The Search for the Valley of the Moon

After nearly 10 days of essentially doing nothing except hanging out and drinking wine (albiet in a few different and very scenic locations like Bariloche in Pategonia) and finally getting a doctor to give me the all clear on my feet, which I had started to worry about because they were still numb after 2 weeks since the summit, which, call me crazy, just didn't seem right, I thought I'd get out and actually do something.

The Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon) provincial park* boasts, as you would expect, moonlike terrain, but also some of the world's most well preserved dinosaur fossils from the triassic period. Though the fossils aren't actually there now so I didn't get to see them. It seems that sometime between when my guidebook was last updated and when I was there they moved them all to a museum in Buenos Aires or somewhere that get's a bit more traffic than out of the way desert park. I'm also led to believe that there is a lot of other really interesting stuff about the valley but since the tour was in spanish I missed a lot. Anyway this story is about the journey to get there and back which was much more eventful than the actual park visit.

After leaving the doctor's office in Mendoza with my new foot xrays I headed to the north of Argentina to San Juan, a kind of blue collar town with nothing much happening and no real reason to go there other than it's near the Valley of the Moon. Well 'near' is not exactly accurate. It turns out it is about 350kms south-south-west of the Valley of the Moon but looks much much closer on the map I was using for trip planning.

As a result of it's 'proximity' to the park, San Juan my not have actually been the best place to base myself for this excursion but there I was. Did I mention that there's not much happening in there? And also that it's hundred's of kilometres away from the main tourist attraction? I did. Oh Ok. well it also has the very weird distinction of being a desert town that is super hot yet prone to violent thunderstorms and heavy rainfalls that from time to time flood the roads.***Since there's not much going on, there's not many people there so unlike other places I'd visited, the hostel was empty and I was doing this tour solo.

The lady at the hostel was friendly but ultimately unhelpful and so a quick internet search indicated that it would be cheap and easy to rent a car. It turns out it was neither,but, by 10:30am I was behind the wheel and doing my best to hold up the map to navigate and shift gears and drink a McDonalds coffee** at the same time.

Once I got my bearings and was 85% confident that I was going the right way (I at least knew from the GPS that I was at least going the right direction - ie. north-ish) the fuel light came on. Even though I find starting from the rental company with an empty tank quite annoying and inconvenient at least this gave me a chance to take a few mins to consult my my properly while not also driving and stuffing my face.

Back on the open road I was feeling good and started making some time. With a little luck I could be there by 1:00, do the tour and get back before it got dark.****It was outside of the cities that I saw the most evidence of the previous night's rainfall. There were very large puddles in the desert that sort of remined me of the Cayman Islands post-Hurricane Ivan puddles that never seemed to go away, but in general the roads were clear.

So when I came up over a little rise to see a "puddle" spanning the road I didn't really give it too much consideration other than to take my foot off the gas but it turns out that "small river breaching the road" would have been a better description for this particular "puddle" and I thundered into about 1 1/2 feet of water at about 120kmph. Nothing like crashing into a surprise body of water at high speed to get your heart pumping! It wasn't just the noise (kind of a whoooomph sort of sound) or the fact that my car was now covered in brownish water (even the roof), but suddenly I smelled fuel. That can't be good I thought. I was right. I started to lose power. The car wasn't responding to my desire to get away from that puddle and continue on my journey as fast as possible as if nothing had happend. I did manage to get most of the way onto the shoulder and for a while just sat there. trying to restart the car.

"Maybe it just has water in the engine and needs to dry out?" I theorized noting that on a hot day in the middle of the desert drying out the engine would be something I could accomplish without a lot of effort on my part other than opening the hood. So I did. Everything looked normal. Nothing was particularly wet. But then the water had come in from the bottom so who know's. Anyway I decided to give it 10 minutes and try restarting it. You know in case my water theory was correct. It turns out it wasn't correct and it also turns out that 10 minutes is a really long time to be sitting on the side of the road in the desert staring at your watch.

