Mendoza, west Argentina 29 April 2016

There might or might not be a time zone difference between Chile and Argentina, but at the time I didn't know and couldn't get a straight answer from anybody.  So I set my watch two hours forward as we were a fair way east of Santiago and went to bed, ready for breakfast at a (too) early time in the morning.

I woke an hour before the allotted time and went downstairs, but it was still dark and the desk clerk refused any attempt to communicate with me. No clock in the foyer, not another soul about. No reception for my phone and my iPad had by now died. Thats another story but its the last time I depend on an iPad on a trip - its gone.  So back upstairs and a return visit in an hour - same story. Anyway there was no time difference and on the third visit the hotel was awake, but it wasn't my favourite start to a day.

A strange breakfast of baking and preserves, stewed coffee, then on the road, down another rocky valley again reminding me of the Kauwara valley.  There was a heavy cloud blanket above us obscuring all but the lower couple of thousand feet. On one occasion we saw condors gliding the slopes just below cloud base.  Finally I asked about the piles of plastic bottles we occasionally saw at roadside.  Does someone pick them up? Why is that littering tolerated? Anyway we learned that these are shrines to a saint, revered on both sides of the Andes, a women who crossed from Chile to Argentina with an infant, escaping some persecution, but dying of thirst on the way. Her infant however survived, attached to her mothers breast, when found.  The shrines bring her water, hence the sometimes large piles of water bottles which I had not noticed were full, or that there was a small shrine somewhere in their midst. I can see why this story has such a grip on its people, it absolutely captures the beautiful but hard reality of their relationship with the mountains.

As we wound out of the mountains towards the city of Mendoza we passed and called into a lake that was not unlike Benmore, set amongst brown hills. It was one of the reservoirs that feed the city and its rural surrounds, which would otherwise be a desert.  It was bitterly cold at about 6 degrees and a stiff breeze, so searching for things of interest around the lake shore and back roads became tedious on account of the cold.  We did have a specific target, a very stunning hummingbird the Red Comet, that lives in the region. In the meantime a few little brown birds didn't excite.

There were a sprinkling of houses along several roads near the lake, being a summer vacation area. One of these houses had a food bus outside and for gods sake it was actually open.  A couple ran it outside their small home and holding, where they also made various artisan foods including wine, cured ham and olives.   The woman bid us follow her and took us into their small underground cellar, where a wine was fermenting in a single container and a few dozen bottles sat around.  Some hams hung from the ceiling.  She generously poured us a sample to try - it was rustic but good.

We bought a sandwich each from the bus, chunks and slabs of bread with slices of their cued hame and cheese. We also had some other local salami and cheese to turbo charge the sandwiches further, plus bought black sweet coffee - no milk available.

It was absolutely bitter. Shanti was wrapped in everything she owned, coat hood pulled tight and only a bright red nose, some eyes and a mouth showing, trying to eat this lumpen sandwich in one hand and coffee in other.  I noticed she was shaking with cold so we dispatched her to the truck and followed soon after.  Prior to this three strapping young fellows had also turned up at the bus, to eat, looking like Fidel Castro in their boots and military caps. They ordered wine, mate tea, and handed round a smoke.  Friendly, with one speaking excellent english. "Its going to snow' he said, 'and we have to get back over to Chile before they close the road.'  For a while we were a convivial group  around the bus, while we waited for food, but the elements didn't let it turn into a party and we went our separate ways.  But a very bright memory.

There was a little more dismal sniffing around for the Red Comet, then we decided to call it a day and get on to Mendoza.  The road very quickly exited the hills and we were on the Mendoza plains and in an ocean of vines, then on to the city itself.  Still at moderate altitude from a vine growing perspective, Mendoza exists because of its water reserves, which even flow through channels in the city making it a green, tree lined city of moderate size.  Otherwise it has only something in the vicinity of 200mm of annual rain, versus 300- 350 in Alexandra. So its a bona fida dessert.

Mendoza is still Red Comet country, and as so often happens we finally found it in the city park, where there is usually a good mix of flowering trees and shrubs. The light was poor and its an extremely difficult subject, being a hummingbird which means they are hyper active.  I tried for a good hour or more but only got the cruddiest photos, however it was a wonderful experience seeing this incredible, still tiny species, with its very long tail and flashing red iridescence.

