujan ; and one in particular that lived in an
outhouse. They often came into the rooms, where they would
catch the small insects on the ceiling, and were not particularly
alarmed if we came in. They are busy little birds, ever on the
move, and very inquisitive.

Fam. Icteridce. (Sub-Fam. Agelaeince)
PATAGONIAN MARSH-STARLING (Trupialis defilippii}

These birds are very common about Mendoza. I saw strings of
them for sale in the markets, the natives considering them a great
delicacy. During the winter these birds lived in flocks varying in
size from five to twenty. I often saw one sitting on the topmost
bough of a small tree and singing a sweet little song, in some
ways resembling that of our English starling ; in the sun they look
very handsome with their scarlet breasts. They are usually to be
found in the long grass, and do not often come near a house. The
natives call this bird the " Pecho Colorado."

Fam. Icterida. (Sub-Fam. Agelaina)
SILKY COW-BIRD (Molothrus bonariensis)

This specimen was shot by Mr. Smyth of Mendoza. I have seen
flocks near this town consisting of as many as a hundred birds ; but
they never came into the neighbourhood of Lujan.

352 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Fam. Tanagridce. (Sub-Fam. Tanagrincz)
BLUE-AND-YELLOW TANAGER (Lamprotes bonariensis)

The only specimen I secured was given to me by Mr. Smyth of
Mendoza. I also saw one sitting on the top of a tree near Lujan.

Fam. Tanagridce.. {Sub-Fam. Pity lines}
MANY-COLOURED GROUND-FINCH (Saltatricula multicolor)

This specimen was shot for me by Mr. Smyth, at Mendoza. He
tells me that the natives call the bird the " siete cuchillos " or " seven
knives/' on account of the damage it does to the buds of the vines.
I saw only one, in the orchard at Lujan.

Fam. Fringillidce. (Sub-Fam. Fringillince)
YELLOW SEED-FINCH (Sycalis luted]

I have seen these little finches usually in flocks of ten to twenty.
They do not come near the towns or villages, but live in the waste
and uncultivated land, feeding on the seeds of various plants.

Fam. Psittacidce. {Sub-Fam. Araince)
AYMANE PARRAKEET (Bolborhynckus aymard)

One specimen was given to me by Mr. Smyth, which he shot a
little way above Mendoza in the Sierras.

Fam. Cuculidcs. (Sub-Fam. Crotophagincz)
GUIRA CUCKOO (Guira piririgud)

I did not see very many of these birds at Lujan in the winter.
The few that there were lived in flocks of eight to fifteen in number.
But in the spring I saw a great number in the Eucalyptus avenues
at La Plata. The peons are fond of getting these birds quite young ;
they soon become very tame, and run about the house, as though
the whole establishment belonged to them.

FITZ GERALDI, natural size.

354

REPTILES 355

III

REPTILES
BY G. A. BOULENGER, F.R.S.

Zoological Department, British Museum

LIZARDS

j. Phymaturus palluina, Molina. Puente del Inca, 8930 feet.

2. Liolcemus fitzgeraldi (sp. n.).

Nostril latero-superior. Upper head-scales small, convex, smooth ;
a small azygos frontal shield ; a series of four to six transverse
supraoculars ; interparietal smaller than parietals ; a single series of
scales between the labials and the subocular ; temporal scales smooth ;
anterior border of ear not distinctly denticulated. Sides of neck
granular, strongly folded ; a curved antehumeral fold. Dorsal scales
moderate, rhomboidal, pointed, strongly keeled, the keels forming
continuous longitudinal lines ; lateral scales smaller than dorsals ;
ventrals nearly as large as dorsals, rounded, smooth ; 48 to 56 scales
round the middle of the body. The adpressed hind limb reaches the
axil in the female, the shoulder in the male ; hinder side of thighs
uniformly granulate. Male with three anal pores. Tail once and a
half as long as head and body ; caudal scales as large as dorsals.
Pale brownish or bronzy above, with a more or less distinct light
dorso-lateral stripe, and with or without dark transverse spots or bars
across the back ; throat bluish ; lower surface of tail orange.

Male. Female.
Total length . . . . . 144 mm. 140 mm.

Head ; 4 . . . . .12, 1 1

Width of head . . . . .8

Body ...... 48

Fore limb . . . . . .20

Hind limb . . . . . -33

Tail. . . . .... .84

44
18
28
85

Several specimens were obtained by Mr. Gosse at Puente del Inca,
at an altitude of 8930 feet.

This species is closely allied to L. darwinii, Bell, from which it
differs in the absence of enlarged scales on the back of the thighs,
and in the coloration, the black spots in front of the arms and above
the shoulder, as well as the white black-edged streak on the back of
the thighs, characteristic of L. darwinii, being absent.

3. Liolcemus nigromaculatus, Wiegm. Tupungato Valley.

\
356 THE HIGHEST ANDES

SNAKES

4. Philodryas burmeisteri, Jan. Lujan, province of Mendoza.

FROGS .

5. Bufo spinulosus, Wiegm. Puente del Inca and Tupungato
Valley. "

SCORPIONS AND SPIDERS
BY R. I. POCOCK

Zoological Department, British Museum

Although owing to difficulties of transport and other causes, Mr.
Philip Gosse was only able to bring home a small number of species
of spiders and scorpions, these have proved to be of consider-
able interest from a scientific point of view The large scorpion
{Bothriurus d'orbignyi], of which Mr. Gosse collected several speci-
mens of both sexes at Lujan, was previously represented in our
national collection by a single small example. The second scorpion
(B. coriaceus), taken at Punta de las Vacas at an altitude of 7858 feet,
is also a rarity ; and the third species, taken at a still higher altitude,
has not previously been described.

The large spider is also worthy of special mention on account
of its being the second known species of the genus Citharoscelus, the
latter being remarkable, though not unique, amongst South American
Theraphosidae in possessing a stridulating organ consisting of modified
bristles lodged between the basal segments of the palpus and of the
first leg.

The Solpuga (Cleobis andinus} belongs to a genus which ranges
from the West Indies and Central America along the chain of the
Andes as far as the Argentine. This new species procured by Mr.
Gosse is, with C. morsicans of Gervais, the most southern repre-
sentative of the group hitherto discovered.

SCORPIONS

Order Scorpiones ; Genus Bothriurus

(i) Bothriurus dorbignyi, Guer.

Scorpio d'orbignyi, Guerin Meneville, Icon. Regne An. Arachn.
1843, P- I2 i Gerv. Ins. Apt. 1844, vol. iii. p. 58.

SCORPIONS 357

Bothriurus d'orbignyi, Thorell, Atti Soc. Ital. 1877, vol. xix.
p. 170 ; Kraepelin, Mt. MILS. Hamb. 1894, vol. xi. p. 224 ; id. Das Tierr.
Scorpioms, 1899, p. 196.

Loc : Several specimens, both male and female of this species, were
procured by Mr. Gosse at Lujan, fifteen miles south of Mendoza. The
largest measures 84 mm. in length.

(2) Bothriurus coriaceus, Poc.

Pocock, Ann. Mag. Nat. Hist. (6) vol. xii. pp. 95, 96.
Loc : Punta de las Vacas in the Argentine.

(3) Bothriurus alticola (sp. n.). (Fig. i)

Colour a tolerably uniform reddish yellow, the body and the digits
darker than the limbs and tail ; tergites with paler posterior border ;
inferior surface of tail with longitudinal darker bands.

Carapace finely granular at the sides, its anterior border convex,
ocular tubercle sulcate. Dorsal plates smooth and punctured, with
the exception of the last, which is somewhat coarsely granular, and
provided on each side with a pair of granular crests. Sternal plates
smooth, punctured, the last closely granular in the middle, the granular
area bounded on each side by a curved crest or series of granules.

Tail slender, nearly parallel sided : the fifth segment a little wider
than high ; segments 1-4 with distinct superior and superolateral
granular keels, the first segment with ten granular keels, the inferior
median and lateral keels being distinct and granular, with the spaces
between them also more or less granular. Similar keels are also
traceable on the second segment, but the third and fourth segments
are smooth and punctured below, fifth segment without superolateral
keel, the superior keel represented by a series of granules, its lower
surface furnished with three distinct granular keels, the area between
them sparsely but coarsely granular, the granules externally assuming
a linear arrangement ; no " area " at the extremity of the lower surface
of this segment ; vesicle granular and punctured below, forming a long
oval ; aculeus very short, not half the length of the vesicle.

Chelae smooth and polished, except for the anterior crests on the
humerus and brachium, which are granular ; width of hand about one-
third less than length of hand-back ; movable digit slightly exceed-
ing the length of the " hand-back " and a little less than the carapace
in height. Pectinal teeth 15.

Male differs from female in having its dorsal surface finely
shagreened ; in having the tail thinner and a spike on the inner
surface of the hands. Pectinal teeth 20.

358 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Total length female . 36 mm. = carapace 4.5 = tail 21.
male . 31 mm.= „ 3.5 = tail 19.5.

Loc : Inca, 8930 feet. Adult male and female.

Allied to B. burmeisteri (Kraepelin, Mt. Mus. Hamb. 1894, vol. xi.
p. 217; Das Tierr. Scorpiones, 1899, p. 196), from the Argentine, in
having the under surface of the first caudal segment and in a lesser
degree of the second granularly keeled. In burmeisteri there is no
trace of median and lateral keels on these segments. Moreover, the
superior and superolateral caudal keels in burmeisteri are described
as being developed as in B. cForbignyi, and provided with very coarse
granulation. In B. alticola these keels are not nearly so strong as in
B, cTorbignyi, especially the superolateral crest of the fourth, which is
weak. Lastly, the carapace of burmeisteri is said to have the ocular
tubercle entire, in alticola it is sulcate, and in the female of the
former there are 21-22 pectinal teeth as opposed to 15 in the latter.

SPIDERS

Order Aranea\ Family Therapkosida\ Genus Citharoscelus Poc.1
(4) Citharoscelus gossei (sp. n.). (Fig. 2-2^)

Colour a tolerably uniform yellowish brown above and below ; legs
without distinct longitudinal pale bands, but with little tufts of pale
hair set transversely at the extremity of the segments.

Carapace shorter than patella and tibia of first, of second, and cf
fourth leg ; a little longer than those of third and than protarsus of
fourth. Patella and tibia of fourth leg slightly shorter than of first,
about equal to those of second ; tibiae and protarsi, especially of third
and fourth legs, strongly spined ; protarsi with one median and usually
a second lateral spine at the apex beneath ; protarsi of first and second
with two or three spines at base of scopula, a distinct scopula at apex
of fourth protarsus. Stridulating organ on posterior side of coxa
of palp consisting of perhaps about one hundred close-set character-
istically modified bristles, with some short black spines below, and
on the anterior aspect of the coxa of the first leg by a large number
of similar bristles both above and below the suture, and some black
spines below the bristles.

