NATURAL BRIDGES.
Amid the majestic and varied scenery of the Cordilleras of South America, that of their valleys most forcibly strikes the imagination of foreign travelers. The enormous hight of these mountains is not discoverable but at a considerable distance, and while the spectator is on one of those plains which extend from the sea-coasts to the foot of the central chain. The flats, or table-lands, which surround the snow-clad summits of the mountains, are themselves, for the greater part, of an elevation of from seven to nine thousand feet, or nearly a mile and three-quarters, above the level of the sea. This circumstance diminishes, to a certain degree, the impression of greatness produced by the colossal masses of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, Pichincha, &c., when seen from the flats of Riobamba, or from those of Quito. It isnot, however, with the valleys as with the mountains: deeper and narrower than those of the Alps and the Pyrenees, the valleys of the Cordilleras present situations still more wild than these, and more adapted to fill the soul with admiration and with terror. Fissures and chasms present themselves, having their bottoms and sides ornamented with a vigorous vegetation, and of such a depth, that Vesuvius and the Puy-de-Dome might be placed within several of them, and not show their summits above the edge of the neighboring mountains. In passing along the back of the Andes, from Pasto to Villa d’Ibarra, and in descending the Loxa toward the banks of the river Amazon, the traveler reaches the celebrated fissures of Chota and Cutaco, the former of which is nearly a mile, and the latter upward of three-quarters of a mile, in perpendicular depth. To give a more complete idea of the grandeur of these geological phenomena, it should be observed, that the bottoms of these fissures are by one-fourth only, less elevated above the level of the sea, than the passages of St. Gothard and Mount Cenis.
The valley of Icononzo, or of Pandi, is less remarkable for its dimensions, than for the extraordinary form of its rocks, which appear as if shaped by the hand of man. Their naked and barren summits form the most picturesque contrasts with the tufts of trees and herbaceous vegetables which cover the edges of the fissure. The little torrent which has worked itself a passage through the valley of Icononzo, bears the name of Rio de la Summa Paz. It descends from the eastern chain of the Andes, which, with the republic of New Grenada, separates the basin of the river of Magdelena from the vast plains of the Meta, Guaviare and Oronoco. This torrent, confined within a bed almost inaccessible, could not have been crossed without many difficulties, had not Nature herself formedTWO BRIDGES OF ROCKS, which are justly regarded in the country as among the objects most worthy of the attention of travelers. TheseNATURAL BRIDGESare on the route from Bogota to Popayan and Quito.
Icononzo is the name of an ancient village of Muyscas Indians, situated on the south side of the valley, and of which scarcely any vestige now remains, except a few scattered huts. The nearest inhabited place to this remarkable spot is the little village of Pandi, or Mercadillo, distant about a mile. The road from Bogota to Fusagasuga, and thence to Pandi, is one of the most difficult and least beaten to be met with in the Andes. None but those who passionately love the beauties of Nature, would fail to prefer the usual road which leads from the flat of Bogota to the banks of the Magdelena, to the perilous descent from the Paramo de San-Fortunato, and the mountains of Fusagasuga, toward the natural bridges of Icononzo.
The deep chasm through which the torrent of Summa Paz precipitatesitself, occupies the center of the valley of Icononzo. Near the first natural bridge, it maintains, for a length of nearly four-fifths of a mile, a direction from east to west. The river forms two fine cascades, the one at the spot where it enters the chasm on the west of Doa, and the other at that where it leaves it, in descending toward Melgar. It is possible that this chasm, which resembles, but on an enormous scale, the gallery of a mine, may have been the result of an earthquake, and that, at its formation, the compact bed of quartz, composing the superior stratum of rock, had resisted the force which tore asunder these mountains. The uninterrupted continuation of this quartzose bed would thus form the bridge, which affords a passage from one part of the valley to the other. This surprising natural arch is forty-eight feet in length, forty in width, and eight feet in thickness at the center. By experiments carefully made on the fall of bodies, its hight above the level of the water of the torrent, has been ascertained to be about three hundred and twenty feet. The depth of the torrent at the mean hight of the water, may be estimated at twenty feet. The Indians of the valley of Icononzo, for the security of travelers, have formed a fence of reeds, which extends to the road leading to this first natural bridge.
