This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
to raft the mighty Rio Mendoza. I figured that this would be quite quiet since it was late autumn and the snowmelt no longer raised the river levels. But I was slightly astonished to see the entire river being about a metre wide and about a beer can deep. I mustered all my Spanish and casually enquired whether the river might be a bit low for rafting. The guide laughed and pointed to an underground diversion which takes the entire flow of the river and sends it underground to be used for irrigation. Above this, the river flowed fast and strong.
Our team involved two NZers, four French, a badger, and an Argentine guide. Rafting instructions were rather confused with orders being yelled in Spanish, the French arguing amongst themselves about the correct translation, the NZers looking on uncomprehending, and the badger having another beer. Mercifully, the river was low and so no amount of ineptness could flip the boat. An interesting trip but not the real mountain adventure that the Tejon was seeking. Back in town, we made our way to the equivalent of the park service. This is where you get a licence to go and kill things. It costs so many pesos to catch trout, a
to go trekking and could we get a map. This led to long pauses and much jabbering between various parties, some of whom were passing by for a fishing licence or selling ice cream. Eventually a consensus emerged. Yes, you could go walking there. However, it was the off-season and everything would be shut. No information, no food, no drink, and remarkably, no souvenirs for sale. During the summer, expeditions head towards base camps using mules to carry their gear. We could follow a mule trail. A weekly licence would allow us to hire a mule and shoot it. If we didn’t want to shoot the mule, we didn’t need a licence. A map? Much consultation. Finally, someone produces a picture book entitled “Argentina the Beautiful” which includes a picture of Aconcagua from the front showing the mule trail. If we bought a copy of the book... Undaunted, I asked how we might do a day trip to the mountain from Mendoza. The buses would take too long to give us a full day in the mountains. Suddenly, progress. “I have a friend who has a four-wheel-drive who can take you the first few kilometres of the few more to knock off a few rabbits or pigs. Shooting subversives and communists is free of charge. We pointed at a picture of Mt Aconcagua, the highest mountain in South America and said that we wanted to go there. They replied that we could shoot it as much as we pleased with an annual licence. I explained that we wanted back at the end of the day. Very good deal.” This explains why after some haggling over price, early next morning two weary travellers and a badger were in a vehicle stopped in front of a locked gate with a sign trail, will guide you; and bring your
Trip Reports
Cont'd from page 10 saying “No Vehicles”. Our guide hops out, tests the lock and shrugs. He drops the truck into AWD and we head off cross country, picking up the track a few hundred metres up the road. Soon, we reach a footbridge and we can drive no more. Our guide explains the route to us in detail worthy of our suggested map: don’t cross the river and head up valley. Unfortunately, he could not actually guide us as he had a hernia.
It was a fantastic day. Still early and everything frozen solid with a biting alpine wind. We had the entire valley to ourselves. Fabulous views of towering peaks, bizarre rock forms and glaciers clutching onto bone dry rock. We were only at a little over 3,000 metres but both of us felt the altitude and the going was slow. El Tejon, travelling on top of my pack, cracked another can. We headed up-valley until lunch, and enjoyed the warmth of the sun as the temperature climbed rapidly with the sun. The views were magnificent and there was absolute silence. Apparently this is where a new film of Seven Years in Tibet is being filmed. I looked in vain for any Buddhist monks, but I guess the shooting season must have cleaned them out.
Retracing our steps in the afternoon, we saw above us two condors circling against the mountains in the breeze. Condors were close to extinction but now with protection they are making a big comeback in the Andes. We realised just how much height we had gained in the morning and made rapid progress down the valley. Looking downward makes it appear you are walking through a desert, while just behind you are glaciers and snow. Soon we are back to four-wheel-drive country and down thousands of metres heading to our hotel in Mendoza. El Tejon de los Andes had made it into the very heart of the Andes. He yawned, bought a postcard and went on a tour of the vineyards. It’s just lucky that the tejon is also a protected species in Argentina. cS