Sunday, January 28, 2007

November´s photos: A little bit of Peru and Bolivia

I decided to change my mode of sharing photos to Yahoo photos. It seems a bit easier to manage with the captions and organization. Hopefully the link works. If it doesn´t, please let me know and I can send it to you via email. I believe you can view the photos without having a Yahoo account, but if you want to save them, you will need to sign in or sign up.


The photos are from November. Better late than never I guess. They are of the brief time we spent in Peru, John´s trek to Machu Pichu and the first few weeks in Bolivia. In case you are interested, we had about double the amount of photos as are in the album, but had a disk storage catastrophe and lost about 300 of them. So enjoy the 200 or so I posted and just imagine how long over 500 would have taken you to view (and me to post.)


http://new.photos.yahoo.com/album?c=jensteiner39&
aid=576460762386331035&pid=&wtok=zhss.y.jA2ANgrMHcNNu4g--&ts=1170032875&.src=ph#page1

I have two more disks of photos waiting to be uploaded. Maybe next weekend when I get back into civilization again as there is no internet, phone or cell service at the school where I am volunteering.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

The Legend of Amancay*

The truth is, once I got to Bariloche, the urban center of Argentina’s Patagonia region, I was not so sure I wanted to continue exploring. I was having one of those moments that happen during extended travel when things just feel yucky. I missed my family and friends, the solo travel wasn’t all that fun yet and I just didn’t feel like going out there to meet new people, see new sights and expand my mind. Plus I was tired of answering, "Vos, de dónde sos y por qué hablàs tan bien el castellano? (Where are you from and why do you speak Spanish so well)"

But after a day or two of down time in the hostal and aimless wanderings around a town that reminded me a bit of a bigger version of South Lake Tahoe, with it’s blue lake and large snow capped mountains, I decided to get motivated and sign up to go with a group to see el Volcán Tronador. I figured this way I would see something, do a little hiking and maybe meet some new friends and get rid of the deep blue funk.

The next morning, we set off in the in yet another mini-van, filled with 8 Argentineans, a Peruvian, an Israeli, a German, an English girl, myself and our two Argentinean guides and before I knew it, we were all friends planning our adventures for later that night.

Throughout the day, we hiked, chatted and got to know one another in one of the most beautiful areas of Argentina. While the mountains are not as tall as Aconcagua, the diversity of plant life, the glaciers and the crystal blue of the lake come together to leave you feeling as though you stepped out of reality and into a nature show.

It was during the third mini-hike of the day that we came across the Amancay flowers, bright yellow, floppy petals with bits of red splattered on the inside.

“Do you know the legend of Amancay?” Our guide Martín inquired. But not one of us did and so, like a good guide, he began to tell us the tale . . .

“Once upon a time, in the frigid Patagonia region of Argentina, there lived a princess named Amancay. Amancay, the daughter of the Mapuche tribe´s cheif, was well loved and respected by the members of the tribe. She was known for her selfless nature, her kindness and her truthfulness. Amancay always kept her word.

Around the time of her 15th birthday, Amancay´s father became very ill. For weeks the local medicine men, witch doctors and anyone with any remote knowledge of how to cure rare illnesses, came to visit the chief to see if they could cure his ailment. But to no avail. It seemed, for all everyone tried, the chief was dying.

Amancay was devastated. She and her father were very close and at such a young age, she was not ready for him to leave her alone in the world. Tearfully, she went to see the medicine man and ask if there weren’t any more he could do for her father.

“Honestly, Amancay, your father is deathly ill. Unfortunately his sickness is so grave that the only thing that could save him is a special plant that grows in the upper most regions of the Tronador Volcano.”

“What?” shrieked Amancay, “There is something that I can do to save him? I must go at once!”

The medicine man shook his head slowly, “Sadly, I think that it will not be possible for you to obtain this special plant. It is virtually impossible to find not to mention the many dangers along the route.”

“Danger will not stop me, nor a challenging search. If there is something I can do to save my father´s life, I will do it. I must go and find this plant!” Amancay exclaimed and off she went to climb up Tronador Volcano and save her father´s life.

Amancay climbed for hours and hours, over ice and snow, lifting herself up from rock to rock, hand over hand, until blisters began to form on her finger tips. She was tired, hungry and she had barely reached the halfway mark to the summit. It was there that she encountered the condor.

“Stop right there little girl,” the condor shrieked in an evil voice akin to the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz. “You may not pass by me. I will rip your heart from your chest.”

