I awoke feeling refreshed this morning, even though I only got about six hours of sleep. Compared to the three I got on the bus the previous night from Córdoba, this seemed like sleeping in. So, out of bed by 08:30, we were reenergized, and ready for our excursion to the Andes. Our commute was in a small van. It pulled up the hostel at 09:15 sharp, even though it was supposed to be there a bit before 09:00. Undoubtedly a result of mendocino scheduling. I was greeted by our guide Matías where we promptly paid our 170 pesos for the day and filled out liability forms. Matías, after reviewing the insurance forms, over excitedly explained that our names, though in different languages, were one in the same. After 30 minutes of semi-paved road, we cut into dirt paths and underbrush. We were on our way away from civilization. This was very reminiscent of the American Southwest for me. We arrived at our “base camp,” a picnic table covered by an over hang, a cabin, a fire ring, a bar and some extra tables. We waited for Matías to set up and prepare everything for our ride.
Base camp.
Matías, much like me, preferred speaking in his native tongue to express himself more freely. So once again I was volunteered to serve as translator for Steven. Once he finished setting up, we met with Orlando. He owned a small ranch adjacent to the base camp. He brought over the horses and dogs we’d be using for our trip.
Orlando, a weathered man, was dressed in equestrian/ranching attire. His accent was thick but understandable and while life in the Andes may have been very harsh to him, he was a very kind man. We mounted our horses and went o a short circuit around a large hill. We stopped for maté. This was the first I had had yerba maté in Argentina, even though I saw much of its populace stop to drink it during the day, all over the country. Yerba maté or maté for short is a green tea indigenous only to the south of the continent. The leaves are dumped into a bowl-like cup and hot water and sugar are added. At least once daily, Argentines, Paraguayans, Uruguayans, and Southern Brazilians and Bolivians enjoy this beverage. They sip on it using a spoon shaped straw with filters on the spoon’s face. This means that the participant carry a thermos with hot water, the yerba tea, sugar, the bombilla (cup) and straw with them everyday, all for the sake of tradition. And probably partake in such a practice because it’s good too.
We rested for a while and drank our maté and had some biscuits. I made mention of the fact that San Martín was one of my heroes, and that riding on horseback out here made me feel like him. With this confession, Orlando was filled with joy and we discussed the Argentine liberator and that I had to go to another museum, better than the one yesterday that we had visited. I made another confession that sadly we would be leaving tomorrow and that there just wasn’t enough time to do everything. He seemed more disappointed than I did.
Orlando (left) and Matías with their maté and breakfast.
With that, we picked up our and our party moved on. The party consisted of me, Steven, Matías and Orlando (on horseback) and four dogs (of mixed breeds). We took in the sights of the mountains, the vineyards of Lujón de Cuyo in the distance (where most of the national wine Malbec is made), a Respol (oil company) refinery and the vast Argentine plain. The weather, originally cloudy and windy, had changed to a straight sunshine. Matías said we were very lucky. At the day’s beginning he was apprehensive about taking us out because there had been three straight days of stinging wind out in the mountains. Steven and I did feel fortunate as we thanked whatever forces blessed us with such great weather. We were very lucky indeed.
Horseback Brothers.
We came back to the base camp and had lunch. A very hearty serving of asada (a flank steak), potatoes, and onions on the parrilla (grill). In addition to being a great guide, Matías proved to be an even better cook. We had a smooth local Malbec with the meal. I invited Matías to share the bottle which he eventually accepted after several refusals and my persistence. We ate until our stomachs were about to burst. I can’t remember the last time I ate so much food. We needed time to digest so while Matías was cleaning, we spoke. He complimented my Spanish (saying it was better than his English). I told him of our experiences in the boy scouts, and how this made me revisit a time with no distractions. Here we could fully enjoy nature and the silence that was interrupted with only with the occasional gust of wind. He responded with “it was be very different from New York City.” Again this is where I had been telling everyone where I was from, to prevent confusion and promote familiarity. I could only respond with a simple sí. I played fetch with one of the dogs I named Charley, because he reminded me of the dog from Steinbeck’s autobiographical novel which I had been reading.
Steve enjoying some local Malbec.
Charley and I.
Orlando came back, followed by a small child of no more than ten years old. I later introduced myself to him. He was Federico, Orlando’s son. The young boy rode with such confidence; surely he was being groomed to become a gaucho like his father. It was as though he and his horse were one entity.
We rode about halfway up Cerro Negro and got a great view of the countryside yet again. Matías explained that a little further on up Cerro Negro we could see the only point on the Andes where all three of its cordilleras were visible. We stopped again and had maté. Matías and Federico chatted while Steven and I stood speechless, taking everything in. It was really breathtaking to see the countryside in this light and not to be just driving through it. We turned around and headed back to the ranch, not before some heavy galloping, however. Steven and I raced through a dried up riverbed. And then it seemed as soon as the day had started, it was already over. We dismounted and watched Federico drive the horses back to the ranch. Our van was waiting for us already so, after a few snapshots, boarded out transports and bid adieu to the Andes. We were left in front of the hostel with heartfelt handshakes and goodbyes from both Matías and the driver (who we tipped heavily), our own tip of which bar to go to tonight from Matías, and a small fleeting taste of the Andes.
Saying goodbye to the Andes.
Steven and I took a break in the hostel, and prepared for the evening. We went out souvenir shopping, and got dinner at El Mesón Español. No gazpacho and a mediocre meal. Tomorrow we fly back to Buenos Aires to meet our father. ¿Dónde fue esta semana?
Los Andes
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