Inferior tibial process of male tipped with a spine, a spine lying
along the under edge of the upper process ; protarsus strongly bowed
in its basal half (Fig. 20) ; palpal organ piriform attenuate at its end,
with a spiral twist and two keels (Fig. 2b].

Measurements in millimetres. Total length about 40, carapace 19,

1 Ann. Mag. Nat. Hist. (7) vol. iii. p. 347.

REPTILES 359

width 16, patella and tibia of first leg 21.5, of fourth 20.2, protarsus
of first 13.2, of fourth 17.

Loc: Lujan.

This species and C. kochii, Poc., which occurs at Valparaiso and
other places in Chile,1 may be readily distinguished as follows : —

(a) Carapace covered with silky hairs of a pink or rosy hue ; lower
side of thorax and abdomen jet black ; legs with distinct pale bands
and clothed with red bristles ; protarsus of first leg less strongly
bowed ; stridulating organ both on maxilla and on coxa of first leg
consisting of a few bristles not accompanied by spines — Kochii, Poc.

(b] Carapace and limbs above and below a tolerably uniform
brownish colour : protarsus of first leg much more strongly bowed,
stridulating bristles very numerous and close set and accompanied
by spines both upon the coxa of the first leg and of the palpus.

Gossei (sp. n.).

In addition to the large spider described above, Mr. Gosse procured
an example of Argiope argentata, Fabr., and immature or dried and
indeterminable examples of Sparassus, Lycosa, and Gayenna.

SOLPUGAS

Order Solifugce ; Genus Cleobis Sim.
(5) Cleobis andinns (sp. n.). (Fig. 3)

Colour: head-plate fuscous with a median yellow line or patch,
ocular tubercle black, mandibles flavous with thin fuscous bands
above ; dorsal plates of abdomen furnished with three fuscous bands,
one median and one on each side ; legs and palpi uniformly fuscous
throughout, except the coxa and trochanter and in part the base of
the femora which are flavous.

Head-plate not quite equalling the length of the tibia (penultimate
segment) of palp in width, and only a little more than half the length
of patella of this appendage, about half the length of the patella of
the fourth leg and three-fourths the length of its tibia ; studded with
setiferous tubercles, its anterior border only lightly convex.

On the upper fang of the mandible there is no superior crest ; the
first, third, and fifth teeth large, the fifth a little larger than the third,
the third than the first, the second and fourth noticeably smaller, the
sixth, i.e. the first of the external basal series, smaller than the fifth.

Femur of palp armed below with about four or five pairs of
long spines, those of the anterior series longest; patella and tibia

1 Ann. Mag. Nat. Hist. (7) vol. iii. p. 347; see also F. Cambridge, Journ. Linn. Soc.
1899, vol. xxvii. p. 1 6, pi. ii. fig. 13, 15.

360 THE HIGHEST ANDES

also armed below with about four pairs of long spines ; tarsus of
fourth legs armed below with about four pairs of spines, tibia also
armed with a few spines ; femora of fourth leg but little dilated.

Male resembling female in colour. Legs and palpi very much
longer. Width of carapace less than half the length of the patella of
palp, and about two-thirds the length of its tibia ; less also than half
the length of the patella of the fourth leg. Upper fang of mandibles
more curved than in female, with superior crest, fiagellum mem-
branous with incurved edges, broader and rounder behind.

Measurements in millimetres. Female, total length (excluding
mandibles) 12.5, width of head 2.3, length of palp 12.5, of fourth leg
16 (measured from base of femora).

Male, total length 13, width of head 2.8, length of palp 19, of
fourth leg 22 (from base of femora).

Loc : Inca, 8930 feet, (Type) Punta de las Vacas, 7856 feet, and
Vacas Valley. Found under stones.

Differs from the Chilian species, C. morsicans, Gervais (v. Gay's
Historic/, de Chile, Zoologia, 1854, vol. iv. p. 1 6, pi. I, fig. i (not fig. 2),
sub Galeodes\ in its longitudinally banded dorsal plates and greater
length of legs. In the figure of C. morsicans, the upper surface of
abdomen, carapace, and mandibles is a uniform brown, and the width
of the head is represented as slightly exceeding the tibia and tarsus
of the palp, and is only a little shorter than the patella of this
appendage.

The more northern species, C. cubcevi Lucas, from the West Indies,
C.stolli (Poc.) from Guatemala, and C.gervaisii(}?oc.) from Columbia,
in addition to being differently coloured from C. andinus, have the
palpi shorter, and in the female at least no spines on the femur and
tibia.

EXPLANATION OF PLATE (facing this page}

FIG. I. Bothriurus alticola (sp. n.).

, , 2. Citharoscelus gossei (sp. n. ).

,, 2a. ,, „ extremity of first leg of male.

,, 2b. ,, ,, palpal organ of ditto.

,, 3. Cleobis andimts, sp. n.

A NEW PARASITE
BY DR. VON LINSTOW

A new Nematide was found by Mr. P. Gosse on the 7th of
December 1896, at Punta de las Vacas, 7858 feet above sea-level, in
the Argentine Republic, in the Andes, South America. It was coiled
up close against the heart of a small bird, the size of a chaffinch,

PLANTS 361

i.e. Elainea albiceps (a small tyrant bird). This parasite has been
named by Dr. von Linstow, and is described by him as follows : —

Filaria elainecz (sp. n.)

"The specimen is a male, probably immature. The length is
27.7 mm., the breadth 0.97 mm. The anterior end is rounded. There
are no lips or papillae. The skin is smooth and without rings. The
oesophagus takes up -^ of the total body length, the intestine has a
blackish-brown colour. The very short tail is pointed like a skittle,
and measures YTT °f the total length. The two spicules differ greatly,
the left is 0.26 mm., the right 0.83 mm. long. The tail bears no
papillae, which in other species of the genus are always found on the
male, so that it is possible that the specimen in question is immature." J

NOTES ON PLANTS COLLECTED
IN THE ACONCAGUA VALLEYS BY PHILIP GOSSE

BY I. HENRY BURKILL, M.A.

" LITTLE can be seen," wrote Charles Darwin,2 when describing
his journey across the Cumbre Pass, " beyond the bare walls of
the one grand flat-bottomed valley which the road follows up to
the highest crest. The valley and the huge rocky mountains are
extremely barren : excepting a few resinous bushes scarcely a plant
can be seen." This is the impression which Darwin received from
crossing the Andes in April, ascending the Valley de las Cuevas
from Punta de las Vacas (7858 feet) to the crest which is reached
at 12,800 feet. From the north the Rio Horcones enters this
valley, its head-waters rising from the melting snows and glaciers of
Aconcagua, and pouring down in variable turbulent torrents difficult
to cross and of uncertain level. The waters of these rivers are icy
cold, and consequently inimical to vegetation. Away from their
banks stretch sands of variable depth overlying the bed-rock, and for
ever shifting, as inhospitable to vegetation as the glacial river banks,
but from other causes. Their surface is alternately hot and cold, and
usually very dry, the heat quivering up in the sun : all that grows
there risks being parched, and risks, too, being buried by the shifting
of the sand which the wind produces. Here and there are springs, and

1 Translated by Mr. A. E. Shipley, of Christ's College, Cambridge.

2 Naturalist's Voyage Round the World, 1889 ed. p. 334.

362

THE HIGHEST ANDES

these are the spots most favourable to vegetation. Along the course
of a stream arising in a little spring near Puente del Inca were found
plants not seen elsewhere ; its banks were gay with a monkey-
flower and a calceolaria, both of which well merit the introduction into
European gardens which they obtained early in this century ; and
here, too, the evening primrose (CEnothera biennis] had established
itself. Such a situation is undoubtedly the most favoured of any in
these bleak and barren regions. Here and there at higher levels than
Puente del Inca, springs supply so constant a store of water that a
variety of plants obtain an asylum. One such — a bog of small ex-
tent— was dotted over in April with the yellow flowers of Werneria
pygmcea^ and supplied a moderate bite of uninviting grass to the
mules. On the banks of this marsh, near enough to be within the
zone of influence of the spring, grew another yellow - flowered
composite {Haplopappus densifolius}. Yet both the Werneria within
and the Haplopappus beside the marsh have the firm rather leathery
leaves which we find in desert regions, and which imply a difficulty in
obtaining water. It is well to explain this here. Water is necessary
for the plant's growth ; but the plant cannot absorb it at a temperature
almost that of melting ice. For this cause all the vegetation which
has but ice-cold water to hand has almost as great a need of economy
as that which lives in the dry sand. Leaves are the great evaporating
organs of the plant, and dry-climate plants need to reduce them to
economise their small store. Thus it comes about that the same

character of narrow and reduced leaves
occurs alike in the Haplopappus and
Werneria as in the Oriastrum and
Verbena of the dry sand — of which a
short description presently.

A great feature of these plants is the
abundance of their flowers. At the
junction of the Horcones Valley and the
Valley de las Cuevas the ground was
covered with a Nasturtium (Tropceolum
polyphylluni], whose yellow flowers of
various shades made quite a feature in
the landscape. Almost a flower to every
leaf was the rule with this plant. The
little pansies in the sand were thickly
studded with small flowers of the deepest
purple with a yellow eye, and a hand-
some Gentian high up the Horcones Valley produced far more flowers
than leaves.

VIOLA SEMPERVIVUM, one-half
natural size.

CALYCERA VIRIDIFLORA, one-half natural size.
364

PLANTS

365

The seeds ripen freely, and some of the plants exercise a special
care in guarding them. The little sand-pansies hide them amongst
their leaves, and fragments of old dehisced capsules may be found
among the broken bases of the old leaves held against the ground by
the newer leaves above them. The succulent Calycera which was
found about Puente del Inca has formidable spines amongst the
flowers, and by appearance forbids a bite to any but the hungriest
animal.

Many of the seeds of the vegetation of these regions are adapted
for dispersal by wind. Those of Anemone -, Stipa^ Deyeu.ria, and
many of the composites, are furnished with a more or less perfect
parachute of hairs. Hexaptera has winged seeds. In some others
the fruits are bladdery; and one never-to-be-forgotten shrub (Acczna
Icevigata] has a troublesome burr.

Accena Icevigata grows to the height of
eighteen inches, and its small flowers are
crowded together, each furnished with four
barbed prickles. The accompanying figure
illustrates the burr which covers the legs of
the mules when the seed is ripe and adheres to
one's clothes in a most aggravating manner.