Our guide and driver were leaving us at this stage and we were travelling the rest of Argentina on our own. That required a good dinner to celebrate and thank them for our time together. We headed for the chosen, recommended restaurant, but it was full with a private family gathering. We stood and watched them for a while - they were dancing.  The women would get up, in pairs, and with hands held up about shoulder level, shuffle about in time to the music, with lots of cheering and clapping from the group. Then the next two and so on. Very endearing. Anyway the next place was open, although we had to wait, having a lesson in how very late the locals eat.  9 pm is regarded as ridiculous and 10 or 11 pm more like it.  Despite banging on the door they would not let us in till 9 pm when we had the place to ourselves, with other diners turning up about when we left.

A very happy evening with a couple of days R and R, in Mendoza to look forward to.

Crossing the Andes from Chile to Argentina, by road, 28 April 2016

Our final (and pre dawn) departure from Santiago, towards the town of Los Andes to the north and at the entrance of the road over the mountains.  The Andes are never a single range but band after band of mountains on the bulging crest that is the plate boundary.   They are narrower in the Santiago region, comprising fewer ranges and with a prominent valley exiting the Argentinian side such that you only have to cross a single high point.  From a map it wasn't hard to see where the crossing would have to go, across the only feasible line from east to west.

We turned into the mountains following and climbing a narrow winding valley, with rough, steep walled mountains on both side and a decent tumbling river. It reminded me somewhat of the Kauwara Gorge approaching Queenstown, but with everything on a greater scale in terms of altitude and mountain height.  Maybe its like driving in a dinky car;  thats not a bad description of how it sometimes felt.

The road was two lanes with no passing bays, and plenty of slow grinding trucks, like a supply route into Mordor. We stopped on occasion but otherwise it was a winding climb, in convoy, through grey rock faces and occasional views of much higher peaks.  The peaks were frosted with snow rather than deep snow fields, possibly reflecting their relative dryness or the high winds they experience.

Climbing higher the temperatures were dropping sharply and a patina of frozen snow and ice began to lace surfaces, with ridges and peaks also more visible. We knew we were in alpine country when we passed through the first avalanche protection; a long cement bunker with covered roof so that avalanche debris would cross above the road.

The drive from Los Andes had not seemed that long, maybe an hour or two, and we were already close to the border. The road was now markedly steeper like a ski field access road and ahead of us a very steep high wall had vehicles moving in tight zigzags, in at least 16 hairpin bends. Traffic stopped a couple of times as we approached, while bottle necks sorted themselves out.  Then it was our turn to climb this magnificent section of road, with the views opening up as we climbed. At the top a long tunnel, more avalanche covers and we were on the pass.  Above us we could see remnants of an earlier road which took vehicles to a higher pass than the one we were on now, which had been made redundant by the building of tunnels. The old roadways and zig zags added what looked like another 2,000 ft on the pass and looked very undesirable.  We were told that a new tunnel is under construction to further lower the pass and improve all-weather access across the roadway. Too bad I thought, standing at probably near 10,000 feet and admiring the bleak rugged mountains still towering above us.

The drive down to Argentina couldn't have been more different.  The valley immediately broadened
and the mountains became drier and more weathered and colourful, with the reds, yellows and ochres of a more eroded landscape. The Chilean side had been the steep, active, raw face of the Andes fault system, with the Argentinian side broader, drier and more weathered into smooth forms. But first we had to pass through officialdom which involved three stops, the first two being customs and police inspection related, the third immigration and passport related.  The latter was a large covered building, a drive through, with immigration booths like Kentucky Fried Chicken drive throughs. Sitting in each booth was a Chilean staff member, and right beside them their Argentinian equivalent. The passport went to customs officer A who stared at it for a while then at you as customs officials do, before handing it to B, the other country equivalent right beside them, who also looked long at it, you and finally stamped it.  Both sets of officials were in their respective country uniforms. Quite comical I thought, especially when on other occasions you hear what Chileans actually think of Argentinians and vice versa. Apparently this immigrations post can take hours to clear when multiple buses etc come through, but we were in luck with timing and were gone in minutes.  Our two customs agents were lovely girls.  I thought what a place to work, probably at about 9,000 feet, sub zero temperature, in a huge tin building with neon lights and heavy traffic grinding through, or parking with idling motors. Yuk.

