Tag Archives: malbec

Mooning around

11 Oct Blood moon
Blood moon

Blood moon, Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

Alta Gracia, Córdoba, Argentina
[by Paula]

In our previous life, if I read or heard talk of the kind of travelling that was of the fluid, go-where-the-road-takes-you variety, it always smelled faintly of bullshit to me. It seemed liked an idealised kind of travelling, the kind that people liked to think they were doing, if only they could be that relaxed.

We’ve had enough of those kinds of days and experiences now to realise it’s not bull, it is possible – with the luxury of time – to take each day as it comes and not worry about what’s ‘supposed’ to happen. We still love the planning aspect of the trip – poring over maps and deciding what we want to see, but we’re equally prepared to chuck it all out the window if necessity, weather, the van or the mood requires. I have battled my inner List-Making Control Freak (although am still never actually without a to-do list) while Jeremy has tackled his inner Restlessly Impatient, and we have let our inner Fuck Its prevail – well, at least for the most part.

As I write this we are beginning an unexpected four-and-a-half hour wait at the top of a mountain pass because the route is closed til 7pm for roadworks. We won’t make it to where we’re heading but it doesn’t really matter because we don’t have a particular plan or schedule. The British answer to absolutely every circumstance is to make a cup of tea, so that’s what we’ve done. And because this is Argentina, where one can barely move for campsites, we don’t have to stress out about finding somewhere to sleep before dark. The worst that can happen is that we’ll bed down right here with the diggers and dump trucks.

Mountain pass closed

A delay with a view; crossing the Miranda pass to Chilecito, and waiting four and a half hours for the road to re-open…

Now, more than ever, we are travelling without a plan and sometimes it can feel a bit flaky. While we’ve hardly been burdened with high-pressure deadlines over the last four years, until now we’ve always had at least some loose or distant goal to consider. Be that getting to a certain place for the right season, meeting up with the parents or friends, planning flights for a trip home, organising a Workaway placement, trying to get the van fixed, or fitting things around story ideas and work deadlines. The ultimate aim was making it to Tierra del Fuego in the summer. Turned out it wasn’t the summer we planned, but a year later.

Not for the first time since then we ask ourselves, what’s next? And recently the answer has been slowly taking shape as that vast country that we never really planned to visit, called Brazil… more of which later.

Before taking to the road again, our final month in Salto de las Rosas – where we were doing a three-month Workaway placement – also involved an unplanned turn of events. Two weeks before our leaving date, our British host Susan made a sudden decision to return to the UK to live, with Dave and her daughter, for family reasons. After 10 years in Argentina, they would be packing up, selling everything, trying to re-home their six pets, finding a temporary house-sitter and navigating a quagmire of bureaucracy to settle bills, legal stuff and the sale of Susan’s land and three properties. They had less than 6 weeks to do it in. Suffice to say, they had a lot to do and probably needed some help.

While Susan embraced her inner Spreadsheet Maker and got cracking with the plan, we volunteered to stay an extra two weeks and did a quick metamorphosis from wood-cutting grunts into assistant planners / organisers / house-movers / salespeople / cleaners / photographers. The houses, land and almost everything they owned – which was a lot – were listed and photographed. Yard sales were organised and people started flocking to buy all their belongings.

Final selfie

Final selfie with Susan, Dave and Tiv, Salto de las Rosas, San Rafael.

They’ve been through this before – as have we – and know what to do. But I don’t think they’ll mind me saying there were, understandably, moments when they froze into rabbits-in-the-headlights mode and we had to usher them off the highway. We became part-time counsellors and cajolers when needed, which often involved wine, laughing and sporadic outbursts of swearing.

With a necessary detachment we dragged things from cupboards, emptied shelves, lugged furniture and helped sort things into priorities. My inner List-Making Control Freak was released so it could be free to do things like help boss Dave into making an inventory of his mountainous collection of musical equipment and gadgets, or deciding which of his 345,000 computer/phone/amp/unidentifiable cables he was taking to the UK with him.

