Adios Rhino!

Our beloved Rhino was sold a few weeks ago, and now it’s shuttling Mennonite products between the producer’s villages and Santa Cruz – running cheese, pickles, and saurkraut to the masses. As much as we loved the Rhino, we had to sell it, and the sooner we sold it, the sooner Frank could be on his way back to Canada. We looked into importing it into Canada, an impossibility I discovered, as the manufacturing date is post-1992.

So what will get for the next trip?? Maye a converted Toyota Landcruiser, if we can afford one, or a cool old jeep from Patagonia, or maybe we’ll do the next trip in a 1970s Citroen V, and travel like our friends Pablo and Roxana did when they circumnavigated Argentina.

So, here’s to the Rhino! The neatest, funnest, quirkiest and sexiest vehicle I have ever driven. Bless ya darlin’!

Patagonia, Take It or Leave It

One of the ways I recover from the jolt of returning home after an extended trip is to delve into books about the place or region I’ve just been to, or to read travelogues and anthologies (while swilling copious amounts of wine to assist in the denial that I am “back”). So, I’ve been reading a book of travel stories by AA Gill, a cheeky, smart, observant writer from Scotland (but he lives in Chelsea). I liked what he had to say about Argentina. His description of Patagonia made me nod in acknowldegement and wonder. Here, I share it with you:

“I opened the door, took a deep breath and felt a severe pain in my jaw as it fell to the floor. The sun was out, it was crisp and clear, and there was Patagonia, right there, and way over there. Patagonia is unfeasable beautiful and vast. The beauty never lets up, it’s like ocular tinnitus, a repetitive deafening of the eye, a visual peal of bells that rings form dawn to dusk. We all have a personal template for nature’s wonder, some scale to hold up against a new landscape. Mine is Scotland. Patagonia is Scotland squared, with sagebrush instead of heather. It as all those sense-tingling ingredients that push my personal buttons. It’s leggy and fit, a sinuous place with great curves, it’s competent and emphatic and it’s got a temper, it swears, and most of all it doesn’t give a damn. It’s not one of those landscapes that are arch and secretive, it isn’t gentle or flirtatious. It doesn’t wear make-up and it’s not promiscuous. It’s not for everyone.”

Paddling “The Futa” and The Yelcho

 

One of our dreams on this trip was to do the classic “Andes to Ocean” kayak trip, paddling west from the lower Futaleufu river in Chile, to the village of Chaiten on the coast of the Pacific Ocean. Last year we paddled from the island of Chiloé, island hopping for 6 days to east Chaiten. So by doing the Futa-Yelcho river trip to the ocean we would be completing a route we began a year ago (finishing where we left off last year, as opposed to a through trip), taking in the best of Chile’s diverse ecosystems and cultures, from sea to mountain and back to the sea.

From the day I arrived in Chile – early December – we were planning, carefully watching the weather, talking to rafting companies in the little town of Futaleufu about the local conditions. In December there was still much rain, and the river was raging from recent storms and spring run off. But by mid-January things were looking good, and we fluked into a weather forecast of 5 days of sun – not a raindrop or a wind “swoosh” graphic in sight – on the Chilean weather website.

To get 5 days of good weather in the Palena district – southern Patagonia – is a rare occurance, so we jumped on a ferry to Chaiten from Hornopiren, and the next day we were at the edge of “The Futa” building our kayak.

The trip took us through some of the most spectacular mountain and lake scenery in Patagonia. Paddling along the lakes and rivers we witnessed waterfalls tumble off steep cliffs into lakes, glaciers rumble and groan as huge chunks of ice broke free and fell into a funnel of ice debris below, and the everchanging dance of clouds and mist shift through the forests and big blue skies.

The Futaleufu empties into Lago Yelcho, a 31 km narrow bowl of crystal blue, freezing cold water. The lake then drains into the Rio Yelcho, a fast-moving unobstructed class I river. As the the Yelcho’s flows toward the sea, its colour, as water accumulates from hundreds of feeder streams, changes from a transparent glacial green to a silty “cafe con leche” brown. With this constant topping up of water, the current flows fast and strong until it reaches the sea approximately 6o kilometers later.

