In Vino Veritas; Mendoza, Argentina

Wine and civilization have gone hand in hand since the begining of recorded history. From those first vine tenders on the banks of the Euphrates River all the way down to the recent explosion in wine popularity (thanks in no small part to Paul Giamatti and company in the movie Sideways) mankind has always had a deep love of all things grape. Indeed, the seeds of western philosophy sprang up along side the tender green shoots in the vinyards of ancient Greece. Those pondering such imponderables as the Platonic forms, the idea of the infinite and a quaint new style of government called "democracy" must have gotten quite a bit of help from a bowl or two of sweet Hellenic Cabernet. In wine we find our most sacred religious ceremonies, our happiest celebrations and our most relaxing of idle times and of course... it just tastes so damn good.

With so much of our shared cultural heritage dependent upon wine, Molly and I thought it only right to spend a few days checking out the vineyards in the mecca of south American wines, Mendoza, Argentina. We met up with fellow oenophile Scott Majeska in the Chilean capitol of Santiago and prepared to make the long journey across the Andes.

Brad Pitt filmed "Seven Years In Tibet" just outside of Mendoza. I wonder why the Chinese government wouldn't let him shoot it in their country?

Crossing a border in South America is always a pulse quickening experience. Tales of corrupt police and bribe-hungry border officals abound. Also, anyone who has ever seen the show Locked Up Abroad knows that a South American prison is NOT a fun place to spend time. By the time we got the the border Scott had lost his immigration form that he received when he entered Chile and had no way to prove that he'd entered the country legally (besides of course the stamp in his passport and his entry visa, but these apparently were not sufficient). Fortunately, we played the "confused tourist" card like pros and we were on our way.

Mendoza is a sprawling city of wide tree-lined avenues and fountain-filled plazas. Snow-capped Andean peaks rise high in the distance lending a dramatic backdrop to the otherwise tranquil town. It also has a very European feel to it. Many Mendozans spend their days puffing away on cigarettes and drinking coffee while watching the world go by at one of the hundreds of outdoor cafes that line the city's shady boulevards. With so much lounging about, we often found ourselves asking "Don't these people have jobs?" But I guess we aren't ones to talk.

Photo credit:Scott Majeska

After finding a hostel we decided to switch over from Chilean diet of mostly seafood, to the most Argentine of all foods... grilled meat. People in Argentina eat more beef per capita than anyone else on the planet. Grilled meat restaurants or "parrillas" abound in any town in Argentina. Mendoza is no exception so finding one was quite easy. All you need to do is follow your nose. The meat here is excellent, plentiful and varied in styles. Over the course of a few days we dined on hanger steak, rib eye, sirloin, beef loin, beef ribs, beef tripe, fennel sausage, grilled chicken, pork chops and some excellent blood sausage. Argentina was on the Atkins diet before Dr. Atkins was even a gleam in old Mr. Atkins' eye.

"Sucks to your assmar"

The next day we hopped on some bikes and headed out for the vineyards to taste a sampling of Mendoza's most famous export. We rented bikes at a place called Mr. Hugo's. Before we even sat down Mr. Hugo himself was out filling our glasses with dark red Syrah, not bad for 10 am. We road down the Camino de Vino past seemingly endless fields of grapes stretching off towards the mountains. Huge trees lined the road shielding us from the hot desert sun and the smell of fresh olives perfumed the breeze as we pedaled.

Our first stop was a winery called Carinae. It's story is one that I think many people often dream about for themselves. A middle-aged French couple decided to retire and start a winery. They came to Mendoza in 2002 seaching for a suitable place. After weeks of searching they came upon a winery that had been abandoned since the 1970s. Because of the region's arid climate, bugs and mold are not a problem so the vines were still in excellent shape. This was especially good for the prospective buyers. A vine will produce grapes for about 150 years. The older it is, the fewer the grapes it produces but the higher the quality. It takes about 30 years for a newly planted vine to start producing high quality grapes. In the abandoned vineyard all of the vines were between 40 and 60 years old. Pretty much right in the sweet spot.