It was really hard for them to be getting rid of everything, with so little time to process the emotional upheaval of the move. We fully empathised with their biggest worry – leaving the two dogs and four cats behind. In the end, their lovely neighbour agreed to house-sit and take care of all the animals – phew.

As our departure approached, they were exceedingly generous in handing on plenty of useful stuff to us, plus a never-ending supply of food. We had some drunken farewell meals, a hungover asado with friends Malcolm and Sue, and stocked up with a couple of cases of their La Fraccion Malbec for the road. We emptied the house we’d been living in, gave it a final swish of the mop and drove off somewhat heavier-of-van than before.

It probably took a week or so for us to completely re-adjust to full-time van life again, and we’re very much back in the swing of things. Getting used to the relative lack of space, privacy and cleanliness takes a wee while, but we soon forget what it’s like to take these things for granted. It helps that the weather has been getting progressively warmer (albeit still peppered with some grim grey days) and we have summer stretching ahead of us.

Freelance HQ

Freelance HQ, aka The Van, Tunuyan, Mendoza.

During a stop in Tunuyán, in the Valle de Uco wine valley south of Mendoza, we were finishing off a work project at a campsite near the town. As we were cooking one evening, Jeremy said: “why is the van shaking?”.

It was rocking, fairly decisively, from side to side.

“Maybe it’s the wind,” I offered. Only it wasn’t windy.

With hindsight, it seems ridiculous that in the few seconds that followed we considered that someone was outside rocking the van for a joke, or perhaps an animal had got underneath (in our defence, the last time we had a mystery rocking incident, it was due to a huge pig scratching itself on the underside of the van).

Jeremy leapt out to have a look, and quickly realised all the trees were swaying in unison and the ground was shifting from side to side with remarkable force.

“It’s an earthquake!” he yelled.

I jumped outside and we just stood there, quite dumbstruck, for maybe one or two minutes as the ground quietly heaved, and we did little involuntary surfing motions. It was the first time we’d experienced a major earthquake, and it was rather discombobulating. It was obvious it had been a big one, and luckily we had internet access to check. It was quickly reported to be a massive 8.3-magnitude earthquake that had struck off the coast of Chile, nearly 300 miles away on the other side of the Andes. There were some big aftershocks, and most of the evening was spent on the internet, following events over the border.

When we left there we still hadn’t decided where we were going. Despite having three-and-a-half months to think about it while we were in Salto, we still didn’t seem to have a clear travel plan. We decided to head to Potrerillos, as it looked like an area that would be a nice drive with potential walking.

Potrerillos, Mendoza

Great landscapes around Potrerillos, Mendoza, Argentina.

We wondered why there were so many large groups of youngsters at the campsite. Frankly, that never bodes well for a peaceful night, but our fears weren’t realised. A couple of days later, in Luján de Cuyo, we noticed that the supermarket alcohol aisles were roped off because all sales were banned for four days during the ‘Día del Estudiante’ (students’ day). Hmmmm.

We’d booked a fancy meal at a winery for my birthday the following day, so headed to the nearest campsite we could find. We were clearly out of practice because we decided to pitch up at this place despite the glaringly obvious ominous signs:

a. large group of students. b. large amount of booze and c. excessively large speakers.

We were very keen to shower because of our impending posh restaurant plans, but had to battle for a slot in the one, dirty, wood-fired shower that was being hogged by all the students (since when did they wash anyway?).

There followed one of the worst night’s sleep we’ve had on the trip – really shit, booming music that just never ended. I try to be zen about these things, but that usually expires by about 2am. Normally 4am is the latest these parties go on to, so I waited. By 5am I was near to tears and feeling like the next day had been spoiled. We got up, packed up the van as best we could and moved to a spot that was as far from the music as we could find. I think it finally stopped about 6am, and we got a few hours sleep.

