Chapter XXI: Across the Andes to Mendoza

The journey from Santiago to Buenos Aires by the passage of the
Cordillera, in former days seldom undertaken between May and October
save by the hardy mail-carriers, may, since the opening of the
railroad in 1910, generally be accomplished in any month of the
year. Sometimes, however, traffic is temporarily suspended on
account of snow-slides blocking the track on the Chilian side of the
tunnel. Such inconvenience, oftener arising in the southern winter
or early spring, will doubtless in time be obviated by the building
of snow-sheds along the dangerous sections, as has been done in the
United States. At present, from July to December it may be well to
inquire about conditions before purchasing a ticket, though
prolonged suspension of traffic is exceptional.

The excursion across the Andes, less fatiguing than formerly, is
also far less exciting. The comfortable safety of a car ride through
the tunnel is tame indeed in comparison with the passage by coach or
muleback over the _cumbre_ 2000 feet above. Yet as prosaic comfort
is ever more popular than unusual and adventurous experience,
tourists today by thousands and tens of thousands make the journey
where formerly passed tens and hundreds. Still, even to the gazer
from a car window the excursion is memorable; to the lover of
sublime grandeur the day affords a rare joy. Very different is this
ride from those across the mountains farther north. Until the
completion of the line from Chimbote up the Huailas Valley, the
Oroya railroad alone will bear comparison with this. Nor need
comparison be made. Each is truly an _elevating_ experience and
wholly unlike the other.

An afternoon departure from Santiago is customary, often as late as
6.15 p.m. The night must be spent at Los Andes whence the start is
made in the early morning. With ample time at one’s disposal, it is
well to take a forenoon train from Santiago to have a few hours at
the pleasant Chilian summer resort which affords opportunities for
many delightful strolls, while the scenery along the way makes a
daylight journey desirable. The monument to the Clark Brothers
unveiled at Los Andes, October 22, 1911, is a worthy honor to the
initiators of this great railway. As early as 1870 they applied for
a concession, though it was 1886 before the first was received;
while they were unable to complete the work, they have the credit of
its beginning. After the _Casa Grace_ took charge on the Chilian
side good progress was made. In 1906 it was arranged to pierce the
tunnel under one control, and the task was accomplished in time for
the Argentine Centennial in 1910. As far as Llai-Llai, where
connection is made with the train from Valparaiso, the route lies
north along the valley over the road which has previously been
traversed. At the junction, venders of delicious fruit are ever on
hand selling, according to the season, pears, peaches, oranges,
grapes, cherries, or figs, at prices calculated to tempt the hungry
tourist. Llai-Llai is a pleasant little town of about 6000 people,
at a height of 2625 feet above the sea. San Felipe, somewhat larger,
is passed before reaching (to use the full name), _Santa Rosa de los
Andes_.

A few rods from the station is the hotel where the night is passed.
The town boasts of another, but through travelers prefer the
pleasant little establishment, often over-crowded, from the rear of
which the train early in the morning departs. In the summer the
climate of Los Andes is delightful, the evenings always cool; at
other seasons the nights are cold and frosty. Leave word in the
office when you wish to be called, or you may be overlooked and miss
your train or your coffee, which is not agreeable. The cars are apt
to be full, so it is well to hasten, if friends wish seats together,
or at times to obtain any at all.

The track follows the Aconcagua River, on which Los Andes is
situated, up a beautiful valley, after 8 or 10 miles growing
narrower between steeper walls. From luxuriant vegetation to bare
rocks and snow, from beauty to grandeur, the change is quickly made.
The river becomes rapidly smaller as we pass above the merry little
streams which contribute to its madly rushing torrent. One bridge is
called the _Puente de las Viscachas_, these being rabbit-like
animals resembling the chinchilla but with coarser fur. The rocks of
varying hue in sunlight and shadow, cliffs and gorges, and the
foaming stream continually attract the eye. A hundred yards beyond
the station, Los Loros, is the place called _Salto del Soldado_, the
Soldier’s Leap, to see which one must keep a sharp lookout on the
left, the train passing on a shelf with the stream 60 feet below.
Various tales are told of the origin of the name, one that in the
War of Independence a patriot escaped from the enemy by leaping the
narrow gorge which is crossed by the train on a bridge. At the
station, Rio Blanco, White River, a stream of that name joins the
Aconcagua. Not far beyond is Guardia Vieja, where for more than two
centuries a sentry or watchman has been stationed for the protection
of the traveler, a necessary though inadequate safe-guard, as in the
old days bandits sometimes lay in wait even for parties of
considerable size. Robberies were not infrequent and murders were by
no means rare.

