A night in the high Mts......

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Well, I know it has been an extremely long time since I have posted anything. I am sorry for that. But it does not go without reason........... I have been having too, too, TOO much fun! This is a good thing, right?!? But now, time has flown by and all the the things I have been experiencing keep piling up behind me like a big intimidating pile of laundry that I do not want to tackle. This story, however, is one I have been wanting to share with you for quite some time.

I met a girl from Portland, Oregon on the farm I was working on......... the farm you ask? well, that is another story- completely. After 3 weeks at the farm, Kara (OR) & I treated ourselves to a backpacking trip into the Mts above El Bolson. These particular Mts are not ridiculously high, but they are very, very steep. Up, up, up we went thru a beautiful river gorge called the Cojon del Azul. High up in these mts are places called refugios (shelters where on can buy dried goods, get water, use a stove to boil water for mate... whatever) You can also spend the night inside if you do not have a tent.

We stayed one night at popular Refujio called Cojon del Azul, named after the area we were in. This particular refugio was quite large really, for being so far up in the Mts. It was also quite popular. There were plenty of people enjoying the bonfires, playing guitars and singing- a perfectly summer camp feel. However, we were looking for something a little less structured and a little more rugged and quiet.

So, the next morning we headed off and UP again. When I say up, I mean up. For almost 2 straight hours it was like being on a stairclimber, going high above the valley and farms in which had just spent the last few weeks. Finally, the pitch leveled off and we found ourselves in a beautiful forest following a perfectly rolling pathway. After 2 more hours and many small stream crossings later we found ourselves at Refugio Natacion, a little shelter set along side a small lake. Tall granite walls stood to the SW protecting a large green pasture that actually had a few wandering cattle. This caught my attention, but only for a second. I mean, how did these cows get all the way up here? Definitely not the way we came. But that is all the thought I gave it. A quick swim to rinse off and a nap were of more importance to me. So, after checking in with the Refugio keeper named Intie, that is what we did.

Later on it was time for a snack and some tea. Not the kind of Welsh tea I mentioned before, but Mate this time. This girl from Oregon just goes crazy for the stuff. I still prefer my coffee, but I am slowly taking a liking to this cultural favorite. As the sun went down behind the Mt, the lake was calm but only for a few small fish jumping, we heard a far off thunder. But.... there are no clouds??? What is that? Then louder. Then very LOUD! A dog..... then another. Then a man on a horse..... then another. Wait, these are no ordinary men. These men are not just out for a leisurely ride thru the Mts. They are working. They are gauchos.

Kara and I look at each other, smiling with surprise and wonderment. What is going on??? Then, 1,2,3,4 more horses, guachos poised high on top. A dog for every one. 6 & 7 come straggling behind. 6 is younger, a boy, really, in training. 9 gauchos in total. They slowly dismount and undress their horses. Heavy saddles, bags, ropes, blankets, chaps. Each set of belongings gets hung in nearby trees. Not a word is spoken. Tired, dirty faces say it all. The dogs play, they aren´t tired. No one seems to take any notice of these two rather strange looking girls just feet away gawking at all the raucous. 2 very large sides of raw meat are hoisted into the air by a rope over a high hanging branch. Now, the unadorned, rather plain looking horses are led one by one in the direction of the pasture we had seen earlier. The camp is quiet once again.

What is going on??? We share a confusion and an excitement neither one of us can explain. Are they staying the night? Are they going to cook that meat? Are we invited? Where is Intie? 20 minutes pass and the gauchos, they return. A bit more skip to their step they begin to tend to the camp. A fire is started, water is put on to boil, stumps are covered with heavy wool blankets and it seems that they are settling in. It is a good thing because it is nearly dark.

It was right about now (10p) that Kara and I assumed we would be settling in to our bunks in the Refugio. No other travelers, just us two and Intie. Exactly how we pictured a quiet night high in the Mts. But, No. Now we had this wonderful picture playing out in front of us. Could this be real??? We could not possibly go to bed now. The fire was blazing now, the water was hot and the mate was being passed. The men had relaxed on to their blankets adn were talking and laughing now. A long days work a distant memory. We asked Intie if he thought it would be a problem to sit by the fire. No, no, no silly girls.

Sooooo.... we approached the fire. As the glow hit our faces the speedy spanish conversations ceased and now 9 gaucho faces looked up at Kara and I. Ummmmmm, esta bien que compartemos el fuego con ustedes? Is it okay that we share the fire with you? Si, si, si- they rearrange quickly to allow for some room. The fire is hot. Too hot almost to sit next to. But it needs to be, because now they lower one of the sides of meat and mount it upon a sturdy iron rod and stick it into the ground. En dos horas comeremos. In two hours we will eat.

