The wilds of Patagonia

ACROSS THE ANDES INTO ARGENTINA

Before we undertook the journey to the Patagonian Channels we had resolved to move our field of work to a more northerly latitude during the rest of the winter, and I have already described the excursions made between July and September 1908. Naturally we had also discussed how we were to return south again, and the idea of proceeding overland—i.e., going on horseback from Lake Nahuelhuapi to Punta Arenas—had also suggested itself. We did not conceal from ourselves that it would be a risky enterprise. When we left Sweden we were by no means prepared for such an eventuality, and therefore had not even studied what had been written describing that part of the country. This lack could in part be supplied, but not completely, and we did not miss any chance of getting information about Patagonia from persons who had personal experience. As to the equipment suitable, the way of arranging a caravan, and the technical side of the matter, Quensel had gained very useful experience from his strenuous summer round Payne and Lake Argentino. The financial difficulty was the worst to get over. We were told we could not start with less than fifty horses—and I daresay this was no exaggeration from a South American point of view. But we could not dream of any such number; our money would not permit of our buying more than ten or twelve altogether. Anyhow, we made up our minds to risk it, hoping that by marching at moderate speed and resting the horses every third or fourth day we should manage with the smaller number. By the kindness of the Argentine and Chilean Governments, we had received complete sets of the maps of the Boundary Commission, and had had ample time to study them in all details. Unlike our predecessors, we regarded guides as unnecessary; with a map and a good compass one should certainly be able to get along everywhere, letting common sense determine the details of the march. In general, fixed, scientific ideas must lead us, and the usefulness of vaqueanos, guides, who can never read a map, would most probably turn out to be illusory. On the other hand it was necessary to get hold of a good and strong all-round man to accompany us the whole time, as we did not want always to be tied by all the regular daily routine work. It is not easy here to light upon reliable people for such a purpose, and one ought not to take anybody into one’s service without strong recommendations from trustworthy persons. When we left Punta Arenas we had told Pagels that we should perhaps send for him later on, and we never had cause to regret that at last we resolved to do so. I telegraphed to him to join our party in Puerto Montt or at Nahuelhuapi, and he declared himself willing to come.

Briefly our plan ran as follows: We were to cross the Perez-Rosales pass to Nahuelhuapi, and there complete our equipment, buy horses, &c. Our way at first would lead along the mountain across the high pampas, then run between the main range and the mesetas, across the transandine valleys and close to the east end of the large lakes; on some of them boat excursions would be undertaken. Everywhere we would avail ourselves of all possible chances of penetrating westward into the mountains. Our scientific purpose was to gain a series of geological and phytogeographical observations along the mountains, as well as on some sections across them to the Pacific Ocean. Before I invite the reader to follow us across the frontier to the neighbouring republic, I shall make some few remarks on the more important surveys made in the interior of Patagonia.

The shipwreck of Camarga in the Magellan Straits in 1540, as well as the unhappy result of Sarmiento’s colonizing enterprise in 1584, gave birth to all sorts of stories. It was said that survivors of these disasters had wandered into the interior of Patagonia, where they had found immense treasures and established a settlement, which by-and-by had developed into a flourishing city, mentioned in the tales as “la Ciudad de los Césares,” the Town of the Emperors. No grounds whatever for such a supposition existed, but that, of course, did not hinder the place from becoming the chief attraction for a large number of expeditions, which tried to penetrate into the mysteries of Patagonia, and succeeded in doing so during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Now and again a rumour cropped up of the enchanted city, where the natives had prohibited the white men from going back to their own countries, and even to-day there are ignorant people who still believe it. I myself have met one fellow who was sure of the existence of such a city—and he was an educated man.

In 1621 Captain Flores de León started with an expedition from Calbuco (near Port Montt). He discovered the Perez-Rosales pass and reached Nahuelhuapi, where he encountered numerous savage Indians. And probably he is not the only one who made that journey at so early a date. Soon the Jesuit mission on Chiloé tried to effect communication with the east side of the Cordillera, and on one of his journeys Father Mascardi founded a station on the shore of Nahuelhuapi in 1670. Under changing fortunes it existed until 1717, when the Puelche Indians completely destroyed it.

Investigations now ceased for a time, but at the end of the eighteenth century we find new brave pioneers setting out, and in the south the first expedition penetrated far inland. Antonio de Viedma in 1782 marched from San Julián, on the Atlantic coast, across the pampas to the foot of the mountains, where he discovered the big lake now named after him. We must skip some years to find any dates worthy of mention in this brief summary. The glorious expeditions of the Adventure and the Beagle, well known to all English readers, opened a new era of modern scientific investigations, and Captain Fitzroy, accompanied by Charles Darwin, in 1834 pulled up the Santa Cruz river. From the point at which they were forced to return they beheld the depression where Lake Argentino is situated; but not until 1867 was this big lake discovered by the English engineer H. Gardiner.