As in all Alpine or Arctic situations, annual
plants are very few ; for into a region where
the climate is so adverse, plants whose exist-
ence depends on a perfectly regular fruiting
as well as growth are more or less forbidden
an entry.

Ascending the Rio Mendoza we gradually
leave behind the bushy Larrea and Proustia
which characterise its lower part, and before
we get to Punta de las Vacas they have
disappeared. This, according to F. Kurtz x is
the lowest Andine zone which we have left
behind, and none of the plants to be enum-
erated in the following list belong to it. Still
ascending, between Punta de las Vacas and AC^NA L^SVIGATA, single
Puente del Inca a stinging plant, Blumen- fruit enlarged, and burr

bachia coronata, becomes the most noticeable
object. Its large flowers are very pretty, and
peep out from under the green foliage like small eggs, gaining for
the plant the name of "hen and eggs," as well as the indirectly

1 F. Kurtz, " Informe preliminar de un viajebotanico ... en las provincias de Cordoba,
San Luis y Mendoza, 1885-86," Buenos Aires, 1887.

formed of a number of
such fruits.

366

THE HIGHEST ANDES

complimentary one of "devil's beauty." The sting is more severe
than that of our English nettle. This plant Kurtz makes the mark
of his second Andine zone. With it is associated abundantly a

BLUMENBACHIA CORONATA.

BLUMENBACHIA CORONATA, flower and leaves, one-half natural size.

PLANTS 367

small tobacco (Nicotiana lychnoides) — sticky from innumerable dark-
coloured glands, and, equally conspicuous, Accena Icevigata, whose
burrs have been mentioned, an Astragalus and the spiny Adesmia,
which apparently most of all attracted Darwin's notice. Here at
Puente del Inca the Ephedra tails out. This plant, with its stiff
broom-like appearance and spiny branches, has no inviting aspect.

In irrigated fields at this place grows with the greatest luxuriance
Lucerne (Medicago saliva). It is a plant well calculated to resist
considerable drought, and roots at a great depth; indeed it is on
record that in Switzerland its roots have been traced to a distance of
sixty-six feet from the surface of the soil. Yet here unirrigated it
must fail, for it needs a distributed rainfall of not less than thirty-two
to thirty-six inches per annum. With the Lucerne our common
English bindweed grows, appearing here at 9000 feet, while in our
own islands it does not ascend beyond 1200 feet.

Gradually, after leaving Inca, we get into the zone of dwarf
groundsels and dandelion-like plants. The woody plants disappear,
and the vegetation which remains is chiefly noticeable for the
proximity of the leaves to the ground. The following are some
figures, referring to plants found at 12,000 feet and above.

Height in inches above ground.

A. of upper leaves. B. of flower.

Anemone major .... 3 -3^ 3 -3^

Hex apt era cuneata .... 1^-2 2-2^

Viola Montagnci . . . . i-i4 o-i£

Viola cano barbata . . . . I —\\ o-i^

Viola Sempervivum . . . . I —i^ O — ij

Calandrinia arenaria . . . . 1^-2 o -2

Malvastrum compactum . . . ^-i o -I

Phaca arnottiana .... 3 -3^ 2 -3^

Senecio crithmoides .... 1^-2 £-2

Among the strangest of plants of the region is Barneoudia major
or more correctly Anemone major, for we place the genus Barneoudia
as a section of the larger genus Anemone. From a solid little body
underground — a corm — spring up in the early Spring two or
three stems terminating in a flower, and under the flower a ring of
foliage.

Visitors to the Alps are familiar with the way in which Soldanella
alpina springs up through the snow, being the first thing to blossom
as the snow melts. Just such a habit have some of these South
Andine Anemones. It is not certain that Anemone major itself springs
up through the snow, but such a habit is attributed to Anemone
chilensis. The plant lives in little colonies in the sand, and when the
fruit is ripe and the leaves withering is very inconspicuous.

368

THE HIGHEST ANDES

Hardly less strange is Verbena uniflora. In the tropics Verbenas
grow to bushes of some height ; but this little plant forms a cushion
scarcely an inch above the surface of the soil. The leaves are about
a line to a line and a half long, and the flowers rise singly just above
them. Every leaf is rolled back on itself — a protection of the more
delicate under surface against drought.

Oriastrum pulvinatum is a small composite of the same habit ;

ANEMONE MAJOR, one-half natural size.

its stems, each terminated in a fairly conspicuous flower, rise about
one to one and a half inches, and are invisible by reason of the
crowded heath-like woolly leaves which coat them.

Another very humble plant is Malvastrum compactum, whose
soft woolly leaves form a little rosette on the ground, above which
the flowers hardly rise.

A situation close to the sand is of advantage in fruit-ripening,
for the surface of this is the warmest spot ; hence perhaps it is that
the sand-plants so often ripen their seeds on it. The little pansies

PLANTS 369

have been mentioned ; Blumenbachia and Tropceolum may be cited
as other examples. And, further, the difficulty of maintaining exist-
ence prevents among the most Alpine plants any lavish expenditure
of material upon the formation of flower-stalks. About Puente del
Inca, however, we have not reached so high an elevation that this
is forbidden ; for we see conspicuous stalks in the Calycera figured,
in a Sisymbrium, in Mimulus, Calceolaria, Phacelia, Gilia, Nicotiana,
and some others whose names appear in the following list.

A glance must be given at the composition of the flora, and
the question asked whence it came. What part can the extensive
mountain chains of the Northern Hemisphere have contributed, and
what part owes its origin to local development or to the peculiar
antarctic flora ? Every plant noticed was gathered, and the vegetation
is represented as completely as possible in the collection made.

The higher plants (Phanerogams) are enumerated in the list, which
follows, under forty-six generic names, but from this we must deduct
four, two — Medicago and (Enothera — as belonging to introduced plants,
and two — Eutoca and Phaca — because they equal Phacelia and Astra-
galus respectively.

Of the remaining forty-two genera the following are confined to
South America, chiefly to the southern parts and within the tropics
to the mountains.

Hexaptera. Oriastrum (Chcetantherd).

Adesmia. Leuceria.

Blumenbachia. Trechoncetes.

Calycera. Melosperma.

Nassauvia. A rjona.

The following are centred in South America and extend to the
north of the Isthmus of Panama.

Tropceolum.
Haplopappus.
Calceolaria.

Again widening the range the following extend to New Zealand,
Australia, or the Cape, or at least are excluded from the parts of the
Old World in the Northern Hemisphere.

Colobanthus. Malvastrum.

Calandrinia. Accena.

Nicotiana, Verbena, and Werneria might almost be added to these,
for their range is only a very little wider.

The genera enumerated so far are southern types, which do not
occur ( Werneria excepted) in the mountains of the northern parts
of the Old World.

Now for the northern type, which is not absent by any means.
24

370 THE HIGHEST ANDES

We have amongst the genera of these valleys the following whose
home appears to be in the north: —

Anemone. Convolvulus.

Sisymbrium. Gentiana.

Viola. Plantago.

Lotus. Festuca.

Astragalus. Ephedra.

They make a little set whose ancestors, perhaps having reached
North America from the Old World, may well have spread south-
wards along the great chain of mountains which joins north temperate
to south temperate America, and are somewhat familiar in general
appearance to one who knows the flora of Europe. Yet while it may
be thought that the Gentian, Anemones, and Pansies, etc., came of a
stock which had thus spread round the Northern Hemisphere and
down the Andes from their home in the north, in their new-found
home they developed into new species. As species they are of a
southern-developed Alpine flora, although as genera of a northern
type. Still more of southern type are the plants which represent the
genera named in the first three lists, whose appearance is for the most
part so distinct that they emphasise on the European traveller's mind
the remoteness of these Andine Alps from his own home.

PLANTS COLLECTED BY PHILIP GOSSE IN THE
LAS CUEVAS AND HORCONES VALLEYS

Identified at Kew by I. H. BURKILL, M.A.; the Alga by W. WEST, F.L.S.

RANUNCULACE^:

Anemone major (Reiche) ; Barneoudia major (Phil.) , 1 0,000-12,003
feet above Inca and in B Valley. Underground there exists a tuber
from which shoot up in spring 1-4 flowering branches, each bear-
ing a ring of leaves (involucre) under the solitary flower. It is one
of the most curious forms in these mountains. The plant exists
in little colonies in the bare sand. The specimens obtained had
fruited, and the yellowish-green leaves were very inconspicuous.

CRUCIFER^:

Hexaptera cuneata (Gill. & Hook.). Above Puente del Inca about
12,000-13,000 feet. A low hairy plant, some 4-6 inches high.

Sisymbrium canescens (Nutt.); Descurainia canescens (Prantl.). Inca,
at 9170 feet (27th Dec. 1896). The leaves are woolly and the stem

PLANTS 371

glandular-hairy. Fruit was ripe at the end of December, and the
plant still in flower.

VlOLACEiE

Viola Montagnei (C. Gay). About 12,000 feet, 29th Dec. 1896,
opposite Inca. A dwarf tufted plant, less succulent and more hairy
than V. Sempervivum, with deep purple flowers, flowering and
fruiting most profusely. The stems had elongated 2^-3 inches since
the last flowering, probably an effect of sand accumulating over them.

Viola cano barbata (Leybold). About 1 2,000 feet, Horcones Valley.
A dwarf plant, much like the last, with flowers lighter in colour.
Found under the shelter of a rock. Flowering and fruiting most
profusely.

Viola Sempervivum (C. Gay). Above Puente del Inca at 10,000
feet and in the Horcones Valley at 13,000 feet, in sand. A dwarf
stone-crop-like plant of most curious appearance. The leaves suggest
the scales of a lizard, so do they overlap. The seed-pods are almost
lost among the older leaves which have grown over them.

CARYOPHYLLACE^E

Colobanthus quitensis (Bartl.). Camp, second ford, Horcones Valley.
A plant of the habit of a Plantain (Plantago\ with leaves close to the
ground, forming a little cushion.

PORTULACACE.E

Calandrinia potentilloides (Barn.). 27th Dec. 1896, Inca, 9170 feet.
A very silky plant, with stems arising from a strong rootstock.

Calandrinia arenaria (Cham.), about 12,000 feet. A somewhat
succulent plant.

MALVACEAE

Malvastrum compactum (A. Gray). A very small and very hairy
plant, which is found in the Andes as far north as Sorata.

GERANIACE^:

Trop<zolum polyphyllum (Cav.). Inca, and above it at the junction
of the Horcones and Cuevas Valleys, creeping on the sand, and
flowering most profusely. Flowers of several shades of yellow.

LEGUMINOS.E

Medicago sativa (L.). Punta de las Vacas. An introduced fodder-
plant, grown in irrigated fields from 3000 to 11,000 feet.