Anyway back out into the sunlight and into some of the most wonderful country we have every experienced. A remarkable transformation in landscape, into wide open valleys and soaring ridges, dry and desert like. Colourful rocks and sediments, red in particular, suffused the landscape in warm colour.  Some glorious high scree slopes, thousands of feet worth, arching ridges and high peaks behind. Again we had to remind ourselves that we were still at 8 or 9 thousand feet and in the vicinity of 18-20,000 peaks, in fact very close to the highest mountain outside the Himalayas, at 22,000 ft.

An exceptionally grand, wild, otherworldly, lonely landscape - very moving experience to just be there. Largely uninhabited, with just the occasional few buildings.  Likewise the traffic had thinned out on the very open roads, and did not detract.

While its a longer drive on the Argentine side the road is open and good driving. We arrived at the edge of the main mountains and into the small town of Uspallata, for the night.  In one direction the snow capped Andes, and to the east desert country wrinkled with low hills. The town itself is still at 6,000 feet and the hills are deceptive, adding 3,000 feet in places. We had a couple of evening hours before dark and drove into the barren desert landscape with huge views in every direction. Following a winding road into the hills we were soon back above freezing level although being so dry there wasn't much evidence except the occasional frozen shaded bank or water hole.  We found Guanaco, a llama like grazer very reminiscent of seeing red deer in NZ tussock grassland, but also a bizarre XOS rabbit like animal with long fluffy tail. Overhead the occasional eagle glided, with a few  smaller bird species making a living in the harsh environment.  Large globular cacti were dotted through the scrub, a strange addition to an otherwise alpine environment, with the difference being its not just alpine but also a desert.

We stopped and photographed in the chill winds, trying to capture the landscape and its vast feel, but only a 360 deg video has any hope and I'm not sure if we got any of it.

The evening we went to a restaurant in Uspallata, looking somewhat like a derelict Milk Bar cum Diner from Happy Days.  There we signed up for the house special, a Bife Chorizo. Not knowing what that was i though ok might have some Chorizo sausages and maybe beans (?) , but no it was a char grilled sirloin steak of exceptional size. Im guessing 600 grams. It was cooked medium rare to perfection, on an open fire and served with a dried herbs, chilly and olive olive concoction that we subsequently encountered everywhere. It was incredible, although shanti couldn't eat it all and had to hand over (a rubic cube sized) sample for me to help her with.  'Welcome to Argentina, have a nice day!'

The Uspallata hotel was a grand old but faded mansion.  We finished an extremely long but incredible day in a cavernous bedroom with worn fittings, useless plumbing and french doors onto a first floor balcony overlooking the garden.










 

We visit the Chilean coast, 27 April.

The usual 7 am departure from Santiago, with an hour or so battle in the morning traffic although most of heading inwards.  Then turning left for the coast, to the San Antonio district, a prominent port, and the mouth of the Maipo River estuary.
we parked at the back of a beach that provided a spit at the mouth of the estuary, and walked in that direction. Mon dieu is was cold, with a biting wind blow off the sea and along the beach.
The black sand beach bordered an equally dark looking sea, with choppy surf and wind whipped waters.  This is the coastline of the cold, oxygen rich Humbolt current which tracks from Antartica up this side of the continent, supporting a prolific marine environment. and there certainly was a proliferation of bird life the beach was moving with birds especially Grey Gulls and Sandpipers. Bothe species would dash towards the retreating waterline as a breaker subsided, dig frantically right at waters edge then beat a retreat as the next wave came in.  'Grey Gull' doesn't do it justice it is a very handsome dark slate coloured bird, quite finely built and quite striking as they ran the beaches in mobs or glided around the breakers. We could see them en masse down the several kilometre length of the beach. Interestingly this gull breeds in the Atacama Desert in north Chile, 50-100 km from the sea, dispersing the coast in the non breeding season. We spent a lot of time just admiring this beautiful dark slate bird, and laughing at the their scrambling antics at the water line. By contrast the Sanderlings, engaged in the same behaviour, looked like little packs of mice as they scuttled up and down. Fenja explained that many of the coastal species were migratory, with waves of birds moving both up and down the continent but also from inland to the coast, as the seasonal climate progressed. In some instances species made it all the way to the Arctic circle and back, over the course of the year, as well as other Chilean species making it to the high Andes, inland deserts and even tropical Amazon. Unbelievable.
 Along the beach we saw plenty more species on the dunes, water edge and in the water, then towards the point of the beach spit we crossed into the lagoon at the mouth of the estuary, which was dripping with birdlife yet again. The usual wading and water bird contingent as you would expect but also some exotics, such as the Skimmers - bulky terns with an outsized lower bill for dredging the surface of the water, in flight, and Snipe - a squat, mottled bird with long straight bill like the oystercatcher. Almost impossible to see on the ground, the snipe exposed almost at your feet as you approached it, and flew round in speedy, fast wingbeats that buzzed in flight, punctured by the occasional high piping call.

