Following the marathon tasting, we decided to give ourselves (and our livers) a break on Saturday and journeyed to the wilder parts of Mendoza. We arranged a full day worth of outdoor activities with a company called
Argentina Rafting: Whitewater rafting in the morning followed by mountain trekking and cliff-rappeling in the afternoon.
In less than an hour, the city and vineyards of Mendoza had receded behind us and a landscape of rough mountains and a cerulean-blue river took their place. Unlike the snow-capped Andes farther south in Bariloche, the range around Mendoza is, for the most part, comprised of older mountains that are smaller and dustier. One of the exceptions to this generalization is
Aconcaugua, the tallest mountain in the Americas (and the highest peak outside of the Himalayas), which is just a few hours north of Mendoza.
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| Relaxing before braving the icy waters of the Mendoza River |
Our guide/rafting leader was charming, albeit unintelligible. I personally think we would have had better luck understanding him if he had spoken in Spanish rather than a thickly accented English. "Okay,
it is possible that you grab the raft like this if you fall over. But guys, it
is possible you put your legs first if you fall over. And it is
possible that you breathe under the raft if it flips." After a 20-minute pep talk, we had gleaned a litany of possible actions but hadn't the slightest idea which were recommended and which were not.
Despite the Caribbean-like color of the Mendoza River, the temperature was less than tropical; our guide estimated between 8 and 10 degrees Celsius (45 and 50 Fahrenheit). Somehow Jackie and I ended up at the front of the raft with two older Canadian couples seated behind us. Jackie is from New York City and went to school in Buffalo, so I think it's safe to assume that I was the
worst person to put in the splash zone.
We threaded through the mountains in the translucent water for about an hour, traveling 10 kilometers in all. The rapids, with names like, "Rock 'n' Roll," had us reeling and rowing, but there was little fear that we might actually capsize. Drenched at least a dozen times with the water trickling inside my wetsuit, I was proud of myself for staying strong through the end, even though my feet and fingers were starting to go numb.
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| Jackie rappelling down the cliff |
A hot, buffet meal with an Andes-brand
cerveza was the perfect antidote for my chilled bones, although it wasn't the wisest move in hindsight. After lunch we began hiking in the mountains, and the trek was not at all what I expected. The Appalachian trails of the Southeast with their subtle inclines and wide paths were nothing like these rocky, shrub-filled trails that looked fit for only goats to climb. My lunch and beer rollicked in my satiated stomach until I had to excuse myself a few times to clear the contents. Luckily I felt better after the fact and didn't miss out on rappelling down a cliff adjacent to a waterfall. Before this, my only experience rappelling had been on a rock wall during a 7th-grade field trip. Of course it was a bit disconcerting at first, but once I found a steady pace it was fun. Rappelling is an activity that it definitely helps to have long legs. Perhaps runway models and basketball players are fans of it?
After everyone in our group descended the cliff, we made our way back down the trail. The sun was starting to dip between the mountains, creating some spectacular views that would inspire the likes of Ansel Adams. All in all, a wonderful conclusion to an intrepid day.
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| A view that was worth the trek |