372 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Lotus capitellatus (C. Gay). Horcones Valley, 11,000 feet. A
little silky-leaved plant with a small flower.

Astragalus Cruikshankii (Gris.). Inca, and above it in the Cuevas
Valley, very common up to 11,000 feet. A plant with snowy-white
and pale mauve flowers.

Phaca anottiana (Gillies & Hook.). About 1 2,000 feet. A little
blue-flowered, silvery-leaved plant.

Adesmia trijuga (Gillies). This shrub attains a height averaging
6 or 7 feet. It grows on both the east and the west slopes of the
Andes up to 12,000 and 13,000 feet.

Adesmia (sp.), near A.pauciflora (Vog.). Inca, 8930 feet.

ROSACES

Accena l&vigata (Ait). About Puente del Inca to 13,500 feet ;
and elsewhere, common. A coarse woody plant with a burr.

ONAGRACE^L

(Enothera biennis (L.). Inca, 2nd January 1897. A plant long
naturalised in Chile, and probably thence introduced to the Cuevas
Valley.

LOASACE^:

Blumenbachia coronata (Hook. & Arn.). Inca and above and to
11,000 feet below it, but hardly found in the Horcones Valley, 2nd
January 1897. A characteristic plant of the valley in this part, with
pretty white flowers, and leaves covered with stinging hairs. " Devil's
Beauty," and " Hen and Eggs " of the inhabitants.

CALYCERACE^:

Calycera viridiflora (M\trs)\ C. nudicaulis (Phil). Inca. A curious
succulent.

COMPOSITE

Haplopappus densifolius (Rdmy). D camp, Horcones Valley. At
11,000 feet, on a bank a few feet above a marsh.

Senecio glandulosus (Don). Puente del Inca, 10,000 feet. A
coarse groundsel, with a dense coat of glandular hairs and some wool.
The leaves with the margins recurved.

Senecio uspallatensis (Hook. & Arn.). Puente del Inca, 10,000
feet. A shrubby groundsel, with much-cut rather fleshy leaves, not
very common.

Senecio erithmoides (Hook.). About 12,000 feet.

Senecio donianus (Hook. & Arn.). A species described in 1841
by Sir William Hooker, and Professor Walker-Arnott in Hooker's
Journal of Botany, iii. p. 332, from the material now in the Herbarium

PLANTS 373

of the Royal Gardens, Kew. But their specimens contain intermixed
two fragments which doubtless belong to another species, and which
by their thick covering of woolly hairs have caused the introduction
of an error into the too meagre description. With excellent material
now to hand a fresh description may well be drawn up.

Senecio deserticola, radice primaria longe sub terram penetrante,
ramis lignosis caespitosis 6-10 poll, longis. Rami juniores leviter
lanati, foliis dense obtecti, flores 1-3 ad apicem gerentes. Folia
oblanceolata, margine conspicue serrata vel pinnatipartita, apicem
versus plus minusve rotundata, sessilia, juniora sublanata, dein
glabra, subcarnosa, \- 1 poll, longa, -J— \ poll. lata. Involucri bracteae
biseriatae ; exteriores paucae, subulatae, perbreves ; interiores pedicellis
longiores, lineares, margine scariosae, apice subacutae, dorso pilis
glandulosis luteis brevibus scabrae, 6 lin. longae. Flores omnes
tubulosi, involucrum paululum excedentes, lutei. Staminum fila-
menta dimidio superiore conspicue tumescentia; appendices sub-
productae. Ovarium glabrum.

In one example upwards of thirty branches arise from the surface
of the soil. These are woody and leafless ; while the lateral branches,
borne on these, carry a number of leaves and terminate in 1-3 flowers.
When young the branches and leaves are more or less covered with
a white felt of hairs, but not enough to justify the adjective "albo-
lanati," which the authors of the description, judging by their mixed
material, applied to the plant. These leaves soon lose their hairs, and
the margins curve back, increasing the prominence of the teeth along
them. The distinction of the Chilian species of this genus is difficult,
and it is quite possible that 5. donianus may be identical with one
of the many species described by PhiKppi, who, possibly misled by
the error in the description, has failed to recognise it. 6". mouttianus,
Re"my, is a near ally. The plant was gathered at 9450 feet.
Station 8.

Senecio wernerioides (Wedd.). Second ford in Horcones Valley.
A plant very like a dandelion. Most of the abundant specimens
collected differ from the type in the deeper division of the leaves.
From the more typical oblanceolate slightly crenated condition they
become so deeply cut as to be almost pinnatisect. When freshly
gathered it has the smell of green celery.

Werneria pygmcsa (Hook, and Arn.). D camp. At the bottom
of a waterfall in a marsh (2Oth April) among grasses.

Nassauvia glomerata (Wedd.). B Valley, 11,000 feet. In very dry
places, its little pungent leaves forming a cushion on the soil.

Oriastrum pulvinatum (Phil.). Above Inca hotel, a tiny plant
with the stems buried in short leaves.

374 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Leuceria hiercioides (Cass.). A coarse weedy plant of the river
bank at Inca.

CONVOLVULACE^E
Convolvulus arvensis (L.). Inca. Common.

POLEMONIACE^:

Eutoca pinnatifida (Phil.). River bank in Horcones Valley (2Oth
April 1897). A l°w glandular plant with green flowers turning to
purple.

Phacelia circinnata (Jacq. f.). Around Puente del Inca up to
10,000 feet, fairly common.

Gilia crassifolia (Benth.). Inca. A low glandular plant very
common about Inca, the largest specimen about 8 inches high.

GENTIANACE^:

Gentiana multicaulis (Gillies). B Valley, and at Puente del Inca,
2nd January 1896. A very pretty Gentian, 6-7 inches high.

SOLANACE^E

Nicotiana lychnoides (Re*my). Puente del Inca. Common. Ex-
cessively glandular everywhere.

Trechoncetes laciniata (Miers). D camp, Horcones Valley, 11,000
feet, and by the lake in Horcones Valley. A plant of singular
aspect, its leaves spreading close to the ground, and amongst them
rather large greenish-purple flowers.

SCROPHULARIACE^:

Calceolaria plantaginea (Sm.). Inca, bank of fresh- water stream.

Mimulus cupreus (Regel). Bed of fresh- water stream, Puente
del Inca, with the last.

Melosperma andicola (Benth.). Inca, at 9 1 70 feet. A low creeping
plant, with rather small purple flowers.

VERBENACE^E

Verbena uniflora (Phil.). Above Inca, at 13,000 feet. A very low
plant, forming dense cushions on the surface of the soil.

PLANTAGINACE^:.

Plantago pauciflora (Lam.). Second ford, Horcones Valley, in
marshy ground. In fruit in April 1897.

PLANTS 375

SANTALACE^E

Arjona patagonica (Humb. and Jacquinot). K3 river, at 11,000
feet, Horcones Valley. A plant with rigid, rather spiny leaves.

EUPHORBIACE^:
Euphorbia portulacoides (Spreng.). Inca. A succulent plant.

JUNCACE^E

Juncus andicolus (Hook.). By bed of stream, Puente del Inca, and
Horcones Valley. A very coarse, wiry rush spreading underground
by stout runners.

NAIADACE.E

Potamogeton pectinatus (L.). Horcones Valley, in the lake at
1 1, OCXD feet.

CYPERACE^E

Elceocharis albibracteata (Nees). Second ford in Horcones Valley.

GRAMIN^E

Stipa chrysophylla (E. Desv.). Second ford in Horcones Valley,
K3 river.

Agrostis araucana (Phil.). Puente del Inca up to 10,000 feet, by
fresh water.

Deyeuxia eminens (Presl). K3 river, Horcones Valley.

Festuca (sp.), near F. scabriuscula (Phil.). Second ford in
Horcones Valley, K3 river.

Bromus macranthus (E. Desv.). K3 river, and second ford in
Horcones Valley.

GNETACE^E

Ephedra americana (Humb. and Bonpl.), var. andina (Stapf).
Inca to 10,000 feet. A low bush.

CHARACE^:
Chara contraria (A. Br.). The lake in Horcones Valley.

CONJUGATE (determined by W. West, F.L.S.)

Spirogyra (sp.). The lake in Horcones Valley.
Mougeotia (sp.). With the preceding, and in the marsh at the
second ford in Horcones Valley.

376 THE HIGHEST ANDES

DlATOMACE^: (determined by W. West, F.L.S.)

Denticula tenuis (Kuetz.). In the marsh at the second ford in
Horcones Valley, and at 12,000 feet at Zurbriggen's camp.

Epithemia gibba (Keutz.). In the lake in Horcones Valley.

Cocconema cymbiforme (Rabh.). With the preceding.

Cocconema parvum (W. Sm.). In the marsh at the second ford in
Horcones Valley.

Synedra acus (Keutz.), var. With the preceding.

Achnanthes (sp.) With the preceding.

APPENDIX D

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE BETWEEN CHILE AND
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC

WHEN in South America we frequently found, on both sides of
the Andes, indications of the dispute that has continued so
long between Chile and the Argentine Republic on the boundary
question.

The controversy has at length entered on what everyone trusts
will be its final stage. It has been laid for decision before Her
Majesty the Queen as arbitress, and at the moment when I write,
commissioners from both Republics are in London for the purpose of
presenting their case.

The dispute has been going on for many years, and has more than
once brought the two States to the very brink of war. It depends
upon two main issues — the true configuration of the mountainous part
of South America between the acknowledged territory of the
Republics, much of which has still been most imperfectly explored,
and the precise interpretation to be put upon the terms of existing
treaties. The difficulty has really been pending ever since the
independence of those countries was recognised by Spain. In the
old days when both alike were governed from Madrid, it was under-
stood that all territories to the east of the Andes were under
the control of the Viceroy of Buenos Aires, all territories to the west
under that of the Captain-general of Chile. In the settled parts of the
country the great mountain chain was supposed to be a sufficient
boundary, and as the immense district of Patagonia was still
unsettled and even untraversed, the necessity for a strict settlement
of limits there was unfelt.

When the southern part of the continent had been divided
between two independent powers, rivalry between the authorities of
Buenos Aires and Chile naturally became much keener, and the
extent of their jurisdiction required to be more definitely fixed. The
gradual opening up of Patagonia made the question more acute.
Both parties could claim with some plausibility to be the successors
of Spain in that region. And as it came to be recognised that

377

378 THE HIGHEST ANDES

Patagonia was by no means an inhospitable waste, but a territory of
value and ready for settlement, each country was naturally anxious to
secure for itself as large a portion of this debatable land as possible.