R. A. Philippi, C. Fonck, and others in the fifties started to explore the regions of Llanquihue and Nahuelhuapi, and in 1862 William Cox, an ancestor of the Swedo-Chilean family Schönmeyr, made a famous journey to Nahuelhuapi and went down the rapids of Rio Limay, till he got shipwrecked and was made prisoner by the Indians. We owe him a debt of gratitude for a great deal of information about the natives. Later Captain G. Musters made prolonged journeys through the land of the Tehuelches and rescued the knowledge of their habits and customs from oblivion. However, large “white patches” still remained along the foot of the Cordilleras.

The man who has gained the greatest merit for their exploration is Dr. F. P. Moreno, late director of the museum in La Plata. In my opinion his travels well match most of those made in our days, and if his name is not so well known in Europe the fault is ours, not his. In the years 1875 to 1880 he crossed Patagonia in all directions, often amidst great dangers; more than once he nearly lost his life. He and his companions were the first to reach Nahuelhuapi from the east; together with Moyano he discovered Rio de la Leona, the outlet of Lago Viedma in Lago Argentino, and also the great Lake San Martín. Later he became the leading spirit of the Argentine Boundary Commission, when a piece of geographical work almost without parallel was performed. In 1880 Moyano made an expedition from Santa Cruz along the valley of Rio Chico, and thence to the north, and he was the first white man who beheld the vast surface of Lake Buenos Aires. Another prominent Argentine explorer was R. Lista.

Long before these important events, Argentina as well as Chile had begun to think of expansion, Argentina towards Patagonia, the cramped Chile through the transandine valleys out over the east slopes of the mountains. Thus a boundary dispute arose, carried on with great heat by both parties. It was deemed to have been brought to an end by the treaty of 1881, which settled that the Cordillera should constitute the boundary, and thus the ground for dispute seemed to be removed. Commissions were established to regulate the matter, but soon all negotiations were broken off; a new controversy had arisen. It was found that for long distances the water-parting did not coincide with the highest mountain-ridges, but lay east of it, and the Chileans considered that the water-divide ought to be the frontier, the Argentines that only the highest peaks and crests would make a just and natural boundary. The question was of great importance, as the dispute involved the fertile subandine valleys, which with every reason were considered a good field for future colonization. However, matters could not be settled as long as the region was not mapped, and in the nineties a fine piece of work was accomplished, in which several Scandinavians also took part as cartographers. The Argentine exploration resulted in a large work, accompanied by splendid photographs and numerous maps. We could see now how much was still left to be discovered: large lake-basins, such as Fontana-La Plata, Belgrano-Azara-Nansen, Pueyrredon (Cochrane)-Posadas, the last one as late as in 1898. Sometimes naturalists also accompanied the expeditions. From the Chilean side efforts were made to start from the fiords on the Pacific coast and penetrate up the rivers through the mountains to the sources—enterprises associated with tremendous difficulties. Dr. Steffen, the well-known geographer, surveyed the river systems of Puelo-Manso, Palena-Carrenleufú, Cisnes, Aysen and Baker, Dr. Krüger those of Reñihue and the numerous lakes east of it, Yelcho-Futaleufú and Corcovado. The data having been gathered, the question was submitted to the award of King Edward VII., in order to prevent a terrible war. The King sent a commission under the command of Colonel Sir Thomas Holdich, and in November 1902 the decision was published and the boundary was settled. After this combined work was undertaken to erect the marks, new geographical results being gained. The Chilean Government published a work in several parts with numerous maps, and the keystone was laid in 1908, when the Argentine description of the demarcations appeared.

Private expeditions had also operated in Patagonia during this time. Dr. Hatcher with the Princeton University Expedition occupied himself in the interior of South Patagonia, discovered Rio Mayer, the outlet of the Belgrano system, and did important geological work. The geologists Hauthal and Roth made extensive surveys, the former principally in the southernmost part of the country, also visited by the Swedish expedition of 1896-97. In 1903 Mr. A. Thesleff, a Finnish gentleman, crossed Patagonia in order to look for land fit for cultivation; with him went the Swedish botanist P. Dusén, who brought home large collections from the region between Santa Cruz and the lakes San Martín and Viedma. Many smaller journeys are worthy of notice, but I must confine myself to those already mentioned. There was still, however, a vast field for scientific work.