The estuary included brackish wetlands and roadbeds at their side, where herons and ducks in particular abounded. Here we also saw one of the most startling of Chile bird species, the many Colored Tyrant. A small, reed dwelling passerine coloured in brightly coloured panels. We spent ages trying to photograph this little animal which would respond to a recording of its call but was so quick moving and restless that photographing was challenging. I would have spent more time on it and liked to go back as I know i didn't do too well on the shots, although enough to show what it was like.

A walk back down the beach then short drive into a seaside village just north of San Antonio, for lunch. A quaint, colourful little village, as many are right beside the sea, including a predominance of pale teal and lime paint, bits of netting, driftwood and fishing boys and wind swept hedges. The restaurant was literally on rocks leaning over the water, with a wall of salt corroded, inoperable windows and fairly beaten interior. We enjoyed fantastic local fare including (cue angelic trumpets) empanadas stuffed with oysters and cheese. Also abalones with lemon juice and mayonnaise, a seafood broth, coffee and beer and there you have it - lunch!

Our final destination for the day was a rocky headland, where we could park the vehicle on a rock shelf just a step or two from the sea below.  Not the grey sullen beach waters but crystal clean surging swells, that surged up and down the granite boulders below us. Immediacy on leaving the vehicle we heard chirrups and crimes nearby and there were otters in the water, paddling on their backs and diving. One swam close towards us holding a bright red crab, then dived and vanished. 'Loveable' was what we though best described these little creatures, as they dived, played and cavorted, at a sensible distance from us. Further around the point we found a second otter family, and on an offshore island an active Booby colony, reminding us of our visit to see nesting birds in the Galapagos. Just to complete the picture hummingbirds flitted through flowering shrubs on the edge of the headland, calling in their minuscule high pitched squeaking vocals. This has been a constant throughout the Chile trip with these tiny birds present almost everywhere.

It was such a thrill to see the central Chile coastline, so wild and rich in wildlife, but now it was time to head back to Santiago and pack for tomorrows much anticipated drive across the Andes and into Argentina.

La Campana day 2 - we attempt to climb it, but don't. 26 April 2016

The hotel in Omue was great, old masonry building with polished tile floors and ancient fixtures (like us) and we slept well. Up before daybreak for a visit to the Nothofagus forested valley on the shaded side of the mountain. The day started well in fact nothing more required for any day, as we watched fire crown hummingbirds feeding right beside the breakfast room, on a heavily laden persimmon tree. What a bird - so tiny, pumped up and squeaking like maddened mice, chasing each other like tiny darts and flashing their crowns in a very bright iridescent display. A nightmare to photograph so a bit of time spent in the attempt. Outside was surprisingly cold, about 6 degrees C, but the forecast was ok so we innocently thought we need take no warm clothes on our trip into the forest. What a mistaka to maka. Unknown to us was that we would be driving the vehicle, if possible, up a rough track to 3 maybe 4 thousand feet and then having a crack at the top, via a steep rocky track. So somewhat cold, me in two light layers and Shanti in light sneakers etc we headed upwards, on a track that became increasingly frozen with ice crystals extruding from the ground. We ascended about 1200 ft maybe through to nearly 5,000 ft, about an hour short of the summit. The ticker was getting a workout - 4 or 5 thousand feet is not that high but if you go there in a short drive then undertake some exercise you know all about it. Charles Darwin climbed La Campana on the Beagle expedition and wrote about a waterfall high up, which now bears a memorial plaque with that same waterfall running over it. We did make that point and a bit higher but the top was going to exceed our resources, and Shanti in particular wasn't equipped for walking on the rough and moderately steep ground so we thought stuff it who needs to get to the top? Not us apparently and we headed down. The forest was more enjoyable on descent, as one did not have to concentrate on ones breathing! It is extremely attractive as the canopy thins out at altitude into a delicate, fine trunked forest with a deep leafy litter. We also had terrific views down the valley and could see both the Andes and the coast line, so that's how thin Chile is. We returned to the hotel for lunch then drove back to Santiago via an alternative route that took us through more of this rural area. North of Santiago the arid Santiago basin gives way to a broad swayth of moderate hills from the Andes to the coast, but with many valleys and smaller plains. On these they grow pretty much anything on the rich soils, whereas the slopes were rough and rocky,often cactus laden. Rural towns were dotted about. Low passes crossed the hills on occasion and always the extra elevation always gave a wider view of the Andes. We stopped and admired them we can't get over this magnificent alpine wall that extends as far north and south as you can see. Looking forward to crossing them very soon!