For many years the controversy lingered on ; one draft treaty after
another being proposed and rejected by either side. A general
agreement, however, was worked out, under which the superior claim
of the Argentine to much the greater part of Patagonia was recognised ;
while, on the other hand, the possession of the Strait of Magellan was
secured for Chile. Considering the immense importance of the Strait
in the communication between Valparaiso and Europe, this was a
claim which the Chilians could hardly have given up without
war. In 1881 a treaty between the two Republics was signed at last,
after negotiations carried on on their behalf by the American
Ministers in Santiago and Buenos Aires respectively.

This Treaty of 1881 is the classical document in the case. Under
its provisions the boundary between Chile and the Argentine
down to the 52nd parallel — a point a little north of the Strait of
Magellan — is stated to be the Cordillera, i.e. the chain of the Andes.
On meeting the 52nd parallel, the boundary is to turn almost at right
angles and run about due east and west to Point Dungeness, where
the Strait enters the Atlantic. Tierra del Fuego fell to Chile,
except the Atlantic coast of the island, which was reserved, with
a small strip of territory behind it, for the Argentine. Chile was not
to fortify the Strait, but it was to remain open to the flags of
all nations for ever. Finally, it was provided that each country
should appoint a commissioner by whom the boundary should be
marked out on the spot, all disputed points being referred to
the arbitration of a friendly Power.

After the lapse of eighteen years, however, the boundary still
remains unmarked. The treaty, which was supposed to have settled
everything, became one of the most disputed documents in recent
history. So much ingenuity and perverted acuteness have been
applied to its interpretation that the problem with which it deals
remains as perplexing as ever.

When two countries are separated by one of the highest mountain
chains in the world, and both have agreed that the mountains shall
be their boundary, it would appear at the first glance that no further
difficulty could arise. It is accepted on both sides that the dividing
line is the Cordillera of the Andes, or rather in the Cordillera of the
Andes. But in fixing a frontier in a range of mountains, two
principles can be followed which may give very different results.
In the first place the boundary may be fixed at the water-parting,
all rivers on one side, with their tributaries, being assigned to one

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE 379

country, all those on the other side to the other. Every stream that
rises on the Andes, every drop of water that falls on their slopes, finds
its way ultimately to the Atlantic or the Pacific ; and even at the
highest well-springs there can be no doubt in an explored country as
to the direction it takes. On the other hand, the boundary may
be fixed by the highest ridge, or, where there is a succession of
isolated peaks, by an imaginary line joining their summits. Naturally,
it may easily happen that in a mountain range these two lines
coincide, the ridge where the waters divide and the highest ridge of
all being in fact one and the same. In the Andes, however, this is
not the case. The highest summits are not upon the water-parting :
the water divides on its way to the Pacific or the Atlantic at a lower
range some distance to the west of that which attains to the greatest
elevation. Aconcagua is not on the water-parting, but stands wholly
and entirely to the east of it. The streams that are fed from its
western side do not continue in that direction to the Pacific, but,
curving round the base of the mountain, they fall into the Rio
Mendoza or the Rio de los Patos, which both flow downward through
the pampas of the Argentine. Thus the melted snows of Aconcagua
have their destination in the Atlantic, and not a drop of them
ever enters the Pacific. The watershed is actually at the much
lower elevations of the Cumbre and the Boquete del Valle Hermoso,
while the highest peaks stand to the east of the ridge that divides
the waters in the district between Santiago and Mendoza. As we
go farther south the relationship changes. The highest ridge of the
Cordillera trends towards the Pacific, and the water-parting changes to
the other side. In the far south the parting of the waters is some-
where in the lower and central lands, as yet imperfectly explored, of
Patagonia, whilst the summits that attain the greatest elevation are
close to the western shore of the continent, and some are even said
to be upon the islands off the coast. According to Sefior Moreno,
the Argentine expert, " it is shown in an irrefutable manner that in
latitude 52° S. the Cordillera of the Andes sheds all the water
from its slopes into the Pacific." It is needless to say that in these
regions the Andes have been broken into a number of isolated
mountains, sometimes divided by arms of the sea, between which
the rivers coming down from the interior have no difficulty in flowing.
The difference of opinion that divides the representatives of the
two countries may now be briefly stated. The Chilians stand out
for the water-parting, the Argentines for the line of highest summits.
The frontier proposed by the former, " leaves within the territory of
each of the two nations, the peaks, ridges or ranges, however elevated
they may be, which do not divide the waters of the river systems

380 THE HIGHEST ANDES

belonging to each country." Aconcagua thus belongs entirely to the
Argentine, as, although it is the highest mountain on the continent, it
stands wholly within the Argentine river system; whilst the lofty
mountains on the Pacific coast to the south would fall completely
inside Chilian territory. The boundary claimed by the Chilians " is
no other than the natural and effective dividing line of the waters
of the South American continent." This principle would give to
Chile a very much larger share of Patagonia than a division according
to the line of highest summits would do. The latter would leave to
Chile little more than the coast-line of the Pacific. But by adopting
the water-parting as the frontier, Chile would be entitled to the
complete river basin of every stream emptying into the Pacific, right
up to the remotest source of its tributaries in the heart of the
continent. By adopting the highest mountain line, on the other
hand, the Argentine Republic would become possessed of the greater
part of these river basins, and in places would push Chile right back
to the Pacific itself.

It is stated by the Argentine explorers that in some parts of
Patagonia the water - parting is excessively indistinct. Streams
change their courses, says Sefior Moreno, and flow now to the
Atlantic and now to the Pacific. In the flat land in the heart of
Patagonia, rivers frequently form new channels. A heavy storm, or
a flood which washes away an old gravel bank or piles up a new
one, will divert the drainage of many square miles of territory from
one ocean to the other. In one instance, Sefior Moreno found that
a river which formerly flowed eastward, had now taken a westward
direction, but by employing the labour of his party for about a week,
he diverted it into its old channel, and sent its waters down once
more through Argentine territory to the Atlantic.

A boundary fixed by highest summits would, however, present
many difficulties. It would upset what in the central districts has
long been the acknowledged frontier. The ridge of the Cumbre is
accepted as the boundary by everyone who crosses the pass ; so is
the Boquete del Valle Hermoso, farther to the north, where another
pass road crosses the mountains. Between the province of Mendoza
and Chile, the frontier is perfectly well known and established ; and
that frontier is the water-parting.

Accept the principle of highest summits, and everything is thrown
into confusion. The boundary shifts from the Cumbre to the top of
Aconcagua. But it is by no means obvious how it is to run from
there. Clearly it must also pass over the top of Tupungato. Yet
it is less certain how the line shall be drawn. As Aconcagua and
Tupungato are the highest points in the neighbourhood, it might

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE 381

be argued that the boundary should be a mathematically straight
line drawn between their summits. But then Juncal, though not so
high as either, is undoubtedly one of the "highest crests" in the
Andes. Should not the line be deflected at an angle, on its way
from Aconcagua to Tupungato, so as to touch Juncal as well ? And
if Juncal, why not also Torlosa? Everything depends upon the
definition of highest summits. It seems hardly possible to fix a
height in feet or metres above which a summit shall count for the
purposes of delimitation, and below which it may safely be ignored.
And according to the list of highest crests which anyone may choose
to draw up, the boundary might be shifted indefinitely, and made to
go through a curious variety of bends and loops, zigzags, and tacks.

The highest peaks of the Andes have not been arranged by
Nature in a neat line running north and south. They occur irregularly,
some on one side of the main ridge, some on the other. Their heights
have been determined only in a few cases. When two mountains
of an approximately equal height stand near together, it is difficult
to say which shall be selected for delimiting purposes. A great
number of trigonometrical measurements must first be undertaken
before such questions can be settled. It may also be remarked that
a frontier so arranged would present quite an artificial character when
applied in the valleys, where, and not among the mountain tops, a
definite boundary is needed. It is easy for every traveller and arriero
to understand that up to the ridge of the Cumbre the Cuevas Valley
is Argentine territory, and that the slopes on the farther side of the
Cumbre are Chilian ; that the Valle Hermoso, through which flows
an Argentine river, the Rio de los Patos, is Argentine, and that the
crest of the Boquete del Valle Hermoso, where one begins to descend
towards the Pacific, is the point beyond which Chilian soil also begins.
According to the theory of highest crests, many valleys would be
divided between both countries ; and in order to determine the point
of demarcation, it would be necessary to find the highest mountains
on each side and observe where the valley is intersected by an
imaginary straight line drawn from one summit to the other.

The natural geographical difficulties presented along the borders
of the two Republics are considerable, and demand very discriminating
and impartial treatment. They are as nothing, however, when
compared with the complications which diplomatic subtlety has
contrived to pile up. The Treaty of 1881 is the most authoritative
document in the case. When Chile insists on the water-parting as
the boundary and the Argentine Republic claims the line of highest
crests, each side professes to do no more than interpret the Treaty
according to its obvious meaning and the intention of those by whom

382 THE HIGHEST ANDES

it was signed. It might be supposed that an instrument so variously
construed was one of some ambiguity. Yet to anyone approaching
it for the first time without prepossessions, its purport seems un-
mistakable. The important and vital words of the first clause may
therefore be quoted literally from a translation of the document
which lies before me.

"Clause I. — The boundary between Chile and the Argentine
Republic is from north to south, up to the fifty-second parallel
of latitude, the Cordillera of the Andes. The boundary line
within these limits shall pass along the highest crests of said
Cordillera which divide the waters, and shall pass between the
slopes down which the waters flow on the one side and the
other. The difficulties which may arise owing to the existence
of certain valleys formed by the bifurcation of the Cordillera,
and in which the line dividing the waters may not be clear,
shall be amicably settled by two experts, one to be named by
each party."

It will be observed that the Treaty does not merely speak of the
highest crests. The words expressly are — "the highest crests of
said Cordillera which divide the waters." Aconcagua is the highest
crest in the Cordillera ; but it does not divide the waters. Therefore
it does not come within the class of summits contemplated by the
Treaty. As if to make matters absolutely definite and final, the
Treaty adds that the frontier "shall pass between the slopes down
which the waters flow on the one side and the other." This seems
quite explicitly to exclude the Argentine interpretation. In the
telegrams exchanged at the time when the Treaty was concluded,
by the American Ministers whom both parties had authorised to
conduct the negotiations, it was also stated that "the boundary
between Chile and the Argentine Republic shall be the divortia
aquarum of the Cordillera of the Andes up to the fifty -second
parallel."

