126 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



point that stretches out into the lake. Although this was a ride 

 of upwards of twenty miles, I saw no living thing upon the land, 

 and on the water only a couple of grebes and three upland geese. 

 My way lay through dense thickets of low growth, the going 



^;;'^ilp# 



LAKE BUENOS AIRES 



very sandy and treacherous. The high-water mark, or, as I should 

 rather say, the flood-mark of the lake was outlined by piles and 

 piles of driftwood of milk-toolhlike whiteness. Some of the trunks 

 were as large in girth as my bjody. All this comes down from 

 the mountain forests, carried by torrents from the melting snows. 

 The vegetation on that side of the lake was the most florid and 

 sizeable that I had so far seen in Patagonia. High flowering 

 grass, thorn-bush thickets almost impenetrable, and between these 

 and the margin of the water a wide strewing of rotten trunks of 

 antarctic beech and poles of an arborescent grass-like bamboo. 

 On my way back I made a short cut through the edge of the lake, 

 of which the bed was shingly. 