La Campana, Chile, 25 April 2016ex

La Campana, our target for the day, is a mountain about 5,500 ft high in the coastal ranges north of Santiago. Its a national park, famed for receiving a visit from Charles Darwin and because it holds one of the remaining populations of the rare Chilean Palm. The Palm is failing to regenerate from the seeds it produces and only a few small remnant populations exist. It's vegetation is of further interest in that it is arid cactus and acacia (and palms) on the northern slopes, but is forested on the southern slopes with the most northern Nothofagus (Sourhern Beech) in South America. (Might be too many Norths and Souths in that sentence. Ed.) We made the usual pre dawn departure and headed our of the city with a stopover at Batuco Laguna, a lagoon and wetland on the edge of the city. It was a very chilly pre dawn (4 degrees) with heavy mist, which also closed out the basin hiding the wetland. Anyway gum boots on, plenty of clothing and we left the car on an exceedingly dodgy looking garbage littered back road near a very grotty outskirts town and headed across the wetland plain, very flat and poorly drained but not too boggy. A bit of a wander through the mist and we could have been anywhere. The birdlife was great, with some interesting species on the ground like the outrageously colourful meadow lark. Photos were hopeless in the mist but it was breaking up, and we walked on in hope. Ahead of us a moderate size lagoon was covered in wildfowl, but before we got there a long awaited encounter took place - the burrowing owl. A low mound, probably just high enough to dig a modest hole without it filling with water, was the home of four birds. They are a small to medium owl, with long legs and a straight stance. They stood at attentions and watched our approach, then retreated 50 metres or so when we got too close. Striking yellow eyes, and all the character that owls seem to possess. We were so delighted and hugged at the sight of them, as they stared just as intently back at us (but no hugs.) The mist was lifting and the place looked surreal. Behind the Owls a line of Andean geese grazed. These birds and anything else called 'Andean' effectively live in the mountains, but typical migrate downwards or north to south, as winter comes and goes and the snowline rises and falls. The Andes are so broad and long they are effectively a large country in their own right, with their own flora and fauna, but commonly migratory as mentioned above. The lake was teaming with wild fowl and we had to admit the range and beauty of the species was well out of our (NZ) league. Meanwhile the mist continued to break and the hills show through, plus some aircraft as the approach was directly above us. Fine by me - look up, look down... action. The vehicle, carrying everything we had, was not torched or robbed so good news, and we could continue on to La Campana. A couple of hours on the motorway and then off into rural country, with small towns and small scale agriculture of every description. We stopped in a town near the park and lunched in a local restaurant. Open wood fire, cement floor and adobe and stone walls, plus a plasma screen broadcasting the identical rubbish we get on middle of the day tv, but in Spanish of course. But we just loved the place with its locals and its humble but very enjoyable fare. A leg of chicken, on rice, with a glass of Chilean savy. About now we agreed we were getting the first real feeling of being in rural Chile. Down south was less populated, where'as here there were bustling rural townships. After lunch we drove the remaining short distance to the park, which surrounds the prominent mountain La Campana. The park can be accessed via one of the three valleys that extend from the peak - in our case we we entering the one that contained the Chilean Palms. They were immediately visibly - massive elephant leg like but tall trunks, in a rocky environment including cacti and thorny acacia shrubs. Very prehistoric in character. The ground was dry and barren, except that the recent rain had carpeted it with germinating seeds. Almost immediately we saw a small rodent with curved tail, crouching and feeding in the weeds. Highly strung, they fed as a group and occasionally exploded into a pannic and headed for cover. A few minutes would pass and they would creep out and resume eating. Individually they could not hold their nerve long and even if there were no general group scramble each individual would regularly retire and recover its nerve before rejoining the others. The was plenty of bird activity and as we walked we just bumped into sight after sight. Meanwhile the striking Palm trees made powerful statements with their soaring trunks, in groups or singly. Overhead various Hawks patrolled the skies. Not only was it very rich in birdlife a lot of it was ground dwelling, including an oddity called a Tinamou and even some Tabucolas. Finally I got a photograph of one of the species of Tabucola. This individual bird seemed less afraid of us and did some brief struts on the track so we could appreciate its curious appearance with large feet and high angled tail. We stayed until about 6 pm reluctant to leave the place, but our hotel was in a rural town an hour away and on the other side of the mountain (La Campana) so we headed off. We immediately warmed to the town, called Olmue, with its narrow but clean streets, modest packed in houses and people on the street including the odd horse rider. La Campana was a close and handsome backdrop to the town and cloaked in green forest on this side, as we would find out the next day. The town itself was also well tree'd with avenues of plane trees showing their autumn colour. Around the town we had seen all the produce growing as we drove in, including what looked like family holdings as well as larger farms including oranges, olives and vineyards. Suddenly I really felt we were finally there, in real Chile. The hotel did not disappoint it was a lovely old building with cavernous additional restaurant seating under attached additions, apparently to host weddings and the like. The staff gave us gringos a very warm welcome and we settled in. Shanti was tuckered and went to bed so Fernando and I did dinner and some local wine, while solving the various problems of Chile. Not too late to bed as surprise- surprise we would need to get up early and drive into the forest, on the flank of the mountain.