It should be noticed, however, that in such expressions the term
divortia aquarum does not stand alone. It is always spoken of as
the divortia aquarum of the Cordillera of the Andes. It would
appear that in the extreme south of the continent, the water-parting
and the Cordillera of the Andes are two distinct and separate things.
The parting of the water lies in the lower ground inland, while the
Cordillera runs nearer to the western coast, and does not really part
the waters at all. The Chilians therefore, abandoning the strict
reference to the mountain chain, take their stand upon the water-
parting alone. It is, they maintain, the general line, where the waters
divide in opposite directions for the Pacific and Atlantic, that was

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE 383

contemplated as the boundary in the Treaty of 1881. They stand
upon "the natural and effective dividing line of the waters of the
South American continent." The Argentines incline to ignore the
water-parting altogether, and hold fast to "the Cordillera of the
Andes." In the discussion between the experts of both countries
which took place at Santiago in September 1898, the Argentine
representative laid down these principles: —

(1) That the general line which he proposes to his colleague is

wholly comprised within the Cordillera of the Andes.

(2) That in its entire extent it passes between the slopes which

descend on one side or the other of the main range.

(3) That he considers the said main range is constituted by the

predominating edge of the principal and central chain of the
Andes, considered such by the first geographers of the world.

(4) That the principal chain is the most elevated, the most

continual, with most uniform general direction, and its flanks
shed the largest volume of water, thus presenting the con-
ditions established, both by the Treaty of 23rd July 1881 and
the Protocol of ist May 1893, to constitute, with the crest
line of its slope, the general frontier line between the
Argentine Republic and the Republic of Chile.
In this declaration it will be observed how carefully the question
of the water-divide is hidden out of sight behind " the predominating
edge of the principal and central chain of the Andes." On the same
occasion the Argentine representative used words even less easy to
reconcile with the Treaty of 1881. "At that time," he said, "the
general watershed of the Cordillera was considered inseparable from
the latter's central or prevailing chain ; and the coast thereof — that is
to say, the snow-capped chain of the historians and geographers of all
times — was for the signatories of the Treaty of 1881, and for those
who accepted it, the only international boundary ; although they
knew that the chain was crossed, not only in oae but in several cases,
by rivers having their sources to the east of the same."

This statement, an ardent Chilian might almost say, is not the
interpretation of the Treaty : it is a repudiation of it.

EDW. A. FITZGERALD.

INDEX

ACONCAGUA, its attraction for the explorer,
2 ; no literature relating to, 4 ; route of
the expedition, 4 ; Dr. Giissfeldt's attempt,
4, 7, 8-14 ; Habel's name for the mountain,
14; its situation, 22, 28; mystery regard-
ing summit, 23, 34, 40 ; wrongly described
as volcano, 30 ; difficulty of access, 34 ;
terribly uncertain weather, 35 ; dust and
temperature, 35 ; storms, 36 ; highest
mountain outside Asia, 37 ; first sight of,
43 ; first attempt of the expedition, 52 ;
Mr. FitzGerald at 14,000 feet, 53 ; a view
at 19,000 feet, 57 ; Zurbriggen reaches the
summit, 83 ; thermometer at 19,000 feet,
89, 92 ; no snow at 22,000 feet, 113 ; Mr.
Vines makes the ascent, 115 ; thermometer
at the summit, 116; the scene, 118, 207;
a colossal ruin, 121 ; considered as a
volcano, 121 ; a sublime view, 124 ; as
seen from the Catedral, 136 ; view from
Tupungato, 208 ; verifying the height,
220 ; the great precipice, 224 ; the south
side, 263 ; Mr. Lightbody takes photo-
graphs, 300 ; the east side, 301 ; rock
specimens, 316; natural history of the
valleys, 338; relation to the boundary
dispute, 380 et seq.

Aconcagua River, 228.

Air, stagnation of the, 199.

Almacenes, 14, 120.

American carbines in Chile, 292.

American explorers in 1849-52, 5.

Anaemia of the brain, 67, 112.

Andes, previous books on, 4 ; southern
Cordilleras, 5 ; ascents by Humboldt,
Boussingault, Whymper, Reiss, Stiibel,
Wolf, and Thielmann, 5, 6 ; a track into
the Pampas, 9 ; San Martin's crossing,
30 ; desolation of the valleys, 33 ; geology,
33, 194, 203, 311; snowline, 33, 235;
atmosphere, 35, 199; storms, 36, 223,
242; vegetation, 36; the highest mountain,
36 ; denudation, 121, 143, 209 ; the people
and their character, 129, 235, 261 ; a
magnificent view, 207 ; absence of food
and shelter, 229 ; the ranges in their
winter dress, 249.

Antisana, 6.

Arctic expeditions and mountain expedi-
tions, 3.

Armadillo, 341.

Arrieros, 17, 43, 262 (see Mules and mule-
drivers).
Astronomical expedition of 1849-52, 5.

BALL, Mr., 219, 298.

Baths at Cachenta, 23.

Bell mares, 17, 272, 274, 277.

Bell of Quillota, 120.

Betting on the success of the expedition, 154,

205, 218.

Birds round Lujan, 305.
Birmingham spurs, 18.
Blanco River, 228.
Blood, circulation, 67, 112.
Boca del Rio, 22.
Bodegas, 233.
Bodenbender, 336.
Bolivian herb, 178.

Bonney, Professor, 33; I22W, 194, 311.
Books about the Andes, 4.
Boquete del Valle Hermoso, 9, 30, 32, 380,

381.

Boulenger, Mr. G. A., 355.
Boundary Commission, 238.
Boundary dispute between Chile and the

Argentine Republic, 22, 208, 234, 238,

377-

Brain, anaemia of the, 67, 112.
Breathlessness, 198.
Buch, L. von, 333.

Buenavista Valley, 314, 321, 323, 324, 325.
Buenos Aires, 15, 16.
Burkill, Mr. I. H., 361, 370.
Busserthor, II.
Buzzard, 350.

CABLE COMPANY, 228.

Cachenta, 23.

Cannon, Dr., 178.

Canon del Volcan, 10.

Cape route, 17.

Caracara Buzzard, 350.

Carrion -hawk, 350.

Carrying trade on Cumbre Pass, 270.

Caste among arrieros, 17, 43, 292.

Casuchas, 33, 294.

Catedral, ascent of the, 134; a dangerous

ledge, 139 ; Mr. Vines at the summit, 142 ;

rock specimens, 322.
Cattle, 194, 207.
Cauldron, the, 98.

386

INDEX

Cayambe, 6.

Cayenne plovers, 307.

Cerillos, 21.

Cerro de la Plata, 22, 23, 207.

Cerro de las Rejas, 303.

Cerro de los Almacenes, 14, 120.

Cerro del Plomo, 119, 232.

Cerro del Roble, 120.

Chacabuco, 32.

Chaca coma, 178.

Chicha, 232.

Chile and Argentine boundary, 22, 208, 234,

377-

Chile and Spanish power, 32.
Chilenos with Dr. Giissfeldt, 12.
Chilian "huasos," 7.
Chimango kites, 305, 343.
Chimborazo, 5, 6.
Christmas at 17,000 feet, 56.
Cinclodes, 345.

Circulation of the blood, 67, 112.
Climate, 21, 35.

Climber's dangers and joys, the, 248.
Clothing taken by the party, 4.
Commission de Limites, 238.
Condiment, a popular, 26.
Condor, 42, 305.

Congratulations from British residents, 85.
Con way, Sir Martin, 36.
Cooking at high levels, 56, 66, 75, 87, 90,

101, 180, 214, 255.
Cordilleras, 5, 22.
Correspondents of La Union, 219.
Cotocachi, 6.
Cotopaxi, 6.

Cotton, Dr., 21, 244 258, 264, 282.
Cow-bird, 351.
Crested duck, 350.
Cuckoo, 352.
Cuerno, 143.
Cuevas, 47, 269.

Cumbre Pass, 5, 32, 47, 129, 270, 284.
Customs officials, 269, 288.

DALTON, Mr., 23.

Darwin, Mr., in the Andes, 5 ; 120;*, 162,

209, 333, 36i.
Dedos, 137, 152.
Denudation, 121, 209.
Desolation of Andine valleys, 33, 137, 249.
D'Orbigny, M., 336
D'Orbigny's seed-snipe, 349.
DeTrafford, Mr., no, 117.
Dinnigan, Mr., 130, 133.
Distances, deceptive, 173.
Dove, 348.

Drinking festival, 232.
Drinking-houses, 25.
Driving adventures at Vacas, 26.
Duck, 350.

Duel between officers, 229.
Dust in the upper valleys, 29.

EAGLE, 73, 343.
Earthcreeper, 345, 346.
Earthquake at Mendoza, 19.

Egg-boiling, 101.
Engineering feat, 287.
Equipment, 3, 38, 106, 248.
Espinazito Pass, 9, 10, 336.
Explosion, 64.
Express Company, 25, 153.

FAIR VALLEY, 10.

Finches, 347, 34«, 352-

FitzGerald, Mr., prospecting for Aconcagua,
29, 38 ; surveying under difficulties, 35 ;
first attempt on Aconcagua, 52 ; a night
at 16,000 feet, 53 ; mountain sickness,
55 ; rescuing Zurbriggen, 69 ; surveying
during Zurbriggen's illness, 72 ; taken ill
at 20,000 feet, 77; reaches 21,000 feet,
79 J a great disappointment, 81 ; sends
Zurbriggen to complete the ascent, 81 ;
starts with Mr. Vines, 84 ; rescued from
the snow, 92 ; obliged to turn back, 92 ;
a sprained ankle, 93 ; another attempt,
96 ; horse's narrow escape, 99 ; dis-
appointment again, 102, 103 ; receiving
Mr. Vines, 127 ; fifteen nights at 19,000
feet, 128; fever on the way to Chile,
129 ; rough walking and a wet crossing,
147 ; out of condition, 148 ; surveying
in Horcones Valley, 148, 152, 220, 223,
227 ; the last of Aconcagua, 222; another
visit to Horcones Valley, 241 ; in a
great gale, 242 ; back to Inca, 243 ; at
Vacas and Mendoza, 246 ; climb back
for the instruments, 248 ; overtaking
Mr. Gosse in the snow, 250; horses
better than mules, 254 ; ^ death of pony,
260 ; dealing with Jose, 265 ; at Mr.
Gosse's bedside, 264 ; welcome to Mr.
Vines, 279 ; removing Mr. Gosse, 290 ;
Jose's threats, 291 ; an encounter in the
snow, 292 ; departure from Inca, 293,
settling accounts with Jose, 295 ; typhoid
fever in Santiago, 299 ; on the boundary
dispute between Chile and the Argentine
Republic, 377.

