Across South America. Hiram Bingham
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CHAPTER VI
THROUGH THE ARGENTINE HIGHLANDS
At Tucuman we left the broad gauge of the British-built Buenos Aires and Rosario R. R. for the metre gauge of the North Central Railway, an Argentine Government line, that runs to Jujuy and has recently been continued northward to La Quiaca, on the Bolivian frontier. The distance from Buenos Aires to La Quiaca is 1150 miles. Of this we had done 700 miles in the first twenty-four hours. The last 450 miles required another twenty-four hours, divided into two daylight periods, as sleeping-cars are not run on the North Central R. R. In this stretch the elevation rises from thirteen hundred feet to twelve thousand feet, and the journey lies entirely in the Argentine Highlands.
Our train was mixed passenger and freight. The locomotive was a “Baldwin” and the cars were made in Wilmington, Del. We had, besides, an excellent dining-car that seated sixteen people and provided a table d’hôte meal served in the usual Spanish style. The third-class passengers, however, patronized the enterprising women who sold flat loaves of bread, hard-boiled eggs, and native drinks at the stations where we stopped.
Not long after leaving Tucuman, we passed through a tunnel, the first one in eight hundred miles. Rather a different experience from my journey in Venezuela, from Caracas to Valencia, where in the course of an hour we passed through sixty-five tunnels, one every minute!
With many windings we climbed up into the hills. Grass became scarcer and cactus and mimosa trees more common. We passed a small flock of goats. Dust and sand came into the train in clouds. Occasionally we passed lofty whirlwinds, but none of them troubled us. The humidity to-day was very much less, being under forty per cent. The streams seemed to be very low. We saw a few locusts.
At many of the stations were carts drawn by mules harnessed three abreast, with a loose rope-tackle that is characteristic of this hilly region. The houses of some of the more well-to-do were built of corrugated iron and wood, but most were made of mud. As it was the dry season, the cots were usually out of doors.
The evidences of prosperity at Ruis de los Llanos consisted of new stucco buildings of attractive construction with arcades in front and courtyards in the interior, a modern application of old Spanish architectural ideas. Other buildings were nearing completion, to accommodate the bakers and grocers who supply the quebracho cutters. There are great forests of quebracho on the plains of the Gran Chaco to the east and northeast. The wood is extremely hard and very serviceable for railway-ties. Owing to the difficulty that is experienced in cutting it, it has earned for itself the sobriquet of “axe-breaker.” It is the chief article of export from this region. The bark is shipped to tanneries as far away as California.
At Matan, another important station, there was a new hotel, the “Cosmopolita,” a clean-looking Spanish inn, near the railway station. Near by lay huge logs of quebracho awaiting shipment. The hills were well wooded, and we saw a number of agave plants and mimosa trees. Firewood is shipped from here to the treeless Pampas. Here we noticed, for the first time, riding-boots of a curious fashion, so very corrugated that we dubbed them “concertinas.” They are much in vogue also in southern Bolivia.
At Rio Piedras, where a dozen of our third-class passengers alighted with many baskets and bundles, we heard the familiar hum of a sawmill. Near the track were more quebracho logs. A burly passenger who had joined us at Tucuman, ready dressed and prepared for a long horseback ride, left us here. With a large broad-brimmed hat, loose white jumper, large baggy white cotton trousers, and “concertinas,” he came very near being picturesque. Throwing over his shoulder a pair of cotton saddle-bags well stocked with interesting little bundles, he walked slowly away from the train with that curious shuffling gait common to those who spend most of their lives in the saddle.
Not far away we saw some newly arrived American farm machinery, a part of the largest item of Argentine imports from the United States.
During the course of the afternoon, we wound out of the hills far enough to be able to see far over the plains to the east. Here there was more vegetation and some corn growing. On the left were jagged hills and mountains. The temperature in the car about four o’clock was eighty-five degrees. Our altitude was about twenty-five hundred feet.
As we went north through hot, dusty valleys, climbing up into the foot-hills of the Andes, the faces of the loiterers at the stations lost the cosmopolitan aspect that they have in and about Buenos Aires. We saw more of the typical Gaucho who is descended from the aboriginal Indians of the Pampas and bold Spanish cattle-drivers. Tall in stature, with a robust frame and a swarthy complexion, he possesses great powers of endurance and is a difficult person to handle. His tendencies are much like those of the fast disappearing American “cow puncher,” but he has the disadvantage of having inherited a contempt for manual labor and an excessive vanity which finds expression in silver spurs and brilliantly colored ponchos. His territory is rapidly being invaded by hard-working Italians, more desirable because more dependable.
Near Juramento the country grows more arid and desolate. A few scrubby mimosa trees, sheltering the white tents of railway engineers, offered but little welcome to intending settlers.
Just at dark we reached Guemes, where we were obliged to change cars. The through train from Tucuman goes west to Salta, the most important city of the vicinity. We arrived at Jujuy shortly after nine o’clock. A score of ancient vehicles were waiting to take us a mile up into the town to one of the three hotels. We went to the Bristol and found it quite comfortable according to Spanish-American ideas. That means that the toilet facilities were absent, that the room had a tile floor, and that there were beds and chairs.
In the morning we got up early enough to look at the town for a few minutes before leaving on the semi-weekly train for La Quiaca.
Jujuy was built by Spanish settlers a generation before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, and still preserves the white-walled, red-tiled-roof aspect of the old Spanish-American towns. Lying in a pleasant, well-watered plain, a trifle over four thousand feet above the sea, it is attractively surrounded by high hills. Beyond them, we caught glimpses of lofty barren mountains, the summits of the Andes. The near-by valleys were green, and there is some rainfall even in the dry time of the year. Although Jujuy produces a large amount of sub-tropical fruit, it really owes its importance to its strategical position on the old trade route to Bolivia. It is the last important town on the road because it is the last place that enjoys a salubrious situation. For centuries it has been the natural resting-place for overland travellers.
In fact, these northwestern highlands of Argentina, Jujuy, and Tucuman, were first settled by emigrants from the mountains of Upper Peru now called Bolivia, of which they form the southern extension. Their political and commercial relations were with Potosí and Lima rather than Buenos Aires. The great prosperity of the mining regions of the lofty plateau created a demand for provisions that could not be met by the possibilities of agriculture in the semi-arid irrigated valleys of southern Bolivia. Beef and other provisions could most easily be brought from the fertile valleys near Tucuman and Jujuy. The necessity for some better animal than the llama, to carry not only freight but also passengers, caused a demand for the horses and mules which, raised on the Argentine Pampas, were brought here to be put into shape for mountain travel, and were an important item in the early fairs.
When the railroad came, Jujuy was for many years the northern terminus. This only added to the importance of the town, and increased the reputation