SOUTH AMERICAN MOUNTAINS.
THE ANDES.
These are the highest mountains in America, and indeed, next to the Himalayas, in the world. The whole chain is more than 4,000 miles in length, extending throughout South America from north to south, generally at the distance of about 150 miles from the western coast, and reaching in many places an elevation of 20,000 feet above the level of the sea. The mountains of the chain differ considerably in character in different parts: in some places, they are blended together into one entire mass; and in others they are divided into two or three distinct ridges. In Chili, they are about 120 miles in breadth, presenting numerous pointed summits of prodigious height; in Peru, they divide into three irregular ridges; and in Quito they form two ridges, between which lies a kind of table land from 15 to 20 miles in breadth, at an elevation of 9,000 feet above the level of the sea. These ridges are called Cordilleras, from a Spanish word generally used to designate a mountain chain, and which is supposed to mean anything long, or drawn out. The word Andes signified originally the copper district; so that the expression Cordillera de los Andes is not tautology, but means literally, the mountain chain of the copper district. Generally, however, the western chain of the mountains is called the Cordillera, and the eastern chain the Andes.
Though the northern part of the Andes lies so near the equator, the summits of the peaks are all covered with snow; yet there are no glaciers or valleys covered with ice as in the European mountains. The mountains of the Andes are principally composed of porphyry, basalt, and green stone, which being often broken into columns, appear at a distance like ruined castles, and produce a very striking effect. The whole chain is subject to the most terrible earthquakes, and it contains no less than forty volcanoes, which are constantly burning, and which discharge not only lava, but enormous quantities of water; and near Quito, liquid mud, often including myriads of small dead fish. In some parts the mountains, like the fabled cave of Æolus, seem at times to let out their imprisoned air, and produce such furious gusts of wind as to sweep every thing before them to a vast distance. In other districts, the efforts of the contending elements are betrayed, especially during the rainy season, by a doleful moaning noise, or hollow and portentous groans, which cannot be heard without inspiring secret awe and dread.
In Tschudi's Travels in Peru, lately ably translated by Miss Ross, there is a striking description of the difference between the Western chain or Cordillera, and the Eastern chain or Andes. "The Cordillera presents an aspect totally different from that of the Andes. It is more wild and rugged, its ridge is broader, and its summits less pyramidical. The summits of the Andes terminate in slender sharp points like needles. The Cordillera descends in terraces to the level heights, whilst the slope of the Andes is uniform and unbroken. The summits of the calcareous hills which stretch eastward from the great chain of the Cordillera are broken and rugged. Large cubical blocks of stone become detached from them, and roll down into the valleys. This disintegration, which is the effect of protracted rain and cold, imparts to the mountain ridges the most singular and beautiful forms; their fantastic outlines appearing like the work of human hands. Imagination may easily picture them to be monuments of the time of the Incas; for, viewed from a distance, they look like groups of giants or colossal animals. In former times the Indians viewed these masses of rock with devout reverence, for they believed them to be the early inhabitants of the earth whom Pachacamac in his anger transformed to stone."
A person climbing the Andes may go through, in the course of a few hours, every kind of climate in the known world. In the plains, under a burning sun, he will find pine apples and bananas growing wild in the fields; a little higher, groves of oranges and lemons will occur; and higher still, extensive fields of maize. Higher, the hills are covered with vines laden with grapes; and higher still, come the hardy fruits of Europe, followed by chestnuts, oaks, and beeches. Still higher, are pines and firs; and above them, stunted birches, and dwarf rhododendrons, heaths, and mosses, which extend to the border of perpetual snow, the boundary of which, so near the equator, is about 17,000 feet above the level of the sea.
One of the most remarkable peculiarities, however, which distinguish the Andes from the European mountains, is, their being subject to what are called quebradas, or perpendicular rents, which form very narrow vales of immense depth, whose terrific walls, fringed below with luxuriant trees and shrubs, seem to lift their naked and barren heads to the distant skies. The noted crevices of Chota and Cutaco are nearly a mile deep in vertical descent. The Icononzo, remarkable for its natural bridges, is a small quebrada or cleft of the mountains, through which flows the river of the Suma Paz, descending from the highest upland desert. The rocks here consist of two different kinds of sandstone, the one extremely compact, and the other of a slaty texture, divided into horizontal strata. The rent was probably caused by an earthquake, which the harder portion of the stony mass resisted; so that when the crumbling stone was swept away it remained and now forms a bridge, which connects the upper parts of the chasm. This very curious bridge consists of two parts, the upper of which is the bridge that was crossed by Bonpland and Humboldt, and which has a railing along it for the convenience of travellers. Below this is a second bridge, which is never used for any purposes of traffic. The upper arch is fifty feet long, forty feet broad, and eight feet thick at the middle. Its height is about 300 feet above the surface of the torrent, which has a medium depth of twenty feet. The lower bridge is about sixty feet below the other, and it curves so that the middle is the lowest part. It also differs from the other in being composed of three slanting blocks of stone wedged together, which probably fell from the rocks at the same instant of time, and struck against the sides of the crevice in their descent.