In ascending the Visp Valley to Zermatt by the aid of the rack and
pinion system, also employed on the Andine, a height of 3000 feet is
gained in a distance of 28 miles. On this road 7000 feet are climbed
in 35 miles, 2000 of these in the last 8 to Juncal, a rapid ascent
for a traffic as distinguished from a purely mountain railway.
_Juncal_ is noteworthy, as the place where formerly the night was
spent by those tourists and business men designing in the early dawn
to set out on saddle animal or in mountain wagon for the summit and
the other side. Farther on is a tranquil little lake, above 9000
feet, an opalescent gem, at times turquoise or sapphire, called the
Lago del Inca. Now the track makes a great curve into an immense
_couloir_, passing at the foot or along the side of cliffs or steep
slopes, where, as in places lower down, rocks small and large seem
ready to fall, as others have already descended. From the farther
side of the great curve we soon look across at the track 1000 feet
beneath. We gaze in admiration upon the splendid gloomy cliffs with
tints of slate color from blue-gray to black, and on rocks with
delicate hues of pink and cream, splashed with red and bronze or
green; intermingled with these are patches of pure white snow.
Observation cars would greatly increase the pleasure. Too soon at
Caracoles, at a height of 10,486 feet, the tunnel’s portal is
reached and the splendor of the majestic scene has vanished. Now for
almost two miles, to be exact, 10,385 feet, the train goes on
through the backbone of the continent at an elevation about the same
as the tunnel’s length. Near the center, the international boundary
is passed; hence, after ten minutes of darkness, coming once more to
daylight, one is in the great country of Argentina on the east side
of the Andes, still in a vast wilderness of gorges, rocks, and peaks
of multifarious shapes and colors, diversified by immense fields of
snow, with many brief visions of grandeur which one would fain tarry
to enjoy. Fortunate the traveler, who, 7 or 8 miles below Las
Cuevas, has at the head of a side valley at the north a glimpse of
colossal _Aconcagua_ 15 miles away, a long ridge of snow arching
into two domes, with a sheer drop of 10,000 feet on its black
southern wall; and farther on a sight of _Tupungato_, 30 miles away
at the south: both mountains first climbed in 1897 by the Fitzgerald
Expedition, though he unfortunately was compelled by mountain
sickness to forego the satisfaction of attaining either summit
himself. The first to reach the supposed apex of the Western
Hemisphere, the top of Aconcagua, according to the latest
measurement, 22,817 feet, was Matias Zurbriggen, the celebrated
Swiss guide, who in almost every land has led English and Americans
to the summits of noted mountains. Alone, January 14, 1897, he
gained this height, and there erected a stone man as is the custom
where possible. In April of the same year, the first ascent of
Tupungato, 21,451 feet, was made, also by Zurbriggen, and the
Englishman, Vines.

