Las montañas espectaculares

It's a few days ago now, but certainly the most awesome highlight of our trip so far was crossing the Andes. If you look at a map of the earth I think it would be fair to say there is no other mountain range as formidable looking or interrupted as Los Andes. I quake with fear when I think about the enormity of the first human crossings of the cordillera. Those chicos must have been some of the toughest on the planet.

The trip from Valparaiso to Mendoza could be billed as "the most incredible bus ride in the world" charged at a premium rate and people would do it en masse. However, it is seen here as just another long distance trip, charged accordingly (just $40 for 8 hours) but of course all scenery included in the base price. In addition, for a vegetable (or technically fruit as Peter and James correctly inform me) lover like myself, it was encouraging to see that where barren slopes of new zealand harbour vast forests of pine, similar landscapes in Chile are devoted to the avocado tree. I seriously thought about asking the driver to plough through the fence between the mushy textured delicious orbs and us, but decided It might be safer to shed a peso or two at a stall!

I realised how big a climb we were undertaking when the bus passed under a chairlift, patiently awaiting deep local snowfall next month and the arrival of druggie snowboarders and emo skiiers. At one point the road crests 3000m following at least 27 hairpin bends in succession, each one providing a fingersweating view of the precipitous drop just beyond the arc of tarmac. All the while the rocky faces of the surrounding mountains loom grand and impassive as the shoulders of the valley.

A mere two minutes before la arduana (the border) a small sign indicated literally the biggest showpiece of the journey. El Parque Nacional del Aconcagua I read, then scrambled to find my camera with my hands whilst my eyes remained practically outside the window as we shot past a gap where the 6962m peak was in full view sporting an attractive cloud cap, a la Puketapu in the town of Palmerston, East Otago. This emotional crescendo was immediately followed by the kind of comedown only a heroin addict should have to suffer, as we ground to a halt at the Stalinesque border post for a whole hour, with the great mountain probably in view only 40m above it's dingy parking lot and ugly metal roof. They could make a mint out of getting people to pay a few lousy pesos to ascend to an observation deck while they waited for Che's brother to stamp their passport. Or not charge, and thereby curry favour with all passing travellers in a situation where otherwise these poor officials become objects of resentment and symbols of bureaucracy.

Safely back on the road I was gazing at the coppersulphatecrystal sky when a large black shape glid (past participle of glide? any suggestions welcome) effortlessly past a couple of 5000m torres. The endangered Andean Condor, one of the world's largest birds, with a wingspan of over 2m had graced me with a private peep. I would love to see a longer flight from a better vantage point, but just that brief moment set my heart racing.

Onboard the bus itself, the action was more vivid, as a middle aged couple spent 86% of the journey pashing with unbridled abandon, bodies entwined and legs (almost) akimbo. Needless to say Mrs R and I needed little encouragement to follow suit. The expectation that all expressions of emotion are acceptable in public - anger, love, injustice, jealousy y mas, is one of my favourite things about latinoamerica.

We are now residing in a neat yet homely 3rd storey apartment in the centre of Mendoza, and looking forward to a little Argentinian Shiraz with spinach gnocchi tonight! It will be good to cook for ourselves for a change.

Mr R