-32- 
with canned goods left over from the sunnier season . \ At a nearby 
inn, called the Hostelleria de Cabal lo Blanco, we were able to 
lunch heartily off sardines , roast beef and cheese, and then 
drove home , through a beautiful forest, where red masses of 
quintral and pale, fresh bunches of Spanish moss festooned the 
trees. 
We all took a walk into the village, about a mile from 
the Parque Hotel, and bought ourselves berets, or gurras , Argentine 
style. The muddy streets and the low frame buildings, with 
more horsemen than chauffeurs on the road, give a real impression 
of a frontier town. 
In the evening the local ]h otographer, Kalbschmidjr, brought 
over his movies of ski-ing in the nearby mountains, and we all 
wished we could see this country under snow. 
May 51 - Bari loche 
It was cold when we awoke, and had been raining. There 
was fresh snow on the mountains. We went into town again, as 
much for the walk as anythi ng, and came back through a hailstorm 
i that bit for a few minutes . 
We drove over to the Newberys in the afternoon, a good 
road that gave us a series of beautiful views over the pale grass, 
the yellow neneo clumps, the blue water and the purple hills 
beyond. There were many birds to be seen, and we saw xuqt a hawk, 
an eagle and a caracara actually sitting side by side on a fence 
rail. 
The Sstancia Newbery consists of 40,000 acres, on which graze 
15 , 000 sheep. Mrs . Newbery now runs the place alone, as her chil- 
dren have grown up and left the ranch to seek their fortunes in the 
city. She has a tremendous amount of vi tali ty and spunk, and took 
a great deal of pleasure in showing us around the house, which is 
the oldest one in that part of the world , a simple but comf ortable 
block house . Her husband, George Newbery, who died in 1935, was 
an artist as well as a dentist and rancher, and she gave each of us 
one of his water colors. Ours is a view of Trafull, a nearby mountain 
which he painted repeatedly. He , together with a son and a grandson, 
are buried on the place , and simple granite crosses carved out of 
local stone, mark the thr e e graves which lie at the f oot of a 
great outcropping of rock. The simplicity of the last resting place 
of the man who loved Patagonia so much, is very touching. 
% 
We had a grand tea, with hot buttered scones, pound cake, 
home made jam and cherry brandy, and then went fishing with Jim 
Newbery and Sam Wagner. Sam is another local char ac t e r , and another 
Texan, who has been here more than thirty years but has not lost 
hi s Texan drawl. In the winter he works as a mechanic ; in the 
summer he is guide to fishing and camping parties. He knew just 
where he could get a trout, although it is really out of season, 
and we drove over narrow trails to the banks of a rushing stream 
that was part of the Newbery property . Sam made two casts and 
