Like a streak of lightnin' flashing 'cross the sky



Brian, Kate, Nicolas, C & J - Torres del Paine, Chile

Country number three on the Ryder odyssey began with a low-key shuffle over the Argentina – Chile border on our way to Torres del Paine national park in the extreme south of Chile. On the advice of one of our team of South American travel consultants, we decided to splash out and stay at the Ecocamp, a small enclave of permanent dome things (huts? tents?) in the middle of some of the most spectacular scenery on the planet.

The walk to the foot of the granite towers that give the park its name was a definite high point for both of us. A seven hour power-stomp with our fabulous guide Nicolas and our new Bostonian bezzies followed up with an evening of beer, wine and perhaps a pisco sour too far, with the outrageously entertaining inmates of the other domes, was one of the best days of the trip so far.

Torres del Paine was followed by a stop in Punta Arenas, a city that is about as far south as you can get in the world without leaving mainland South America. One wander round the maritime museum later, interesting chiefly for the exhibits on the rescue of Shackleton’s crew, which was launched from the town in 1916, and we had somehow managed to pad out three days.

From there we went north to Puerto Varas for a canyoning trip on the Rio Blanco. Having ‘canyoned’ twice before we regarded ourselves as veterans of the scene, but nothing prepared us for the Pachamagua experience. Check out the videos if you need further convincing. The company is run by an exuberant, charming, and quite possibly insane Frenchman and alarm bells started ringing from the moment he gunned his battered camper van over the dirt roads leading up the mountain. What followed was an exhilarating, heart-stopping couple of hours of piling down an Andean river, forwards, backwards, headfirst, spinning round whirlpools and jumping off vertiginous cliff faces. We finished with a rappel down a 34 meter waterfall and a giant final leap in to the river. If you are ever in the area, look it up, the bloke is a genius, and make sure to ask him to recreate the scene from the matrix where Nemo runs horizontally along a wall. A word of warning, though; when performed by an uncoordinated, 41 year old redundant civil servant, this manoeuvre may look a bit more Vic Reeves than Keanu Reeves and may terminate in a tragi-comic flop into the icy water.

A short (by South American standards) bus journey has brought us to Pucon where we have just returned from an overnight horse ride and camping trip; setting up our tents in a high Andean pasture and (one of us, at least) enjoying the giant hunk of beef cooked over the fire. Those readers with their faculties intact will recall that equine expertise is not a key Ryder strength and this ride, though spectacular, was not entirely without incident, most notably a bucking horse trying to unseat its entirely unqualified (female) rider. But by the end of the two days both riders (or Ryders) were wearing their chaps with a confident swagger and were at one with their horses.  

So here we sit (subtly shifting from cheek to cheek to ease the pain of the horse ride), in our little cabin in the woods by the fire, contemplating our pasta supper and two litre £3 wine box. A Ryder’s cautious budgetary instincts never stray too far.

Highlight: the cast of characters at Ecocamp, giving us the chance to drink and make conversation in the company of others, providing a brief respite from the usual Ryder domestic repartee.

Lowlight: an early calamitous horseback foray into a tree, resulting in a bloody gash to the head and a final goodbye to the never-ending pack of Boots baby-wipes.

Pisco sour count: 12 so far, but it is hard to keep the average up when the beer and wine is so good (and did we mention cheap) too.

Stop, collaborate and listen

Chillin' out in El Calafate

This blog title may have those of you with a sophisticated musical palate a bit stumped – but the ladies of Hardenhuish School and Exeter University will certainly get the reference.

We left you last time in Bariloche - the self-styled capital of the southern Lake District, nestled in the foothills of the Andes overlooking the huge lake Nahuel Huapi. It has been described as a South American take on Switzerland – because South America needs a Switzerland - and accordingly the guide book promised stores full of chocolate St. Bernard dogs. While there were plenty of the real things on the streets ready to pose for photos with gullible tourists, no confectionary versions were anywhere to be found (we are starting to lose patience with the Rough Guide, we may have thought twice about Bariloche if we knew the chocolate dogs would be so thin on the ground).

We hiked, biked, rafted and hired a car to see as much of the area and lakes as possible. The highlight was certainly rafting on the River Manso. The gorge offered stunning scenery dotted with waterfalls and a close encounter with a ringed kingfisher (we looked it up, in truth we can’t tell one kingfisher from another. J had to be persuaded that it was in fact a bird).  The trip ended at the ‘international border’ with Chile in the Andes (see photos for what constitutes an international border in these parts, basically two blokes sharing a cigarette and a horse), and we snuck over for a preview of Chile.

Following a personal recommendation, J was keen to try the steaks (‘the biggest and juiciest in town’) at Alberto’s in Bariloche. While J tucked in to his ‘bife de chorizo’, C tucked into a delicious and nutritious carrot salad and plate of fries, all eaten with a giant steak knife…  

From Bariloche we flew south into Patagonia proper and the town of El Calafate.  Predictably, it is getting colder the further south we go and this area is particularly famous for glaciers, ice-bergs and its general remoteness. This move south has necessitated some re-shuffling of the rucksacks (bikinis to the bottom, fleeces to the top) and a dawning realisation we are woefully underprepared for the big chill.

