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Cornugaya Directory 07
Page 04
From La Merced there was a trail from one to three metres wide, cut out
in the solid rock and skirting all along the foaming river, which flowed
in the opposite direction from that in which we were travelling. In
several places narrow tunnels had been excavated in the rock, through
which the trail proceeded. These tunnels were dangerous when you
encountered caravans of pack animals coming through from the opposite
direction. The animals often got jammed in the middle of the tunnel,
tearing their loads to pieces in their attempts to disentangle
themselves. Once I got jammed myself, and came out minus a patch of skin
several inches long from my left shin and knee.
The trail--about half a metre wide--wound its way up to a great height
above the foaming river. There were beautiful ferns of immense height,
some of which had finely ribbed, gigantic leaves. Graceful yellow
flowers, or sometimes beautiful red ones, were to be seen on tall trees
with white, clean stems. We passed a coffee plantation, owned by English
people, near a charming settlement of whitewashed houses on the opposite
side of the river. When we came to cross the Rio Las Palmas--heavily
swollen--we were once more nearly swept away in riding across with water
up to our chests. The baggage naturally suffered a good deal in those
constant immersions. This was, unfortunately, the wrong season for
crossing the Andes; but I could not help that, as I was anxious to get
through, and could not wait for the fine weather to come.
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