=Puenta del Inca.= The first station in Argentina is _Las Cuevas_:
then we drop quickly to _Puenta del Inca_ where a few moments are
allowed for tea. The contrast between the green and luxuriant
vegetation of the Chilian side and the barrenness of the Argentine
is singularly opposite to that in Peru, where the western slopes of
the Andes are mostly desert while the eastern are clothed with the
richest verdure. At Puenta del Inca is a curious formation from
which the place is named, a natural bridge of stratified rock, one
of nature’s marvels. The stream has perforated a bank about 20 feet
thick so as to form, 80 feet above the river, a fine arched bridge,
at the top 150 feet long and 20 wide, and nearly 30 feet thick. The
piers have been strengthened by calcareous deposits from springs
which gush from the earth just at the bridge. On the left bank of
the stream a path of steps partly cut in the rocks leads down to hot
waters. First comes the Bath of Venus, an effective grotto of white
stalactites. Next is the Champagne Spring, its foaming waters
revealing a considerable pressure from below. Among other warm
springs beyond is one called Mercury. On all sides gush forth these
waters cold, hot, and tepid, saturated with carbonic acid gas; the
Venus is 86°, the Champagne 93°, the same when the path is covered
with six feet of snow. The waters are superior to the more noted
Vichy in containing twice the quantity of carbonic acid, hence
greater effervescence; and five times as much iron. This renders
them a real treasure, a few months’ treatment causing maladies to
disappear (they say) upon which the Vichy waters make no impression.
The iron, salts, and gas of the waters make them efficacious in
gout, rheumatism, and severe stomach affections, as well as an
excellent tonic for those who believe such to be required. Sulphur,
good for skin diseases, is also present. The _Hotel del Inca_
affords comfortable accommodations (including a billiard room); all
that could be expected at an altitude of 8924 feet, for a daily fee
of six _pesos_ ($2.64) with some extras.

One who is ambitious to ascend one of the lofty peaks near by, or
who would merely stroll to a lesser height to gaze upon those above,
or who would wander in strange valleys and on ragged slopes will
here find the most favorable headquarters for his rambles, as well
as cure for many ailments. While the great mountains, Aconcagua and
Tupungato, no longer afford opportunity for a _first_ ascent, there
are many other peaks of various altitudes, the summits of which are
yet untrodden; one, lofty Mercedario, about 22,000 feet, to the
north of Aconcagua, believed by some to be second in height to that
alone. Expert climbers only should attempt exploits of such
magnitude, and these not without Alpine equipment and more; for to
the ordinary paraphernalia of proper shoes, ropes, and ice axes must
be added tents, sleeping bags, etc. The season for climbing here is
not the same as in Peru and Bolivia, but during the summer of this
region, December and January. Strange to say, although in the
Temperate Zone, so vastly farther from the equator, these mountains
have infinitely less snow upon their slopes than have Huascarán and
Illampu. They are therefore much easier to climb, making Swiss
guides not an imperative necessity, so far as the technical
difficulties are concerned: though whether reliable companions as
porters could be secured upon the ground is an extremely doubtful
matter.

But on this journey by rail how much has one missed! Discomfort
indeed has been avoided; but at the cost of a glorious and exciting
experience. In former days, what a rush and bustle at Juncal! in the
chilly hour between three and four a.m., when an army of pleasure
and of business travelers hurried to secure places in the mountain
wagons, or to select a gentle and sturdy animal for the seven hours’
ride. The coach drivers were reckless Jehus who madly raced for the
summit and then for the lower goal, amid a caravan of freight
wagons, baggage animals, and riders, the latter to their joy soon
left behind. Though the roads were called good they were deep with
sand, and have no such great curves as the roads over Alpine passes.
Short zigzags with acute angles, a roadbed rough with ruts and
stones, few walls at the corners where a slip over the edge would
mean a roll of a few thousand feet, made a ride in a swaying coach
behind horses going at a gallop assuredly exciting to people with
any nerves. Some, once embarked and unable to escape, would turn
their thoughts from danger to admiration of the scenery, reflecting
perhaps that accidents were rare. The view of mighty walls, of
glaciers near at hand, of distant glorious mountains; the fine pure
air ever colder, though alas! ever thinner, was a blissful
experience for those who could enjoy it; but not for the
faint-hearted either literally or figuratively. Here and there one
would grow faint, become unconscious, perhaps even pitch out of the
wagon: oftener a stalwart man than a frail woman. On they would go,
their friends uncertain whether a temporary weakness or a serious,
possibly fatal affection was attacking the victim.

