Los Glaciares: Laguna Torro...rained out

After so many days of sunshine the Patagonian weather gods were clearly bored. And our luck ran out.

With the sky in an obviously cantankerous mood, we walked away from El Chalten – in a different direction – for our last overnight hike with Sebastian and Hannes.

Maybe it was because we would soon be heading in different directions after two weeks of travelling together, or I was still tired from the last four days or maybe it was just the steep hill we were hiking up, but the one thing I was sure of was that I didn't want to be there.

We'd been warned that the track was boggy in places which wasn't great news for my boots that were losing their sole. Yes, that on top of worn inner padding. But in the end, it didn't really matter. We had a few good moments of bright sunshine and happiness, until we hit the boggy section and it started to rain. Hoping that things would improve we were carefully picking our way through the mud to avoid wet boots.

Then, for the first time in our hiking history, it started really bucketing down. No we're not sheltered, just really lucky. Oops, I don't think I should have written that.

Add to that gusts of wind which were almost knocking us off our feet, along with driving rain so hard it felt like needles on my cheeks, so I didn't even want to look up from under my hood. Effectively there could have been pink elephants flying through the air and we wouldn't have seen them.

By the time we reached camp after walking for 4.5 hours, our pants were soaking wet as were our boots, because at some point it had seemed useless or even impossible to avoid the bog. The camp site was empty and it was still pouring, but luckily there was a tiny shelter about 3m by 2m where we could hang up our clothes and wait out the afternoon. We crowded in and pooled all our sweets, eating them all for lack of anything better to do. With the way things had turned out, we knew that Jeff and I had missed out on seeing Laguna Torro and the last glacier.

The next morning, the rain had turned to light snow and the ground was still frosty from the cold night. As we left camp at 7am to get back to El Chalten before noon, the sun was just coming up over the mountains. With the clear skies we got to see what we'd missed the previous day.

Well except pink elephants of course.

So while the weather gods smiled once more for us, the ATM ones did not. But that's a story for another day.

El Calafate: Sometimes you just have to look away

Argentina has a stray dog problem. Apparently that's because the Argentinians don't believe in de sexing as this would make the males less...well...masculine. You see, the macho culture goes right down to the dogs!

Yet unlike the mangy dogs of Bulgaria the Argentine ones appeared well looked after. It was not uncommon to see little piles of dog food laid out for them on city sidewalks and parks. Obviously they left their own little piles around the place too. Of course they were very friendly, happily chilling out with any human wandering or hanging out in their city. And surprisingly they displayed pretty good road sense which is more than I can say for most of the human inhabitants.

Unfortunately we'd been given strict orders by our travel doctor to not touch any warm blooded creature because of the risk of rabies. While we ignored that directive when it came to horses, the house cat sleeping in the bunk next to us in Salta and when picking fights with coatis trying to steal our lunch, the fluffy coats of the stray dogs mostly went without a pat. Yes, I felt very bad.

But dog poop on the footpath or rabies for that matter seemed hardly an issue compared to what we witnessed the day we were leaving El Calafate.

With a couple of hours before our bus to El Chalten we'd wandered down to Laguna Nimes - a prime bird habitat alongside the shore of Lago Argentino.

Inevitably a few of the local stray dogs had followed us from the hostel all the way down to the tiny administration building. While we went inside to pay the entrance fee, the dogs continued into the supposed nature reserve.

Picking up the loan binoculars and surveying the lagoon we could already see the flamingoes, ducks with their chicks and birds of prey. But the peaceful scene was quickly disturbed by the stray dogs who had made it through the boggy grass and jumped into the water.

Chased down by the dogs the flock of flamingoes took flight in a pink cloud while other birds swam frantically out of the way. Shocked we pointed out to the administration officer what was happening to which he shrugged, acknowledging that they had a bit of a stray dog problem. The solution was to fence the area, but that project was only partially complete.

Most of the birds had moved away, but those with chicks were struggling to find a safe place. The dogs were chasing them down separating the family. But that wasn't all. Slowly the chicks were also disappearing until there were none left. Tears filled my eyes and I couldn't look any more as the guys seethed at what appeared to be a lack of interest in preserving the wildlife unless there was a financial gain.

That scene reminded me of another place in the north of Argentina where we'd spent the day, but were so disappointed we didn't mention it. We'd left with just this photo of Corrientes which shows nothing of the sadness we'd felt that day.

There in tiny public zoo, we'd seen depressed monkeys in enclosures so small that they would have more appropriately housed a large bird. In the same repetitive pattern the monkeys would frantically climb along bars from one side of the cage to the other and then back again. For as long as we'd stood there horrified watching them they just kept going.