Another big factor in their decision to purchase the winery, which was catastrophic for the Argentine people but great for this French couple, was that in 2002 the economy of Argenina had basically collapsed. The country had defaulted on hundreds of billions of peso in forgein debt. Inflation reached a whopping 230% and the country was in despair. This meant that the French couple, spending euros, could snap up the vineyard for a song. It also meant that  exports from Argentina were suddenly very cheap so that their business promptly flourished. They now own another vineyard closer to the mountains and produce malbecs, syrahs, cabernet sauvingon and a wonderful malbec rose, along with some delicious olive oil from the trees that encircle the different plots on the vineyard. Not a bad life.

We spent a long time at Carinae tasting wines and olive oil before retreating to picnic table in the shade of some olive trees to enjoy our purchases. We ate cheese, bread, and sausages while sipping rose. Afterwards we hopped back on the bikes and were off to a few other wineries and even an outdoor beer garden. Riding through winding roads of Mendoza, past row after row of olive trees and grape vines, tipsy off of wine that came from those very vines is an experience I'll not soon forget and one that makes me thankful to be alive on such a beautiful planet.

After all that wine and biking, we really needed to relax and unwind, (no seriously it was tough). Fortunately just outside of Mendoza we found wonderful hotsprings to sooth away the pain from our weary muscles. Geothermal-heated water bubbles up into eight or nine pools of various temperatures on the side of a beautiful canyon. Lower down, cool natural spring water fills pools, waterslides and even a lazy river for children to splash around in. We spent hours moving from one pool to another soaking in the hot water, jumping into icy cold plunges and then crawling back to the steaming bath to start the whole process over again.

Before long it was time to leave Mendoza and head back for the coast of Chile. As we wound our way back through the mountains I found myself thinking about the Latin phrase "In vino veritas", in wine there is truth. This simple sentence has been with mankind for generations and resonates on many levels. The intoxicating effects of wine certainly have the power to loosen the tongue and make you say what you really mean... and sometimes alot more than you mean to say. But furthermore, wine has the power to lower our defenses and make us realize our own deepest desires. It helps us to connect with one another and share what we would otherwise keep covered up deep inside. Finally, while sipping wine among the twisting vines in Mendoza with Molly and Scott, munching on crusty bread and sweet olive oil, the hustle and bustle of the outside world seems to melt away. Here we could see what is truly important in life, good food and good friends and that, at least for me, is the greatest truth of all.

Grippin it and Rippin it---Villarrica National Park

One night, our Israeli hostel-mates came home and started chatting with us at the common table. They told us that they had been offered an opportunity by a local tour agency to go on a special hike. The hike, called the Villarrica Traverse, is incredibly popular in the summer but it had not been attempted during the winter/spring months in over 5 years. Apparently, the last group who attempted this hike during the winter had had a bit of trouble navigating through the snow, got lost, and ended up being rescued a week later in Argentina. 

Needless to say, the agencies have been a bit reluctant to try the trek again... until now. Because we are constantly looking for adventure, we eagerly agreed to go. 

We all went to the Pucon Tours agency the following day to get fitted for the gear we would need for the trek. This hike would be unlike any other hike we've done on this trip, or in our lives. This was to be our first snow hike. Additionally, this would be the first hike where we were responsible for carrying all our own gear; sleeping bags, tent, snow pants, snow gloves, gators, stove, cooking gear, and food. Not to mention the fact that we had to bring every article of clothing we own, just to be sure we would stay warm. The following morning, we were packed up and ready to hit the trail. There were 2 guides to accompany us on the trek, the two of us, and our three new Israeli friends (hereafter called the Israelis). We drove about 45 minutes outside of Pucon to the mid-way point of the Villarrica National Park. We grabbed our packs and were ready to go.

The beginning of the trail was beautiful with large groves of bamboo, moss-covered trees, and overflowing riverbeds. Wino (pronounced Weeeeno) was the first guide to start walking, so Mark and I started walking with him. After about 30 minutes of climbing around fallen trees, scrambling through a tiny path that we could barely see and getting hit in the face by quite a few branches, we stopped to rest and noticed that the Israelis and the other guide weren't with us. 