At last the _cumbre_ or highest point was reached, 12,796 feet above
the sea; not a sharp ridge, but a nearly level stretch a quarter of
a mile across among the massive hills and mountains: a tremendous
range of gloomy, desolate, forbidding peaks, or a splendid rampart
of majestic, glorious mountains, according to the soul and mood of
the spectator. Here in the midst of this great solitude is the most
impressive monument, men say, in all the world, _the Christ of the
Andes_, a bronze figure of Christ of heroic size, 26 feet, one hand
outstretched in blessing, the other supporting a still higher cross.
The circumstance of its erection, the sentiment involved, as well as
the unique position of the monument, make it the most remarkable in
the world’s history.

Chile and Argentina in 1900 were on the verge of war over a boundary
dispute involving 80,000 square miles of territory in the Patagonian
country. Immense sums expended for warships and other preparations
were the cause of abnormally high taxes, the products of which were
needed rather for the development of physical resources and of
education. The British Ministers employed their good offices and two
bishops, one of each country, traveled among their towns and
villages preaching the cause of Peace and Arbitration. Bishop
Benavente in Buenos Aires, on Easter Sunday 1900, first suggested
the erecting of a statue of Christ upon the boundary, to prevent if
possible any recurrence of strife. A treaty was made, the
controversy was submitted to the arbitration of the British Monarch;
King Edward entrusted the case to jurists and geographers whose
decision, dividing the disputed territory, was cheerfully accepted.
In June 1903, Chile and Argentina, pleased with the outcome of this
matter, made a general arbitration treaty, the first ever concluded
among nations; a considerable disarmament followed releasing much
money for needed internal improvements, and good feeling and
confidence have replaced bitterness and jealousy.

In 1901 the women of Buenos Aires, on the initiative of Señora de
Costa, President of the Christian Mothers’ Association of that city,
acting upon the suggestion of Bishop Benavente, undertook to secure
funds for a statue. A young Argentine sculptor, Mateo Alonso,
created the design; the statue was cast from old Argentine cannon.
In May 1903, the Chilian representatives came by sea to Buenos Aires
for the ratification of the treaties, when the statue of Christ was
inspected and Señora de Costa pleaded that it should be placed on
the highest practicable point on the boundary of the two countries.
In February, 1904, the final steps were taken. The statue was
carried by rail to Mendoza, and on gun carriages up the mountain
side, soldiers and sailors in dangerous spots taking the ropes from
the mules. On the 13th of March, 1904, the dedication ceremonies
took place in the presence of hundreds who from both sides had come
up the night before and here encamped to witness this extraordinary
spectacle. The Argentines stood on the soil of Chile, the Chilians
on that of Argentina. The booming of guns, the sound of music
re-echoed through the mountains. When all was ready, the monument
unveiled, there was a moment of solemn silence, followed by the
dedication of the statue to the whole world, as a lesson of peace
and good will.

The monument consists of an octagonal granite column 22 feet high
upon which is a hemisphere of granite with a partial sketch of the
world’s outlines. On this stands the bronze Christ 26 feet high, the
cross extending five feet above. Two bronze tablets on the granite
base, the gift of the Workingmen’s and Workingwomen’s Unions of
Buenos Aires, bear inscriptions in Spanish, on one side statistics
and dates, on the other—

“_Sooner shall these mountains crumble into dust than Argentines and
Chilians break the peace to which they have pledged themselves at
the feet of Christ the Redeemer._”

Until the opening of the railroad in May 1910, this great statue was
annually passed by thousands who paused here for a moment in the
midst of their dizzy ride to rest and to gaze upon the scene. Now it
stands ever lonely between heaven and earth, the silence no more
broken by the raucous shouts of swearing coachmen and muleteers, or
by the crude jests of a boisterous throng; to the few who now
venture along that solitary way, a solemn spectacle.