The winter was coming to an end. In the forests round Reloncaví the trees opened their flower-buds; in Puerto Montt we enjoyed the first real spring days. We were now more busy than ever, the question being to choose a complete but light equipment, and to pack the rest and the winter collections and send all together to Punta Arenas. Our modest resources were severely strained buying horse-gear, clothes, and a lot of small things.

The last nails were driven into the boxes, which were sent down to a shed to wait for the next steamer, and with a ridiculously small amount of luggage we started for Puerto Varas at the Lago Llanquihue on October 6. One is able to drive there very comfortably, for we had not yet said good-bye to civilization, and were ordinary passengers. A German-Chilean company, the leaders being Germans, called Compañía comercial y ganadera Chile-Argentina, owns land on both sides of the mountains, and has established regular traffic between Port Montt and Bariloche at Nahuelhuapi. A route like this in Europe would certainly be crowded with tourists, and prove a real gold-mine. But the everyday Chilean has not got his eyes open to the beauty of his country; seldom does he travel for pleasure in South America. And when a foreigner has his holidays he goes to Europe, where he will hardly find anything so magnificent as the journey from Chile to Argentina across the Perez-Rosales pass.

In the evening our carriage stopped in front of the Hotel Llanquihue in Puerto Varas. On the road we had passed the half-completed railway joining Puerto Montt to the town of Osorno, and thus with the longitudinal main trunk. There is peace and comfort in that small summer place, Puerto Varas, where numerous families spend the favourable season on the shores of the large lake. We have good luck, the sun rises on a splendid day, and the small steamer takes us over a lake like a mirror, between the two famous giant volcanoes Osorno and Calbuco, which raise their shining white heads one on each side of the east end of Llanquihue. What a contrast to the landscape farther west, with pastures and cultivated fields between the grooves! German colonists have changed the province of Llanquihue into a land literally flowing with milk and honey, for butter and honey are valuable articles of export. The honey has a rather peculiar taste, but the bees have to collect it from plants very different from those we can offer them.

From an æsthetic point of view Osorno is an ideal volcano. The cone, 7403 feet high, is very regular, and covered with a cap of eternal snow. It is a long time since it showed any signs of life—the last eruption must be that described in his usual fascinating manner by Darwin, who was lucky enough to witness it. Calbuco is more than 1600 feet lower, and has not the same regular shape, but is still active. With the glasses we could see tiny puffs of white smoke between the snowdrifts on the jagged crest; old Vulcan still has one of his forges there, and one day or other he will blow his biggest bellows again! Then the industrious people will tremble; mud-streams will again drench their fields, again the cattle will wade in the burning hot ashes with hanging tongues—as some years ago, when the sky became dark far away in Ancud in the middle of the day.

We land at the foot of Osorno. One of the old lava streams comes down there, a picture of devastation, where vegetation still struggles to give some life to the stony desert. Horses are ready, we mount and gallop across the neck of land to the next lake, Todos los Santos, and go on board a small steam-launch. Calbuco now lies behind. This lake has been called one of the most beautiful in the world. Perhaps this is an exaggeration—I have not seen enough to judge—but it is certainly magnificent. Over its mountains, virgin forests, and dark blue water there is a peculiar charm; it is an enchanted lake if there be one in this world. What a play of light and shadow on its surface, what colours when the sun is painting the peaks with gold and crimson, throwing longer and longer shadows over the calm water! Slowly the rosy gleam fades away: last of all Osorno is seen glowing, flashing a while in the last beams, and then lies blue-white and cold. Night has come, forest and water melt together in the shadow of the mountains, but on the peaks the moon casts its light. Osorno is wonderful in its silver cap. As we advance new, fantastic peaks appear; we turn with the lake, catch a glimpse of Tronador, and land in Peulla.

The day had filled our minds with delight, but the body had been neglected, and we were glad to see a laid table again, not having had anything since the early breakfast.

