MENDOZA & THE WINE COUNTRY
After our Hostelaria in Calafate Sara had booked us into a slightly more upmarket 'Pasada'. Still not a hotel. more of a small guest house, but with excellent reviews including raves over 'Pablo' the owner.
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EASY MISTAKE TO MAKE
Nice. if long. flight from Galcierland via Buenos Aires overnight and on in the morning to Mendoza. capital of Wineland. Driver organised, duly met and loaded into a really nice Ford SUV. almost new. Driver spoke passable English so we are chatting away. Arrive, luggage unloaded, I go to pay, driver says no need, I laugh, and thrust a wodge of notes into his hand with a dismissive wave and a "Thank you my man, I can take it from here" only for him to introduce himself as the owner. Thought the car was a bit flash for a cabbie!
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Here was the renowned Pablo in person. And what a person! After a guided tour of the beautiful Pasada de Rosas (£115 incl amazing breakfasts in a selection of little cafes around town) we sat down and got about 90 minutes of the most interesting and infomative chat about life, the universe and everything about Argentina and politics, no holds barred. A fan of the new president (the little guy with bubbly hair and a chain saw) he explained that the new government had as initial priorities, to cut inflation, abandon wasteful bureaucracy and government interference and to empower the police. His popularity has soared since he recently cut the number of ministries from 24 to 7! Anyway - enough politics. Pablo asked us what we wanted to do in our 8 days here (we wanted to have a proper break from packing/unpacking and so we upped our 3 night booking to 8 nights within minutes of seeing his Posada). We explained our ideas and he straight away booked the tours for us. He also invited us to dinner with his family, friends and fellow guests!
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As you can see the Posada was a cracking choice! The massive grill set up below is their way of cooking for an Asado (social gathering/barbie/piss-up/jam session). They set a fire in the big bit and create charcol as they go along, using that charcol (hot embers) to shovel under the food as required. Way more controllable than our method. But BIG, takes a lot of space. But you need space to cook the wide variety of meat (cow) and other things (brains, intestines and gizzards) that we were offered, nay, forced to scoff. Another way to get even for Las Malvinas methinks.
Pablos's Asado was easily one of the most social evening on the trip, a Polish couple (her suffering frostbite from climbing the local mountain Aconcacgua), a Chilean family, and later a Yank. Plus various mates and family members. Plus INTESTINES and BRAINS for me to sample - and finish, under the sharp eyes of our host. My mistake was to say I'd had eaten boiled brains in Mongolia and fried Tarantula in Cambodia. Never boast!!
DON QUIXOTE RIDES AGAIN.
The first tour we took was SUNSET HORSE RIDING AND BBQ. We had visions of gentle meandering on horseback through luxurious vineyards for around an hour to a green clearing with a pleasant view and a steak sandwich with a glass of Malbec. That would have been what we had done had we booked through the sainted Pablo. But no. Not us. We booked through GETYOURGUIDE, our go-to tour site. When we told Pablo he was (to put it mildly) surpised at how little we had paid. We put that down to our perspicacity - silly us!
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We were collected by toothless Roberto, in what amounted to a feed truck. It was so scruffy the organisors actually contacted us with a picture and a message telling us Roberto was not a child killer or kidnapper, but an OK guy. Odd they thought that neccessary, but once we saw him, totally understandable. Driven for one and a half hours of which 40 minutes was on a rock strewn dirt track, just the two of us.
Finally we arrive at this scruffy 'Estansia' in the absolute middle of nowhere deep in the foothills of the local mountains. 30 or more fine looking horses though, and about 10 other bewildered riders and a smattering of Gauchos in traditional dress led by a massive bloke with a big beard and NO English. An no interpreter, which made the safety briefing refreshingly short and sweet.
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Soon it was match rider to horse and I of course got Rosinante, Sara, in my mind playing Sancho Panza, got Dapple. That is where the similarity ended, Sara's horse was no donkey, in fact they were both lovely specimens. Gaucho style saddles and rig. Reins held in the left hand only, right hand free to grip the pommel and turn the horse. Leaving your right free for a larriat I presume, although nobody gave me a bloody lassoe or larriat, otherwise it would be in the picture, I promise you. Still, shoulders back, tummy in, heels down.
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And off we trotted. Up a rocky track, a very very rocky and narrow track. As we set of I plaintively bleated that neither I, nor in fact anyone else, had even had a sniff of a riding helmet. Now we wear them in the UK to ride on soft wet grass, here was hard, sharp, rocks every bloody where. The ground was carpeted in jagged lumps of rock and cactus. Oh, and then they told us we were riding for three hours!!!!!! So on we went along a canyon, not too bad I thought, except we regularly broke into a trot which made those rocks look even less inviting for a fall.