On this journey over the _cumbre_ one is likely to descry specimens
of the great condor, oftener to be seen in Chile than in the
countries nearer the equator. In the many days I have spent above
15,000 feet in Peru and Bolivia, not one appeared within the range
of my vision. In the mountainous regions of Chile, the birds are so
numerous as to be a pest, attacking pigs, sheep, children, and
rarely a grown man; hence a reward for condors dead or alive has
been offered by the Government. From the top of the pass down to Las
Cuevas near the tunnel entrance it was said to be a swift slide at
breakneck speed. The thankfulness with which the tourist descended
from the coach to enter the prosaic train may well be imagined. The
sturdy pedestrian was the one who in safety and tranquillity might
truly enjoy the magnificent visions, while others in terror had
fleeting glimpses of the splendid panorama. One should not, however,
even with a good revolver, in these days venture alone upon the
traverse, unless thoroughly seasoned to greater heights; for though
the brigands who once haunted this region have probably departed to
more frequented scenes, the danger of an attack of mountain sickness
or of a sudden storm, especially towards the beginning of winter,
should deter most persons from the excursion except with suitable
companions and equipment. It should be noted that high winds
frequently prevail in these lofty regions after nine or ten in the
morning, strong enough at times to hurl horse and rider from the
track to the depths below; this fact accounts for the unearthly hour
at which the start was formerly made for the ride over the _cumbre_.
Stone huts called _casachas_, anciently built as refuges from storm,
are scattered along the road, though now apt to be snow-filled and
useless.

Below Puenta del Inca, the region seems like the interior of an
extinct volcano, with variously tinted volcanic rocks. Dotting the
slope of a jagged mountain, some odd small black pinnacles, called
_penitentes_, are supposed to resemble toiling pilgrims, and the
perpendicular cliffs above suggest a cathedral. On other slopes are
_nieves penitentes_, ice pinnacles, curiously formed by the action
of sun and wind, these the original _penitentes_, as the pilgrims
were garbed in white.

Beyond _Punta de las Vacas_ is a point on the left where the rock
strata are of tints especially magnificent. At the station
_Uspallata_, the narrow gorge opens into a little plain at right
angles, where river and railroad both turn south. The name Uspallata
is applied to the whole pass: its passage by a division of San
Martin’s army with cannon was a remarkable military exploit: the
general himself with the larger force crossed to the north of
Aconcagua a slightly lower but colder pass called Los Patos.

=Cacheuta.= Near this station, 40 kilometers from Mendoza, are more
hot baths, on the left of the railroad descending, but on the right
bank of the river. Here is a surface of about 3000 square meters
where by digging to a depth of 2 or 3 feet hot water will gush
forth, the temperature varying according to the location, the
hottest water near the river, 112°, the lowest, 79°. The waters are
valuable to sufferers from rheumatism, articular, muscular, and
visceral; less so for neuralgic pains, which may return. Women are
benefited in their special ails. The waters strongly stimulate the
nervous system, the power of nutrition, and the whole organic system
including the heart action and circulation, and are therefore
forbidden to persons suffering from diseases of the heart and
circulation, some of whom pay for their rashness with their lives.
The bath establishment, affording fair accommodations, a dining-room
seating 250, and a billiard room, receives about 20,000 guests a
year. Summer visitors are the most numerous. The baths include a
swimming pool, and smaller tanks with water hot or cold, and a
grotto for Russian baths. The price for two meals daily and bath is
six _pesos_, or second class 4.50. The two meals are _almuerzo_ and
dinner, morning coffee being extra, a curious custom first observed
in Chile but obtaining largely in Argentina. The Indian name,
_Cacheuta_, is derived from the fact that here an Indian chief
bearing, with attendants, two skins full of gold was met by
Spaniards as he was going to ransom the Inca. The Indians succeeded
in deceiving the Spaniards and concealing the gold. The secret was
well kept until a poor Indian, befriended by a missionary, revealed
the hiding place; but there was a mistake somewhere as all search
was vain.

At length the mountains are left behind, probably after dusk has
fallen, so that the arrival at _Mendoza_ is in the early evening.
The tourist who is making a hasty trip will hurry across the station
to the probably waiting train, by which he will arrive in Buenos
Aires the following evening. The more leisurely, and the tired
traveler will take a carriage to the Grand Hotel where an excellent
dinner will be enjoyed and comfortable night quarters may be
obtained. In looking about the town and visiting one of the great
_bodegas_, a day or two will be agreeably spent.

