Between a rock and a hard place

As I sit here on this bus leaving Mendoza, I think back to these last three weeks. The first two weeks in Chile I enjoyed travelling and getting to know Santiago and Valparaiso with Boo Boo and Emi, but as I left them and Chile behind I began the real journey.

Crossing the Cordillera was amazing and I don't think that words nor pictures can adequately give it justice. Although that won't stop me from trying. As the climb starts, the mountains are endless, and even in the distance where the camera cannot focus, mountains can be seen. As I sip on my mate, I am overwhelmed and emotions fill my body and mind. I guess this is where the religious would say they saw God. I saw something greater, my eyes could not fill the lust I had for these mountains. The descent into Argentina is just as incredible as the ascent. The landscape transforms from dry arid rocks into green grassy hills within the mountains.

My first test as a solo traveller came quick and it came with the realisation I had lost my key-card. After a few hours on the phone it was all sorted but my stay in Mendoza was to double by four days. My experience with the mountain was intense and it was about to intensify further. With little or no access to funds, I was limited in my visit to Mendoza. Yet I did get to and watch La Bersuit Vergarabat play live and for free. Luckily though, the owner of Casa Pueblo Hostel, Daniel, spotted me and I was able to go horseback riding in the valley of Potrerillos. To my right was the Cordon del Plata mountain range, which in winter, when covered by snow looks like a mountain of silver. To my left a volcano which had last been active 40 years ago.

The wildlife we saw ranged from condors, chimangos, sparrows, hares, guanacos, a swarm of bees, and wild horses. Again I was completely humbled by my surroundings. The next day I went rafting in the Rio Mendoza. To be in direct contact with the icy cold water of the Andean mountains was incredible and when the guide gave us the opportunity to jump in from the moving raft into the fast flowing water I jumped at the opportunity. There I was flowing as one with the river. Later that day I went head to head with my fear of heights. The final “canopy” or flying fox was 420 metres long and 150 metres high. I flew over the Rio Mendoza through the Andean mountains.

Today I leave Mendoza, but I have a feeling Mendoza will never leave me.