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.

The Ups n Downs of Driving

We were on the highway south, had been driving two days, and covered about 700 kms in that time. We lost three days in Mendoza while The Rhino was being repaired, so were keen to go south. Once we reached the northern border of Patagonia the wind was very strong on the pampa during the afternoons. To avoid driving into headwinds we changed our driving routine. We would drive until 2pm, stop for lunch and after an early dinner, leave while there was still daylight. The wind calms after sunset, so we had three hours of good driving conditions on a good road. Normally we don´t drive at night, but battling the westerly winds blowing off the Andes, makes driving during the day an excersices in futility.

10:30 pm last night. We were coming into Zapala, a windswept village in northern Neuquen province, about 5 minutes away from the campground. We stopped at red light, were idleing there,  and BANG! Thwack! crash! we were hit from behind. Both our heads snapped back into the headrests, and dazed but knowing what had just happened was inevitable, we looked at each other and screamed FUCK!! and jumped out of the van. I couldn´t believe the damage when I looked at the rear bumper. I looked back and heard yelling, screaming and Frank going ballistic at the guy behind the wheel of the car behind us.

An old red Ford Falcon (commonly referred to as a Death Squad car, this model was used by the Argentinean secret police to abduct political dissidents during the Dirty War)  had barrelled into the back of us. Its front end smashed in, and about 6 people, ranging from young children to ageing adults were packed inside (here often children sit on their parents laps, not in car seats), probably on the way home after a day at the Sunday ¨Parrilla¨, or family BBQ. The driver, somewhat shaken, and reeking of booze, climbed out of the car as his passengers (we think family members) began to shout. Frank asked for identification. ¨You don´t need to see our identity cards, its your fault, you don´t need to call the police, you stopped too soon, your van is too high so we couldn´t see the red light¨. On and on went the excuses and explanations, as they tried to convince us that things are done differently in Argentina, and the Police won´t be of help. It was a chaotic and unpleasant scene, as we were all freaked out and in shock.

The driver didn´t have insurance, which is mandatory in this country. The front end of his car was totalled. Only a few minor bumps and bruises were suffered by his family. Apart from the loss if his car, this man is very lucky – he hadnt killed killed himself or his family.

Our rear bumper is smashed, the back door won´t open (meaning we cant use or access our ¨kitchen¨) and the worst of it is we will lose more time and have to deal with our lousy insurance company in Bolivia (and it´s the best one we could find). This is a hassle and a downer.

After the police dealt with the accident scene, we went down to the hospital to make declarations about our health. It was a small yet well staffed place, the friendly attendants keen to chat to us about Canada and all the wonderful things we could see in their province (which lives in the tourist shadow of Rio Negro´s sexy Bariloche and rootsy El Bolson). Some photocopies were made, and we were sent back to the police station. The officials in Argentina are always so reassuring, so helpful, so ¨simpatico¨. But things take time here, and between filling out forms, these guys must take time to sip the maté, and chat to friends and visitors, and look once again, all of the guys in the office, for that slip of paper…. somewhere.

We went back to the station this morning, spent an hour or so filling out forms, correcting misinformation, paying for the documents ($5) and reciting a statement that we were not at fault to take back to the Insurance company. Following much stamping of documents (South Americans do this with such zeal! such enthusiasm! such confidence!) and with a whack of paperwork in hand we felt we were well-armed to deal with the next stage of this ordeal: getting the insurance company to pay for the damage and authorize the necessary repairs.

Often, when we are having a good day, driving where and when we like, I experience an expansive sense of contentment and freedom. We have everything we need in the van, and don´t need to depend on bus schedules, expensive hotels (and the one in Zapala was probably one of the dingiest I have seen in Argentina) or gimmicky ¨eco-adventure¨tours. But when there are mechanical problems, and all the expense and hassle that goes with them, I wonder if it isn´t better to just stick out a thumb and hitchhike, or better yet be on a bike.

We are being philosophical about this. After travelling nearly 40,000 kms, this is our first accident, no one was hurt, and the damage isn´t that bad. And with each of these incidents, we meet local people (ok, mechanics), and are touched by the kindness of strangers. What else can we do but be optimistic, not drive at night, and keep on going?

Back to Mendoza for a Refill

Young fruit soaks up the rays at the Bodega Cataena Zapata. At this time of year, the buds are vulnerable to afternoon hail storms and torrential downpours.
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Last March we were in Mendoza, Argentina´s wine capital, during the wine harvest. The bodegas were intensely busy processing the grapes, and we were able to see the wineries in full-swing. We toured many wineries, tasted some gorgeous wines, and had a really nice time chatting with local artesanal wine-makers. I came away from Mendoza for a new appreciation of wine, and love for the art and science of wine-making.

Yesterday we were back in Mendoza and visited three more bodegas in the Lujan de Cuyo region: Cataena Zapata, Carmello Patti, and Ruca Malen. If you can get your hands on some bottles from any of these producers you won´t be dissapointed.