“Please condor, let me by,” implored Amancay, “I am on a mission to save my father, a very important chief of the Mapuche tribe. He is gravely ill and the only thing that can save him is a special plant that grows on the summit of Tronador.”

The condor, touched by her bravery and sense of selflessness decided to let her pass, under one condition. After bringing the plant to her father, she must return to sacrifice herself and her heart to the condor. Amancay agreed without hesitation and continued laboring up the mountain to find the plant that would save her dying father.

Days later, back at home, her father quickly began to recover with the help of this special plant and the community rejoiced. A party was made in Amancay´s honor and the entire tribe attended the ceremony. Amancay was gracious and clearly relieved to see her father´s health improve, but now she had something else she had to do.

She kissed her father good bye, and true to her word, returned to the condor to fulfil her promise to him for letting her continue her journey early that week.

As the legend goes, after ripping out Amancay´s heart, the condor flew all over the Patagonia region, the heart clutched in his claws, her blood falling like rain, staining the earth below. Which is why today, whenever you come across the yellow Amancay flower, drops of the Princess Amancay´s blood remain, forever a testament to her sacrifice and her honesty.”


The end

*disclaimer: I have been volunteering for the last week at a school and for the last two weeks have spoken very little English. . .I am thinking that it shows in the narration of this legend and will probably be apparent in the next few entries. Bear with me folks.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Been a while: the high and the low of it

It´s like I fell off the face of the earth. I know. It´s hard to believe it´s been two weeks since I last wrote, but I guess time never does slow down, does it?

What can I tell you about the end of 2006 and the first two weeks of 2007. . .well, considering how much has happened, I will have to be brief and share the highlights. I promise to be better in the upcoming weeks and keep you up to date on my well being and activities. I know you hang on every word and no one likes the glaze over of lots of fun stories into somewhat of a list, but for lack of time and mounting memories. . .here goes the high and the low of it.

Well I guess the highlights of the last few weeks have been rafting along el río mendoza (Mendoza River), trekking up to and camping at base camp in el parque Aconcagua(Aconcagua Park, home to the highest mountain in the Americas), wine tasting in the region known for its Malbecs and sparkling wines, mountain biking through the red canyons of Talampaya and camping in el valle grande Great Valley) along side el río diamante (Diamond River) in el Cañon de Atuel (Atuel Canyon).

And I imagine the lowlights would be John getting some sort of bronchial infection for a few days after our trek, the incredible suffocating heat of San Juan, a lame ride through el valle de la luna (Valley of the Moon - we definitely do NOT like car tours!) and John and my ultimate decision to continue our travels on our own for the next period of time, much to my father´s dismay.

Sounds like the highlights win huh?

The rafting

If you have never donned a full wet suit, helmet, booties and waterproof jacket, grabbed an oar and slid into a rubber raft ready to spend the next three hours of your life being tossed around a large inflatable object, I highly recommend it.

Now, I know what those of you who have never rafted are thinking, "Jen, have you lost your mind once and for all?" No, really it´s true and anyone that´s rafted rivers with class 3, 4 and 5 rapids know what I am talking about.

Well the Mendoza river is no exception. . . just head about 2 to 3 hours south of Mendoza, where the chocolate colored waters beg the sudden appearance of Oompa Loompas and input the inflatable vehicle along with the guide and 5 other new friends into waters that are momentarily calm enough to allow entry and hang on. Of course, there the experienced guide is there, ready to direct you adelante (forward), atrás (back), or adentro (inside) as you plummet through the rough waves, large drop offs and manage to narrowly maneuver around rocks large enough to destroy your mode of transit. You may get tossed from the raft, but have no fear, just lay face up and let the river carry you till the kayaker, there for your safety, comes to the rescue. Ok, it might be 3 miles down river, but that is what the wetsuit is for, that way you don´t freeze to death. And the boat might flip over as you go over the biggest rapids and drop offs, but again, keep your wits about you and if you come up under the raft, just remember, "Don´t panic!"

Luckily for us, we did not flip over, we did not lose anyone to the chocolate colored waters and unlike the tourist I read about yesterday in the local paper, none of us had a heart attack and died. Good thing. . .

Aconcogua

El Parque Aconcogua, home to Mount Aconcogua is located about 2 miles from the town of El Puente del Inca, about three hours by bus from Mendoza. As you enter the park, you are immediately struck by the enormity of this mountain. Standing 6,959 meters (22, 841 feet) above sea level, Aconcagua is not only the tallest peak in South America, but the tallest mountain in all of the Americas, taller even than Mt. McKinley (Denali) in Alaska. It also has the distinction of being one of the only mountains over 20,000 feet which can literally be walked up from the north or "normal" summit route.