So we were delighted when at the parks administration in El Chalten the passionate rangers enthusiastically told us everything we needed to know about walking in the northern section of Parque Nacional Los Glaciares. Not only did they care enough to emphasise our role in preserving this pristine environment but they were very encouraging of getting off the tourist trail and to the more remote parts of the park. Admittedly I thought that was as a result of Hannes' travel beard which made him look like a well seasoned hiker.

And on top of the rangers enthusiasm, the glimpses of Fitz Roy from the bus had certainly got us excited in anticipation of the next 4 day hike.

I'm sorry, I tried to write a blog post, but the view was just too distracting!

 

Iguazu

We arrived at Puerto Iguazu, the town just outside the falls first thing in the morning after a second night on a bus and it was overcast. Iguazu Falls are apparently best seen on a sunny day when the rainbows and butterflies come out so it seemed like we'd have to go the following day when the forecast was supposed to be better.

It was probably a good thing. With flagging energy levels we walked to the point where the borders of Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil all converge. The humidity was very high despite the cloud cover, so we just sat on a bench looking at where the river diverges. Between the forest on either side of the river there was a concrete marker painted in the Uruguayan colours on the left side of the water and Brazilian colours on the right.

The following morning the sun was shining so the trip to Iguazu Falls was on, with the expectation of seeing many rainbows and butterflies. Just inside the entry gates we spotted a toucan eating the seeds of a tree right next to the path. It was sitting low enough to get clear views of it's multi coloured beak and even as the tour groups gathered around it seemed unfazed. I was sure that this would probably be one of many that day.

I'm not sure if there is supposed to be an order to view the falls to increase the viewing pleasure, but our goal was primarily to keep away from the crowds that were steadily filling through the entrance. There are three main circuits, an upper one, a lower one and the walk out to Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat).

We started along the top where from each lookout we could see most of the falls. Each lookout was located right where the water cascades over the edge into the river below, sending up a plume of mist and cold air. The roar was loud enough to drown out the sound of the scenic helicopter flights circling on the Brazilian side.

All along the cliff edge and down below we could see the little platforms jutting out, enticing us to explore. But we didn't need much encouragement to walk along the board walks poised over the fast flowing river that just a few metres further plunged over a cliff edge. Believe me there was a lot of talk of movies and cartoons that show just this point when you realise you've taken the wrong turn down the river and a fall is just up ahead.

The lower circuit was even better. We saw a few of the smaller falls with the amount of water you usually find in Australia in the height of summer before coming face to face with the main part. Located about half way up the cliff, a walkway jutted out to about 3 metres from the water. From above I wondered why no one was walking out to it, until we got there. After just a moment we were soaking wet. But standing there, I felt alive. The rush of water was deafening, the sunlight reflecting off the water blinding and the turbulent air that whipped the grass all around took our breath away. A rainbow was visible in the mist down below.

Just down the path on another section of lookout, an orange butterfly landed on my shirt and tagged along as we walked down towards the river.

Returning to the visitor area we found a nice, shady bench to rest for a moment. As I waited, a bag with lunch in it by my side I spotted a lone Coatis. It was very cute and totally disinterested in me despite having a reputation as food beggars. Excited, Jeff started snapping photo's but it was walking away very briskly. Then I heard a noise behind us. On our picnic bench another Coatis was advancing on our food bag at lighting speed while two more were coming out of the bushes. I grabbed the bag at the same time as the Coatis and we had a tug of war, my hands winning out against it's claws on the plastic bag.

The best place to see butterflies is at the start of the walk towards the Garganta del Diablo. Along the train ride there, swarms of yellow butterflies filled the air and at the station more sat in muddy puddles.

Lonely Planet likens standing on the edge of Garganta del Diablo to what European sailors must of imagined the edge of the earth would be like. All around there's the pounding rush of water and the wild wind that sometimes drives the water straight at you.. You look down, but you can't see the bottom thanks to the mist that rises from the violent drive of water. And then you think 'Holy Cow! I'm standing on the very edge of this giant, powerful waterfall. They must have had a hell of a time building this platform.' Yet there in the distance I could see the outlines of people on the platform on the Brazilian side of the falls. Right then and there it seemed clear who got the better view!

 See on the far left side of this photo where people are standing!

Our final activity in the park was an easy walk to another waterfall that seemed so puny in comparison it didn't even get a photo. But along the way, I spotted another toucan, that was grunting just like a koala, while hopping along and scrapping it's beak on a branch. Further along a furry animal sat on the path. It didn't have a tail like a Coatis and it hopped away before we could take a photo for identification purposes.

Billed as 'one of the most awe-inspiring sights on the planet' Iguazu Falls is certainly impressive. But we both walked away thinking that we'd imagined them to be a little bit bigger with some more 'je ne sais quoi'. We didn't go back to the Argentinian side on the following day and decided that the hassle of getting to the Brazilian side thanks to visas, currency exchange and park fees wasn't worth it. After all, you couldn't get closer to the Garganta del Diablo unless you jumped in!