Mendoza has recently been named the hottest travel destination for 2007 by the New York Times. You can read a bit more about the area in this article.

Welcome to Chile

After a long and cramped flight on an packed American Airlines plane, I was welcomed into Chile by Immigration with a us$132 ¨arrival tax¨and a 1.5 hour wait to clear customs. Then the bastards checked my luggage, found all the backpacking food I´d carefully packed into ziploc bags, and confiscated the sunflower seeds. ¨If these were toasted and salted, you could bring them in, but since they are raw, we have to take them,¨ said the perkily annoying customs official. By this time I was so fed up with this Chilean airport, and I could see Frank waving at me from the arrival lounge, that I just said ¨ya, whatever,¨ and got the hell out of there.

We spent a night in Valparaiso, a lovely seaside town, where we kept encountering distressed Chileans on their front porches wailing and reciting ¨Pinochet…. Pinochet…,¨ at hearing the news of the former dictator´s death that same day. Keen to move on to friendlier parts, we took off for Argentina where the cost of travelling is half that of Chile, and the wine flows like water from a tap – to Mendoza, the heart of Argenina´s wine country.

We´ll be making quick forays back to Chile (for specific trips) from Argentina, but the plan is to spend as much time as possible in the Argentine Lakes District – hiking, kayaking and I´ll be learning some mountaineering skills so we can cross some glaciers and such.

Now we are off to a couple of boutique wineries to sip. Look for some photos soon!

Isabel Allende On Chile

I just finshed reading Islabel Allende’s “My Invented Country“, Allende’s memoir about her childhood in Chile, life in exile during the Pinochet years, as an immigrant in the U.S., and how “being a stranger” has fueled her memory and imagination …. Here’s an excerpt from a rather poignant chapter titled The Discreet Charm of The Burgeoisie

“When I was a recently divorced forty-five, I immigrated to the United States, obeying the call of my impulsive heart. The first thing that surprised me was the infallible optimism of North Americans, so different from people of the southern tip of South America, who always expect the worst to happen. Which it does, of course. The U.S. constitution guarantees the right to the pursuit of happiness, which anywhere else would be an embarrassing presumption. North Americans also believe they have the eternal right to be entertained, and if any of their rights are denied, they feel frustrated. The rest of the world, in contrast, expects that on the whole, life is hard, and boring, so they celebrate sparks of joy and diversion, however modest, when they occur.

In my family, happiness was irrevelant. My grandparents, like the majority of Chileans, would have stood with their mouths agape if they’d known that there are people who spend good money on therapy to overcome their unhappiness. For them, life was just difficult, any other view was foolishness. You found satisfaction in doing the right thing, in family, honor, the spirit of service, study, and your own fortitude. Joy was in our lives in many ways, and I suppose that love was not the least important, but we didn’t talk about it, we would have died of shame before saying the word. Emotions flowed silently. In contrast to most Chileans, in our family we didn’t touch much and babies were never coddled. The modern custom of extolling a child’s every move as if it were witty and charming was not in vogue, nor was there anxiety about bringing up offspring who were free of traumas. Just as well, because if I’d been brought up protected and happy, what the devil would I write about now? With this in mind, I’ve tried to make my grandchildren’s childhood as difficult as possible so they will grow up to be creative adults. Their parents are not at all appreciative of my efforts.”

Only Five Days to Go

A shrine to gauchito Gil, Argentina’s patron-saint of safe travel

Frank left La Paz on Friday, he’s driving down to Santiago, via the Atacama Desert and the Elkhi Valley to meet me next Saturday, where I’ll stagger into his arms after two long nine-hour flights.

Stuff left to do before i get on that plane (apart from work-related, which is significant):

Food
- some instant rice mixes (the prepackaged ones contain too much sodium,- craisins and pinenuts, impossible to find in South America
- energy bars, we like clif bars and rebar veggie bars. There are good granola bars to be had in Argentina, but I like that the clif bars have a little soy powder for some plant-based protein. (I might add that I am not a snacker of energy bars – nor do I drink Red Bull to help me “workout” – I only eat them when I need little help at the end of long day of activity).
- A trip to Bosa’s deli for some stuffed olives and arabella cheese (ssshhhh… don’t tell Chilean customs) as a surprise treat for Frank

Gear
- I am looking for some used crampons and an ice axe so we can do some galcier walking
- Seam seal, the fly on my tent is leaking
- Some of those Coghlan’s refillable peanut butter tubes. Good for homous too!

books
- Isabel Allende’s Portrait in Sepia
- Nick Reding’s Last Cowboys at the End of the World
- Spell of the Sensuous by David Abrams

Music
- some good driving reggae, does anyone have any suggestions?
- Phontaine. I heard a few tracks at a film at the Banff Film Fest the other night.
- Diane reeves’ soundtrack for Good Night and Good Luck. Good campsite cooking and reading music.
- Jarabe de Palo’s Flaca