Altos de Lircay, Patagonia Chile, 22 April '16

We rose at daybreak to a chilly world. The cabins are in the forest which drops to low single figures this time of year. The kitchen diner had its wood burner rolling so we eat breakfast round that - bread, cheese, jam, some baked pudding item and Nescafé.
Then off in the 4wd, which soon turned out to be a 2wd and hardly up to to the road that took us to about 2000 metres, where a ranger in a wooden hut took out entrance fee. All the way we wound up through Nothofagus forest, through bands of mist.  At the park hut we left the vehicle and proceeded on foot, again in the mist.  I never thought all our clothing layers would be necessary but we wore the lot, plus hat gloves and scarf. The track cut across a slope of shattered granite rocks and larger boulders, with beech forest growing through it but well spaced. Beautiful old, untouched forest, quite silent. The mist added to the sense of primordial isolation. Occassionally it would clear and we saw steep rocky slopes above us, with the tree line perhaps 2000 feet above and rocky faces beyond that. It felt remarkably like being on the steep beech forests of Fiordland, mist and all.

We were on the hunt for the Magellanic Woodpecker, a large species and an example of the wildlife that has migrated from very different northern species assemblages and established in the southern beech forest regions. We found a family of three, quite easily, as their strange cries carry in the forest, as do their hammering so. Not a fast rattling sound like some species but slow thuds like someone cutting wood.  We left the track and headed down hill and there they were, a group of three. We were able to move in quite close and approximately level with them on the slope, and spent about 45 minutes entranced by the experience. How extraordinary to see these sizeable birds, the 2 males with bright red heads, clambering and hammering on the beech trucks around us, crying in their strange voices.

We were also hearing the occasional call of the Huet Huet, so we settled in for another attempt to see it, sitting on the cold ground with the tape recorder emitting the occasional call, a strange bubbling call that you couldn't imagine what made it. This time success, and the bird snuck in close to us, peered through the undergrowth at us and showed itself enough for an attempt at a photo. Not a spectacular animal, more like a large (female) blackbird that moved with outsized feet and its tail
lifted. A big eye for seeing in the gloom and an air of bewildered concern at the intrusion. When it moved it dashed at speed, as if something was hot on its trail. They are members of a family called Tapiculo's, which we have never seen before. They are famed for their vocals and frustratingly skulking behaviour.  We have heard four different species and seen three at this stage - our guide has made a lot of effort with them as they are a unique, iconic group.


A bit of botanising now took place as we have been fascinated by the understory of plants. We
recognise the genera, eg Fuchsia, Aristotellio, Sophora etc but not the species which are different
from our own. That's the consequence of separation (from NZ) and the passage of time.