Sometimes our life is one of quite strange contrasts. We got up to a cold, drizzly, day and slopped around in the wet, grumpily trying to get ready and pack up the van. We flattened our bed-hair in the decidedly rustic campsite bathrooms and sprayed on lots of deodorant. By midday we were dressed up and shiny, looking like normal members of society. At the Ruca Malen winery and restaurant, the previous night was soon forgotten as we tucked in to a gourmet five-course tasting menu with paired wines. It was a phenomenal, innovative meal with lots of seasonal vegetables and fresh tastes, but they still had the sense to include a sublime Argentine filet steak.

After sleeping that off we finally settled on our next destination. Only to completely change it as we looked at the map again during a milanesa sandwich road-stop. We turned and headed for Sierra de la Quijadas national park, which we’d never heard of but were drawn to by descriptions of its red rock landscapes and wildlife.

At the park’s perfect little free camping area we really got back into the groove, remembering why we love to be out there with nature, living the quiet life, and going to places we didn’t know existed.

Sunset camp

Camping at Parque Nacional Sierra de las Quijadas, San Luis, Argentina.

Jeremy, Sierra de la Quijadas

Jeremy hiking in Parque Nacional Sierra de las Quijadas, San Luis, Argentina.

We saw maras for the first time (large rabbity looking rodents that belong to the guinea pig family), loads of little birds came to visit – some cheekily coming into the van to look for crumbs – and we got one of our best close sitings of a condor during a fabulous hike through the park.

At sunset we walked along to a viewpoint to watch the rocks turn a fiery red.

We were just talking about how we loved going to these peaceful places as we headed to another desert park further north, Parque Provincial Ischigualasto. But as we arrived there was a queue of traffic and huge crowds of people. It was closed for a running event, so we wild camped nearby for the night and waited. Arriving first thing Sunday morning, there was a another queue of traffic waiting to get in before opening time, which is really not a very Argentinian thing to do. What the..?

After a bit of discussion at the ticket office, we gathered that it was a special day because of the upcoming supermoon/lunar eclipse event that night. Having not kept up with our lunar news, we had no idea! The campsite was packed with moongazers and TV crews, but it was a fun atmosphere.

Weirdly, the only way to drive around the park is as part of a convoy – packed again, but well worth it for its lunar-style landscapes, rock formations and amazing colours. Again we wondered how we’d never heard of the place.

'El Submarino', Parque Provincial Ischigualasto

‘El Submarino’, Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

Valley of the Moon

Valley of the Moon, Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

Little Jeremy, Ischigualasto

Jeremy is dwarfed by yet another bizarre rock formation at Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

Driving through Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

Driving through Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, San Juan, Argentina.

That night we took our tea flask and headed to a rocky spot to watch the moon. It was a clear starry night and we got a great view of the eclipse, which turned orange by about midnight.

For the first time in ages, we hiked in super hot weather, dodging giant cacti and really feeling like desert rats again.

From there we decided to head north to La Rioja province and the town of Chilecito. It wasn’t too far but we did have to negotiate a winding mountain pass on the way. As we took the turning towards the pass we saw an ancient-looking sign saying the road was closed for construction.

We asked the village police sergeant about it and he said that some traffic was still being allowed through, but we’d have to drive up there and ask. We stopped to talk to a few people on the way and they all said the same… just turn up and see what happens. As we approached the barriers we looked at the foreman hopefully. Nope, the road was shut for several more hours so we’d just have to wait, he said.

Yahtzee!

Yahtzee! We’ve just discovered how amusing this game is..

So here we are, overlooking a phenomenal valley, drinking tea, playing Yahtzee and hoping that the road really does re-open before dark. Okay, I’d rather be camped somewhere, cooking and cracking open a bottle of Malbec, but it’s not so bad. Both of us – yes, even Jeremy – have developed a surprisingly large tolerance for just waiting.

If nothing else, it’s given me a chance to write this blog post and get it off my to-do list.