Wino went back to try to find them, and made it all the way back to the starting point, but to no avail. They were gone. Wino told us that there was another trail to the lake where we would spend the night which they must have taken, but it was much longer and harder. We silently thanked our lucky stars that we were not going that route and headed on our way.

The reason for the overflowing riverbeds soon became clear as we gained a bit of altitude. The snow showed up, at first as a pile in a shady area, but then more regularly.  Before we knew it, we were on 10 feet of snow. Walking in snow is a bit like walking in sand, except that sand acts in a very predictable way; either it is loose and soft which makes walking difficult or it is packed down hard and walking is a bit easier. With snow, however, the way it reacts to your footsteps depends on quite a few factors---how wet it is, how deep it is, and what is underneath. There are moments when you are walking on top of the snow like an elf, and then one second later you are thigh deep in wet slush, like a troll. 

 Thankfully, we had on our gators and our gore-tex boots so we stayed relatively dry. 

But at the top of the first big hill, right as we were about to cross the tree-line, Wino told us that it was time to put on our raquetas de nieve---snow shoes. 

We hiked up to the part of the trail above the tree-line, and we found ourselves with a spectacular view of Volcan Villarrica, smoking away. 

In addition to Villarrica, we could see seven or eight other volcanoes, including the volcano that had rained ash on us in Petrohue and forced us to cancel our trip to Bariloche---the infamous Volcan Puyehue. 

This volcano's wrath is far-reaching

After about 6 hours of hiking, there was still no sign of the Israelis.  Finally, we caught a glimpse of them coming over a ridge about two miles away. We saw four little specks moving across the blanket of snow. We lost sight of them for a bit and sat down to have some lunch. Then as we were finishing our food, we saw one person, alone on the ridge. He seemed to have put down his pack and was just sitting there. We knew it must be the guide, but we couldn't think of a single reason that he would have left the Israelis, unless something was seriously wrong. Wino suggested that we hike over to within shouting distance so we could find out what the problem was. Once we got close enough, Wino ascertained that everything was fine and that the Israelis were, in fact, not dead.  

Once the group got back together, we continued our snow march until 8:30 when we finally arrived at our campsite. Thankfully, our guides were able to find the only place within 10 miles where there was exposed grass and a running river. 

We quickly put up our tents, the guides cooked us some sausages and rice and we went to bed. It may have been the fact that we hiked 10 hours and that I was wearing every article of clothing I own, but I slept warm and snug all night long. 

We woke up the next morning, had some oatmeal and set off for our second day of hiking. The day before, the hike had been hard, but on the second day things got a bit more dangerous. At one point, we were hiking on the side of a hill that was atleast a 60 degree incline. I was following in Wino's footsteps and I realized very quickly that that was much better than forging my own path. I also realized that I had to learn from the mistakes he made, because I could see where his foot had slipped and he had fallen thigh-deep into the snow. My last realization was particularly important---I needed complete and total concentration or I was going to fall 400 feet to the bottom of the hill. At one point I tried to take off my hat because I was getting hot and I almost tumbled to my death. So with utter concentration, I walked the tight-rope walk of Wino's footprints to safety on the other side. And my reward was lunch. Leftover cold sausages, crumbled white bread and hunks of squishy cheese. It was delicious. 

After lunch, we started our final push toward the lake that would be our campsite that night.We stood at our lunch spot and looked out to where the guides had already walked to (they weren't big on waiting for us). Immense is the only word that even begins to describe what we saw. The guides looked like tiny specks of dust on a huge white canvas. 

Notice the people at the bottom right corner of this photo...

We watched the guides climb up a hill, and as we started to follow behind them it just seemed like we weren't making any progress. 

In fact, the hill seemed to be getting bigger. At this point, we were pretty exhausted but we had no choice but to press on. I needed a strategy. So I thought about the way you have to teach someone how to do something, with small managable steps. So I set some small goals for myself. I would walk 50 steps, then I could stop. The joy I felt as I rounded 40, 41, 42 was like mild elation, just knowing that I would be able to take a rest. And then I would set the next goal, another 50 steps, and do it again. I must have set that goal 100 times on the way up that hill, but it worked. Through sheer will-power, I made it to the top of that hill. 

