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.
Saturday, July 23, 2016
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 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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)