The manager of the company in Peulla, Mr. Roth, proved of great help in realising our plans. The next day he arranged an excursion to Tronador, the Thunderer, a mountain 11,382 feet high, partly covered by five glaciers, making a noise that gave its name to the mountain. With good horses we rode through the beautiful forest to Casa Pangue, at the foot of the Andes, where one makes the ascent to the pass. Here mules more suited to the ground were waiting. Along the stony bed of a glacier stream we slowly approached a large glacier, coming down right into the forest—a remarkable sight. The morning had been very fine, but we knew that rain could not be far off, and just as we had tied up the animals in the dwarf forest the first drops came, followed by a proper Chilean storm. We climbed across the huge moraines on to the ice-border itself, which is somewhat curious. All the lower part is covered by sand and gravel, and the glacier advances so very slowly that vegetation has time to take possession of it. There are small groves of dwarf trees, some getting not less than twenty or thirty years old before they are carried down to destruction. One may walk in the soft carpet of mosses and scrub without suspecting anything; suddenly a crack opens, showing the sheer ice, blue and cold. This is not unique, but I never met with anything like it before. By-and-by the rain, which increased to a veritable deluge, drove us from the place. The horsemen who arrived in Casa Pangue that night were in rather a miserable condition. There was literally not a dry thread on our bodies. We made a fire, undressed, and changed the place into a fine exhibition of dripping rags. Wrapped in blankets, we whiled away the time before nightfall with a game of cards, and our dark-eyed hostess made us a nice cazuela. The next morning we returned to Peulla, and made excursions round it. The forests here still bear a marked resemblance to those on Chiloé. On October 10 we rode to Casa Pangue and got mules for the march across the pass, which is only 3300 feet high. It had been a favourable winter, and the road, climbing zigzag up the steep, forest-clad slope, seemed good enough on horseback. The traffic with the bullock-carts had not been opened yet. The difference in vegetation attracted our attention; the numerous leaf-trees became fewer, needle-trees more and more frequent. In the pass extensive snowdrifts were still left. For a short distance we rode on level ground, passed the boundary mark, and came down into the deep grave where Laguna Fria is situated. Its icy green glacier water looks cold indeed, and it needs sunshine and fine weather if the shores, at the foot of perpendicular cliffs, many hundred yards high, are not to produce a gloomy or even terrifying impression. We pulled across and walked over the isthmus separating Laguna Fria and Nahuelhuapi, following a road in the forest down to Puerto Blest. One need not walk on foot; a car drawn by a bullock and running on wooden rails brings luggage and passengers down to the “hotel.” How easily we had reached the famous lake in comparison with the pioneers who risked their lives only to behold its blue water! It has been compared with the lakes in the Alps, but who knows if Nahuelhuapi does not bear away the palm? It has so many different aspects: far to the west it washes the foot of the Andes, in narrow inlets reflecting the dark forests of alerce and cedro, thickly wooded isles making the scenery more varied; in the east it opens into the endless widths of the pampas, the mountains are left behind, the forests have dissolved into groves and patches.

In Puerto Blest we counted on getting one day for excursions, and on the next we expected the steamer from Bariloche. It had, however, started to blow hard, and no steamer came, but a storm, first with rain and then with snow and cold; winter made its expiring efforts, the shores were dressed in white, all the forest lay powdered with snow. We were shut in in a miserable room, where a red-hot stove made life almost insupportable. We could not complain, however, for in our bedroom the thermometer refused to rise above freezing-point; thus we got a tolerable daily average! One day passed; two, three, during which the gale raged with unabated strength, making the house tremble at each gust. Finally on the 15th the sun showed its glorious face again. There was still a good breeze, but as it was an ordinary boat-day we could be sure that every effort would be made to fetch us. In the afternoon the small steamer arrived after a rough voyage. The day had yet another surprise in store for us: when the bullock-cart from Laguna Fria came rolling down the slope Pagels was enthroned on the top of the load, and after him came our old dog Prince lumbering along. An extra mail-day brought letters and papers from Punta Arenas. Now all of us were assembled, Pagels had performed the commissions we had given him with exactitude, and we could go to bed and sleep a couple of hours—not more, for long before the sun gilded the surface of Nahuelhuapi we slipped out of the bosom of the Cordillera, to start a new kind of life, and for the future march with this gigantic fold of the earth’s crust to the west, whither we had been used to look out over the endless ocean. The small town, or rather village, Bariloche, was the destination of our steamer, and at the same time the starting-point for our long ride. We tried to make ourselves comfortable in the small, dirty inn, and began our preparations without delay. Pagels occupied himself making saddle- and provision-bags, while we had some excursions to make.

