Looking for El Dorado

Barrael, Argentina
S 31º 39.342´
W 69º 27.781´
Altitude 5,438´

In the main dining room of the converted army barracks, its myself and the woman from the bus… and its freezing cold. I have no idea why I´m wearing my flip flops. After the bad coffee and burnt toast breakfast I grab my camera and head up a beautiful tree-lined street towards the direction of El Alemán. Slowly, I begin to observe that the pace of life here is a little... well, a lot different than Buenos Aires. Upon returning to El Alemán, which in daylight is easy to find, I´m greeted by Berní who in fact is ´The German´. I eat a second breakfast, this time with strong coffee and properly prepared toast smothered in sweet tomato jam and honey.... yummmmy.

The resturant is perfect, attached to an attractive Santa Fe-style house, and now that it has finally warmed up we sit outside and chat. “Let´s go get your things from the other place which is NOT recommended. You can stay here with us as long as you like,” Berní tells me.

I pay the 25 pesos ($8.00 USD) for my six hour stay adn we set out for a quick lay of the land in Berní´s green jeep with his three year old daughter Vicki. On the way we drive past the home of Don Toro (que vive los toros!) and arrange to go wind carting this afternoon in La Pampa Blanca de Leoncito – The White Plains of the Little Lion.

Berní takes me to his other spread of land where he plans to build ten modern houses with all the ammenities for foreign visitors, all with excellent views of the river and the Andes looming in the near distance. Its a land that time has forgotten reminiscent of the Old West. In the distance off to the north I catch my very first glimpse of Aconcagua, which at 6,962 meters (over 20,000´) is the tallest peak in all of the Americas... one day, one day.

[This cyber cafe is crazy – they first were blarring spanish techno and now its a remix of that band from Orange County - Offspring. BLARRING! And now its Madonna´s – Like a Virgin. AND, the guy to my left is playing Counter Strike and the guy on my right – Grand Theft Auto. And all the kids are yelling at each other to be heard over the music. SHOOT HIM! KILL HIM!!]

When we get back to Berní´s house, the fattest, juciest piece of filét mingón awaits me... garnished with perfectly boiled potatos and some kind of purple cabbage, one of the best meals I´ve ever eaten. I try and sleep during the traditional siesta hour but my mind races – I can´t believe I´m really in South America at the base of the Andes living like a king! I lay back listening to a mix of The Breeders, Manu Chau and The Beatles and slowly drift off into a deep sleep.

Awakend from a strange dream of Incan sacrifices and filét mingón by Bernís knock at the door, I can see that the sky has clouded over. Strange for a place that boasts more days of sunshine than San Diego, California. We head north along the valley floor towards Anconcauga and eventually turn off onto an unmarked dirt road. In the distance a shimmering white strip of land between us and the mountains is visibile and I can see Don Toro´s little yellow jeep moving swiftly across La Pampa. The stark white dried lake bed is impressive to say the least and we head out to the center where we Don Toro is now waiting with a homemade red frame of a car with three little wheels and a smallish-looking sail.

“We don´t have much wind today but lets give it a go,” he says smiling and joking with Berní. He gets in and steers the car ahead about 20´ before it rolls to a gentle stop. The wind has died and his sail luffs gently in the wind, not unlike a couple of times I can remember being on the Bay with Dave. “In the summer the winds blow up to 80 miles per hour. That´s when it starts to get exciting,” he tells me. While we wait for the wind and the light to change we talk of paragliding and Don Toro´s eyes immediately light up. “This is something that has always interested me very much, something I´ve always dreamed of,” he confides. “Once I bought plans for an ultra-light but the problem was that it called for too many special types of materials like super light-weight aluminium and other things that we just can´t get here in Argentina. I would really like to fly when there is no wind for my cars."

Hmmmmm.... what he really needs is a powered paraglider or maybe an ultra-light. The dried lake bed makes for a near perfect runway with the most beautiful scenary of anywhere. Maybe I can round up some used paragliders, a couple of old ultra-lights and a 1992 Toyota 4-Runner and do that ´Big Trip´I´ve always dreamed of. Anyone interested? This blog does accept comments.

Later we head across the valley floor again, this time away from the Andes towards the lower-lying foothills, which are still very high... probably reaching at least 8,000 or 9,000 feet. We make our way into the Parque Nacionál de Leoncito and head for one of the two most important observatories in all of the Americas. Because of virtually no light pollution, astonomers from around the world inhabit this God-forsaken outpost year round. Somewhere nearby is a little-known part of the Inca trail that nobody visits... supposedly it hasn´t really even been discovered.

Tomorrow a local politician/horse guide and I are to summit the local range looking for an El Dorado-like thermal oasis – an old Incan outpost. Berní tells me that this will be the very first time that they have actually looked for this fabeled place and unfortunately he won´t be able to make it. Our mission is to mark the route with the GPS (thanks again Dave) and to bring back a couple of bottles of the medicinal water so the local scientists can test it. Is this all really happening or is it all just some strange surreal dream?! Manana, vamos a ver.