Into the Andes

Last Sunday we finally got the opportunity to head out into the mountains for a day of hiking. I have been dying to get out there ever since we arrived!  The Andes line the western side of Mendoza, with olive green and brown foothills with massive snowcapped peaks peeking out from behind them.   I signed us up for a trip with a local Outdoor Club that I heard about from our Gringo friends.  The description of this particular outing was an 18km (11m) hike at 700m.  A pretty long hike, but it was listed for basic physical level with no previous technical skill needed.  Sounded like a perfect first outing for us, a long day winding through the mountains, letting us get acquainted with the landscape.  We were instructed to bring some wood, some carne, and other food for an asado (barbeque) at lunch time.  Argentinians LOVE their asado, and get together for one at least once a week.  Our first was to be in the mountains- even better!

We met the rest of the group near the club and split up into different cars.  Samantha and I went in a car with Andres, a nice middle age guy who didn’t speak English, so our conversation was pretty limited.  We spent the hour long drive marveling at the scenery and listening to a Hugh Laurie cd (I didn’t know Dr. House was a musician- Andres is a big fan).  After twisting through a few valleys and alongside the Mendoza River, our caravan pulled into a tiny dirt parking lot alongside the abandoned Argentine-Chilean railroad (the railroad was never repaired after an earthquake in the 60’s).  We stepped out into the chilly mountain air, checked our gear, and started off down the tracks.  For the first 5km we hiked along the tracks following the river, through tunnels, over open bridges and past abandoned stations.  We stopped at one of these ghost stations to drop off our wood and carne.  Apparently, the idea was to hike for a while, then return to the shelter of the old building and grill out. 

After dropping off the supplies, we crossed another bridge and our guide started pointing to a looming mountain.  Samantha and I exchanged a confused look at this point, realizing that they were talking about which route to head up the slope.  I started getting pretty excited at this point, but Samantha started looking concerned.  This wasn’t quite what the description promised.  At that distance, however, it just looked like a big old hill.  How difficult could it be?

The group started making its way through the small neon green shrubs that covered the land surrounding the mountain.  The land started gently sloping upward and the temperature starts to climb as the sun gets higher in the sky.  We chatted with our guide learning that the summit of the mountain was around 2500 meters high.  Not high enough for snow or altitude sickness, but definitely bigger that anything in Tennessee!

Soon, we got to the real base of the mountain and started climbing in earnest.  The slope was steep, and the group started to spread out as some people started to feel the strain.  Looking uphill, I realized the size of this mountain.  This was going to take some time.  It was now noon and we were a couple hundred meters up, with two thousand left to go.  I wondered, how are we supposed to have asado for lunch when it looks like we won’t even reach the summit for another couple of hours?  I didn’t know, but at that point it didn’t matter to me.  The sun was shining in a spotless sky, we were surrounded by amazing mountains, and the views were getting better are better as we climbed. 

After we got about 1000 meters up, the climb started getting much more challenging.  We followed a little gully up for a while, climbing over boulders and slipping on scree.  A few members of the group were really struggling now, and the guides have split up, one going with the faster group, the other staying behind.  Our guide, an Israeli born American named Elan, was doing a great job of keeping peoples spirits up. 

After fighting our way up the mountain for four more hours, we finally reached the plateau of the top.  The true summit was still a few hundred meters away, and some of the more ambitious people pushed on to bag the peak.  The rest of us were worn out, hungry; thinking when is that asado again?  Lunch time has definitely come and gone, and wondering how the hell we are getting back down.  The way up was pretty tough, and not something we really wanted to attempt on the way down.  Also, it took us over 6 hours to get up to the top.  How were we supposed to make it down before dark?

Well, our fearless guides decided to try a different route down.  It was a longer route, but from our vantage point it looked like we might be able to follow a ridgeline with a much gentler slope all the way down.  They hoped.  You see, only one of these guides had been on this mountain before, and had not taken either of these routes.  There are no trails, we are picking our way through the sparse vegetation as we see fit.     

After a little snack (because that’s all the food we brought with us), we headed off in this new direction.  The view from the plateau was incredible, with massive condors soaring overhead, and the land sloped off in every direction, showing how the terrain was shaping by moving water.  We felt pretty high up, but all around us were mountains that top out above anything in the US.  Anyway, it was time to head down.  We had limited sunlight left. 

