The Last Lap

Liz and I have rented a house in Mendoza, from shortly after New Years to the end of March. After being on the road for over two months, we were looking forward to settling down a bit and unpacking. But we had to get from Cafayate, where we rang in the the New Year, to Mendoza, a 1,200 km drive – one last lap. We could have done it in one very long day, but we chose to break it up. I’ve always believed that the journey itself is the destination and we wanted to enjoy the trip.

As I’ve said here before, traveling through western Argentina is all about the mountains. The forces that built (and are still building) the Andes mountains, have produced parallel, north-south ranges, interspersed with broad valleys, partially filled with sediments eroded from the mountains. Time after time we would cross a section of mountains and emerge into yet another desert valley, only to repeat the process again an hour later. It was easy for us with a car and paved roads, but I could not help but think of the native peoples and colonists who made the journey through this arid land on foot.

Settlements, gas stations and bathrooms are few and far between here. The rule of thumb is carry water and food with you, never get below half a tank, go when you have the chance and always keep half a roll of toilet paper handy just in case. I was particularly intrigued by a parador (rest stop) in the middle of nowhere, whose windows were covered with stickers from all the bikers who had passed by. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one with a dream of riding through South America!

Our first stop was in Chilecito. We stayed in a posada, on the outskirts of town, which had been a colonial farm house. It was a lovely building, some 130 years old, with adobe walls half a meter thick, high ceilings and lovely tile floors. It was deliciously cool and dark inside, with a covered porch outside looking over (yes, you guessed it) the vineyard. In this part of Argentina you can be fairly certain that wherever there is water, there are grapes being grown, which we had the privilege of sampling – mmmm! Whether it’s tomatoes, corn or grapes, there is nothing like homegrown, fresh picked produce!

Our next stop was Barreal. Lonely Planet lists it as “one of the most beautifully situated towns you’re ever likely to come across”.  How could we resist?

Barreal nestles on the Rio de los Patos (River of the Ducks). The view from the riverfront is spectacular. Across the valley are some of the tallest mountains in the Andes, including Aconcagua, the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas.

Aconcagua is technically an “easy” mountain to climb, in that it doesn’t require ropes, pins and axes, if climbed along the easiest (north) route. It is said to be the highest non-technical mountain in the world. Still at the summit, (6,961 metres or 22,838 ft), oxygen levels are less than half (40%) of sea level. Despite its technical ease, the altitude and severe weather combine to claim several lives every year. I was content to admire it from a distance.

Barreal itself is the picture of a sleepy, off-the-beaten-track village. Weeping willows and eucalyptus drape lazily over its dirt streets. The Posada el Mercedario, where we stayed, is the oldest building in town, a colonial-era adobe gem. It was a true oasis, not just of greenery, but for the mind and soul, complete with beautiful flowers, a flock of sheep to trim the lawn, shady spots to sit and read, a pool to cool off in, and an assortment of dogs and cats to help you do whatever it is you’re doing, especially if it’s nothing in particular.

The only difficulty we had when we arrived, was finding a place to eat. It being a holiday Monday, almost everything was closed. We ended up having supper at the town’s only gas station, which believe it or not had a very nice dining room. There was an extensive menu of home cooked meals and as I was somewhat amazed to find, a display of local wines you could buy to accompany your meal. All at the gas station!

I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a good place to be an alcoholic, but at least in Argentina it’s convenient and cheap.

Three days in Barreal was hardly enough, but we had a house booked in Mendoza and I had a motorcycle waiting for me. We left the greenery behind and headed off once more along a gravel road into the desert.

Two things that you might see while driving in western Argentina – the first is guanacos (the wild relative of the llama). Guanacos are the road hazard equivalent of deer back home – unpredictable and not too bright.  The good thing is that with the sparse vegetation you can see them from a long way off.

The other thing you will definitely see is roadside shrines. I had assumed that these were all related to traffic fatalities. Some of them are, but there were many with water bottles piled around. And I kept seeing the same name, “Difunta Correa”.

I finally looked it up, Difunta Correa (Deceased Correa in English) refers to the legend of a woman who died of thirst searching for her husband in the desert. The story is too long to repeat in full, but you can look it up here. She has become an unofficial saint, particularly for truck drivers, gauchos and desert travelers in general who leave offerings of water bottles at her shrines.

Whether it was the intervention of Difunta Correa, or whatever, we’re glad to have safely made it half way through our South Amercian sojourn, covering over 10,000 km. We’re settled in Mendoza for now. In March, I’ll be heading to Ushuaia, at the southern tip of South America. But for now, our focus will shift from traveling to getting to know one place in more detail.

Here are the rest of the photos from this leg of the journey.