In the heights of the Cordillera, the effect of the diminished atmospheric pressure on the human frame shews itself in intolerable symptoms of weariness and extreme difficulty of breathing. This malady is called the veta, and the natives, ignorant of its real causes, ascribe it to the exhalations of metals, especially antimony, which is extensively used in the mining operations. "The first symptoms of the veta," Tschudi tells us, "are usually felt at the elevation of 12,600 feet above the sea. These symptoms are vertigo, dimness of sight and hearing, pains in the head, and nausea; and blood flows from the eyes, nose, and lips." Another scourge of the traveller in the Cordillera is the disease called the surumpe. "It is a violent inflammation of the eyes," Tschudi tells us, "caused by the sudden reflection of the bright rays of the sun on the snow. By the rarefied air and the cutting wind, the eyes are kept in a state of constant irritation, and are rendered very susceptible to the effects of glaring light." In these regions the sky is often completely overshadowed by snow clouds, but as soon as the plain is covered by a sheet of snow, the sun's rays burst suddenly through the breaking clouds, and the eyes, unprepared for the dazzling glare, are almost blinded. A sharp burning pain is immediately felt; the eyes become violently inflamed, and the lids swell and bleed. The pain is, indeed, so intense that it frequently brings on delirium. The sensation resembles that which it may be imagined would be felt if Cayenne pepper were rubbed into the eyes. "In the Cordillera, Indians are often seen sitting by the road-side shrieking in agony, and unable to proceed on their way. They are more liable to the disease than the Creoles, who, when travelling in the mountains, protect their eyes by green spectacles and veils."
The highest peak of the Andes is called Chimborazo, and it was long supposed to be the loftiest mountain in the world, as it is more than 24,000 feet above the level of the sea. Humboldt attempted to ascend it, but when he had nearly gained the summit he desisted on finding that drops of blood issued from under his nails and from his eye-lids, in consequence of the rarity of the air. Though the summit of this mountain was so difficult of access, Humboldt informs us that a road 1,000 miles in length is found in its neighbourhood; and similar gigantic labours of the ancient Incas may be traced throughout the province.
Humboldt has described his passage across the mountain of Quindiu, which, he says, is one of the most difficult of access of any in the whole chain. "This mountain," he says, "is covered with a thick, uninhabited forest, which, even in the finest season, cannot be traversed in less than ten or twelve days. Not even a hut is to be seen, nor can any means of subsistence be found. Travellers, at all times of the year, furnish themselves with a month's provision, since it often happens that, by the melting of the snows, and the sudden swell of the torrents, they cannot descend on either side of the mountain."
The highest point of the road is 11,500 feet above the level of the sea. In some places the passage is along a slender ridge, or ledge of rocks, which it would be almost impossible for strangers to pass without falling, if the attendants did not hold a pole to serve as a sort of rail to the path. "The pathway, which forms the passage, is only twelve or fifteen inches in breadth, and has the appearance in several places of a gallery dug and left open to the sky. In this part of the Andes, as almost in every other, the rock is covered with a thick stratum of clay, in which the streamlets which flow down the mountains have hollowed out gullies about twenty feet deep. Along these crevices, which are full of mud, the traveller is forced to grope his passage, the darkness of which is increased by the thick vegetation that covers the opening above, so that the oxen, which are the beasts of burden commonly used in this country, can scarcely force their way through. Some of these galleries are more than a mile in length, and if perchance the traveller meets some loaded oxen in one of these passages, he finds no means of avoiding them but by turning back, or climbing the earthen wall which borders the crevice, and keeping himself suspended by laying hold of the roots which have penetrated to this depth from the surface of the ground."
THE ORGAN MOUNTAINS OF BRAZIL.
The Organ Mountains of Brazil received that name from a fancied resemblance which the peaks, rising gradually one above another, bear to the pipes of an organ. "These peaks," Mr. Gardner informs us, "form part of a mountain range situated about sixty miles to the north of Rio, and which, branching out in various directions, stretches from Bahia to Santa Catharina, a distance of about 2,000 miles."
When Mr. Gardner began to ascend these mountains, he found for the first mile and a half a tolerably good path, leading through a forest of fine trees, with very little underwood, except some young palms, hundreds of which were cut down by the blacks who were clearing a road for the party. After leaving this forest the party came to another very thick forest composed almost entirely of bamboos, which it was very difficult to penetrate through. After this the party came upon an old track of a tapir, which is the largest South American quadruped, though it is not much bigger in the body than a calf about six months old, and it stands upon much shorter legs. The track was about two feet broad, and so well beaten, that the party following it advanced without any great difficulty, and were at leisure to admire all the beauties of the forest, which was quite alive with some of the most beautiful specimens that can be imagined of both the animal and the vegetable kingdoms. Among the most curious specimens of the former, were numerous snakes and lizards of the most brilliant colours, and innumerable frogs, some of the small tree kind looking like beautiful green butterflies as they sprang from branch to branch. On the ground were innumerable other frogs, some of enormous size, and others uttering various discordant cries, among the most remarkable of which may be mentioned the blacksmith frog, whose every sound rings in the ears like the clang of a hammer upon an anvil.