Days: 1,469
Miles: 40,458
Things we now know to be true: If you gaze at the moon for long enough, you get a cricked neck.

MORE PHOTOS BELOW. AS WITH THE PICTURES ABOVE, CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO OPEN THE GALLERY:

Wood-stock

24 Aug
River mornings

We walk to the river with the dogs every morning.

Salto de las Rosas, San Rafael, Argentina
[by Paula]

If I had to select one word to sum up our time so far in San Rafael, it would be ‘wood’.

Cutting, felling, chain-sawing, gathering, dragging, rolling, splitting, throwing, snapping, sweeping, sorting, piling and burning the stuff has become a daily preoccupation during our work-exchange placement here in Argentina’s Mendoza province. We arrived here in early June and our stint is, unbelievably, already drawing to a close.

Of course, there has been more to the last 12 weeks than just the wood thing. In fact, we’ve been rather busy and productive with all kinds of work and domesticity, plus a little bit of travel. We’ve been less diligent with the blog though, so to pick up where we left off we have to briefly skip back to May, when we took a month-long trip back to the UK to see family and friends.

Let’s just say it involved a constantly revolving merry-go-round of hellos, goodbyes, trains, planes, pubs, lunches, dinners, large gatherings, small gatherings, far too many drinks, obscene amounts of food and plenty of laughs. We met new babies, clung pathetically to our ageing cat (now 21!), gawped at our rapidly-changing nieces and nephews, and enjoyed spending time with ‘old’ faces.

There is something a little bittersweet about these visits home. While the very purpose of being there is to see everyone, we just wish it didn’t have to be quite so intense and knackering. Poor us! We can hardly complain when it’s the path we’ve chosen and we’re lucky enough to be able to travel back to see people once in a while, but we do miss the everyday-ness of those relationships. This photo gallery sums up some of what went on, with apologies to those who have been airbrushed from history by my total failure to take any photos at several of our meet-ups, especially in London.

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On our return to Argentina we came directly to the village of Salto de las Rosas, in the lovely San Rafael area, which was to be our home for three months. We’d already set up the placement – organised through Workaway – and had met our very welcoming hosts Susan and Dave before departing for the UK.

It’s a straightforward exchange – Susan and Dave, who are UK/US expats, hire ‘Workawayers’ to put in four hours of work per day, five days a week, in exchange for free accommodation. One of the many reasons we’d applied was that the digs on offer was an entire two-bedroomed house on the land Susan owns. It was exactly what we wanted, so we could live independently and get stuck in to our own journalism work in our free time.

Our house 'La Casita'

Our house – ‘La Casita’ – for the duration of our stay is just a holler from Susan and Dave’s.

We’re amazed that we’ve managed to keep travelling for four years but needless to say the funds are getting a bit thin. We needed to stop moving for a while to focus on finding some more freelance work. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the coldest part of winter in a nice warm house. We also like the combination of doing some outdoor grafting for half the day, and freelancing for the other half, whilst having people around for a bit of socialising. (Regular readers might recall we did something similar in Bolivia.)

We soon settled into a routine of rapidly throwing on loads of clothes in the freezing early morning and heading out to walk Susan and Dave’s dogs – loveable clingy mutt Catorce, and bouncy young Rottweiler Cali. They’ve got used to our habits and are usually hurling themselves at the door in a fit of hysteria by the time we are putting our shoes on (the dogs, not Susan and Dave).

Sometimes Catorce sleeps on our bed, just to be sure we don’t try anything sneaky like a lie-in.

Winters here get very cold at the start and end of the day, but are mostly dry, clear and sunny. Most mornings we can see the snowy Andes in the distance as we head down the path to a river that looks beautiful in the morning light.