As often is true with hiking and climbing, down turned out to be more difficult than up.  Part of our group was really struggling to keep their footing.  Andres, our gracious, Dr. House loving driver, apparently suffers from pretty bad vertigo.  It turns out he has started mountain climbing in order to confront it.  A very noble goal, but definitely made the going slow and proved to be a tough experience for him.  People were slipping down the slope, landing in little cactus patches, scraping hands, knees, elbows, and more.  The ridge was a little less steep than our way up, but we definitely were not skipping along.  We side stepped our way down, leaning on our poles to catch our weight, quasi-surfing down the slope as we tried to control our sliding on the loose rocks.  As we struggled to follow the ridgeline down, we crossed numerous scree fields, setting into motion rivers of gravel that threatened to turn into rock avalanches.  Afternoon started to turn to evening as the sun moved towards the peaks opposite of us.  We were closer to the top than the bottom.  Unless something changed pretty quickly, we were not making it down before dark.

The trip itinerary said we were supposed to be home by 7.  When 7 rolled around, we were about halfway down.  The sun however, was much further along.   As it set behind the mountains, the group rested while our guides traversed adjacent ridges, looking for a new route.  Our ridge abruptly ended in a sheer cliff. 

I was pretty nervous about climbing down in the dark, seeing how much trouble we had when the sun was up.  Luckily, I brought a headlamp, as did most of the group.  It’s one of those things you are always supposed to bring, and never think you will actually use.  That night we sure did!  We still had a long way to go. 

Looking up into the sky, I noticed the stars were coming out.  Our first look at the Southern stars!  For those of you who I didn’t talk to before I left the States, one of the reasons we wanted to come to South America was to see the night sky in the Southern Hemisphere.  It may sound a little silly, but it always amazed me that they had a different view!  It’s almost like the south has a different window into space.  As we looked up at the strange new constellations for the first time, I realized that we really are far from home.  We gazed up at the Southern Cross, and an unidentified constellation I’ll call “old TV set” until we figure out the real name.

Surprisingly, the going was easier for some in the dark.  I guess vertigo is hard to get when you can’t tell that you are high up!  Luckily, our guides finally located a route that did get us back down to the ground.  Also, I noticed that the mountains to the west were glowing.  A full moon was slowly rising behind us, illuminating the night.  Apparently, nature has decided to take pity and not screw us entirely.

Finally, we reached what could accurately be called the “bottom” of the mountain a little after 10pm.  The group was exhausted, but elated.  We decided to forget the long promised asado (the meat was definitely bad after sitting out all day anyway) and just head home.  Our guides grudgingly admitted that the trip was SLIGHTLY more difficult than advertised.  Our guides obviously had some weird expectations for the hike (how in the world were we supposed to get up and down that thing in time for lunch?), but they got us through a pretty rough day safely, so they did a pretty good job all in all.  Despite all of the tribulations of the day, standing at the bottom of a mountain in a moonlit valley of the Andes while the Southern Cross hangs over head was an amazing feeling.

All we had to do after that was hike 6km back to the cars!

Mendoza 12, Sam and Graham 5!

I should mention that since that occurrence a few weeks ago we have bus failed twice, but succeeded five times! Sam and Graham are gettin’ back in the game!

Adventures in Public Transportation!

One day we decided to ride the bus. We had a general area in mind, but no real destination. The bus system here seems to take you wherever you need to go, as long as you have a magical microchip implanted in your brain to clue you in on which bus goes where…

We hopped on somewhere on Patricias Mendocinos in the middle of the city and headed south towards the suburb of Godoy Cruz. We read there were a few institutes in that direction so we wanted to get a feel for the neighborhood. What we guessed was the neighborhood near the institutes was quite nice, but our bus kept making left turns that took us farther and farther from the city. The further away we went, the sketchier the area. I was reminded of another adventure I took years ago with Erin to the outskirts of Verona in Italy. We knew exactly which bus to get on, but I guess we also should have known when to get off the bus. We ended up near the terminal in a far off neighborhood. Luckily it was still daytime, the neighborhood was nice and another bus came to take us back to the city in about a half an hour. I recounted this story to Graham many moons before and when I mentioned it again, he said he remembered my fated bus trip and checked to see if the bus said “terminal” on it.

