Route 7

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We´re amid the dominating peaks of Parque Provincial Aconcagua. The mountain ranges cradle Route 7, the highway through the Andes between Argentina and Chile. It´s Iv´s birthday and we´re having a very nice time.

We had another mammoth bus journey to Mendoza, where we had planned to relax and celebrate Iv´s birthday among the wineries. The city´s location is amazing - surrounded by the mountains. They seem unreal to look at. Our first adventure has been this three-hour trip drive into the mountains. It takes us along the route we plan to take to Chile in a few days´ time, but coming here now allows us to properly appreciate the scenery. And it´s awesome. A recent cold snap has led to heavy snow, and the road has only just been re-opened. Within minutes of leaving the city we´re surrounded by a blanket of white. We´re told that the area only usually gets snow this low once or twice a year.

Our first stop is at a big dam which feeds Mendoza with water and power. The city is sun-drenched most of the year and its surroundings are semi-desert. The hills and mountains up here are pretty barren too. We get a lesson in Argentian history from our guide, and hear some of the short, long and tall stories of the battles of the freedom fighting armies in these mountains.

The mountains themselves graduate from the frontal ranges with their inter-weaving rounded table tops to the huge behemoths which spew jagged rocks down steep, scree-lined faces, as if to ward off any challengers. King among them is Cerro Aconcagua - the roof of the Americas and the tallest peak in both the Western and Southern hemispheres. We´re lucky enough to get a pretty good view of it today. To appreciate it´s scale, consider that we are 45km away from it´s base camp in this photo. We were just about to set off and climb it when time was frustratingly called on our visit and we had to head back to our minibus. To be fair, Iv had forgotten his gloves (and to do the two years of training, purchase the thousands of pounds worth of equipment, spend days acclimatising to the altitude, and to get the compulsory all clear from the base camp´s doctor that he was fit to attempt the ascent). It is a mecca for serious mountaineers, many of whom perish in their attempts to scale it. There is a dedicated resting place for some of its victims in its lower foothills. Still more rest in the mountain´s many glaciers, never to be found. But its draw remains s strong as ever and, gazing at it from a distance, we can get a sense of why.

We return to the hostel in Mendoza by early evening, and are greeted by welcome birthday wishes from home, putting us in party spirit. Our gladrags emerge from the bottom of our rucksacks, and Kate treats Iv to a slap-up dinner, which includes a huge 500g chateaubriand steak and the now ubitiquous bottle of Malbec. We think the latter can only be taster of what is to follow over the next few days.

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