I really should not have worried. Looking back, that was the good bit.
What I should have worried about was that we were initially offered the 'steep' route or the 'shallow' route. I immediately voted shallow but Sara overruled me. To say that after an hour the incline increased is a massive understatement. It went from merely steep to the sort of dusty, slippery, almost vertical slope that a human would struggle to go up without using their hands !!!
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I kid you not, it was terrifying! How the horses do it I have no idea. To make matters worse I remembered the old saying 'What goes up - must come down'. Did I mention we had no helmets? Did I mention the rocks everywhere? Did I mention that the paths were not even level, they were the same side slope as they bloody mountain? But once we reached the 2000m summit, Yes, 6000 f'ing feet up. And we probably climbed at least 750m of that height riding up from the ranch. Poor horses.
I know, I know, looks easy. But remember, first the camera struggles to do justice to the steepness of slopes, and second, I am holding a camera on a moving horse, so trust me these shots are not at the worst spots! Anyway, Sara conquered her fear and made it to the top. I did not conquer my fear, but I made it too. Worth it!!
Full credit to Sara, who was amazing. Big smile on her face all the time. I think it is called a RICTUS grin. Look it up. But rictus grin or not she made it and loved it. There is also no question that had my lovely known what was coming she would NOT have made it!
And we have these amazing guys, seen on the left with Sara, to thank for it. I have ridden quite a bit in my life (trained by The Royal Horse Artillery don't you know) but I have NEVER ridden up or down such steep slopes, and almost certainly NEVER AGAIN.
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Dapple and Rosinante have our eternal gratitude for their ability to pick their way over sharp rocks and slippery stone surfaces as though they had suckers on their feet. No a step out of place, only the smallest of slips or slides, always happy to trot on when needed. Great horses. Would I do the three hours again - NO.
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Back at the ranch a roaring fire was going and great hunks of something burnt were slammed on the table by the big hairy owner, along with jugs of local wine (and no water, just wine, love the place). The hunks of flesh were so unidentifiable one of the guests meekly enquired (worried it be horse actually) and was told in no uncertain terms it was COW. Then anther 90 minute hair raising ride home with Roberto in the feed truck, getting in around midnight. Now that whole evening was an EXPERIENCE!!!
LOCK UP YOUR DAUGHTERS.
A few words about Mendoza, third biggest town in Argentina, really clean, really quiet, the street scene above shows a typical street, they all look identical. All tree lined (to give shade in the heat, its a hot area) and all low rise, normally two stories. And all with bars on EVERY window and on the doors! That shot above is our hotel No hotel sign, bars on the front door, Double gates inside, all locked 24 hours a day. Barbed wire, electrified fences, but nobody on the street and no obvious issues, no homeles, no vagrants. Apparently it is a hangover from when the police sort of lost control Not sure I believe that and even the sainted Pablo was a bit reticent but the streets give no idication of issues. But for sure every door is locked and every window is barred 24/7.
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Still, we were having a ball in Mendoza. Took a chill day by the pool, we have a kitchen in the room so eat simply. Prepare ourselves for the next trip. It was actually a 13 hour trip into the High Andes but I have put that in the section called THE HIGH ANDES (I could not think of a better name), but don't rush on ahead, soon come. Let us stay on the plain and worry about where the next drink is coming from.
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WINE, WINE, GLORIOUS WINE...
The next outing was a cycling tour of the vineyards. Now Sara and I have have done a fair few of these, the latest being a three day jolly in St Emelion only a few months back, and we did that on bikes too. So we were happy to do just one wine tour. Most visitors to this classic wine growing region do several and Pablo was a bit miffed when we demurred and explained that we were wine-toured out. But bikes, that's another thing.
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After our bum-numbing cycle ride in Calafate where the bikes had racing saddles we were expecting the more normal step-through bikes with the big fat sprung saddles issued to tourists everywhere. No such luck, the sainted Pablo had introduced us to his mate Paulo, who I think gave us his own personal bikes, massive high crossbar mountain bikes with narrow hard saddles. We moaned, put persevered. Great ride to the first of our 'two wine tastings and a top quality lunch tour'.
Best wine tasting ever, and we have done a few. Start off with a large glass of 15% Rose, I know, 15%??? Lovely. A short introduction to the Winery, and on to the main event, a sit down three wine comparison tasting with a different food with each wine to show how food changes the taste of the wine. The glasses were around 200cl each, so a bottle was consumed per person, give or take. That's more like it!!