John and I, after looking into summiting the stone sentinel, realized that we had not the money (over $500 US dollars each!), the time (over 15 days or more with aclimitazation hikes), or the fitness level (Ok, so I have only been back to hiking and walking for a little under two months) to complete this daunting task. So we opted for the 3 day trek from el Valle de los Horcones ranger station up to the base camp at Confluencia (about 11,000 feet), where we pitched our tent amont dozens of other trekkers looking for a taste or a summit attempt. It felt a bit like being at a music festival or a pre-triathalon camp, with trekkers from around the world bundled up in their winter gear, cooking rice and pasta over mini-bunson burners, mixing liters of gatorade and chatting with each other about failed attempts to summit and plans for this year´s attempt.

And as our hiking history would dictate, despite the clear day of hiking to base camp and the full moon that bathed us in her bright light all night long that night, on the day we hiked to plaza francia (4,200 meters and the base camp for the southern access point to the summit), the clouds rolled in. I guess in retrospect, we should just be glad that the heavens didn´t open up, we weren´t dodging lightening bolts and our biggest challenge was John´s chest cold, already beginning to take hold.

But there was something Murphy´s lawesque about the the jagged peaks above us as we set out along the Mendoza river, flowing chocolate even at 11,000 feet until it became on solid glaciar, rising up from the water flowing beneath the surface like something out of Star Wars. We set out with the sun shining brightly over head, but an hour in, John pointed to the sky and said, "See that cloud?" I looked around for the cloud and there it was, a wispy nothing of a cloud, a ball of cotten in the sky. "We should take the summit pictures now, just in case," he added, pulling the camera out. His pessimism surprised me, I was rubbing off on him after all these years. But, far be it from me to play the optimist, so I just stood aside as he snapped the pictures, a few hundred meters from the best view of the mountain.

And as luck would have it, or karma or whatever it is that follows us around in this world, occasionally choosing you to beat with the unlucky stick, by the time we reached plaza francia at 4,2000 meters (somewhere in the range of about 14,000+ feet), the summit was gone. Vanished beneath a layer of clouds so thick, it might as well have been fog. We lay there on a rock, eating our trail mix, biding our time, waiting for the clouds to disapate, but after two hours, we had to face the sad reality that we would not be graced a glimpse. So, defeated, full of peanuts and coughing a bit more heavily, we made our way back down to Confluencia for the night.

Valle de la luna and Talampaya

After John recovered from his hooping cough or whatever it was that he had this time, we headed north into the steamy hot corner of San Agustín del valle fertíl, where we hoped not to be fertile ourselves, but rather to visit the famed Valley of the Moon, with its strange rock formations and red canyons.

It was here that once again, John and I discovered that even with knowledgeable, friendly informative guides, we do NOT like a tour that drives you from one "visual attraction" to the next, giving you 15 minutes to take photos with 50 other gawking tourists. But since we had paid for the tour, we made the best of it, "oohing and awing" with the rest of them, snapping our pictures of the el hongo (the mushroom), el cancho de bolas (naturally occuring spherical balls made of granite) and el valle pintado (the painted valley, which of course was difficult to see as the day was gray and so was most of this so called painted valley).

So you can imagine our delight when we arrived to Talampaya, the second park of the day, and were given the choice to go by foot, by mini-bus or by bike. There was no need to discuss, we paid the money, donned the helmets and off we went. . . into the deep red of the canyon, its walls rising up hundreds of meters above our head. Our mountain bikes handled well on the packed red sand as we made our way through the desert, that is until you had to cross the deep tracks left behind by the mini-buses giving a similar tour to the rest of the tourists. It was then that you had to pick up speed, hit it at and angle and keep the wheels straight as you crossed the tracks, or end up on the ground. I managed to only end up there twice, so that made me happy. Plus, I was so thrilled to be biking that I probably could have flown head first over my handlebars and sat up smiling.

The park, often compared to Zion National Park in the United States, is a series of geological formations created by water thousands of years ago. Unlike el valle de la luna, few dinosaur fossils are discovered there, but we did manage to see a few ancient petroglyphs (or a graffiti artisit with a sick sense of humor), a rock formation that looked a bit like a person riding a camel and some native parrots (yep, parrots in the desert, strange huh?) in the botanical garden section of the park.

Highlights and lowlights

So like life, the last few weeks has been a mixed bag. . .and I know I didn´t give you all the details about the wine tasting or the camping or John´s bronchial infection. . .but that is what personal email is for. Drop me a line and we´ll chat.