At the distance of sixty feet below is another, to which the traveler is conducted by a path descending along the edge of the chasm. Three enormous masses of rock have fallen into such positions as enable them reciprocally to support each other. The one in the center forms the key of the vault, an accident which may have conveyed to the natives of this spot an idea of arched masonry, which was unknown to the people of the new world, as well as to the ancient inhabitants of Egypt. It is uncertain whether these portions of rock have been projected from a distance, or are merely the fragments of an arch which has been destroyed on the spot, but which was originally similar to the upper natural bridge. This last supposition is rendered probable by an analogous accident, observable in the Coliseum at Rome, where there are seen, in a wall half-fallen, several stones which were arrested in their descent, because in falling they happened to form an arch. In the midst of this second natural bridge is an aperture of about twenty-five feet in every direction, through which the eye reaches the bottom of the abyss. The torrent appears to run into a dark cavern, whence a mournful sound proceeds, formed by the cries of an infinity of nocturnal birds which inhabit the chasm, and which at first sight may be taken for those bats of a monstrous size, so well known in the equinoctial regions. They can only be perceived by the help of lighted brands, thrown into the chasm to illuminate its sides; and thousands of them may thus be distinguished, skimming along the surface of the water. Their plumage is uniformly of a brown gray color;and M. Humboldt, from whose account these particulars are extracted, was assured by the Indians, that these hitherto undescribed birds are of the size of a chicken, with the eyes of an owl, and a curved beak. On account of the depth of the valley, it was impossible to obtain a near view of them.
The elevation of the bridges of Icononzo, these surprising productions of nature, above the level of the ocean, is two thousand seven hundred feet, somewhat more than half a mile. In concluding his description of them, M. Humboldt has noticed several other natural bridges, among which is that in Virginia, noticed more particularly below. He considers this, as well as the bridge of earth, called Rumichaca, which is on the declivity of the porphyritic mountains of Chumban, in South America; together with the bridge of Madre de Dios, named Dantcu, near Totonilco, in Mexico; and the perforated rock near Grandola, in the province of Alemtejo, in Portugal, as geological phenomena, which have some resemblance to the natural bridges of Icononzo; but he doubts whether, in any other part of the world, there has yet been discovered an accidental arrangement so extraordinary as that of three masses of rock, which, reciprocally sustaining each other, form a natural arch.
This natural bridge, which has been described by Mr. Jefferson, and many other writers, is one of the most sublime productions of nature, as well as one of the great curiosities and wonders of the world. It is situated in Rockbridge county, in Virginia, on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through its length by some mighty convulsion. It consists of a stupendous arch of limestone, spanning a small stream, called Cedar creek. Its hight above the stream to the top, is two hundred and fifteen feet; its average width, eighty feet;itsitsextreme length at the top, ninety-three feet; and its thickness, from the under to the upper side, fifty-five feet. The chasm over which it passes, is fifty feet wide at the bottom, and ninety feet at the top. The view from the top is exceedingly grand and impressive; from below, equally sublime and more interesting, because divested of associations of fear. The bridge is of important use, forming a road over this immense chasm, which is not otherwise passable for several miles in either direction. The top of the bridge is covered with a coat of earth, which affords growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is a solid rock of limestone. The arch, as is seen in the engraving of the bridge, approaches the semi-elliptical form; though the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than itstransverse. Although the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of rocks, yet few persons have sufficient resolution to stand on them, and look over into the abyss. The passenger involuntarily falls on his hands, creeps to the parapet and peeps over it. Looking down from this hight, for the space of a minute, occasions giddiness and sometimes headache. But if the view from above be so painful as not long to be borne, that from beneath is delightful in the extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising from the sublime, to be felt in a greater degree than at this spot. The sensations of the spectator can not be described, when he surveys an arch at once so beautiful, so elevated, and so light, springing up, as it were, to heaven!
This grand natural bridge, as already mentioned, is of limestone; and this is so soft that it may easily be cut with a knife. In this fact there may be a foundation for the following interesting, though somewhat overdrawn sketch, from the graphic pen of Elihu Burritt, designed to illustrate the effect of perseverance and an honorable ambition.