We took a boat trip for a closer look at the glaciers and ice-bergs.  Despite shivering on deck in our safari suits and pac-a-macs, the glaciers proved to be absolutely stunning. It is difficult to describe the experience of coming face to face with a 90 metre high wall of ice, with strange peaks and crevasses, particularly when huge chunks ‘calve’ off and thunder into the lake without warning.  Peaceful and powerful all at the same time. Once again, our photos do not do it justice, having reduced nature's mightiest creations to indistinct blobs. We blame the camera.

To complete the full ice experience, we donned crampons and took a trek on the Perito Moreno Glacier. Walking on the glacier gave a completely different perspective and was rounded off in style with a glass of Jim Beam complete with 400 year old ice-cubes.

This blog rounds off our tales of Argentina as we head into Chile tomorrow – first stop Torres del Paine national park.  We have updated the photos with edited highlights. We have loved it here, the people are so friendly and the scenery is varied but always beautiful. Estamos un poco triste de dejar. 

Highlights: managing not to bounce out of the raft despite level IV rapids, and still having the energy left to appreciate the completely unspoilt beauty and tranquillity of the area.

Lowlights: the complete lack of anything resembling a proper coat, leaving us at the mercy of the Patagonian elements. Sorry to hark on, but the lack of chocolate dogs was also a low point.

Malbec count: now being measured in vats rather than bottles, so it’s very hard to make an estimate – on to the Chilean vino next.

I'd rather be a forest than a street

We are trying to make up for the last blog title with a slightly more obscure one.

Following two unremarkable nights in Rosario, we headed into the sticks and ended up in the Camino Real Estancia in Santa Catalina, 50 miles north of Cordoba. Pausing briefly for the obligatory photos of the Jesuit architecture for which the area is famous, we got down to the serious business of relaxing, Estancia style. Two days of indulging on lovely home cooked food, chilling by the pool and comic equine capers followed.

We should also mention getting to and from Camino Real entailed driving nearly 100km of dirt track. This was not what Vauxhall had in mind when they ‘designed’ the Corsa; it was also not lost on the hitch-hikers we picked up on the way to the main road. They may have been grateful for the lift when they got in, but they were definitely less effusive with their thanks when they finally got out.

A drive along yet another dirt track brought us unknowingly to La Cumbre, the paragliding mecca of Argentina. Never ones to pass up an opportunity to try something new we gamely allowed ourselves to be strapped to random strangers, ready to launch ourselves off the mountain. Having seen J’s textbook take off, C was confident hers would be just as smooth as her instructor’s patter. An undignified scramble down the mountain later, resulting in numerous cuts and bruises, and both Ryders were safely cruising the thermals 1500m above the Cordoba Sierras. We have posted some photos here but they do not do justice to the beautiful landscape that we now know is best viewed from the air.

After a week in the car we were a long way from our next flight, so a couple of long drives staying in random towns in even more random hotels (think Fawlty Towers, without the glamour of Sybil) followed. Some glorious hiking in the Grand Sierras broke up the journey, where the highlight was condors swooping close by overhead.

We then travelled to Northern Patagonia for the marine life. Penguins, dolphins, sea lions, elephant seals, along with armadillos and guanaco were all ticked off to various degrees. The one absentee were the much anticipated Orcas. For once, the Ryders were in the right place at the right time and waited patiently for three hours for the famous spectacle of killer whales launching themselves up the beach to snatch sea lion pups. However, there had been a diary mix up, and the Orcas didn’t show up. Very disappointing.

Our next journey was to Bariloche, on the edge of the Andes, and it was a joy. For once we had chosen the right bus company, and reclined in horizontal luxury for the 12 hour overnight journey. We are staying in a cabin by the lake and have only been here a day but have already bonded with the owner of the cabins. So much so in fact that he phoned at midnight last night to ask if we like fish and then turned up on doorstep ‘uno minuto’ later with a freshly caught trout. Argentinian hospitality at its best.

So here we are, anticipating a much needed haircut (J) and a steak (J) and looking forward to tomorrow’s rafting adventure (C & J).

Highlights: The 400,000 strong penguin colony at Punta Tombo; delightful little chaps made all the more entertaining by the fact that this is moulting season, resulting in some fluffy comedy side-burns and jazz beards. Unfortunately the three that we smuggled out and kept in the bath (remember Gemma the seal anyone?) have since passed away from what we can only assume were pre-existing conditions.

Lowlights: At the risk of repetition, J’s credit card is now the subject of a fraud investigation (following the scandalous misuse of his bank card in Rio). He has now entered a Kafka-esque nightmare of mind-numbingly incompetent bureaucracy, presided over by the twin pillars of uselessness, Barclaycard and Visa.

Malbec count: We have lost count, but conservative estimates currently hoover around 14, along with some fine Argentinian beers.

Penguin count: Thousands

Sea Lion count: Hundreds

Condor count: Tens

Elephant Seal count: Three, one of which may have been dead. Not quite the 7,000 mentioned in the hitherto trustworthy Rough Guide.