We headed back for a late lunch at our lodge, a gargantuan meal of meat and potatoes probably boiled who knows, which we decided to accompany with a bottle of wine, initially around the fire until another group turned up for an even later lunch.   Their eating clock run several hours behind ours for  lunch and dinner, and man they can put it away.

We headed out again at 6 pm into what was an exceedingly gloomy evening, more night than day, and stayed until pitch black about 8.30 pm. We hunted for owls with limited success, only seeing one
Pygmy owl with body the size of my clenched fist. We also visited a prehistoric site in the forest, dated 8th century. Several large granite rocks on which a dozen or so people could stand had multiple elongated depressions, with smooth bases. They were grain grinding sites where grass seeds and tree
nuts were ground to a paste or a flour, using a tennis ball sister stone. Very atmospheric site with the
ghosts and shadows of the long gone Stone Age people easily imagined in the surrounding forest.


It rained at night, hosing down until dawn. The power went down with it so we woke to the sound of a generator, and a cold cabin the fire having gone out hours previously. Time to bail out and drive back to Santiago several hundred kms north, a long drive through occasional bands of torrential rain and two truck smashes.

Heading south from Santiago, to the northern Patagonian forests of Altos de Lircay, 21 April '2016

An earlyish start (we were'nt going to do that!) for a several hour drive south into what becomes the northern end of Patagonia, a geographical district that encompasses both sides of the Andes named after its indigenous people. It is characterised by a more negotiable section of the Andes, with high upland steppes and the transition into a distinctly cooler climate zone. On the Chilean side the mountains are cloaked with Nothofagus (southern beech) which like New Zealand were derived from Gondwanaland. We were excited at the prospect of forests that would feel familiar, yet separated by several tens of millions of years and therefore with species differences and in the case of Chile with other South American biota having migrated in, unlike NZ which did not have land bridges to anywhere. Driving south from Santiago our opinion of the city kept revising upwards as we exited via another attractive part of the city and onto a magnificent new motorway which we followed south, eventually through three toll gates as the provinces changed from one to another. Hawkers congregated around the tollgates, walking up and down the lines of cars, selling all sorts of weird rubbish, not that I saw anyone buy anything. One hawker had a bunch of car wiper mechanisms with blades at one end and wires dangling out the other. Who would buy that? Jimmy's pies and coffee - that might work. The dry Santiago basin with its barren scrublands came to an end as we drove through a set of hills and into a different world of flatlands with rich soil and crops from grapes to apples to kiwi fruit! All the time the Andes dominate the eastern skyline, sometimes a more jagged section, sometimes more weathered or with higher snowy peaks. Somewhat like the way the southern alps backdrop the NZ South Island west coast. We crossed the occasional torrential river with deeply scoured banks showing what the rivers were capable of, in flood. But otherwise a motorway experience more than anything, with 4 lanes all the way. On turning inland at the town of Talca that all changed. We tracked inland with the road deteriorating into a chewed up, rain scoured gravel road. The foothills were around us and clad in Nothofagus - southern beech- forests, but larger leaved species than our own. The lower slope species, like our own red beech, seemed to be tinged with autumn color, while the higher slopes had that darker brooding forest we also have. We visited a small lake and stopped at other locations as the road wound into the hills, looking at the vegetation and birdlife. Then Fernando said 'Tarantula' so we braked to a stop and went back to see a huge spider sitting in the middle of the road. Shanti got very difficult when I asked her to put her hand beside it for a photo comparison, but did agree to help coax it off the road, as another vehicle was approaching. The vehicle had to nearly stop while Shanti sho'ed it off the road - the drivers expression was priceless at the sight of some obviously dumb tourist wandering across the middle of a road ignoring an approaching vehicle to move a spider along, when the best thing for it would undoubtably be a size 18 tyre. We stopped for lunch overlooking a sizeable river with deeply cut bank, peppered with the nesting holes of the burrowing parakeet. The birds were feeding in gardens nearby and tracking backwards and forwards over the river,with the usual screaming and chattering that parakeets prefer. It's not hard to warm to such colourful and gregarious animals, they seem to live in such a world of color and hilarity. That was only half the day gone as we drove further inland to our cabin accommodation in Alto Viches, at the gateway to the Altos de Lircay national park. A surprisingly good lodge with lovely cabins, log burner going as we dropped out luggage off. It needed it - it was fairly cold and only got worse. We then spent the afternoon wandering in the quite magical forest around the park entrance and catching up with a few bird species such as the charming fire eyed duicon and the completely engaging white throat tree runner. Our walk in the forest also included an extended effort to sight a bird called the Huet Huet, about the most shy creature you can imagine. Being territorial they respond to a taped call, but go to extreme lengths to check the situation out from behind cover. So quite a lot if time was spent sitting with no more sound or movement than ones breath, while scanning the undergrowth from where the bird was responding to the taped calls. We drew a blank, but it was a good way to slow down and appreciate the silent forest. We finally retreated at dark and headed to the lodge, for a dire meal of boiled meat and potatoes but at least with a glass of wine. Then off to bed with the fire going, in an otherwise very cold cabin. The next day would be a start at daybreak, heading into some higher reaches of the park.