FitzGerald expedition, genesis, I ; party,
and the preliminary experiments, 2 ;
equipment, 3 ; departure, 15 ; hiring
mules at Mendoza, 1 7 ; meeting with
Mr. Lightbody, 20 ; bound for Vacas,
20 ; at 6000 feet, 24 ; Mr. Vines' loss
and Pollinger's fears of conspiracy, 25 ;
first camp, 26 ; Mr. Vines' driving
adventure, 27 ; wind and dust, 29 ; the
only way to deal with a native, 38 ;
Andine ponies, 39 ; first day in the
mountains, 40 ; unwholesome water, 41 ;
steep slopes for the horses, 43 ; meagre
pasturage, 44 ; a new camp, 45 ; buying
horses, 47 ; ascending the Cumbre Pass,
48 ; Zurbriggen's four days' absence,
49 ; first attempt on Aconcaqua, 52;
cold nights in the heights, 54, 57 ;
Christmas and Irish stew at I7»ooo
feet, 56 ; back to 12,000 feet, 59 :
restart, 60 ; poor firewood, 60 ; treat-

INDEX

387

ing Zurbriggen's feet, 62; 20,000 feet,
64 ; loose footing, 65 ; a view across
the Pacific, 65 ; direct route abandoned,
65 ; intense suffering causes retreat at
22,000 feet, 68; fresh attempt, 74;
failure, 77 J Mr. FitzGerald's disappoint-
ment, 8 1 ; Aconcagua ascended, 83 ; con-
gratulations from Valparaiso, 85 ; Mr.
FitzGerald and Mr. Vines begin ascent,
84; snowed in, 91; they turn back,
92 ; Mr. Gosse's Zoo, 95 ; another attempt
on the mountain, 96 ; twelve minutes to
boil an egg, 101 ; night at the high camp,
101 ; moving the camp, 102 ; heliograph-
ing, no, 116, 122, 130, 132; Mr.
Vines and Land on the summit of
Aconcagua, 115-123; the mountain as
volcano, 121 ; a sublime view, 124;
Land Nicola, 125 ; descent, and trip to
Chile, 129; character of the Andine
people, 129; suspicious - looking com-
panions, 130 ; porters attend missionary
service, 131 ; Mr. Vines climbs the
Catedral, 1 34 ; miraculous escape of
Joseph Pollinger, 140; Mr. Vines on
the summit of the Catedral, 142 ; Jose's
views on camping, 149 ; Mr. FitzGerald
traversing the Horcones Valley, 149;
sufferings of Mr. Lightbody, 151 ; Mr.
Vines off to Tupungato, 155 ; the dog
Paramillo, 159; a fox-hunt, 166 ; mules
at high altitudes, 171 ; under-estimating
the distance, 173; driven back by the
storm, 174; Villa Sieja's farewell, 177;
another attack on Tupungato, 177 ; herb
medicine, 178; a frolicsome wind, 179;
Lanti breaks a bottle of wine, 181 ; new
route, 181 ; a muddy brown "lake of gold,"
182 ; Lochmatter paralysed, 183 ; a retreat,
184 ; fresh plans and tea, 185 ; terrible
night at 17,000 feet, 187 ; Tupungato now
or never, 191 ; food at high altitudes, 192;
a new volcano, 195 ; 20,000 feet, 196 ;
Pollinger collapses, 197 ; stagnation of
the air, 199 ; the summit attained,
202 ; memorial cairn and record, 203-5,
unprecedented weather, 206 ; view from
top of Tupungato, 206 ; a half-way crater,
210; the hardships of pioneers, 211; a
reluctant descent, 212; a magnificent
sunset, 214; betting on the result;
218 ; interviewers in the Horcones Valley,
219; Mr. Vines returns, 219; the party
in Horcones Valley, 220 ; sagacity of
the ponies, 225 ; back to Inca, 227 ;
search for a volcano, 225 ; news of a
duel on the frontier, 229 ; to Santa Rosa
by rail, 231 ; a saint's day in Chile,
232 ; Tierra del FitzGeraldo, 234 ; the
Yeso Valley, 234 ; an arriero runs away,
237 ; row between Chileno mule-drivers
and Argentine passengers, 240 ; great
gale, and retreat from Horcones camp,
242 ; the Jonah of the expedition, 244 ;
building a sledge, 244 ; the mules reduced
to eating chairs, 245 ; return to Vacas,

246 ; saying good-bye at Mendoza, 246 ;
the journey to rescue the instruments, 248 ;
grandeur of the mountains, 249 ; horses
in the snow, 250 ; the tents at last,
253 ; horses better than mules, 254 ; a
mouse - hunt, 254 ; safe return to Inca,
256; the Queen's birthday, 258; de-
parture of the guides, 259 ; a journey
to the base camp, 259 ; an unfeeling
peon, 261 ; Jose chastised by Mr. Light-
body, 262 ; an afternoon's photographing,
263 ; removing the luggage to Vacas,
264 ; Mr. Gosse attacked by fever, 264 ;
native porters fascinated by the putties,
268 ; Mr. Vines arrives at Cuevas, 269 ;
the carrying trade and postal service over
Cumbre, 270 ; transport and new fodder,
273 ; the arrieros get drunk, 276 ; mules
die of starvation, 280; Mr. Lightbody 's
adventure in the Cumbre Pass, 283 ;
the land pirates of the snow, 283 ; the
guides, 285 ; heavy loads, 286 ; novel
toboganning, 286 ; Mr. Lightbody arrives
at Los Andes, 288 ; Jose takes his re-
venge, 289 ; the crime of horse-stealing,
289 ; Mr. Gosse removed to Mendoza,
290 ; Jose threatens Mr. FitzGerald,
291 ; their meeting in the snow, 292 ;
a precaution for travellers, 293 ; de-
parture from Inca, 293 ; settling with
Jose, 295 ; passage over the Cumbre,
296 ; the best meal for a long time,
296; the "special" from Salto to Los
Andes, 297 ; work at Valparaiso, 298 ;
Mr. FitzGerald and Mr. Vines down
with typhoid fever, 299 ; Mr. Lightbody
returns to the mountains, 299 ; photo-
graphing in the Andes, 301 ; the Penitentes,
or Iglesia, 302 ; Mr. Lightbody's ascent,
302 ; Indian ruins, 303 ; last word on
the Andes of Argentina, 304.

Flora, 369.

Food, 3, 4, 63, 1 10, 180, 189, 192, 237,

255-

Footgear of native porters, 268.

Fortunate the arriero, 1 54 ; unpunctuality
and fears, 155 ; 158, 160, 161 ; falls into a
bog, 164; 166, 167, 170, 176, 184.

Fossils, 333 et seq.

Foxes, 96, 166, 307, 341.

Fox-hunt, 1 66.

Freshfield, Mr., 199.

Frost-bite, 61, 128, 129, 212.

Furnace, Russian, 63.

GAMBLING spirit among arrieros, 217.

Gay's finch, 347.

Genesis of the expedition, I.

Geology of the country, 33, 194, 203, 311,

331-
German Athletic Club and Aconcagua, 49,

85, 94.

German tramp, a, 260.
Gilliss in the Andes, 5.
Gosse, Mr., chasing an eagle, 73; his Zoo,

95 ; lying in wait for a fox, 96 ; parrakeets,

388

INDEX

I3I> 352 J on the porters and the mission-
ary, 131 ; hunting in Vacas Valley, 155 ;
in Horcones Valley, 220, 241 ; difficulties
in the snow, 250 ; a mouse-hunt, 254 ;
dangerous falls, 256 ; fever, 264, 285 ;
removal to Mendoza, 290 ; notes on
natural history, 338.

Gottsche, C, 337-

Grass for mules, 44.

Gravel, terraces of, 162.

Gray, Mr. R. W., 321.

Gringos, 20.

Grim sentinel, a, 10.

Grison, 308, 341.

Ground-finch, 352.

Guanaco, 42, 164, 340.

Guides, character of, 285.

Guinea-pigs, 307.

Guira cuckoo, 352.

Gunther, Dr., 142.

Gussfeldt, Dr., his attempt to climb
Aconcagua, 4, 7, 8-14; ascent of Maipo,
8 ; our obligation to him, 14 ; his card at
21, ooo feet, 51, 58; I22n, 332.

HABEL, Herr, 14.

Harrier, 351.

Heights of some mountains, 37.

Heliographing, no, 116, 122, 130, 132.

" Hen and eggs," 365.

Herb medicine, 178.

Hermoso Valley, 9, 10, 13, 380, 381.

Highest mountains of South America, 36.

Horcones Valley, 10, 14, 52, 120, 137, 148,

220,223, 311, 333.
Horses in the mountains, 47, 48, 160, 250,

254, 275.

Horse-stealing, 289.
Hot springs, 23.
House- wren, 351.
Huasos of Chile, 7.

Humboldt's attempt on Chimborazo, 5.
Humming-birds, 344.
Huts in Yeso Valley, 235.

IGLESIA, or Penitentes, 300, 302.
Inca, 33, 47, 52, 163, 227, 243, 258.
Indian ruins, 303.
Inn at Inca, 258.
Inscriptions at Inca, 303.
Interviewers, 219.

JONAH of the expedition, 244.
Juncal, 32, 208, 209, 228, 239, 286, 297,
381.

KUfKBDY, Mr., 234.

Kestrel, 350.

Kites, 305, 343.

Knee, cure for a bruised, 172.

LACUNA SEGA, 236, 238.
"Lake of gold," 182.
Las Cuevas, 47.
Legs, paralysis of the, 183.
Leones, 119.

Lightbody, Mr., 20, 23 ; sings Spanish
ballads, 28; meeting at Inca, 129; a
triangulation completed, 131; sufferings at
19,000 feet, 150 ; in Horcones Valley, 220 ;
takes photographs, 224 ; another visit to
Horcones Valley, 241 ; at Mendoza, 247 ;
ill, 247 ; summary dealing with Jose, 262 ;
negotiating with porters at Cuevas, 271 ;
crossing the Andes, 281 ; marvellous
results in photography, 282 ; adventures
in the Cumbre Pass, 283 ; a quick ascent,
284 ; arrival at Portillo, 285 ; character of
guides, 285 ; novel toboganning, 286 ; at
Juncal, 287 ; arrival at Los Andes, 288 ;
printing photographs at Valparaiso, 298 ;
goes back alone to the mountains, 299 ;
at 13,000 feet on Aconcagua, 300 ; ascent
of the Penitentes, or Iglesia, 302 ; Indian
ruins, 303 ; arrival at Mendoza and Monte
Video, 304.

Lightning in the Andes, 36.

Limache, 129.

Linstow, Dr. von, 360.

Literature of the Andes, 4.

Lizards, 355.

Locusts, 305.

Los Andes, 129, 130, 288, 297.

Lujan, 305, 350.

MADRINAS, 272.

Magellan's owl, 343.

Magellan Strait, 16, 378.

Maipo, 8, 32, 207.

Malargue, 336.

Mammalia, 340.

Marsh-startling, 351.