Photos and comments on the trip can be seen in the photo gallery.

Kayaking Into Fjords Within Fjords

 

Looking back to the entrance of Quintupue Fjord from our campsite on the Quintuepue estuary

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The deep “finger fjords” within the large Fjordo Comau in southern Chile are a kayakers paradise. At the end of each fjord are estuaries with lush vegetation and where trout jump fast and furiously as the fresh water meets the ocean. We spent a few days paddling around the area (partially in the spectacular Parque Pumalin), and on one lucky stretch got a tailwind and sailed to the end of the fjord as the tide was rising. More photos in the gallery …

In the Shadow of the Volcano

We just finished a great 4-day trek around Volcan Puyehue, down to some thermal springs, and around the volcano to the south side. After day 3 we couldn´t find the trail where it enters the treeline, so we had to slog back up to a high pass, and retrace our steps back to the trailhead (shame on you Expediciones El Caulle for chargeing top dollars to enter the estancia lands and selling maps for this trek, and not marking the trails). Anyways, the weather was spectacular, and the mountain scenery breathtaking. More photos in the gallery. Enjoy!

Patagonian Summer, Such a Tease

 Every few days summer manages to crash what seems like winter´s never-ending party by bargeing in with a day of shocking heat and big blue skies.

The View to Lago Nahuel Huapi and Bariloche from Refugio Lopez, December 30, 2006.

Comfort at the Edge of a Glacier

Frank and I just returned from a few days at Pampa Linda (translates roughly to “Beautiful Valley”) just south of Bariloche. Boxing day was spent boxed into the van, waiting for a storm to pass. While we sipped tea, we watched horizontal rain turn to hail and snow and the trees sway violently in the wind. Once the storm passed we were able to stretch our legs for several walks in the area, including a trek up to the base of Monte Tronador where there is a cozy and well-stocked refugio.

Also in the area is the Ventisquero Negro, a huge glacial outflow extanding from the slopes of Monte Tronador. At first glance, the glacier appears to be a moraine, cliffs of rock and soil spilling into a silty lake. But beneath all the gravel is ice, a longe tongue of permafrost churning up the valley as it squeezes through a gorge and progresses to a form a deep valley filled with meltwater. Icebergs float by, slowly melting, breaking the reflections of surrounding cliffs. Nearby, waterfalls cascade over cliffs like veils of tulle, wandering to the rhythms of the gusting winds. The steady ssusshhhh… ssushh of the warefalls are interrputed by the cracking, thumping, and rumbling of glacial activity. A dramatic and humbling place.

Xmas in Bariloche with a sticky stove & fabulous flora

 

A kind of holly on the forest floor on a hike to Cerro Belvedere, near Villa La Angostura

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Hope you all are enjoying some time off recuperating from the stresses of the season, and partaking in a favourite pastime, with good friends and family at your side.

Usually I am in some remote spot on the 25th of December. But this year, due to poor weather and closed trails in the nearby parks, I’ll be in “civilzation” (if you can call frenetic Bariloche at peak-season civilized). Part of the day will be spent at a sauna in Bariloche, and the evening El Bolsón, my favourite Patagonian town (and home to the world´s best ice cream).

Frank and I have been facing some ongoing challenges these first couple of weeks of trvael, nothing major that we can’t overcome, but things aren’t going as smoothly as we had hoped. Troubles with The Rhino first, which set us back 5 days in total. Then the disappointment of fowl weather – brutal winds and heavy rain and snow – and closed trails in the parks which meant we were re planning our trip a few times a day. At the moment we are grappling with repairing our camp stove (I wish I’d replaced it before I left Canada). Our cleaning tool is damaged (kerosene is filthy, so Frank cleans the jet twice daily), but we’ve just switched to cleaner kerosene, so are hoping this will alleviate the need for the tool. More of concern is a leak at the join of the hose to the valve. Perhaps we will revert to Barbeque-ing our food like the Argentineans. Charred pasta anyone?

