Shiver me timbers

After several days of enduring the brutal Patagonian winter, we felt we deserved a luxurious cruise to thaw out. Unfortunately, the best we could afford was hitching a ride for a few days on a freight ferry:

We were able to thaw out, though, thanks in part to the copious quantities of methane gas emanating from the boxcars of cattle at the back of the boat:

It was a pretty cool trip, though. There was plenty of action to keep us entertained...

We got to invade the bridge and bug the skipper with lots of questions... where are we, where are we going next, how fast are we getting there, are we going to hit that other ship, when do we get to see dolphins.... and most importantly... when´s lunch?

I climbed up to the crow´s nest to check out the view. I´m not really sure I was supposed to be up there, but hey, it wasn´t locked or anything. I was tempted to replace the Chilean flag with the Jolly Roger (you know... the skull and crossbones pirate flag), but I couldn´t figure out how to make one. Besides, I´d had enough fun with the Argentinian authorities... no need to get the Chileans involved.

The best part of the trip was the coffee-in-bed room service... delivered with a smile by Mr. Early Riser himself: dear old Dad. He saw more sunrises that trip than anyone else on board. I saw them too... for a few seconds. Out the porthole. From my bunk. Right after Mr. Cheerful woke me up to see them. Then I went back to sleep for another couple of hours. Hey, we were recovering from the brutal Patagonian winter, remember?

We also had fun with Dad´s GPS unit... for example, we figured out exactly which heading to take if we felt like a 6,873-mile swim north to Crescent City.

And of course, the main attraction was the pictures-don´t-do-it-justice scenery:

Lots of rugged mountains, snow-capped peaks, and cool islands...

...and plenty of spectacular sunrises and sunsets.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate´s life for me.

We´re baaaaack...

So... we´ve been slacking a bit lately on the blogging. It´s been what... 12 days now since we posted? Hey, Dad´s only got 17 days down here... who´s got time for sitting in an internet cafe when we´ve got world-class scenery to enjoy? But it´s time to bring our faithful readers up to speed...

We spent some time in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile... about as close to Antarctica as we could get on this trip.

The weather was less than perfect... actually, it was pretty frigid.

Cloudy, too, which interfered with some of our sightseeing... there were still plenty of spectacular views, though.

And there was loads of wildlife... guanacos (wild llamas) and rheas (ostriches in patagonia?!), plus foxes, condors, lots of other birds, and fossilized remains of a prehistoric teddy bear.

In fact, there was so much to be seen, and so little time, we weren´t sure which way to go....

Dad´s new GPS wasn´t much help in deciding our course, as you can see. (Too cold to swim.)

In the end, we decided to just chill:

Up next: our tropical cruise.

Except... we were nowhere near the tropics. And our boat wasn´t exactly a cruise ship... in fact, we shared it with several boxcars crammed full of cattle.

Ice, Ice, Baby

We´ve made it... We are now in Patagonia. In the winter. Yes, it´s very chilly... as in, 5 degrees below zero. In Celsius, though, which is around 25 degrees Fahrenheit. But 5 below sounds colder.

Our first excursion, upon arrival, was to visit none other than the Perito Moreno glacier... another one of those top-ten, don´t-miss-it spots in South America. And it´s true... you don´t want to miss it. Absolutely stunning... I´ll let the photos speak for themselves:

The pictures don´t do it justice... keep in mind that these towering ice spires are over 150 feet tall. And they occasionally came crashing down. Pretty cool.

Like father, like son... my beard´s just not grey yet. And my hat´s cooler.

After my previous run-in with Argentinian law enforcement, I was understandably hesitant to circumvent any more official barriers, especially ones with ¨Don´t Pass¨ written all over them...

But my old man is a rebel at heart, and nothing could hold him back (I guess that´s where I get it from).

Properly inspired by dear old dad´s example, I pushed the envelope even further... (gasp!). Somebody call the cops... this is getting out of hand.

The Big (Argentinian) Apple... and Family.

Buenos Aires, I´ve discovered, is the New York of South America. Of course, I´ve never actually been to New York. Just seen it in lots of movies. But I´m sure that if I´d been to the Big Apple, I´d be reminded of it right now.

Buenos Aires has everything a big city should. Bright city lights, old buildings, a confusing subway system, its own Broadway... and lots of traffic moving by very quickly. Watch your step... pedestrians definitely don´t have the right of way down here.

The music and theatre scene, though, offers a nearly endless options for evening entertainment.... In five days, I managed to see three jazz shows, a Broadway musical (The Producers... in Spanish), a magician, a tap dance presentation, two tango shows, a dozen street bands, and a Catholic mass. Plus those hot summer hits, Superman Returns and Pirates of the Caribbean 2. (In English. I wimped out.)

Buenos Aires loves its tango... Here´s some street dancers, complete with live accompaniment.

In Buenos Aires, the street performers definitely don`t travel light... this tango troupe just wouldn´t be complete without their pianist. Not to mention the accordian section.