Martin, General, 30.

Mendoza, 15, 17, 21, 22, 304,

Mendoza old town, 19.

Mendoza River, 22.

Mercedario, 22, 32, 37, 118, 209.

Meteoric phenomenon, 214.

Meyen, Dr., 336.

Mice, 254, 307, 308, 341.

Military pack-saddles, 45.

Mineral springs, 33.

Miners, 344.

Missionary service, 132.

Monastery (Iglesia), 302.

Mountaineering, dangers and compensations,

248.
Mountain expeditions and Arctic expeditions,

Mountain sickness, 55, 67, 77.

Mourning finch, 348.

Mud avalanches, 23.

Mules and mule-drivers, 17, 21, 43, 44, 46,
48, 69,97, 150, 155, 161-3, 171, 210, 239,
240, 245, 253, 262, 274, 280, 292.

NATURAL History, 338.

Naval astronomical expedition of 1849-52,

Navarro, 32, 119, 208.

Neamayr, M., 334.

Nieve Penitente, 10, 34, 60, 138, 172.

INDEX

389

Norton, Mr., 290, 304.
Nourishment at high altitudes, 192.

OLD MENDOZA, 19.
Outfit, 3, 38, 106, 248.
Owl, 343.

PACK saddles, 45.

Paramillos, 47, 268, 274.

Parasite, a new, 360.

Parrakeets, 131, 352.

Paso Malo, 97, 226.

Pasturage for mules, 44.

Patagonia, 208, 377.

Patagonian earthcreeper, 345.

Patagonian fox, 341.

Penitent friars, 34.

Penitente gateway, II.

Penitente Valley, 10, 30, 120.

Penitentes, or Iglesia, 300, 302.

Pentland, Mr., 333.

Peons, 26, 261, 283, 294.

People, and their character, 129, 235, 261.

Photographing in stormy weather, 224, 282,

298, 299-301.

Pioneers, hardships of, 211.
Pissis in the Andes, 5, 37.
Placilla, 120.
Plants, 361, 370.
Plata, 22, 23.
Plomo, 119, 232.
Plovers, 307.
Pochero, 180.
Pocock, Mr. R. I., 356.
Pollera, 32, 119, 159, 208, 217.
Ponchos, 1 8, 177, 191.
Ponies, 39, 223, 225, 260.
Porters on the Cumbre Pass, 271, 283, 286,
Portezuelo del Penitente, II.
Portillo, 5, 207, 238, 285.
Posadas, 25, 258, 282.
Postal service, 16, 263, 267, 269, 270, 273,

293-

Predecessors in the Andes, 5.
Puente Alto, 232.
Puente del Inca, 33, 47.
Puma, 340.
Puna, 90.

Punta de las Vacas, 25.
Putaendo River, 9.
Putties for the natives, 268.

QUEBRADAS, l6o.

Queen Victoria, 377.
Quillota, Bell of, 120.

RAILWAYS, 16, 231, 287, 290.

Ravines or quebradas, 160.

Reclus, M., on Aconcagua, 35.

Reiss, Dr., 6.

Rejas, 303.

Reptiles, 355.

Revellers in a Chile town, 233.

Riding on a precipice, 43.

Rio Aconcagua, 228.

Rio Blance, 228.

Rio de las Cuevas Valley, 14.
Roble, 120.

Rock specimens collected, 311 et seq. ; Pro-
fessor Bonney's conclusions, 331.
Roth, Professor, 332.
Route of the expedition, 4.
Routes to South America, 1 6.
Russian furnace, 63.
Ruwenzori ranges, 37.

SADDLES, 40, 45.

Sagacity of ponies, 225.

Salto del Soldado, 129, 130, 231, 287, 297.

San Jose, 32, 207.

San Jose de Maipu, 232, 234, 238.

San Martin, General, 30.

Santa Rosa de los Andes, 15, 228, 232.

Santiago, 49, 129.

Santiago interviewers, 219.

Sara-urcu, 6.

Scorpions, 356.

Seca, Laguna, 236, 238.

Seed-finches, 352.

Seed-snipes, 349.

Shelter in the Andes, 228, 256.

Shoeing mules and horses, 156.

Sickness, 55, 67, 77.

Sierra de Malargue, 336.

Sierra del Penitente, 10.

Signalling, 116.

Siskin, 347.

Skeleton in the mountains, 10.

Skunks, 306, 341.

Sleeping, 2 ; precaution, 293.

Snow-grass for mules, 44.

Snow-line of the Andes, 33, 235.

Snow, "penitent," 10, 34, 60, 138, 172.

Snowstorms, 35, 91, 242, 272, 274.

Solpuga, 356, 359.

Song-sparrow, 348.

Sosa, Tomas, 17, 18, 69, 236.

South America, routes to, 16.

South America, travelling in, 16, 231, 238,

240.

Spaniards defeated by San Martin, 32.
Sparrows, 305, 348.
Spider's web for theodolite, 72.
Spiders, 356.
Spine-tails, 346.
Springs, 23, 33.
Stagnation of the air, 199.
Starling, 351.

Stelzner in the Andes, 5, 334, 336.
Stephen, Mr. Leslie, 105, 2x1.
Storms, 36, 179, 187, 242, 274.
Stiibel in the Andes, 5, 6.
Suez Canal route, 16.
Surveying outfit, 3.
Surveys, rough, 227.
Swallows, 343.
Switzerland, 2, 192.

TANAGER, 352.
Telegram, a friendly, 85.
Telephoto lens, 300.
Theodolite, 72, 223, 255.

390

INDEX

Thornton, Mr., 21.

Toboganning, novel kind of, 286.

Tomas, 17, 18, 69, 236.

Torlosa, 156, 301, 311 et seg., 333 et seq.

Tornquist, A., 337.

Transandine Railway, 15, 23, 25, 231, 287,
290.

Travelling in South America, 16, 231, 232,
239, 288.

Trees, absence of, 35.

Tuffield, Mr., 228, 231, 232, 239, 288.

Tunnels, 287.

Tupungato, first sight of, 22 ; height, 37 ; a
road to treasure, 154 ; Mr. Vines begins
ascent, 155 ; Fortunato's dread of the
mountain, 155; rough paths, 157; a diffi-
cult quebrada, 161 ; terraces of gravel,
162; a troublesome mule, 163; Fortunate
falls into the bog, 164 ; memorable scene,
168 ; at 14,000 feet, 171 ; deceptive dis-
tances, 173 ; storm causes retreat at 19,000
feet, 174; another start, 177, 181 ; a
frolicsome wind, 179 ; Zurbriggen's new
route, 181 ; a muddy brown " lake of
gold," 182; another retreat, 184; fresh
plans, 185 ; terrible night at 17,000 feet,
187 ; now or never, 191 ; another route,
194 ; a new volcano, 195 ; 20,000 feet,
196 ; the highest point at last, 202 ; stones
on the summit, 203 ; leaving cairn and
record, 205 ; a magnificent view, 207 ;
Darwin on the crater, 210 ; the base camp,
215 ; Mr. Lightbody's photographs, 301 ;
its relation to the boundary dispute, 380.

Tyrants, 346, 347.

UNITED STATES expedition of 1849-52, 5.
Uspallata Pampa, 22, 24.
Uspallata Pass, 5.

VACAS, 25, 246, 289.

Vacas Valley, 39, 43, 120.

Valle Hermoso, 9, 10, 13.

Valle Penitente, 10.

Valparaiso, 15, 16, 85, 130.

Vegetation in the valleys, 36, 159, 229.

Vicuna, Senor Morla, 234.

Villa Longa Express Company, 25, 153.

Vines, Mr., loses revolver and gold, 25 ;
driving accident, 27 ; brings provisions to
12,000 feet, 59 ; begins ascent of Acon-
cagua with Mr. FitzGerald, 84; accident
at a bad corner, 87 ; rescues Mr. Fitz-
Gerald from the snow, 92; falls into a
stream, 93 ; another attempt on the moun-
tain, 96 ; turns back, 92 ; heliographing,
no, 116, 122, 130, 132, 133; patience
and endurance, in ; on the summit, 115-

123 ; a gorgeous sight, 124 ; return to
camp, 125; nose frost-bitten, 128, 129;
starts for Chile, 129 ; again at the high-
level camp, 132; climbing the Catedral,
134 ; geological specimens, 136 ; a danger-
ous ledge, 139 ; at the top, 142 ; climbing
Tupungato, 155 ; cure for a bruised knee,
172 ; forced to retreat at 19,000 feet, 174 ;
second attack on Tupungato, 177, 181 ; a
frolicsome wind, 179 ; a terrible night,
187 ; Tupungato now or never, 191 ;
breathlessness, 198 ; the summit, 202 ;
hard work, 210 ; fingers frost-bitten, 212 ;
meeting with Mr. FitzGerald, 219; in
Horcones Valley, 221 ; search for a
volcano, 228 ; at Puente Alto, 232 ; in
Yeso Valley, 235 ; ride to Vacas, 261 ;
leap through a window, 266 ; arrival at
Cuevas, 269 ; a fight with the snow, 275 ;
swimming across Rio Mendoza, 278 ; Mr.
FitzGerald's words of welcome, 279 ; laid
up with cold, 290 ; squaring accounts with
Jose, 295 ; typhoid fever, 299.

Vineyards, 21, 305.

Volcan Canon, 10, 336.

Volcano, 195, 228, 240.

WALKING, and loss of caste, 17, 43, 292.

Water, unwholesome, 41.

Water-dipper, 345.

Weather, 35, 94, 153, 188, 206, 241.

West, Mr. W., 375, 376.

West Coast Cable Company, 228.

Whymper, Mr. E., 6, 331.

Wine, an unfortunate breakage, 181.

Winter dress of the Andes, 249.

Wolfs ascent of Cotopaxi, 6.

Wren, 351.

YARETA, 168.
Yellow Gorge, 16, 24.
Yeso Valley, 234.

ZANJON Amarillo, 16, 24, 303.

Zoo, inhabitants of, 95.

Zurbriggen Mattias, without a gun, 42 ; he
sees Aconcagua, 43 ; buying horses, 47 ; in
the Horcones torrent, 49 ; falls among the
snow, 51 ; discovers Dr. Gussfeldt's card,
58; frozen feet at 20,000 feet, 61 ; boiler
explosion, 64 ; nearly drowned, 68 ;
superstition and accident, 70 ; sent forward
to complete the ascent, 81 ; reaches the
summit of Aconcagua, 83 ; betting on the
ascent of Tupungato, 154, 205 ; buys a
horse, 176 ; taken ill on Tupungato, 183,
189 ; at the top, 205 ; a fall, 212 ; ill at
San Jose de Maipu, 234.

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