Iruya--The Hidden Kingdom of Shangri-La From charming little Tilcara, I traveled an hour to the transport hub of Humahuaca where my suitcase was flung on top of another ancient bus. I was in Northern Argentina´s Quebrada de Humahuaca, a World Heritage Site, a land of indigenous adobes in multicolored canyons, and we were headed to the end of the road. After an hour, we turned off the asphalt and onto a dirt road and wheezed and switchbacked up to the cloud-shrouded 4000mt/13,000 ft pass of the red, green and violet gorge. Repeatedly, we came within inches of the precipice as we rounded the dozens of curves. No guardrails here--just white-painted rocks to mark the edge of the road. I was lucky to have a front-row, window seat on this thrilling, roller-coaster ride though we did have ... read more

Deja Vue Uh oh, I was in Mendoza again. I'd been here a year earlier when I was leaving the southern "cone" of the continent and supposedly heading north and homeward. However, I just couldn't leave my snowy Andes and Patagonian lakes. I bailed and headed south for another year in Patagonia. Will I really head home this time? As before, I'd come from Santiago, Chile, over the highest pass in the Andes. This time, I stayed in the Paso de Los Libertadores in the high snowy mountains at Los Penitentes to have one last hit of snow before the semi-deserts of northern Argentina. Leafy Streets, Fountains and Yankee Traps The city of Mendoza is charming with tree-lined boulevards and fountains everywhere that make you forget it's located in a desert and receives very little rain. ... read more

Stormy Weather and a Daring Rescue Torrents of non-stop, winter rain and howling horizontal winds had pelted the valley for five days. Don't go to the Tricahue River Lookout," Dimitri warned me. "The water is coming over the bridge and a woman was washed away and drowned there last year."Water washing over the bridge--I've got to see that," I thought. I bundled up but within minutes, my extra-strong Dutch poncho and my boots were soaked, and I would be squishing up trails that had become creeks. I whistled and up came running Bacan (Chilean slang for "cool"), the wise, terrier/spaniel mix and Cachay (slang for "Get it?") the young, not-yet-always-getting-it, black Labrador. They yipped and danced as we headed out for adventure. The pups and I hiked up to the cement slab bridge, where the river ... read more

Gold to Crimson This was it; after almost a year and a half among lakes, mountains, volcanoes and glaciers, I was leaving Patagonia. For the eighth and last time, I crossed the southern Andes. On the weekly Sunday afternoon bus from Junin de los Andes, Argentina, we passed through wild west scenery with native forests of prehistoric araucaria trees and Lanin Volcano, whose clouds kindly parted for my last view. After passing through the Paso Tromen (to the Argentines)/Paso Mamuil Malal (to the Chilenos) our funky old bus was stopped by a herd of cattle walking down the middle of the dirt road that is the international highway. We had entered Chile. For the last month, I'd been chasing autumn foliage in Argentina's Lake District. In April, I thrilled to the first leaves yellowing in the ... read more

Sweet San Martin de los Andes, on its alpine lake, is a way-station on the gringo trail through the Patagonian lake districts. Travelers coming from the popular resort of Bariloche, Argentina, are forced to pause for a night to catch the daily 6 am bus over the Paso Mamuil Malal/Tromen to the equally popular Pucon, Chile. I, too, passed through the town four times as I tacked back and forth across the Andes to renew expiring 90-day visas. However, my stays were longer, and I always crossed the pass on Sundays for the weekly afternoon bus as I'm allergic to early morning anything. I always stayed longer in San Martin because each of my visits was full of color, friends and great trails. Carnival brought drummers and scantily-clad dancers parading down the chilly streets while spring ... read more