del Fuego may be described as a mountainous land, partly submerged in
the sea, so that deep inlets and bays occupy the place where valleys
should exist. The mountain sides, except on the exposed western coast,
are covered from the water's edge upwards by one great forest. The
trees reach to an elevation of between 1000 and 1500 feet, and are
succeeded by a band of peat, with minute alpine plants; and this again
is succeeded by the line of perpetual snow, which, according to Captain
King, in the Strait of Magellan descends to between 3000 and 4000 feet.
To find an acre of level land in any part of the country is most rare.
I recollect only one little flat piece near Port Famine, and another of
rather larger extent near Goeree Road. In both places, and everywhere
else, the surface is covered by a thick bed of swampy peat. Even within
the forest, the ground is concealed by a mass of slowly putrefying
vegetable matter, which, from being soaked with water, yields to the
foot.
Finding it nearly hopeless to push my way through the wood, I followed
the course of a mountain torrent. At first, from the waterfalls and
number of dead trees, I could hardly crawl along; but the bed of the
stream soon became a little more open, from the floods having swept the
sides. I continued slowly to advance for an hour along the broken and
rocky banks, and was amply repaid by the grandeur of the scene. The
gloomy depth of the ravine well accorded with the universal signs of
violence. On every side were lying irregular masses of rock and
torn-up trees; other trees, though still erect, were decayed to the
heart and ready to fall. The entangled mass of the thriving and the
fallen reminded me of the forests within the tropics--yet there was a
difference: for in these still solitudes, Death, instead of Life,
seemed the predominant spirit. I followed the water-course till I came
to a spot where a great slip had cleared a straight space down the
mountain side. By this road I ascended to a considerable elevation,
and obtained a good view of the surrounding woods. The trees all
belong to one kind, the Fagus betuloides; for the number of the other
species of Fagus and of the Winter's Bark, is quite inconsiderable.
This beech keeps its leaves throughout the year; but its foliage is of
a peculiar brownish-green colour, with a tinge of yellow. As the whole
landscape is thus coloured, it has a sombre, dull appearance; nor is it
often enlivened by the rays of the sun.
December 20th.--One side of the harbour is formed by a hill about 1500
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