Well refreshed and most impressed off we wobble to the next tasting and a slap-up lunch ...... NOT. We cycle around about another 7k and turn towards a hovel with a big wooden barred gate and loads of barking dogs. Passing through to our high end winery I guess. Nope, this was the lunch stop. Seriously??? And to make matterts worse (or better) it was closed! Cue guide and translater being a bit stumped. Cue us saying "Are you kidding" while fended off the dogs. A short negotiation (and a phone call to Pablo) and we are off again, cycle back to to base, jump in the van, drive another 30 minutes, all the while being told by the guides that all will be well and there will be no charge for the tour ($60 US each incl lunch).
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We de-bussed and looked at the exterior of a rather forbidding blank red wall with a door. "Not sure" said I to Sara, let me check it out. In the door and greeted by two excellent staff, effusive welcome in perfect English, shown through to a delightful garden set for lunch, introduced to Marc, the Swiss owner/winemaker and who suggested the chefs selection with a wine pairing at £50 a head. We agreed wholeheartedly!!! Did a very fair deal with the guides where we basically paid the whole tour cost, depite the problems, and he sported one of our lunches as a discount, and chowed down in spectacular surroundings with excellent service and wines. Plus the owner was for some strange reason fascinated by The Troubles, he had only recently come back from actually going as far as to visit Belfast, so lucky him got a one hour lecture on my time in Ulster.
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He decanted us into a cab at about 7ish (we'd arrived at 3, he closes at 5), after a lovely afternoon. There is a God of travellers and he looks after us, so far.
I had to add this picture of my brave travelling partner who is shown at the end of a 20k cycle ride in 31 degrees of heat on what you can clearly see is the wrong saddle for my boney bum, Sara's poor undercarriage also suffered, as did she. But we made it.
That means that on this trip we will have done the Planes, Trains and Automobiles bit, plus bikes, horses, boats, coaches and may even have a surprise method of transport yet to come. The trains are the train up to Machu Pichu and then another train from there to Puno on Lake Titicaca in Peru. All booked and paid for and yet to come.
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But I think that will be our last cycle ride!!
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The next day is slated as a rest day with just one more full day to go after that before we head off to back to Rio de Janerio for Carnival!.
THE SURPRISE METHOD OF TRANSPORT......PARAGLIDING
The lovely Polish climbers we met earlier had been Paragliding, and Sara expressed a mild interest. As an army parachutist I have absolutely no fear of this (that's a bare faced lie by the way, 20 parachute jumps gives you a deep loathing of stepping out of a perfectly servicable aircraft), so Paragliding it was. We trusted Pablo to book us in with a proper school and not to send us stepping off a cliff face with another mate who had borrowed a couple of wings for the occasion. Duely collected by Pancho, another dishevilled Gaucho in a battered Land Rover Defender, we began to have our doubts. The stress was relieved a little when Sara asked Pancho if she was expected to fly alone..... He smiled a toothless grin and explained these were tandom jumps. I explained to Sara that her method would be a bit like expressing an interest in learning to fly a plane and the instructor chucking you the keys to a Cessna and saying" there's one over there - give it a spin to see how you like it". So tandem it is!
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Thank God that when we got to base camp the pilots all turned out to be in their 40's. The old saying rings true. There are old pilots and bold pilots, but there are no old and bold pilots. These guys clearly had no interest in silly risk taking which was mucho reassuringo. So off we set up the mountain on yet another exceptionally steep, exceptionally narrow, exceptionally flood damaged, exceptionally rocky cart track with vertical drops just inches from the edge. And loaded to the literal gunnels with 11 passengers and a ton of weight on the roof rack. How we did not turn over I have no idea, the half hour ride up was scarier than the flight by a factor of ten.
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Once up there there were no delays, no time for second, third, or fourth thoughts, kit out, clip on, jump up, run like a loon off the edge, and off you soar. Sara was second off so really had no time to be anything other than super brave. What I love about the video below is that Sara runs straight through the bush and her little legs are still pedalling like mad even when she is already 500 feet up.
That is Sara above flying off into the bright blue yonder, and below is me scaring the pilot by making daft faces for the video. I think he thought I'd lost it. Can't blame him.
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Amazing flight, we have become adrenaline junkies, must get back to doing the things a 73 and a 60 year old should be doing. Like dozing in an armchair. Way more appropriate.
I also love this shot, me landing, Sara posing! All down safely.
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We were lucky. As the first group up the mountain we went up the sacry track and down the less scary way by flying down. The next group went up the sacry way, and came back down the scary way as the wind was too high. No flight. Just a long and bumpy ride up and back.
So glad we did it as otherwise a sleepness night for Sara would have been wasted. So we add paragliding to our many modes of transport on this trip. Not sure what else we could really add after that. Hovercraft? Witches broomstick, who knows, we have four more weeks yet as this is about the halfway point of this odyssey.
But first our trip to the HIGH ANDES......................