Crossing the Andes

It all began with Mongolia – with friends – June/July this year.

Impending Nanna duties put an end to that and left us with the question;

now what?

Well why not cross the Andes?

I mean, really. Why not?

Only for experienced riders and I’ve been riding for five years –

makes me experienced?

Just across the ditch… the BIG ditch…. The Pacific Ocean.

So far away that doesn’t fit in one photo –

you can barely see New Zealand!!!

The plan was to follow the route taken in 1817 by José de San Martín, and his army from Argentina to Chile,

The plan for us was to get our visas, and book our flights and beg, borrow or steal the funds.

Little did we know that last would be the least of our concerns!

The visa application required return flights to be already booked.

On the other hand we were advised Not to book flights till we had visas and so the circle began……a story for another day.

But a story, it was.

And just like that –

we were ‘off’ so to speak;

or at least at Melbourne Airport,

waiting to be ‘off’

Auckland to Santiago. Santiago to Mendoza.

With our trusty 7kg luggage –

determined we were not to have any

‘lost luggage’

Until at last Mendoza it was,

Some food, a rain storm and lots of alcohol

Mendoza – where it all begins, at least officially.

Mendoza where Jose de San Martin began his extraordinary expedition to liberate Chile from the Spanish. With an army of 6 000 soldiers , 4000 cattle and unnumbered horses. They took 21 days to reach the outskirts of Santiago. There are various accounts of the numbers and losses, but suffice to say the losses of both horses and men was very large.

And so, of course that is where we began; exploring the city; meeting the crew; getting last minute hats, sweets, and creating new memories.

We may have been a much smaller ‘army’ than Jose San Martin had, but the preparation was anything but ‘small’

Eleven riders, eleven ‘gauchos’ two guides, and a whole ‘heap’ of mules to carry everything, except us.

These amazing, ever patient animals were our lifeline. Every day, everything we needed was packed on to their backs with a complex roping system that left us all in awe of both the gaucho’s skill and the mule’s patience.

We, on the other hand were spared the indignity of being tied onto our mules/horses -although there were passes we rode that had us wishing we were tied onto our horses, and some would happily have had their heads covered too!-

Instead we were expected to climb elegantly into the saddle.

Climb we did, elegantly is quite another issue!

But I jump ahead

(as usual my stories are all over the place, both literally And figuratively) –

Our first night together with our horses, mules, tiny two man tents (really? – Pygmy man maybe) last half civilised toilet, delicious chicken stew and gauchos.

Not to mention the scrawniest roosters I have ever seen.

Actually, I do mention them because they decided dawn was at 4 am and let us all know, in no uncertain tones.

The first night, not perhaps our best night, or perhaps a portend of what was to come.

Off we went, full of energy and empty of knowledge of what to expect.

As we travelled across the black pampa; the plains of Manantiales; Vega Larga; Valle de los Patos; Valle Hermosa; crossed the Argentina/Chile border; La Vegas Del: Laguinitas: La Colorado; Matten Bonito and who knows where else 😂

I certainly cannot find them listed on a map and perhaps more worrying, the tour organisers did not have a map!!!!! But then, I guess, nor did Juan San Martin and he crossed them – so we should have felt some comfort with that knowledge.

But plough on we did…. As you will see…..

We crossed the Andes, we were high, very high.

Surrounded by mountains; Mercedario (6 700m); Aconcagua (6 960m)

We crossed the Passo del Espsinacito (4 400m); Cordon Limitrofe & La Colorado (both 3 500m)

We were out of breathe, we had nose bleeds, headaches, I even lost my appetite.

And our poot horses did not fare much better; some of them would go 20 m. and stop to catch their breathe; their sides heaving from the effort.

We watched in awe as the guanacos – local ‘llama like’ animal which believe it or not is related to the camel- raced across the face of the steep cliffs as if they had glue on their feet.

Little did we know that we too, would be, well not quite ‘racing’ but certainly traversing just such tracks. As our lovely Devon reminded us as we sheepishly navigated the tiny track, in her large Texan voice

“We are the guanacos”

It brought a smile to what had been tense faces filled with concentration and in many cases anxiety.

And through it all, our reliable,

faithful leader Ramon

and his equally fabulous mule;

watched, encouraged and guided us all.

While his equally faithful, reliable and sturdy mules

carried supported us every step of the way.

Either going on ahead or following us; but always meeting us.

There were tears of exhaustion

There were tears of joy

There was so much to celebrate

And many moments of friendship

Often round ‘the table’