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.