We got two huge treats at the top of the hill. One, climbing a big hill means that you get to slide down the back side of the hill which was really fun. 

But the other great treat was a spectacular view of three condors gliding overhead. They were so close I thought they were coming to get us, but they just flew by, floating on the breeze. Those birds had a wing-span of at least 12 feet. They were simply majestic. 

After a few more hours of hiking, we made it to a beautiful mirador where we were able to see the lake where we would be camping that night, about a mile below where we stood. 

We slipped and slid down the hill, right back into springtime. Finally, we were below the tree-line again. We found a grassy (ish) area on the edge of a river to make camp, and got dinner started. We ate some tomato soup then pasta with tomato sauce and we were off to bed. 

The next morning, we got up to hike our final few hours to where the Pucon Tours van would pick us up. We were still in snow-shoes because the snow was not only still very deep, but it was more wet because we were at a lower altitude and it was easier to fall through. We carefully avoided being impaled by bamboo shoots, and falling into springtime rivers until we found ourselves on an actual trail, the likes of which we hadn't seen since the first 30 minutes of the trek. The sights and sounds of spring were all around us. 

After 3 days, 24 hours of hiking, 40 kilometers and thousands and thousands of vertical feet, we had reached the end of the trek. We were certainly a little banged up from the trip, but it turned out that we were stronger than we ever thought possible.

Among Sleeping Giants. Puerto Varas, Pucon; Chile

Of all the displays of nature's wrath, there is perhaps none more incredible than a volcano. To ancient peoples, they were gods and gateways to other worlds; to geologists they are a chance to glimpse the primordial forces that forged the earth; and, if you're a scientologist, they are the places where the galactic overlord Xenu stashed the souls of dead aliens that now cloud our minds and dampen our potential. In Italy, Mount Vesuvius acts as a time capsule with the ash from an eruption perfectly preserving the daily life of an ancient Roman city while in 1815 Indonesia's Mount Tambora erupted so violently that the ash blocked the rays of the sun, lowering global temperatures and causing famine all over the world. No matter your view of volcanos, it is impossible to deny their might, their beauty and their destructive power.

The entire length of Chile lies along the the Pacific rim's "Ring of Fire" (cue Johnny Cash) so volcanoes abound. The country is at once indebted to and held hostage by these smoking behemoths. Volcanic soil is some of the most fertile on earth helping to make Chile an agricultural powerhouse, filling shelves of grocery stores from Bangkok to Barcelona. Their natural beauty has for years been a beacon for thousands of tourists from all over the world, who bring millions of pesos to the local economy. But, of course, there is a darker side as well. Like the sword of Damocles dangling overhead, the volcanoes of Chile constantly threaten to wipe out the prosperity they have given. Thousands of lives and billions of dollars have been lost to eruptions over the years and every local has an escape plan in case the mountains rumble awake. With this in mind Molly and I decided to go out among these sleeping giants to see their awesome majesty for ourselves.

In case of eruption- run away!

We traveled north from Chiloe to the town of Puerto Varas on the shores of Lago Llanquihue. During the 19th century German immigrants settled this region and left an indelible mark on the architecture, landscape and culture. The town looks like it was plucked right out of the Black forest. Peaked roof houses and neo-romantic churches line the broad streets that lead down to the lake. 

Volcan Osorno is obscured by ash falling from another volcano a few hundred miles away

This is what it SHOULD look like

As luck would have it we arrived just at the beginning of one of the greatest festivals that German culture has given the world... Oktoberfest! 

Two beer enthusiasts

The entire downtown area was decked out in German flags. In the central square a huge tent had been erected to house the beerhall. Beneath the tent the air was filled with the smell of roasting sausages, oompah music and the laughter of revelers as they sampled the fare. The real star of any Oktoberfest though is the beer... and it flowed like water. Fifteen different breweries from around the region had stations set up giving out samples and selling huge steins of good, German-style beer. Being on a tight budget, Molly and I had been subsisting on box wine and cheap, watery cerveza for the past few weeks so this brew was like ambrosia. We drank deeply while eating our fill of bratwurst, knockwurst... basically any kind of wurst we could get our hands on.