As I was heading out of Buenos Aires, I ran into a deranged, homeless sandwich salesman, who begged me to take him to Patagonia with me. In return, he said he could supply all the ham and cheese sandwiches I could ever eat. Being a huge fan of ham, I couldn´t bring myself to turn him down (after all, free food is free food).

(For those who don´t know... the grizzled nut case you see before you is, in reality, my father. He has joined me for the next seventeen days. Wish me luck...)

The Authorities

Well... so long, No-Rules Bolivia... hello, Oh-Yes-There-Are-Rules Argentina.

It all started with pasta. It´s the pasta´s fault, really. There I was, in my hostel, minding my own business, when three friendly young travelers from Paris invited myself and an Argentinian guy to help them finish off the pasta they´d made for dinner. Cool. Free food. We joined them, chatted the night away, and the next day we all ended up going to Iguazu Falls National Park together. (Insert ominous music here.)

The Perpetrators.

Iguazu Falls is a series of massive waterfalls... it´s one of those important, top-ten sights no traveler to South America should miss. It was totally impressive, even though there´s been very little rain this season, and the falls are actually much smaller than they´ve been in years. (Remember that... it´ll be important later.)

Falling into the Throat of the Devil -- the biggest, baddest waterfall in the park

We spend the day wandering around the paved, guard-railed network of footpaths, taking pretty pictures of pretty waterfalls and pretty scenery. Very nice, but not especially adventurous.

A pretty waterfall, with a pretty rainbow.

Our trouble (or our real fun, depending on how you look at it) all started when we took a little boat over to an island in the middle of the waterfall chain. We wandered around trails there for a bit, until we came to a particular ´scenic overlook´ spot in the trail. There was a guardrail. On the other side was a dry, rocky streambed that was obviously a good-sized stream most of the year. And across the streambed was a sweet rock-arch thing that we couldn´t quite get a good look at from our vantage point on the trail. So we did what any inquisitive, nimble young tourists would do... we went in for a closer look. I mean, obviously, that guardrail was just meant to keep people from falling in the water, when there is water. Now there´s just rocks and boulders. No big deal.

When we got closer to the rock arch, though, we could see that it was much more than an arch. It was a gateway to our own private paradise:

So of course we went in. Into the gateway, into paradise...

...and into the water. That´s me, if you were wondering.

Look closely... that´s us on the left.

And, of course, we had to have some photography fun. Wow. I´m white, aren´t I? Gotta work on that.

After we´d had our fill of swimming around and standing under the waterfalls, we wandered over to peer over the edge of the next set of waterfalls. While we were occupied thusly, a helicopter flew by, rather low, and seemed to pause for a bit, more or less directly overhead. We figured it was a bunch of sightseers, and waved for the camaras. Ha ha, funny. Little did we know...

Anyway... remember, this is all taking place on an island in the middle of the park. We knew that the last boat would leave the island at 5:15, and we made it back to the launch point just around then.... to find that there was no one around. We were sort of stuck. No problem - there´s not much water, remember? The river was just low enough to be able to wade across in one spot. Barely.

So everybody gets across and dries off again, laughing all the while at how our adventures have been prolonged. We walk up the trail towards the park exit... and there, waiting for us at the top, was The Man. You know... the fuzz, the five-o, the po, the law, the cops... The Authorities. The Man kindly informed us that we had been trespassing, that they had aerial photographs of the infraction, and that we would need to accompany him to his office. Oops.

Here´s the park map, an arial photo of the whole area. I´ve circled in green some points of interest from our travels... (1) is the big daddy waterfall, (2) is our private lagoon, (3) is other waterfall we walked to the edge of, (4) is where we forded the river, and all the red lines are places we went where we weren´t supposed to. Heh heh.

They ended up letting us off with just a warning, instead of the $20 fine (gasp) they could have slapped us with. I felt much better after I learned the worst that could happen was I´d lose twenty bucks... I was having visions of $500 fines and nights in jail dancing through my head. This is still South America, after all.

Sign? What sign?

Argentina!!!

Argentina is totally and completely different from the other South American countries I´ve been in thus far (for those not keeping track, that means Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia). Especially just coming from Bolivia, one of the poorest countries down here, the difference is incredible. Sort of like crossing from Mexico to California, for those that have done it... the roads are ten times better, everyone´s wearing nicer (and newer, and cleaner) clothes, etc.

Coupled with every surprise, though, there´s usually a reminder that Argentina is still in South America, and that South America is no Europe.

• ----The buses are infinitely nicer... they´ve even got little air vents and the personal overhead reading lights, and every so often, they even have headphone jacks for listening to the radio, like in planes. BUT.... those overhead panels tend to jostle loose every so often and dangle from their wires in front of your face.
• ----The restrooms in bus stations and such are now moderately clean... and FREE!!! (Unlike any I´ve encountered for quite a while). BUT..... more often than not the stall doors still have no locks, and you´d better be carrying your own TP if you want to count on having any.
• ----There are convenience stores and supermarkets, with a typical selection of packaged sandwich meats, crackers, and cookies, instead of the open-air, is-this-sanitary food markets... but, by golly, everything´s still darn cheap. Thank goodness for that.
• ----And every time I try to have a chat with someone, I´m reminded my Spanish could definitely use some work.