So there we are, 2 girls from the States & 1 inn keeper, amongst these men of the Argentine Mts. Let me tell you, this was just as a treat for Intie as it was for us. Of course, Intie was able to share stories with the men and appropriately laugh when a funny story was told. Kara and I just sat in bewilderment, trying to catch even a smidge of what they were saying. Now, yes, I have been working on my spanish. And, I can proudly say, at times I find myself in a full fledged conversation with an Argentine. But come on, these guys are different. Talk about slang.... I mean, imagine sitting with any cowboy now or 100 years ago, deep in the wilds of his stomping grounds. They were kind for sure, but only as kind as Clint Eastwood if you pass him the flask of whiskey.

Yes, we were a little out of our element. But we were loving every minute of it. This type of experience people pay good money for: To venture out on a guided excursion to see what it is the traditional Argentine gaucho do, how they live, how they work. Kara and I were sitting right in the middle of a mate passing, Asado preparing (BBQ), story telling bunch of gauchos. Just us...... lucky, lucky girls. An experience of a lifetime! It is here I will break to say, I really don´t have a lot of pictures of this night. The pictures are in my head and in my heart. As cool as it would be to have them to share with you all it was important to embrace the moment as an authentic one and to resprect that. I did not want to muddle it up with a bunch of flashes.

The meat begins to sizzle and the fat begins to drip (sorry vegetarians) and this is when the fun begins. Out comes the wine!!! These large jugs of vino tinto (red wine) appear out of nowhere. Way too big to pass or drink from. So, the wine is poured carefully into a leather bag-cannister about the size of a half gallon and shaped like a tear drop. After being filled the top is screwed on and then makes for a drinking spout, unable to spill and easy to pass and share.

SHARING.... simply put, this is the one word that fully encapsulates what it is to be a gaucho. They share everything- with each other and with others around them. Intie, Kara and I are examples of that. We sat and shared their wine, passing the leather bag around the fire, around the circle. Once, twice, three times... oh, time to refill the wine. The meat continues to cook, the wine flows and the laughter gets louder. At this point the inhibitions go away a little bit, and this is a good thing. Turn the meat. We share our names - they change Kara to Karita. They show patience with our spanish and ask us questions we likely can answer. We ask them questions as well. More wine. Laughter.

Just after midnight the Asado is done. They pull the iron rod back from the fire just enough to be able to shave pieces off. Kara and I are offered the first pieces. One by one they pull out their own steely knives and line up to cut off a piece for dinner. White bread rolls are warmed over the coals next to the chorizo (sausage). The wine comes around again. This is dinner. The meat is tastey with out any use of any seasoning or condiments. A quiet contentness falls over the group and the fire slowly dies down. It will be hours before it goes out, if at all. The coals are hot and firey and will keep the lucky few next to it warm long into the night.

A few more stories, a few more laughs and a few more passes of the wine. Now it is time to turn in. Kara and I will head out of the Mts tomorrow and the men will return on horseback further in to the Mts to gather their cattle and bring them back to the high Mt pasture here at Lake Natacion. Wow, what a night. What an experience. An experience of a lifetime.

It is crazy how the stars align themselves sometimes. I planned this trip alone, expecting to be solo for most of it, if not all of it. Fearing lonliness was not really an option as it was bound to happen. As it turns out, I have been surprisingly grateful to have had my alone time, to see things and learn things at my own pace and to have all the time I need to reflect on an occurence or an experience. But, I have been just as pleasantly surprised to come across some very wonderful people. With these fellow travelers I have have enjoyed different parts of my travel experience and I have learned from them as well. And after all of it, they are no longer just fellow travellers, but friends. And it is this particular experience, this alignment of the stars, I am very grateful to have shared with Karita. What are the chances, eh?!? That two super cool chicks from the PNW would find themselves camped out for a night in the Mts of Argentina sharing Asado and wine with a group of hard working Argentine cowboys? I mean really.......... there is no other place in the world I would have rather been in all the world on this particular night.

Viva Argentina! Viva Viajeros! Viva Vida! Viva Suerte! Viva Gauchos! Viva Vino Tinto! Viva Madre Tierra! Viva Hermanas!

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Photos

Refugio Natacion
The refugio looks out on the little lake of the same name

Refugio
Inside

Gauchos
dinner hangs high in the tree

Gauchos
morning after smolder