In the photo gallery are some shots of cool Patagonian flora. The wild out-sized lupines are out in all their glory, as is a red honeysuckle-like bush called the notro, and a peculiar golf-ball fungus called “llau-llau” (say ¨zjaow zjaow¨) that grows on the coigue tree (a notrofagus, or false beech). The fungus is edible, and smells and feels like an apricot. You’ll also see the cinnamon-barked arrayanes trees – which look a lot like the arbutus tree common to the west coast. The arrayane tree, really a shrub, is a relative of the myrtle and is unique to the Lakes District. Casting an orange glow to the surrounding forest, the arrayanes stands evoke an enchanted, fairy tale mood. Someone in our tour group mentioned that the forest in Disney’s Bambi film was inspired by arrayanes groves. I was lookin´out for thumper, but a huge boatload of rowdy students arrived, killing the magical mood. Unfortunately the forest, which is also a national park, has been turned into a tourist destination from Bariloche, which makes it highly unlikely that timid bambi (or any other animal in its right mind) would hang out in this enchanted forest for too long.

Where´s Bambi?

Another Visit to Parque Nacional Lanin

Volcán Lanin (3271 mts), as seen from a pasture at the start of the ascent, looks deceivingly tranquil on a clear day. Ferocious winds whipped the ice and snow on the upper north face forcing many mountaineers to abandon their ascents at the 3000 meter mark.

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After recovering from our fender-bender in Zapala, we spent a day and night on the flanks of Volcán Lanin, one of Argentina’s finest parks. The park borders on the huge Nahuel Huapi Park to the south, and several Chilean parks to the west, making this area (known as The Lakes District) one of the largest expanses of park land in Patagonia. We were in Lanin in March earlier this year, and trekked to the southern base of the “volcán” on a glorious autumn day. This time we visited the northern face, hiking up to the “Refugio Militar”, the highest point for day-trippers. The weather was fantastic (but for the proverbial freezing winds) and we stretched our eyes with vistas to Volcán Villarica in Chile 50 kilometers to the north. Lanin is one fo my favourite parks in Patagonia. Far from the maddening crowds of Fitzroy and Torres del Paine, the land is vast and elegant, with rolling pastures nestled between dramatic rock walls and craggy tusks formed by millenia of fierce winds. Sapphire-blue lakes and smaller volcanoes compliment the acentuate the towering cap of Lanin. And as always, there are small woodsy towns nearby – Junin and San Martin de Los Andes – cultured by cheese-makers, artisanal chocolatiers and micro-brewers.

More photos can be seen in the photo gallery.

The Rhino Limps Onward!

The mechanic attempts to remove the rear “mata burro”, or “donkey bar”, from under the bumper. Frank, having befriended the inevitable “perrito” (this one we named “Bumper”), looks on and tries to keep track of all the bolts and screws being extracted from deep within the recesses of The Rhino.

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We had a temporary fix made to The Rhino’s tail end. In a body shop in Zapala yet another friendly mechanic dropped everything he was doing to help us out. With a hefty pulley and hydraulic lift he stretched the bumper and tailgate back into shape (although some detailed bodywork is still required) so that we could continue on and put off the serious repairs until after the Christmas holidays. When he pulled off the bumper after unscrewing what seemed like hundreds of bolts, gravel and dust accumulated from thousands of kilometers of travelling tumbled to the ground, blending in with the shop floor’s sandy surface. Watching the dust settle, I was reminded of our travels along the bumpy roads of Apolobamba in the Bolivian Altiplano, the sand dunes of Colonia Polonia in Uruguay, and the beloved rocky “Ruta Cuarenta”, Argentina’s remote North-South Highway. Tens of thousands of kilometers, and only one accident… not bad going.