A few days later we set out for Vincente Perez Rosales National Park. The park is Chile's second oldest, home to many volcanoes and surrounding the broken, lake/road/lake/road/lake trail between Puerto Montt and Bariloche, Argentina. This is where Che Guevara crossed over into Chile as seen in The Motorcycle Diaries. The western part of the park is dominated by the massive snow covered peak of Volcan Osorno. The volcano is an almost perfect cone shape and makes an imposing silhouette above the waters of Lago Todos Los Santos. 

The lake itself is tranquility embodied. Crystal clear waters are surrounded by steep hills covered in fragrant pine forests. Snow-capped peaks rise dramatically in the distance everywhere you look. We hiked for a few hours along the lake shoreline seaching for a place to camp, and we found one. 

At the edge of a long black sand beach, against a high cliff covered by a tree jutting out over the lake we found our spot. Sheltered from the wind with an eastern exposure for the morning sun, it was just perfect. We built a fire that evening and roasted potatoes and sausages while watching the mountains change color with the setting sun.

The next day we hiked along the Rio Petrohue. The river drains glacial water from the lake. Until I saw the Rio Petrohue I never thought rivers could be blue. This one is BLUE, like, Disney-World-Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-dyed-with-food-coloring blue. It is extremely beautiful. Hidden flyfishing spots abound, as do some world class rapids. We had lunch on the riverbank before heading back to camp.

The next morning we awoke to what we thought was a gentle rain tapping on the tent. We unzipped the the flaps to find a scene out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. Thick, dark clouds covered the sky as ash fell like gentle snow over the entire park. A volcano named Puyehue, a hundred miles to the north, had been erupting since March and this day the winds had shifted the dust cloud in our direction. The once crystal clear waters of the lake were now blackened and covered with an oil-like sheen. Our throats and eyes burned from the ash as we packed up our belongings. I even had to cover my face with a wet bandana to keep from choking. It was definitely time to go.

We jumped in a bus and after a quick stop in the city of Valdivia, we found ourselves in the mountain town of Pucon. If Puerto Varas is the Germany of southern Chile, then Pucon is definitely Switzerland. High mountain peaks cradle lush green valleys. The town itself is nestled beneath the active volcano Villarrica. A tiny plume of smoke perpetually rises from the crater at the top. It is the only active volcano in South America where you can actually hike to the summit. Dozens of other volcanoes dot the landscape around Pucon.

We settled into Pucon very quickly. Our hostel "Casa Mario" is run by some of the nicest people we've met on our trip. The owner Luis (I don't know were Mario ran off to, possibly down a sewer pipe or chasing a mushroom) and his wife were extremely helpful. They showed us local points of interest and did our laundry for cheap. They even gave us free bikes to ride around on for the day. 

We rode those free bikes up to a beautiful set of waterfalls called the Ojos de Caburgua. Three rivers come together and fall into an azure pool. Like Rivendell, fabled home of the eleves, the Ojos de Caburgua has an other-worldly beauty that is hard to put into words. The waters begin in high glaciers on the peaks of volcanos, another gift of these geothermal giants. They then run into a huge lake called Lago Carburgua. They exit the lake through underground caves and where they emerge again miles away from springs deep in the earth. The sweet liquid is icy cold and actually bottled and sold by the locals as mineral water. It was all I could do to keep from diving in for a swim.

As we rode back to Pucon I was struck again by the astounding beauty of the countryside. Emerald green pastureland gave way to jagged mountains covered in trees. Small groups of glassy-eyed cows lazily chewed cud among yellow buttercups as placid alpine lakes reflected the blue skies like giant mirrors. High above the valley the snow-capped peaks, like silent guardians, watched over the peaceful scene. Only the gauze-like wisp of smoke rising from the crater of Villarrica hinted that all this beauty could be wiped out in an instant.