CROSSING THE ANDES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3994, 30 September 1930, Page 79

CROSSING THE ANDES.

A NEW ZEALANDER’S IMPRESSIONS.

By

A. A.

After leaving Buenos Aires the landscape consisted of dead level plains, on which was the greenest of green grass—at the end of May. Winter! Here was the “ amazing Argentine ” proper, with its huge herds of cattle, while hundreds and hundreds of ostriches roamed at large over the prairies. Were I a farmer this would be the land for me, a land that requires no fertilisers. Nature has supplied it with all the fertilisers it needs. A glorious and extensive sunset enhanced the already picturesque effect of the prairie country, though some people would call it monotonous scenery.

A girl from Mexico shared my “ dormitorio ” —a Spanish theatrical dancer named Lupe Arozamena. With my limited amount of Spanish and her limited amount of English we were able to keep up a desultory conversation at intervals. The sleeping accommodation on the trans-Andine train is very ordinary, though quite comfortable. So much for Foster Fraser’s “ train de luxe ” across the Andes! The following morning the steward

called us at the unholy hour - of 5 a.m., and we did not arrive at Mendoza until 6.30 a.m. Leaving Mendoza at 9 a.m. there were plenty of vineyards to be seen, and pretty hedgerows covered with clusters of bright red berries. 9.30 a.m. —right into the Andes now—much cacti and coloured rocks! Just stopped at Cacheuta, a small hot bath resort; a perfect day for scenery—golden willows, rushing mountain streams and tier upon tier of terraced rock. Customs officers board the train—Argentine officials looking for contraband; never before has my suitcase undergone such a searching examination.

Now we see the cave-dwellings we read about, also low dwellings made of twigs, chickens running around (we’ll have some for dinner to-night on the train!) Cactus everywhere—it must be a fine sight in summer when in flower. The varied coloured rocks with the clear blue sky above, are a constant delight to the eye—yellow rocks, brown rocks, pink rocks, copper coloured rocks, and, towering above them, snow-clad peaks. No thrills in the way of snow storms, no hold-ups by bandits, no crossing between trains on mules, such as I was told by my friends in Buenos Aires, might be my fate.

3.30 p.m. At last we have a thrill—the engine has broken down. . . . Delay of an hour and a-halff Now we come to Los Penitentes (the pilgrims) an interesting peak, the rocks resembJing a cathedral, while isolated rocks in front on the slope resemble pilgrims walking, hence the name. Then “ Puerte del Incas (Bridge of the Incas) —the bridge is of natural formation and is so nomed because the Incas liked to have everything natural. Then comes Lago Inca, at an elevation of over 8000 feet, a lake of snow and ice water.

After sunset the peaks, when not entirely snow- covered, stood out black and lowering, or black and white in startling distinction, and the effect was very impressive. Sometimes the snow was deep all around us. I gazed until it was too dark to see anything except when we arrived at some little lonely station, high up among the peaks, where the men wore huge gloves, sheep-skin lined, and caps with flaps over their ears. We arrive at Los Andes after 8 p.m., where we change trains, and where the Chilean customs officers interview us. Though we were in a luxurious Pulman the last three hours in the Valparaiso train were unutterably weary. After midnight I got my first glimpse of Valparaiso, the harbour surrounded by hills in horseshoe shape. The lights twinkling all over the hillsides made me think of Dunedin or ’Wellington.