Matt & Rob's Big Trek

As Lex Luthor orders her, so shall we also follow. We’ve now trekked south another 145kms (sorry about the lego measurements but you become inured) and are in the incredibly touristy and pretty town of San Martin de Los Andes. Alumine was terrific. We sat up and drank all night watching rugby, F1, A ‘The Who’ documentary and footy whilst talking gibberish and the best fun was going out to the bar of our hosteria and asking the cleaning staff to give us bags of beers as we grinned with red and glazey eye at about 7:30 am. Yay! Well, you’ve got to a little bit.

The Alumine river valley became ever more impressively pretty even as we became ever more prettily impressed within it. And I do mean impressed within it. Lovely, yes, but It’s an odd habit of the human brain to crave what it cannot for the time being have, and for two whole days I was a child in a high-sided box. The briefly paradisiacal, paradoxical fact of the valley was that every second of the day we were faced with two interlocking hills: two interlocking hills in front; two interlocking hills behind, making me feel like a teensy dwarfy man (Nick & Rowan, shut up). We were firmly caught like gristle between the jagged teeth of an earthy zipper. It became a frame of mind that at times felt equivalent to having licked the back of a toxic frog. Sometimes, and this is true, when we looked behind at a particularly opposing set of hills we’d see a previously unseen white-capped mountain had snuck in to block out even the hint of escape. Bastards! The disabling factor for the walk was that there was no way either of us were getting up in the mountain cold before the sun hit our tents as it was freezing, but because of the steepness of the valley that was about 11am. We had to suffer with getting up at 11am, people!  That is unforgivable.

We soon got our reprieve from the claustraphobia as we left the Alumine river to hop over a mountain range to our next destination, and boy did we go over. The photos don’t quite capture it but we climbed around 1,200-1,500 feet to see what was, well, there was a vista, there was a view, and there sure as hell was a vista of views. It was joyous. Pretty much plain-sailing since then so I’ll check you later when we should be in Bariloche. As we edgefurther south we find our camp sites are covered in a pretty ashen floor…Yes, folks, we are edging ever nearer to the volcanic Mt Doom. And the ring’s hold grows ever stronger…

I’d just like to dedicate this particular blog to the Woodingdean Primary School who have taken us on as a charity this year and are already doing a themed sponsered walk. Good luck kiddywinks!

Miss TESCHMACH-E-E-RRRRRRRRRR!!!! x x

(God, I miss my films)

Pull on the long-johns. If you have a beard then prepare to stroke it, if not then strap on a fakey and let me regale you with tales from the mountains. Don’t hold out on me, now; I want those beards operational at least.

We set forth from Zapala (not Argentina’s most distinguished settlement it has to be said) on a 3 day hike northwards to Las Lajas in order to get in one more town before our ascent into the Andes. The twisty-turny route took us through valleys and a range of great foothills that were impressive themselves but to have those white peaks finally in full view every second of the day was inspirational. They truly made the world feel like a different place than the one I knew. We stayed one night in Las Lajas, Argentina’s gawpiest town (we could have dressed as clowns and carried human heads and drawn fewer looks), and stocked up for our next phase. A fork in the road leading away from the ‘turisticos’ route showed us our final path and as we turned due west towards the craggy white heart of our goal I don’t think any part of this voyage has seemed so magical. They loomed and towered, forbidding and yet urging us on.

At the end of a long second day walking we were right under their shadow and following (with some hope for we still had problems with finding water) a great river valley that disappeared into the rocks ahead, but now the wind was simply too much. The clouds had even sunk into the gorges ahead, which literally moaned out our impending doom, so we turned back to camp in a crevice and spend A Night On Bare Mountain, Modeste Moussorsky’s theme ringing in the wind and in my ears all the night long as the devils and witches from that Fantasia segment no doubt pranced their diabolic dance outside. When the dawn came it did not, as it had done previously, bring any respite. No, what we then faced was the true guardian of the peaks: a set of hairpin 30-40 degree inclines over 4 miles in the most ferocious wind I have EVER encountered. I know I have talked a lot about wind on this blog but this was something else. Lorries stopped in their tracks as we tried to make our way up and bridges were crossed almost on haunches for fear of being whisked into a rocky chasm. All very exciting, but oh, Shangri-La what a sight when we finally made it through the gateway into the Andes themselves: Suddenly we were in a land of gushing rivers, snow covered hills of lush monkey-puzzle trees and waterfalls. It was simply beautiful.

