It Is A Quiet, Solitary Spot,
With A Good Deal Of Wild Beauty.
The mineral springs of Cauquenes burst forth on a line of
dislocation, crossing a mass of stratified rock, the whole
of which betrays the action of heat.
A considerable quantity
of gas is continually escaping from the same orifices with
the water. Though the springs are only a few yards apart,
they have very different temperature; and this appears to be
the result of an unequal mixture of cold water: for those
with the lowest temperature have scarcely any mineral taste.
After the great earthquake of 1822 the springs ceased, and
the water did not return for nearly a year. They were also
much affected by the earthquake of 1835; the temperature
being suddenly changed from 118 to 92 degs. [1] It seems probable
that mineral waters rising deep from the bowels of the earth,
would always be more deranged by subterranean disturbances
than those nearer the surface. The man who had charge of
the baths assured me that in summer the water is hotter and
more plentiful than in winter. The former circumstance I
should have expected, from the less mixture, during the dry
season, of cold water; but the latter statement appears very
strange and contradictory. The periodical increase during
the summer, when rain never falls, can, I think, only be
accounted for by the melting of the snow: yet the mountains
which are covered by snow during that season, are three or
four leagues distant from the springs. I have no reason to
doubt the accuracy of my informer, who, having lived on
the spot for several years, ought to be well acquainted with
the circumstance, - which, if true, certainly is very curious:
for we must suppose that the snow-water, being conducted
through porous strata to the regions of heat, is again thrown
up to the surface by the line of dislocated and injected rocks
at Cauquenes; and the regularity of the phenomenon would
seem to indicate that in this district heated rock occurred at
a depth not very great.
One day I rode up the valley to the farthest inhabited
spot. Shortly above that point, the Cachapual divides into
two deep tremendous ravines, which penetrate directly into
the great range. I scrambled up a peaked mountain, probably
more than six thousand feet high. Here, as indeed
everywhere else, scenes of the highest interest presented
themselves. It was by one of these ravines, that Pincheira
entered Chile and ravaged the neighbouring country. This
is the same man whose attack on an estancia at the Rio Negro
I have described. He was a renegade half-caste Spaniard,
who collected a great body of Indians together and established
himself by a stream in the Pampas, which place none
of the forces sent after him could ever discover. From this
point he used to sally forth, and crossing the Cordillera by
passes hitherto unattempted, he ravaged the farm-houses
and drove the cattle to his secret rendezvous.
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