About a half an hour later, we were deep into Godoy Cruz and a nice young lady approached me to ask if I was OK and if I knew where I was going… I should have known by the worried looks the bus driver was giving me in his rearview mirror probably thinking “what do these gringos think they’re doing?”

We weren’t worried, it was an adventure! Besides, how else would we get to see the far reaches of Godoy Cruz? In fact, I hope we never see them again…

Fortunately, the bus turned back towards the city! We passed through an area that we recognized but was still about a mile from our hotel, so we decided to ride until it turned back towards the stop where we first got on. I started to get concerned somewhere in Godoy Cruz, but I was feeling much better because I started to recognize my surroundings.

 Alas, the bus kept going north towards another suburb called Las Heras. Graham had to teach that evening so I was truly worried because at this point we had already been on the bus for over an hour. A series of right turns brought us to the far reaches of Las Heras, which made Godoy Cruz look quite nice in comparison. The bus driver’s apprehensive looks turned into genuine concern as we pulled up to the terminal and he expressed to Graham that he should keep his eyes on his backpack and on me. Perhaps Graham fibbed when he said he was sure the bus didn’t end up at the terminal…

Funny how a semi-seasoned traveler can make the same mistake twice! Only this time we ended up at the terminal at night, in a really rough neighborhood with no clue how to get back.

But wait! Huzzah! A bus that was heading back towards the city was exiting the terminal very soon after we hopped off the first bus! After a momentary panic that we would not have enough fare to ride, we were cruising out of Las Heras with a few teenagers that seemed to have no problem lighting up a joint somewhere near the back of the bus. The bus driver didn’t seem to mind since he was finishing off a cigarette himself. Two hours after our crazy idea to get on the bus, I exited on the street where our hotel was and I left Graham to figure out when to get off to get to the institute for his class that would be starting in thirty minutes.  

I really hope we can have a couple of those “bus map microchips” implanted soon so I can ride the bus again!

Graham Checks In

Ok, we have been out of the country for a little over a month now, so it is probably time for me to make an appearance on the blog.  Let me rewind; back to the beginning of our journey.  We left balmy Chicago (100 degrees F) and plane hopped our way down to chilly Santiago (about 32 degrees!).  It was quite a shock, especially after a 14 hour flight, and arriving at 3am.  BUT, it was my first time to REALLY leave the country (Canada doesn’t count, right?) so I thought that every little detail was fascinating.  We got over that pretty quickly when out trip to the luggage carousel yielded only one bag.  Yes, we discovered that TACA airlines was the discount choice for a reason. 

So, we headed through customs, out into the chilly Chilean night.  We took a cab straight to our hostel in Bella Vista, the hip part of town.  At this hour, in complete exhaustion and darkness, we weren’t able to appreciate our surroundings at all.  A sleepy attendant lets us into La Chimba, a brightly colored and festive looking hostel.  We are led to our room, and told ‘Buenas Noches’.  The room had a nice big bed, nice big window, and complete lack of heat.  It was a nice 30 some-odd degrees in our room, just like outside!  The whole hostel was heated by 3 measly space heaters.  We were to learn in the coming days that it is very rare for Chilean homes to have any sort of central heat, despite pretty chilly winter nights.  Interestingly enough, everywhere in Argentina has natural gas heating thanks to an abundance of the resource.  Thank God for the down sleeping bags that I insisted on bringing! 

We slept into the late morning, and then decided to head out and explore our surroundings.  We exited the hostel, took a right, walked half a block, and looked to our left (the east).  There they were, right there!  I could almost reach out and touch them!  The big, bad Andes Mountains.  Huge, rugged lines of rock and snow, looking impossibly close!  I knew that Santiago was bordered by the mountains, but had no idea that they literally formed the eastern border of the city. 

That day, we walked around our eclectic little neighborhood, enjoying some Empanadas de Jamon y Queso (awesome fried ham and cheese sandwiches), and went to the top of the beautiful Cerro San Cristobal.

As I mentioned, we arrived in Santiago at night, so we weren’t able to see much of anything.  One thing that stood out to me as our plane came in low over the massive city (biggest city I have ever visited) was that there were several circular areas in the middle of the city with no lights.  I guessed that they we parks.  And parks they were!