Our purpose in all this was to obtain another 90 days in Argentina by crossing the border. We did this at the Pino Hachado pass by doing a comedy walk through the emigration door and back in the immigration one, all in the same little room. Ha Ha. They didn’t bother to check our bags funnily enough. We then faced a problem. We had been told that the 40km road we wanted to take over the mountains was closed due to heavy snow, however when we arrived at the foot it seemed okay and so we started to walk. After 1km we hit the first crunchy white stuff. I now know why Rocky beat Ivan Drago: it wasn’t because sturdy capitalism (remember that?) must win out over the evil socialists; no, it was because he trained in the snow. Jesus Christ! We managed about 2kms uphill and I don’t know how we did that. Every 5 steps required about 10 minutes breath-catching. After about two hours we knew we were in trouble and so, like any good boy-scouts, we sat down for two hours and tried to make snow shoes with flips flops, bamboo stick and bits of cord! Partially hilarious in conception and design, we both felt they could do something to help but alas they simply would not hold together long enough and so, resolved to find another route, we trudged back down the hill, sinking in up to our knees with every other step in a rage-inducing fashion. Turns out that was life-savingly lucky.

We stopped in at a little log cabin resort for some food and to enquire about the roads that went over the border into Chile but what we received was a very soft sell for something spectacular. The owners Hernan and Annalie (a lovely couple) actually ran husky-sled trips and were soon convincing us of this alternative. It was that or three days walking and two sets of customs around the border. It was time to go Michael Palin.

Up at 7:30 and into fresh snow we were soon told that we were expected to ‘catch a dog’ each time he opened a trailer door. WTF? This is someone who ordinarily prefers not to be within the same square mile as a canine and some of these had a look that would have Cerberus hiding in his kennel. We only let two escape and they were run over…no, no, that was a different blog…they came running straight back to Hernan, thankfully. Next up we were showed how to work the sled. Yes, WE were showed how to drive the sled. We had to ride it on our own! No time to turn back now and we were soon tearing across the ice on our massive sledge. Wow, those dogs can go! We were absolutely belting it over the very tops of the Andes and I rightly turned to Matt as we hung off the back of the sled and said “this is one of the best days of my life”. Magnificent! It was soon clear that we probably would have died if we’d continued our walk or at the very least had to eat parts of one another a la that Uruguayan rugby team. My solo turn on the sled was in the downhill valleys and required the sort of Olympic timing you only see at, well, the Olympics, and so I’m happy to say that we tipped over twice on my watch and I came hurtling off the back of the bloody thing. No harm done, though, and it really was a fantastic experience.

Soon we were saying goodbye to Hernan after he skidded back the way he came. We still had some annoying snow to traverse but since then we have been tracking the beautiful Alumine lake and river on dry land to where we are now, Alumine, and we are headed firmly south.

Sorry this one is a bit long but it had been a really big adventure these past two weeks. My thanks to Rob Morrissey for the birthday cigar which we chewed and smoked when in sight of Chile for the second time.

We’ve now walked 801 miles and are bloody tired mostly. My special thanks to Dad, my sisters, The Judge, Nick and everyone else who has posted a comment but hey folks, if you have any comments or requests on these blogs then please do log in and share them. You’ve no idea what a lantern shine it is to hear from home so far away!

Cheers then! Love you, byee x x (You can now remove the long-johns and the beards)