At Chonchi we struck across the island, following intricate
winding paths, sometimes passing through magnificent forests, and
sometimes through pretty cleared spots, abounding with corn and
potato crops. This undulating woody country, partially cultivated,
reminded me of the wilder parts of England, and therefore had to my
eye a most fascinating aspect. At Vilinco, which is situated on the
borders of the lake of Cucao, only a few fields were cleared; and
all the inhabitants appeared to be Indians. This lake is twelve
miles long, and runs in an east and west direction. From local
circumstances, the sea-breeze blows very regularly during the day,
and during the night it falls calm: this has given rise to strange
exaggerations, for the phenomenon, as described to us at S. Carlos,
was quite a prodigy.
The road to Cucao was so very bad that we determined to embark in a
periagua. The commandant, in the most authoritative manner, ordered
six Indians to get ready to pull us over, without deigning to tell
them whether they would be paid. The periagua is a strange rough
boat, but the crew were still stranger: I doubt if six uglier
little men ever got into a boat together.
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