_Mendoza Hotels_, the _Grand_, the _Club_, the _Francia_ and others.
At the Grand, on Plaza San Martin, the table was unexpectedly good;
the dinner, served on the broad veranda, from seven to nine on a
balmy summer evening, was a genuine pleasure.

=Mendoza=, with 45,000 inhabitants, the largest city in West
Argentina, has a remarkable record. Strange, indeed, that this town
at the base of the loftiest of the Andes, by these separated from
one ocean, and by 650 miles of pampa from the other, was founded
nearly fifty years before the first settlement in the United States
and twenty years before the city of Buenos Aires came permanently
into being. If we knew or reflected more on the bold deeds of other
days in other countries, we might, perchance, have more respect for
others and less assurance of our own great superiority. May 2, 1561
(some say March 2, 1560), a city was founded by Pedro del Castillo
in a fruitful spot watered by the Mendoza River. At an altitude of
2500 feet, in the longitude of Portland, Maine, and a latitude
corresponding to that of Charleston, it is an agreeable place, with
plazas, wide, pleasant streets, and attractive buildings; but all
seems new. Two cities there are, the living and the dead; not as in
Cuzco, the one of an earlier race, built over and around by
invaders, but an old city of the sixteenth century, a new one of the
nineteenth. Unless aware of this fact, the old will be ignored, the
visitor passing on, unaware of its existence. Some, indeed, may
prefer so to do, but others will desire to have a glimpse of the
ruins: for the city of 1561, 300 years later, was utterly destroyed
by a tremendous earthquake. The catastrophe was of a singular
character. At 8.30 p.m., March 20, 1861, a subterranean groan was
heard. On the instant, before there was time to flee, the house
walls crumbling fell, the roofs in the middle, so that the people,
generally in their houses, perished to the number of 10,000-15,000.
Some, who were promenading in the streets or plaza, were killed or
thrown to the ground; but many of these who were saved engaged in
the work of rescue: too few, however, to do effective labor, so that
a large number who had not been killed outright, confined among the
ruins, perished from asphyxiation and starvation. From lamps and
fires in the dwellings and the breaking of gas pipes, a
conflagration followed, rendering the night more horrible. Some
districts next day were flooded from the obstruction of the canals;
the odor of dead bodies became insupportable, as the survivors were
too few to remove them. The shocks had continued until nothing was
left standing; there were 19 within the next 24 hours, 17 of which
were violent; 14 more the next day; gradually they diminished,
coming to an end in May. It is extraordinary that the strength of
this violent convulsion was confined to a district 60 miles long and
6 wide, extending southeast from the Uspallata Valley. A slight jar
was felt at Buenos Aires, but in Chile across the Andes no tremor at
all. Assistance, though promptly sent, was long delayed in arrival,
as at that time practically no railroads existed in Argentina.
Succor first came from the neighboring towns of San Juan and San
Luis, then from Chile, all of Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay, Peru,
and Europe; by which the survivors were enabled to rehabilitate
themselves.

There was the usual talk of changing the location of the city to a
site not far away near granite hills, indicating a more solid
substratum; but the people as elsewhere refused to move, rebuilding
close by in the lighter Chilian fashion, with a larger use of wood,
and employing much material taken from the ruins. Thus these have to
some extent disappeared, but it is worth while to have the coachman
drive you over, if you care to see the destruction wrought.

The _new_ city of Mendoza has recently experienced a rapid growth
and great prosperity. Of the seven plazas, most important are the
San Martin on which is the Grand and another hotel, also the
handsome building of the Bank of the Province; and the Plaza
Independencia, larger and finer, around which are already erected or
about to be built, a new Government Palace, a Legislative Building,
and a Hall of Justice. Other objects of more or less interest
according to one’s taste, are churches, convents, libraries, a
national college, a kindergarten of the very latest model, a normal
and an agricultural school, factories of various industries, several
Clubs of foreigners here resident, hospitals, orphan asylums, and a
fine penitentiary. There are many broad streets, the chief avenue
for shopping and promenade, the San Martin, being 100 feet wide with
four rows of fine poplars. The streets, clean and well paved, are
lined with a profusion of trees, more than 10,000; so many as to
render the atmosphere at times (it is said) stifling and unhealthy.
The houses are mainly of one story and none are above two, out of
consideration for the earthquakes.

