ISABM Journal Caracas still

Our Journal

to Mendoza

Back to Cordova, the bike was ready and I picked it up in the morning. The owner told me to come back in the evening to go over maps. He had driven all over and knew some great routes toward the south. According to him, the problem with Argentina is that tourism is pretty well developed and escaping it usually means riding dirt roads. So, the next morning we rode dirt most of the day rising up into the mountains, the first real cold we had experienced. We rode into a national park where trekking groups were finishing up a six day hike. The landscape was all barren rock and on grand scale. We rode through a pass and then slowly started descending, eventually hitting asphalt and a series of touristy pueblos. The asphalt turned back into dirt and the pueblos started looking more isolated.

Our goal was Merlo and with each town there seemed to be less and less tourism. But then we got to Merlo, all asphalted, and found there was another more direct route and Merlo is the main tourist destination in the area. It was Saturday of Easter holidays and the streets were packed. We found the center and the tourist office (every town in Argentina seems to have one and they have loads of information, also Argentina has plenty of online tourist information). A couple from Buenos Aires on a big bike spotted us and came over to talk bike. They had traveled all over and told us about some good routes further south. There were no rooms available except in a tourist lodge that caters to big groups. Dinner was included and we found ourselves in the middle of giant groups on tour packages and participated in a communal toast for Easter.

The next day we drove up to a national park with trails to waterfalls. The ranger looking people at the entrance told us there was no way to hike without a guide but further up the road we walked right onto the trail where the official merely wrote our names on a piece of paper. The trail quickly turned into a river hike that you follow, hiking up, climbing, and hopping stones. We passed a lot of mini-falls and after a couple of hours reached the main falls. You have to climb up the last part and right when I go over the ledge a smiling guy and his girlfriend handed their hand out with a matte cup as welcome. Hiking out we took a different route and climbed up to great views of the waterfall and valley. At one clearing we found a group of cows and the bull came running over as we inched our way on.

The next day we drove on. We drove a few hours over isolated farm land with wind whipping at us. The ride was cold and we were completely unprepared, my warmest clothing being a long sleeve shirt. We stayed two nights in San Luis but more from lack of desire to drive in the cold. The plaza is nice but it is a poorer not so friendly town. I ran through some neighborhoods that could have been on the outskirts of any city in South America, even saw a family living in an abandoned train car. We lucked out and had blue skies for the drive to Mendoza through wine fields and ice capped mountains in the distance.

Mendoza

Mendoza is beautiful with a series of plazas downtown, tree lined streets, an enormous park with sports clubs, horse jumping, a zoo, university, clay tennis courts, and fancy restaurants. Tourists flock here to visit the countless vineyards in the area and a nearby ski resort. Santiago, Chile is only about a four hour drive away. The traffic is deadly but it is a great city to walk. One night we found an old man billiards and pool club. The elders took us in and set us up on a table. Downstairs they had duck pin bowling, something I’d never seen before.

One afternoon we drove out to visit some vineyards in Maupi. One of the larger ones has a museum of old equipment and supposedly a tour but all we could find were a few foreigners randomly wandering around the grounds. It felt uncomfortable just walking up and looking over a worker’s shoulder as he shoveled grapes onto a conveyer belt or opening a door to find a group with lab coats. And worst of all we didn’t see any free samples coming so we drove to another part of town to visit a family run vineyard. We drove up and a woman told us to wait for her daughter to give us a tour showing the old and new methods of making wine. They take their wine quite seriously. Their Italian grandfather had worked the fields and then his daughter studied winemaking (there is some scientific name for this) in university. According to her 95% of Argentinean wine is locally consumed. They will insist that they have the best wind after some French, Italian, and U.S. wines and speak with disgust at the popularity of Chilean wine. Even worse, some of the larger Chilean vineyards have purchased Argentinean vineyards and sell their Chilean label in Argentina.

After touring their grounds and trying wines we rode over to another older vineyard. There was no one to greet us, just a big bell, so we rang it. A woman came out and looked at us disapprovingly and told us we would have to wait 15 minutes for a tour. We walked the wine fields and got back for the tour with two Argentinean guys, who were taking a break from the office. The guide/owner showed us the giant vats and filtration systems and then sat us down for the wine tasting. He did a great job of explaining the flavors and had us smell wood samples from old barrels to get an idea of how the flavor is formed. He was fascinated with the bikes and wanted to hang out all afternoon to talk. We slowly edged our way out, said good bye and tried to make it to see one of the oldest vineyards with enormous old wooden vats. But, a tour for two people is hard to get going to we called it a day. Droopy eyed from wine we drove back through two laned heavy traffic with buses exhausting all over us.

Our last morning we walked all over town looking for warm weather clothing after freezing several nights in t-shirts. I found a used jacket in a ski rental place and a fleece from another shop.

un abrazo, Chris