The Andes, near Santiago Chile, 20 April 2016

Today was our first regional trip with Fernando, our guide and driver, visiting today the districts of Farellones and Yerba Loca in the Andes mountains immediately behind Santiago. The city doesn't present itself that well on arrival, as the motorway tracks the river Mapocho which flows into the central city and also seems to function as the tip, at least in its outer reaches. This combined with the river bank slums is off putting but the city improves into its centre which sports a centre of leafy avenues and some fine buildings. But our regard for the place grew quickly. The proximity to the Andes and their great height means they loom over the city which is quite something. From anywhere you can look east and they are there as a ridge line floating above almost any building. The nearest ranges are close to 10,000 feet with the next ranges (not visible from the city) being close to 20,000ft, so they are formidable. They hang in the air like a snow capped curtain. We also greatly like the people they are very sombre, but amiable. Walking in the streets they make little noise and the traffic doesn't blast its horns or show much impatience. But the people are chatty and seemingly always engaged in friendly and unhurried conversations. There are a lot of young people being a student city, who are very refreshing, sporting their own dress code and endlessly greeting each other with hugs and enthusiatic welcomes. We headed out pre dawn and reached the slopes in about 45 minutes, so they really are close. Santiago is an arid basin beside the Andes but also with another block of mountains separating it from the coastal regions. It gets less rain than Alexandra so is genuine desert, cacti and all. The mountains which look smooth and weathered from the city, turn out to be rougher and steeper. We tracked into narrow valleys and wound up ridges, stopping occassionally to look around. The cactus shrubland on the slopes was foreign to us but nicely teeming with birdlife. First up we found a hummingbird, then many more including woodpecker. We spent most of the chilly morning exploring up these windy climbing roads, until the sun came out and we saw our first condors, both sunning themselves on high cliffs and also flying the ridges as the day warmed up. Fernando reminded us their size is deceiving unles you are close and thay they have a 3 metre wingspan which is basically our dining table including the very broad wing shape, plus those long fine feather extensions that the birds manoeuvre so that they soar without any apparent adjustments. It was certainly a magestic sight with their imposing wing platform and slow circling. The dry steep slopes also had red mistletoe flowering which was an attractant to hummingbirds but also a large golden bumblebee which we very much hope was THE Chilean golden bumble bee, the largest species in existence. I could have spent a lot more time chasing them with the camera, as they were sunny little orbs of gold and so spectacular mussing in the red mistletoe blooms. We continued climbing the winding roads and topped out at nearly 3,000 metres, where the shrubland was well gone and rocky fell fields of herbs and snow tolerant shrubs grew. On the way and high up we had the exceptional thrill of finding several Horned Owls, snoozing in poplar trees planted beside the road. They are a large owl, 18 inches apparently, decked in a heavy coat somewhat like a down jacket. The birds were exceedingly groggy and occasionally opened one or more eyes by way of lifting, with difficulty, their large drooping eyelids. Underneath, large yellow orbs regarded the world balefully. Then whatever disturbed them passed and they would subside back into sleep. We could see their massive talons - these birds can dispatch a live rabbit or hare no problem. As with everything else we couldn't stay there forever, so we dragged ourselves on and away. Our highest point on the road had us a bit breathless when we walked and scrambled the slopes around the vehicle. Meanwhile great expanses of upland extended around us in all directions, with rock fields and occasional icy peaks pushing up, in some cases, to close to twice our altitude. It is certainly marvellous to be at altitude and see this wild landscape both around and soaring above you. We headed home and after 10 hours on the road were too stuffed to go restaurant tracking, plus with a 6 am start to consider we ate something in the hotel and fell into bed.