Bariloche is situated on the edge of the forest region. West of it are big cedar-forests (Libocedrus chilensis), in the east a yellowish steppe. Several mountains exhibiting interesting geological features were easy to reach from there, and as we did not want to encumber our caravan with heavy collections at the very start, Quensel and Halle made an excursion south for a couple of days. I myself went round the lake, ferried across Rio Limay, and stayed two days with an American gentleman, Mr. Jones. He has a big cattle-ranch, with a stock of several thousand head, his special business being to breed mules, which fetch double the price of an ordinary horse. We had already solved our most important question, the horse problem, and were the happy owners of a small tropilla of ten animals and a mare, the yegua madrina, without whom no troop keeps together. They were rather small, and looked like skeletons after the winter. Eight of them were saddle-horses; each of us got two and the two others were to carry our baggage. Generally the horses in Patagonia are not shod, but as we were going to spend most of the time in the mountains we were forced to shoe them. Horses are cheap in Patagonia; in the spring prices seem to be higher, and we paid sixty dollars each—about £5 6s.

Our equipment was very simple indeed. We had no suits other than those we wore, and they were already old and shabby. The expedition also took one common pair of reserve trousers. Of underwear each of us had two shifts, but of socks we had a more ample supply. Most of the clothes, some necessary handbooks, perishable provisions, ammunition, a number of small, strong bottles of formaline or spirits, some instruments such as aneroids, thermometers, compasses, &c., films for the camera, a 3½ by 4¾ ins. Kodak, notebooks, journals, and other small things were packed in two small waterproof English leather boxes, specially constructed to be attached to a pack-saddle. We only carried one rifle, a Winchester of small calibre. We had had serious intentions of bringing also a shot-gun, but it disappeared in one of our numerous flittings before we reached our starting-point—firearms are always welcome in Patagonia, and I am pretty sure it is in use somewhere. Overcoats or cloaks we had none, but tied a poncho behind the saddle. Neither did we use riding-boots, only leggings or puttees—certainly to be preferred when one has to walk much. The two chests made one horse-load, at the top of which our coffee-pot was tied. The second load consisted of a small tent for two, very seldom used, but sometimes necessary to protect our equipment, a bag of provisions, and a small bag containing our kitchen requisites, which were of aluminium. The sleeping-bags, a simple blanket-bag with canvas covers, were used as underlayers for the loads, which were thereby prevented from galling the horses’ sides. The load was fixed with a strong rope after Pagels’ patent method—very practical but certainly not without intricate sailor’s knots; woe to him who tried, if only in the slightest degree, to deviate from the approved arrangement: Pagels at once told him the truth. Every load was of about 150 lbs.—quite sufficient if one takes into consideration that the pack-horses had to work all march-days, the saddle-horses only every second day. Besides our own weight, they carried also the maletas, containing various articles of apparel, camera, plant-press, &c., and there also the collections made during a march were stowed away. Perhaps I ought also to say some words about our horse-gear. The pack-saddles were almost new; they had only been used for Quensel’s travels, and were of the common South American type. Our saddles made a varied show: one English, one half English, half Chilean, one of the Falkland pattern, and one Argentine recado. The rest of the harness was pure Patagonian, bozal and cabresta, always carried in the hand with the reins; the stirrup had the usual leather protection, the whip was a common rebenque.

The provisions were of the most simple kind. They were calculated for one month only—during which we certainly counted on the renowned Patagonian hospitality—and consisted of the following articles: ship’s biscuits, flour, rice, oatmeal, coffee, tea, cocoa, maté, dried fruit, sugar, salt, and fat. Luxuries such as butter, condensed milk, &c., were, of course, not to be thought of. A concentrated pea-soup, called Knorr’s “Erbsenwurst,” we carried a supply of for the whole journey, as well as plug tobacco.

October 23 dawned with radiant pampas weather. For the first time we saddled, and it took us a good while to get ready, and not until half-past eleven could the caravan start. The solemn time had come, and, driving our troop in front of us, with good speed we left Bariloche, where people had only tried to fleece us. Before us a free life attracted us, full of privations but far away from cash-books and bills; with deep breaths we filled our lungs with the fresh pampas air, bringing with it an undefinable sense of happiness and freedom.

A group of Bariloche people had gathered to see our start. I daresay no one believed that we should get very far with our few horses, and no doubt they laughed at our dream of reaching Punta Arenas. Never did such a small caravan start in Patagonia on such a long and difficult journey, never before had one reached its far-off destination with all the horses in even better condition than at the start. But we had burnt our boats; there was no return; we must succeed with the scanty resources we had at our disposal.

In the very last moment our expedition got another member, a shaggy dog. He had made Prince’s acquaintance in Bariloche and came lumbering with us. In vain we made the most energetic efforts to chase him away; he hung on, and followed us all the time under the name of Pavo. And then we took our faithful friend with us to Sweden, where he gained citizenship only by royal grace, for Argentina at that time was declared to be infected with rabies.