56 Idle Days in Patagonia. 
by degrees until it disappeared. I have frequently 
read and heard of such a phenomenon, and many 
persons have assured me that they have witnessed 
it “with their own eyes.” But what they have 
witnessed one does not know. I have often seen 
the surface of water, of the ocean, or a lake, or river, 
flushed with a rosy colour at sunset; but to see, 
some time after sunset, the waters of ariver changed 
to blood and crimson fire, this appearance lasting 
until the twilight drew on, and the earth and trees 
looked black by contrast, has been my lot once only 
on this occasion; and I imagine that if any river 
on the globe was known to take such an appearance 
frequently, it would become as celebrated, and draw 
pilgrims as far to see it, as Chimborazo and the 
Falls of Niagara. 
Between the town and the sea, a distance of about 
twenty miles, the valley is mostly on the south side 
of the river ; on the north side the current comes 
very near, and in many places washes the upland. 
I visited the sea by both ways, and rode for some 
distance along the coast on both sides of the river. 
North of the river the beach was shingle and sand, 
backed by low sand dunes extending away into in- 
finitude ; but on the south side, outside the valley, a 
sheer stupendous precipice faced the ocean. A shght 
adventure I had with a condor, the only bird of that 
species I met with in Patagonia, will give some idea of 
the height of this sheer wall of rock. I was riding 
with a friend along the cliffwhen the majestic bird ap- 
peared, and swooping downwards hovered at a height 
of forty feet above our heads. My companion raised 