Wandering across the Bolivian/Argentinian border in the middle of the night.

(Kia, I hope you appreciate this...)

Giddyup

I´m a cowboy now... A gaucho, as they say down here. Why? I rode a horse. All day. Through the desert. Yee-haw!

Now, I´ve ridden a horse before. This time was different, though. Before, it was always one of those things where everyone just follows each other in a line, along a trail. You´re not really ¨steering¨ (no pun intended). Not this time. I got to drive, and the horse would listen. Most of the time. Also, we got to go fast. Very fast. As in, galloping. Yeah. I liked it. A lot.

Anyhow... we rode around all day, checked out some more amazing rock formations, forded the river a few times, then followed the train tracks back into town. I´m telling you, I felt like I was in some sort of western flick.

On the downside, I´m very tender in some very unusual places... only now do I truly understand the term ¨saddlesore.¨

A Dali, by any other name...

Surreal... Bizarre... Freaky... Otherworldly-ish... I´m still searching for the best word to describe the scenery of southern Bolivia. For the last three days I´ve been bouncing around in a Land Cruiser, periodically stopping to be blown away by some new place or thing. Sometimes we actually were almost blown away... the wind was howling strong enough to be responsible for carving out rock formations like these:

Welcome to the Desert of Salvador Dali... you know, the guy who painted the crazy landscapes and melting clocks and such. Any place named after him has gotta be weird.

El Arbol de Píedra -- the Tree of Rock. Watch out for falling fruit.

At times, even gravity itself was distorted, through some sort of bizarre space-time vortex.

The spacial distortions were't limited to Dali´s Desert, though... we also encountered them in the Salar, where it seems that a person's size increased according to how bad their body odor was at that point in the trip.

The Salar de Uyuni is a massive salt flat, twice as big as Utah´s Great Salt Lake. It may look like a snowy field, but it´s actually about 10 billion tons of salt, over ten meters thick in places. In the wet season the Salar is covered by a few inches of slushy, very salty water, but in the dry season (now) it´s just thousands of square miles of salt crystals. Salt crystals that taste just like regular salt, if you were wondering.

We visited a hotel made entirely of blocks of salt... walls, beds, tables, chairs... you´d just better hope it doesn´t rain.

In keeping with the trip´s theme of ¨Really, Really Weird,¨ we also visited a tiny ¨island¨ in the middle of the flats. It was completely covered in cactus, some as much as 40 feet high. And what do you think it was called? Something logical and obvious, like ¨The Island of Salt¨ or ¨The Island of Cactus¨? Nope. It was named ¨El Isla del Pescado¨ -- The Island of Fish. Why? You got me. Even if there were fish in the ¨lake,¨ why name the island -- a piece of land -- after fish? Sheesh.

Our group, with our Land Rover. I have no idea how our driver figured out where we were going... once we got out in the middle of the Salar, every direction was a perfectly flat, completely featureless expanse of blinding white.

After the Salar, we visited geysers, bubbling mud baths...

...and hot springs that drained into frozen lakes. Remember, it´s winter down here. And parts of our excursion were over 4,600 meters. At that altitude, it gets pretty darn chilly at night. Somewhere between 0 and -20 (that´s negative 20) degrees Fahrenheit, in fact. The hot spring dip pictured above took place at 8 AM... It was still decidedly frigid when we had to drag ourselves out of the toasty water.

Our group, bundled up tight for an evening of cards. We had shelter each night, but they were unheated and somewhat open-air... by around 8 or 9, it was too frigid for much except heading to bed to huddle under as many blankets as possible.

Next stop was a bright red lake (that´s water, not sand or mud). This lake was surrounded by 20-foot high mounds of borax. And it was populated by flamingos. Sure. Flamingos. Why not.

I almost forgot... there were llamas too. With pink ribbons.

Last but not least... we visited a train graveyard...

(Note that some very well-educated vandal has kindly inscribed Einstein´s Field Equation on the old hulk, neglecting neither the Ricci tensor nor the Universal Gravitational Constant.)

...and a people graveyard as well. This was no ordinary graveyard, though. There were dozens of 800-year-old skeletons lying around. Literally lying around, all over the place. Their relatives had chipped tombs out of some of the bizarrely eroded rocks in the area, but by now many of the tombs have been broken open, either by natural or human actions.

Here, you can see three tombs; the one on the right has the skeleton visible. The craziest part? This wasn´t in some fenced-in museum or ¨historical park¨or whatever. It was on a random hillside, in the middle of nowhere. There was one guy at the bottom of the hill to collect about 50 cents admission, and after that you were free to wander around, peeking into tombs and stepping over human remains where necessary. No rules Bolivia, as we´ve come to call it.