Until lunchtime we’re doing tasks around the garden, usually involving raking and burning mountains of fallen leaves, weeding, tidying, and doing that wood thing. Both our houses only have one source of heating – a wood fire in the living room. Additionally, Susan and Dave can only heat their water via a wood fire. That’s a hell of a demand for wood in winter. There are piles and piles of it outside their house – all different sizes and stages of seasoning.

Aside from the need for stuff to burn, there are trees on the land that are dead, falling down or in dangerous positions and need to be felled. We’ve been learning a thing or two from Dave about avoiding a massive head injury while chopping down trees, and trying not to cut our hands off with power tools.

Working together with a chain-saw has certainly brought a whole new element of trust to our marriage. All I’m saying is, just don’t make me angry.

We also ripped down a crumbling car port and helped build a new one. Dave and Jeremy have started constructing a wood shed too. All from wood, obviously. Ta-da!

Once or twice a week we gather with Susan, Dave and Susan’s daughter Tiv, to have dinner, drink wine, and display unnecessary levels of competitiveness while playing cards. Dave’s a musician and sometimes he gets the guitar out.

San Rafael is a wine-producing area and two of Susan and Dave’s close friends Sue and Malcolm – from the UK – own a small local vineyard and produce a gorgeous Malbec. Double bonus! We’re all keen on cooking, wine and talking, so it’s been great to enjoy several meals together. I’m already calculating how much of their wine I’ll be able to fit in the van when we leave. I mean, it’s not like I need all those clothes, is it?

Meanwhile our endeavours to get some paid work have been encouragingly fruitful so far. Our earlier research work in Welsh Patagonia resulted in four pieces for the BBC, including this audio slideshow and a feature on my impressions of the area, plus an article on the story of Welsh afternoon teas in Patagonia, in new online magazine Cultures & Cuisines.

Jeremy is currently writing an eight-part series for a geeky VW magazine in the UK, and continues to get some work for union magazines. He’s also becoming a shipping bore, writing articles for the journal of shipping union Nautilus, including large features on Argentine naval policy and the new Nicaragua canal. We’re also working together on a project to write web content for a campaign group in the UK.

Living in a rural area can make internet-reliant work frustrating though. We have a limited daily internet allowance, and even when it’s working it’s often refusing to co-operate. We are occasionally found to be smacking our foreheads against the laptop, and sometimes drive 28km into San Rafael city to get things done more quickly.

As with our previous stints at living in a house, it’s good to catch up with things that get neglected when we’re always on the road. Boring stuff like getting new glasses, washing things that are continually dirty but have to be ignored, and working through the never-ending list of van maintenance. If you’re wondering why there seem to be fewer van dramas these days, it’s partly because our earlier issues have helped us be a little bit more zen about these things, and partly because Argentina has been kinder to us. Of course things still break sometimes, but on every occasion so far we’ve either been carrying the part or been able to source it here, which saves a huge amount of time, money and stress.

So life has been relatively sedate , but it’s not been all work and no play. Whenever possible we’ve been spending weekends exploring the province and enjoying some brief returns to the camping life.

There are some fabulous landscapes right on our doorstep, like the colourful rock formations around Valle Grande, the shimmering El Diamante salt flats and the road to the snowy mountains of the nearby ski resort of Las Leñas.

Atuel canyon

Driving through the Atuel canyon from Valle Grande was a constantly changing colourscape.

Salinas del Diamante

Salt mine, Salinas del Diamante, near San Rafael, Mendoza province, Argentina.

Some places are amazingly low key. There’s a tiny, rusty old sign for Laguna Blanca at a gate by the side of the road to Malargüe. We drove up it to find an entirely deserted, phenomenal mountain lake.

I wouldn’t say we’re bored of the red meat culture in Argentina (is that even possible?) but we were beside ourselves with excitement to visit a trout farm near Malargüe that has a restaurant and campsite attached.  Fresh fish! So fresh that we watched it being selected from the pond and gutted on the spot less than half an hour before it arrived on the plate. Not only did we eat baked trout for lunch that day, but the set menu was a trout-fest of pate, mousse, empanadas, smoked trout and more.

