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!
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