OVER THE ANDES TO BOGOTA 



369 



wound through savannas with grazing 

 herds and marshes with birds of many 

 kinds, past cacao groves, with their shel- 

 tering bois immortelles, luxuriant growths 

 of plantain, plumed cane, towering bam- 

 boos, and stretches of primeval forest. 



The Central Andes, with their ever- 

 changing clouds, rose grandly from 

 across the valley, but the bare slopes of 

 the western range were so near that in 

 places the river laved their feet. 



TROPICAL BIRDS MAY BL OBSERVED FROM 

 STHAMKR 



The birds of a tropical forest are not 

 easily observed, but from the steamer 

 we had most satisfactory views of a 

 large numbers of marsh- and savanna- 

 inhabiting species. There were wood, 

 white, and "cocleet" ibises, lapwings, 

 jacanas and kingfishers, ducks of several 

 kinds, including wild muscovies, and the 

 rare Nation's duck, known from only two 

 specimens until we rediscovered it near 

 Cali. 



Cormorants were nesting by hundreds 

 in the upper limbs of the bamboos — a 

 surprising situation — and giant black and 

 yellow cassique orioles occupied their 

 four- foot long nests swinging from 

 branches high above the river. There 

 were little gray herons and night herons, 

 while hundreds of large white egrets 

 dotted the savannas or, seen in distant 

 flight, gleamed against the mountain-side 

 like wandering snowflakes. 



Pigeons and doves of several species, 

 and green paroquets frequently passed 

 overhead en route to roost or feeding 

 ground, and a flock of roseate spoonbills 

 so crowded the limbs of a leafless tree that 

 it seemed to be a mass of pink blossoms. 



Occasionally we passed, all too rapidly, 

 a family of red howling monkeys asleep 

 in the tree-tops or a capybara staring at 

 us calmly from the shore. 



If all the passengers on a Cauca River 

 steamer are as attentive and cordial to 

 strangers as those with whom we chanced 

 to travel, we assert that the social fea- 

 tures of life aboard ship form no small 

 part of the attractions of a voyage on 

 this beautiful river. Every one among 

 the score of passengers seemed to know 

 every one else, and within an hour after 

 sailing Fuertes and I were included in a 

 merry house-boat party. 



With regret we bade adios to one after 

 the other of our newly made friends as. 

 donning zamarras or chaps, spurs and 

 ruana or poncho, they mounted the horses 

 waiting to take them to their estates. One 

 family, however, a gentleman, his wife, 

 and boy and girl of about six and eight 

 years, accompanied us over the Central 

 Andes. The children were carried all the 

 way to the Magdalena River in chairs on 

 men's backs. Their mother abandoned 

 her chair only on the last day of the jour- 

 ney. Four bearers, or silleros, were re- 

 quired for the three chairs, and they 

 traveled at about the speed of pack-mules, 

 or approximately three miles an hour (see 

 illustrations, page 367). 



FOLLOWING THL QUINDIO TRAIL 



Mules for the journey from Cartago 

 to Girardot should be engaged before 

 leaving Cali, when, if one arrives early 

 in the morning, a start may be made the 

 same day. Our stopping-places in cross- 

 ing the Quindio depend upon the time we 

 leave Cartago and the rate at which we 

 travel. At the best they are rather prim- 

 itive, and to one's sleeping outfit it is well 

 to add a small supply of provisions. 



It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon be- 

 fore we finally got under way, and we 

 went only to Piedro M oiler before putting 

 up for the night. On successive nights 

 thereafter we stopped at Filandia, Salento. 

 Volcancito, El Pie de San Juan, El Eden, 

 Ibagiie, and Chicoral, to the disgust of 

 our arriero, taking eight days for a jour- 

 ney which can be made in four. 



The Cauca Valley at Cartago is much 

 wider than at Cali. For the first two days 

 the way was up and down over low scrub- 

 grown hills, and it was not until we 

 reached the village of Filandia that we 

 had our first view of the Central Andes. 

 A fierce thunder-storm surrounded us by 

 walls of rain and turned the plaza of the 

 little town into a lake. At evening the 

 clouds broke and the light of the setting 

 sun warmed the distant forests, set the 

 snows of Santa Isabel on fire, and crept 

 up over the brown Paramo to rest at 

 nightfall in a rosy glow on the dome of 

 Tolima. 



The real ascent of the range began at 

 Salento, the last town we encountered 

 until we reached Ibagiie at the eastern 



