Gilpin observer., 1912-09-19


paraiso on the Trans-Andean
" express on Tuesday May Z
last, more than 10 per cent.
were frozen or starved to death and
all suffered tortures that could be
equaled only OH a voyage in search of
the pole
Charles Sriber, Jr, OF New York was
one of those passengers. Today he Is
trying to recuperate at the home of
his father in the White mountains.
His hands and face are still in ter
rible condition from frostbite; he is al
most a nervous wreck.
The Trans-Andean express leaves
Buenos Aires every Tuesday in win
ter AT $3.50 a. m. on May Mr..
Scriber waved goodby to his friends
from the window of the "dormitorio,"
as the sleeping cars are called. He
had with him in his berth a heavy
overcoat. several blankets. woolen
shirts and a poncho. The last he bor-
rowed for the trip from Frank Rutter.
an American tariff expert who had re-
Gently come across the mountains and
reported that 1t was a bitterly cold
journey
The cars OF the Trans-Andean rail
road are unheated. They are cars
that have outlived their usefulness in
England and been shipped to Argen-
tina to earn few more dividends.
Leaving Buenos Aires noticed. al
most at once. the lowering tempera
ture. and finally. when ~ hours out.
donned my heavy overcoat. Charles
Sriber. Jr. says. The icy air seemed
to penetrate even my heavy under
garments, coat and all. so after pass
ing Mendoza. IA hours out Of Buenos
Aires. | slipped my borrowed puncho
on over my heavy coat and this gave
me a slight sense of comfort, but was
extremely firing. as the poncho itself
weighed close to Is pounds.
There we're 16 of us in the first
class compartments. two Americans.
six Englishmen. five Germans and
three Chileans. The latter were well
protected from the cold, but the ma
jority OF the others were unprepared
for such cold weather and suffered &C
-cordingly.
Twenty-four hours after leaving
Buenos Aires our train came to a stop
with a bump. and the 16 OF us rolled
out OF our hunks and began asking
what the trouble was.
Train Was Buried In Snow.
At daylight we looked out Of the
small windows at the widest winter
scene that any of us had ever gazed
upon. Nothing in sight but wilder
ness OF snow-snow SO highly banked
about the front of the train that for
an instant / thought 1t was an Illusion
The engine was buried in snow to
the very middle OF the boiler. The
cab OF the engine was hidden from
view. and the sound of escaping steam
was an added horror to that caused by
the ghastliness of the immense snow
banks looming up In the slowly dissi-
pating darkness OF the Andes morn
ing.
Thirteen meters deep was the exact
measurement of the snow on the level.
with drifts as high as the Singer
building.
We we're led from the train by the
conductor, an Argentine, and sent post
haste to the Hotel Olinda Vista (beau.
tiful view), where. the conductor in
formed us, we would be well taken
care of.
We were.
Fifteen pesos day Ia peso equals
40 cents American) was the charge
we were asked to pay in advance.
The first-class passengers paid a
day each and were assigned to rooms,
two three and four to n room.
My only roommate was Mr.. Chris
ty OF New York life insurance
company the only other American on
the train.
For the 15 pesos a day we received
bread, eggs and coffee twice a day.
The immigrants secured the few
houses In Puenta Del Incas, as the
town was called. and soon exhausted
the supply Of food. The eggs at our
hostelry soon gave out and coffee and
rolls-rolls as hard as Madeira wood
became the thrice-a-day menu. Aft.