“The scene opens with a view of the great natural bridge in Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the channel below, looking up with awe to that vast arch of unhewn rocks, which the Almighty bridged over those everlasting butments ‘when the morning stars sang together.’ The little piece of sky spanning those measureless piers, is full of stars, although it is midday. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key-rock of that vast arch, which appears to them only of the size of a man’s hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel. The sun is darkened, and the boys have unconsciously uncovered their heads, as if standing in the presence-chamber of the Majesty of the whole earth. At last, this feeling begins to wear away; they look around, and find that others have been there before them. They see the names of hundreds cut in the limestone butments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts, and their knives are in their hands in an instant. ‘What man has done, man can do,’ is their watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a hundred full-grown men who have been there before them. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion, exceptone, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth, that there isno royal road to intellectual eminence. This ambitious youth sees a name just above his reach, a name that will be green in the memory of the world, when those of Alexander, Cæsar, and Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was the name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to that fatal field,hehad been there, and left his name a foot above all his predecessors. It was a glorious thought of the boy, to write his name side by side with that of the great father of his country. He grasps his knife with a firmer hand; and, clinging to a little jutting crag, he cuts again into the limestone, about a foot above where he stands; he then reaches up and cuts another for his hands. ’Tis a dangerous adventure; but as he puts his feet and hands into those gains, and draws himself up carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every name chronicled in that mighty wall. While his companions are regarding him with concern and admiration, he cuts his name in rude capitals, large and deep, into that rocky album. His knife is in his hand, and strength in his sinews, and a new created aspiration in his heart. Again he cuts another niche, and again he carves his name in larger capitals. This is not enough. Heedless of the entreaties of his companions, he cuts and climbs again. The graduations of his ascending scale grow wider apart. He measures his length at every gain he cuts. The voices of his friends wax weaker and weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. He now for the first timecasts a look beneath him. Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been his last. He clings with a convulsive shudder to his little niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint with severe exertion, and trembling from the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions below. What a moment! What a meager chance to escape destruction! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche with his feet, and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that ‘freeze their young blood.’ He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon his father’s hearth-stone.
“Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair, ‘William! William! Don’t look down! Your mother, and Henry, and Harriet are all here, praying for you! Don’t look down! Keep your eye toward the top!’ The boy didn’t lookdown. His eye is fixed like a flint toward heaven, and his young heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps again his knife. He cuts another niche, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human help from below. How carefully he uses his wasting blade! How anxiously he selects the softest places in that vast pier! How he avoids every flinty grain! How he economizes his physical powers! resting a moment at each gain he cuts. How every motion is watched from below! There stand his father, mother, brother, sister, on the very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall alone. The sun is now half-way down the west. The lad has made fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rocks, earth and trees. He must cut his way in a new direction, to get from under this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hope is dying in his bosom; its vital heat is fed by the increasing shouts of hundreds perched upon cliffs and trees, and others who stand with ropes in their hands on the bridge above, or with ladders below. Fifty gains more must be cut before the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot byfoot, from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready in the hands of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge. Two minutes more, and all will be over. That blade is worn to the last half-inch. The boy’s head reels; his eyes are starting from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart; his life must hang upon the next gain he cuts. That niche is his last. At the last faint gash he makes, his knife, his faithful knife, falls from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing along the precipice, falls at his mother’s feet. An involuntary groan of despair runs like a death-knell through the channel below, and all is still as the grave. At the hight of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeless heart and closing eyes to commend his soul to God. ’Tis but a moment—there!—one foot swings off!—he is reeling—trembling—toppling over into eternity! Hark! a shout falls on his ear from above! The man who is lying with half his length over the bridge, has caught a glimpse of the boy’s head and shoulders. Quick as thought, the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, the swooning boy drops his arms into the noose. Darkness comes over him, and with the words,God!andMother!whispered on his lips just loud enough to be heard in heaven, the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful abyss; but when a sturdy Virginian reaches down and draws up the lad, and holds him up in his arms before the tearful, breathless multitude, such shouting and leaping and weeping for joy, never greeted the ear of a human being so recovered from the yawning gulf of eternity.”
We will only add before leaving the subject of natural bridges, that the one in Virginia is not, as has been generally supposed, the only geological wonder of the kind in the United States. In Carter county, Kentucky, there is a natural bridge across the Rockbridge branch of the Cany fork of Little Sandy. It has a span of one hundred and ninety-five feet, and is twelve feet wide, twenty feet thick in the middle of the arch, and one hundred and seven feet above the water. In the county of Walker, in Alabama, there is another similar natural curiosity, which was discovered in a recent geological exploration. The span is one hundred and twenty feet, and the hight nearly seventy feet. This bridge is formed of sandstone, and is very symmetrical. Large beech and hemlock trees grow on the bridge, and the surrounding scenery is represented as sublime.