A comical and original method of street watering may here be
observed. Considerable streams run along the sides of the main
avenue, if not elsewhere, and boys with buckets on the end of long
poles dip these into the water and throw it upon the driveway, a
primitive but effective method.

On the west of the city an immense park is being developed into a
charming resort at the edge of the Andean foothills. The handsome
bronze gates at the entrance, costing $25,000, were imported from
England. Within are splendid driveways lighted by electricity;
beautiful flower beds; thousands of trees and shrubs; an interesting
zoölogical garden; a pretty botanical garden; and a charming lake
nearly a mile long and 330 feet wide, arranged with boating
facilities, beautified by islands, and furnished with a splendid
grand stand on a sloping shore with seating accommodations for 3000
people. Not far away is a _rond point_, with a kiosk as a band
stand. Already a delightful resort which no one should fail to
visit, it promises to be a truly magnificent pleasure ground. If
there is one to compare with it in the United States in a city of
twice the size, it has not come to my attention.

To many the greatest interest of Mendoza will be in the neighboring
vineyards and _bodegas_. Many fortunes, large and small, have been
made in viticulture in Argentina, and this region east of the Andean
foothills is wonderfully well calculated for its development.
Investments in this business return as high as 25 to 30 per cent
profits. One hectare (2½ acres) of land will bear 300 to 400 cwt. of
grapes, which sell at 3 or 4 _pesos_ a cwt., an Argentine _peso_
being 44 cents. An economical Italian family can live on the returns
from a single hectare. Among the various industries of the province
wine production is the most important, increasing between 1895 and
1908 from the value of 9 to 44 million _pesos_. The largest of the
_bodegas_ or wineries is that of _Domingo Tomba_, whose wines have
received at European Expositions many gold and silver medals. This
great establishment at _Godoy Cruz_, a pretty town half an hour by
rail from Mendoza or a pleasant drive, may be visited in a half day.
Interesting at any time it is especially so during the grape season
which lasts from February to May, the fruit coming in first from the
north and along down to the southern limit of production. Señor
Tomba owns several large vineyards, 3000 acres, and purchases the
entire product of others. The _bodega_, established by his brother
Antonio (now deceased) in 1886, then producing 1000 hectolitres,
increased to a production of 254,000 in 1909. All essentials of a
first-class establishment are here found. The employees, like the
proprietor, are mainly of Italian birth. It is an immense property
with many buildings of various kinds. Rows of enormous casks for
fermentation and deposit contain 220 hectolitres each, others are
smaller, also there are great tanks of brick. The large two-wheeled
carts for transportation are drawn by four horses, one ahead and
three abreast, the driver riding one of the three. A large patio
contains a pretty garden and a monument to the founder of the House.
The buildings are as neat as possible and of fine workmanship. The
wine is excellent, of good body, but not designed for export, not
improving with age. For ordinary table use there is none better, and
the demand for it in Argentina, in spite of continually enlarged
production, is always greater than the supply.

Mendoza is a popular winter resort for many Argentinians on account
of its picturesque surroundings and generally cloudless sky, with a
superb view of snowclad heights; but most Americans would consider a
frequent temperature in the forties a trifle chill without a fire,
and would hie away to warmer climes.

The extensive system of irrigation carried on in the Province
renders it highly productive of alfalfa, wheat, and corn, as well as
grapes; also of vegetables rivaling the California giants, onions as
large as plates, colossal carrots and radishes, at some seasons,
mushrooms, marvellous in size and flavor, all these largely
transported to Buenos Aires. As an attractive center of immigration
this is the third province of the Republic.

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