The city of Santiago is almost completely flat.  There are a few steep hills rising out of the middle of nowhere, and these have all been designated as parks.  It’s as if the people didn’t feel like building on any slopes, so everytime they encountered on of these hills (cerros), that said “ehhh, let’s make that a park”.  I’m glad they did, because Cerro San Cristobal gave us the most impressive view of the city.  This massive hill rises 300m (1000ft) above the rest of the city, and serves as home to the city Zoo, gardens, markets, and a massive statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the top.  We walked maybe halfway up, marveling at the juxtaposition of palm trees, bromeliads, cacti, and jagged snowcapped mountains.  From there, we caught a cable car up to the top.  There, we took in the panoramic view of the city.  Santiago is bordered not only by the Andes in the east, but by the Cordón de Chacabuco range to the north and the Chilean Costal Range to the west.  The Cerro provided a breath taking view of all of this, plus a sense of the scale of the city in the clean, crisp air (up above the smog). 

In the next few days, we also climbed Cerro Santa Lucia, and hill more in the heart of the city.  This smaller hill is home to a beautiful colonial building with a high tower lookout at the top, giving yet another amazing panoramic view of the city.  Sights like these were our favorite part of Santiago.  The rest…was not so great.  More to follow!

Our story begins... sort of.

It rained. Last night the wind was blowing ominously as we discussed how much we would miss the rain and we convinced ourselves that it wouldn’t happen. Not that three-hundred-some days of sunshine a year sounds bad, but there is nothing like sleeping in a rainstorm. For the first time in two weeks, I slept. I mean I really slept, like Rip Van Winkle kind of slept. After I woke up and stared out of the window for a while I made a cup of tea with one of the only two teabags I brought with me- it seemed a fitting occasion. I didn’t think I would miss tea this much and I didn’t think Graham would have the opportunity to miss coffee, but here we are in the land of yerba and nescafé. Several things have been very surprising, of course, but the lack of a single percolator in this forsaken country has been one Graham was not pleased to grapple with. I started drinking yerba mate a few months before I left the states but I have not yet committed to carrying a gourd and a flour-sized bag of leaves around with me yet. Therefore we have been reduced to “expresso” and cheap black tea drinkers; I know, sounds awful… J

Finding good coffee and tea seems to be the least of our worries and the quest is put in the pile with everything else titled “don’t worry, you’ll find everything soon. You’re not even settled yet!” Also in this category: an apartment, enough jobs to pay for an apartment, a pair of black shoes for less than 400pesos, enough jobs to pay for shoe habit, black pepper and a good meal. For the purpose of full disclosure, the quest for a good meal has not been first on the list due to the horrible illness I suffered from since the first night we arrived in Chile, but that’s another story that I will tell you in gruesome detail later. Also, Graham had a good meal: a steak covered in some kind of cream sauce with paprika. The best meal I’ve experienced so far was yesterday at Clementine, an adorable pastry shop on Aristides Villanueve (a really cool street with lots of nice bars, restaurants and expensive shops). Even if the food was terrible (which it wasn’t!) I still would have enjoyed myself because of the buckets of flowers, mosaics and general tea party (like you and your dolls playing dress up, not crazy politicians) feel of the place. Graham and I split a tostado (cheese toastie) and the most delicious buttery limon cupcake. I felt hopeful for the first time since we’ve been here. Is it sad that it only takes a delicious pastry to get me back on track? After our delightful excursion we had to balance it out with yet another horrendous meal at a place called Taco Bar. By the way, if you live in Nashville and you happen to walk by Mas Tacos, please eat at least seven tacos for me and ask Teresa if she would consider opening a new location Down South.

Graham made sure to remind me to say how “we’ve been making great strides” and “the people are great”. Please understand that while I may be a bit sarcastic and complain about my ‘white people problems’ sometimes, things really are quite wonderful here. Some of my favorite things so far: delicious and incredibly inexpensive wine, multiple plazas with beautiful fountains and glorious old trees, sunshine and 60° everyday, kind and generous people, the smell of bread baking at midnight, the ability to walk everywhere, cheap taxis when I don’t want to and jumping into teaching having no idea what’s going on. I will scatter my least favorite things throughout to hopefully make them seem more insignificant.

We are officially two weeks into our journey and I’ve just begun telling stories, so please forgive the lack of chronology in the coming posts. Adventures in teaching begins!