Gaucho, near Malargue

Gaucho, seen while we were walking near the trout farm, Malargue.

This area is full of dams for hydro-electricity and the resulting reservoirs are invariably stunning. The nearby Los Reyunos area has been lovely for some walks and picnics.

Of course we couldn’t be here and neglect to pay attention to some vineyards. On a grey weekend in the nearby Valle de Uco we toured a couple of vineyards and indulged in some tastings, punctuated with a beautiful lunch in the town of Tupunganto. We’ve had a few chilly nights camping in recent months, but this one took the prize when we woke up to sleet. We realized we’re turning into wimps when we headed straight home for some warmth.

Well, we thought that had taken the prize until we decided to visit the Parque Provicial Payunia, a reserve near Malargüe which has the world’s highest concentration of volcanic cones – around 800 in a 4,500-sq km area! It’s a low key place with not a lot of information, inadequate mapping and a lack of infrastructure. Okay, so it’s mid-winter but we can never resist a volcano, nor a challenge, so off we went.

We were surprised but excited to see some snow at road level as we drove the back dirt-road from El Nihuil to the boundary of the reserve. As dusk fell the snow levels increased and we started to wonder what was ahead, but found it hard to care because the horizon was just full of snowy volcanic cones and the views incredible.

Snowy road

As we drove south from El Nihuil, the amount of snow gradually increased.

We’d planned to just get as far as possible that night and pull off somewhere on the road to sleep. But the snow was increasingly banked up over the roadside ditches and we couldn’t find anywhere to stop.

After a few hours, at dusk, we came across some guys in a truck who advised us to drive 10km onwards to a house that had space we could probably use. After about 20 miles we were still driving, the road was getting increasingly slippy and we’d given up on the house.

Snowy night

Driving on snow, in the dark, hadn’t really been in the plan. Road from El Nihuil Mendoza province, Argentina.

Just then we saw the lights and pulled in. The bemused owner and his son came out to investigate – what they made of the gringos turning up in the dark in such a remote area, we’ll never know. They, of course, agreed to let us stop and sleep next to their place, where there was some flat gravel to park on.

Next morning we work to a lovely crisp snowy scene, and moved on to the eastern side of Laguna Llancanelo, a phenomenal lake at the edge of the reserve. From our camping spot Jeremy counted 39 visible volcanoes. We walked out on to the dry lake bed, seeing water in the distance but never reaching it. A local gaucho cycled over from his house to see if we’d broken down, and told us that part of the lake had been dry for years.

Lake bed

We camped next to a dry section of the lake bed at Laguna Llancanelo, Mendoza province, Argentina.

Next day we drove to the lake’s ‘official’ entrance and were directed by the park guards to one of the most incredible viewpoints we’ve encountered on this trip – an easily-accessible volcano top with 360-degree views of the snowy Andes, countless volcanoes and the flamingo-rich Laguna Llancancelo. We spent an hour there on a gloriously sunny Sunday, and not another soul came.

Laguna Llancanelo

We looked over Laguna Llancanelo from the top of Volcano Trapal.

It was an amazing weekend, but for the first time we did have to resort to sleeping with the full complement of thermals, sleeping bags and all our blankets.

It’ll be back to full-time camping when we leave here in September, so it’s time to toughen up again.

What’s the plan post-San Rafael? That’s a very good question and kind of depends on what day you’re asking. We’ll most likely head to parts of central Argentina that we haven’t yet visited, and return to some places in the far north that we loved when we first arrived in the country a year ago.

Whatever happens, let’s hope the nights start to get warmer when we hit the road again, because we’ve become just a bit too accustomed to that roaring wood fire.

Days: 1,422
Miles: 38,647
Things we now know to be true: There’s no way of knowing how much wood a woodchuck could chuck.

IT’S A BUMPER CROP… MORE PHOTOS BELOW! 

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