Parque Provincial Ischigualasto

It was still dark outside when the car pulled out the front of our hotel to pick us up to take us to the moon. At over 300km away we had to start early on the day trip. Bet you didn't think you could get to the moon and back in a day did you?

Parque Provincial Ischigualasto is one of the many landscapes across Latin America as being 'Valle de la Luna' or valley of the moon. This one which is apparently comparable to Bryce Canyon or Zion and is UNESCO listed. It's located in a desert valley surrounded by two mountain ranges and from the moment we left San Juan we entered that desert.

On the outskirts of town, mist lay amongst the vines of the bodegas and the sun glowed on the surrounding mountains. The 3.5 hour drive might have been boring if not for staring at those constantly changing mountains, in between observing the mate ritual happening in the car.

Our guide had brought his gourd, mate and sugar, while the other two Argentinian girls on the tour bought a Thermos of hot water. They filled up the gourd with mate, put about a teaspoon of sugar on top and then poured the hot water through it. Each of them took turns drinking the gourd dry before it was refilled and passed onto the next person.

We were invited in on the ritual, but decided to pass. While mate isn't my favourite drink, clearly the travel doctor had made me sufficiently paranoid to not want to drink out of the same straw thing as three strangers.

Along the way, semi wild animals roamed along the side of the highway and across it, including horses, goats, rabbits and turkeys. Every now and then we spotted vultures flying high overhead. But the most exciting animal were the Guanacos hanging out just outside of the park gate. One group stood munching on the dry vegetation while further down the road, another pack trotted across the road when they heard the car approaching.

Inside the park, we were surprised to discover that the visit would be in convoy with a group of other vehicles and a park ranger. We had to stick strictly to the road and only stop at the 5 highlights. I hadn't expected such a regimented visit in South America.

As we rounded the corner we had our first view of the whole terrain – red cliffs in the distance ringing a barren, white valley. You could imagine how this looked otherworldly.

Not far down the road was the first stop, where the ranger went into a very long explanation of the region. We understood some of it, but the view towards the cliffs was irresistible so we wandered around the carefully defined area taking photos.

At the first stop, it was the distant view which was remarkable, so we were surprised just how amazing the next stop's foreground was. Apart from the odd dry bush, the rutted ground really did look like the moon, except in various shades of pinks. From the lookout you could see the river that wound it's way through the worn mounds. Seeing that we'd wandered away from the group, our guide came over and explained that the national park is named after this particular formation.

We then drove down into the moonscape to a flat area where we could walk amongst the bare mounds. One of them looked like a sphinx, although I'm positive we weren't the first to recognise it's likeness.

But the main attraction of stop number three was the Cancha de Bochas, the ball table. On the flat plain lay perfectly spherical rocks, arranged as though someone was in the middle of a ball game.

Leaving the lunar landscape we drove up to another formation that were like windows facing the red cliffs.

We then approached the cliffs that had so far been in the distance. Near the base of them, stands the signature formation of the park, El Hongo or mushroom. Against the bright blue sky, the white stone with the red cliffs behind is very striking.

Finally we drove the full length of the cliffs back to the entrance, the red dust of the road filtering through the seals of the car and entering our nostrils. On one side where the red cliffs that looked like they where part of the ancient temple with intricately carved pillars. On the other was the white lunar landscape.

On the way out of the park, our guide spotted a condor eating a dead cow on the side of the road. He stopped and grabbed his camera, but unfortunately it spread it's massive wings and took to the sky.

To break up the 3 hour drive home, we stopped at the shrine of the Difunta Correa, near San Jose. I had only a very vague notion of what exactly the place was all about, as I'd filled it under the 'odd Latin American things' category. And believe me it looked odd.

On the ground next to the car where we pulled up in the messy little town lay a plastic figure of a woman lying with a bare breast where a baby was feeding. Following our guide up the staircase, the posts and beams of the low roof where covered in old licence plates that tinkled in the warm desert wind. On the ground on either side lay little home made houses that reminded me of architectural models.

At the top in the shrine proper the same breastfeeding woman that had lain next to the wheel of our car, was surrounded by candles and images of babies and other breastfeeding women. Our guide explained that she was a woman who together with her baby followed her husband and his regiment during the civil war of the 1800's. But in the desert she ran out of food and water and died. But when she was found, the baby was still nursing at the dead woman's breast. Our guides voice dropped to almost a whisper as he explained that it's believed that is the very spot where she was found.

At the shrine people from all around Argentina come to ask for protection of their houses, cars, assistance during difficult childbirth and miracle cures. On the rest of the drive we spotted shrines all every few kilometres along the road, where bottles of water where left for travellers in need.

Next Stop: Champagne Cave