So I tried starting the car again. Same result. Which is to say nothing happened. Hmm, this could be more serious than I thought. I better put my hazard lights on. Since no passing cars were stopping to help me out. I thought I would get down on the ground and really suss things out for myself. So I looked underneath the passenger side of the car around where the fuel tank was to see if I could at least figure out why there was still a very petrol like smell coming from the car.

Now, as you may have guessed, I'm no expert when it comes to being an auto mechanic but I'm pretty sure that the fuel line is supposed to be attached to the fuel tank in order to, y'know, get fuel to the engine. Well it wasn't anymore. The metal piece where the fuel line attaches to the tank had sheered off when I drove through the "puddle" and was now dragging on the ground (or I guess it was actually resting on the ground since, as a direct result the car was no longer moving).

"Well at least I know what's wrong" I thought. Immediately followed by "Wait. How does knowing what's wrong help. I'm not going to be able to fix it and am still stranded in the desert." But knowing what the problem was still felt comforting for some reason.

Anyway, so I'm stranded in the middle of the desert approximately 1/2 way between my starting point and my destination and I start waving at cars to stop and call a tow truck. Two problems: 1) I don't know the spanish for "I stupidly drove too fast through that puddle back there and broke my fuel line. Can you please call a tow truck?" and 2) no one is stopping anyway. The second one is getting to me more than the first. After a while a car going the opposite direction does stop and I convince them, I think, to inform the police checkpoint that I passed about 20kms back that there's a stranded motorist. This makes me feel better and I stop waving people down.

Since I'm a bit bored I start inspecting the damage. Looks like it's pretty clean. The two halves fit together perfectly. If only I had some electrical tape or some crazy gule.....wait a second. I've got both. Miraculously, I brought my 1st aid kit with me. Something I would have had very little likelihood of needing. I didn't bring my glasses. But I brought band aids, electircal tape and crazy glue.****Now, I was under no illusions that this would fix the problem. But I thought there might, just might, be an outside chance that I could fix the problem for long enough to get to a service station. No, I was wrong. I couldn't. It would have been really really awesome if I could have. I'm talking MacGyver awesome but no it wasn't happening.

Although...while I have the crazy glue out, I might as well have another go at fixing my prescription sunglasses....

Just then, a transport truck pulls off the road and stops behind me. He saw the hood up and my flashing lights and just stopped. All by himself. I was trying to fix my glasses and waiting for the cavalry to come save me from the police checkpoint who, I'm sure by now have been notified and will probably be sending out search and rescue helicopters any minute.

The trucker, gets out and approaches me. What happens next is awesome! Not only have I figured out the spanish for my fuel line is broken and as a consequence my car is in an undrivable state (I just point continuously underneath the car until he looks there. But before he can even look he lights a cigarette. Um....not so wise with the leaking fuel and all...I tried to say but mostly my eyes just widened waiting for the impending explosion.....phew.

So I'm going over my options with this guy. And by going over my options I mean that he is talking quite a bit in Spanish and I don't know what the hell he's on about. I'm thinking "best case scenario I can get him to call a tow truck" but deep down, having driven through 189kms of desert villages already I'm not overly optimisitc. So then just as I think I understand him that he wants to give me a ride to the next village, which I'm not super keen on as it would mean leaving my rental car and it's 7,200 peso deductible in the middle of the desert, he pulls ahead of me hooks up my car to a 10ft strap, gives me extremely explicit instructions (which I somehow understand perfectly) to be very careful on the brakes especially on the down hill parts, and starts towing me.

This has me freaking out. A minute ago I was worried about leaving the car and now i'm illegally (I assume) towing it behind a big rig and trailor. I've got a great video of it but it is about 15 mins long so is too big to upload from internet cafes. A lot of it has me saying things like "Holyshitholyshitholyshit" and "I'm so scared right now, not of dying but of messing this up". Funny that I wasn't so scared as to put down the camera and steer with two hands....

After 20mins or so of stress we pull into a "garage" (which is basically a shack in the middle of the desert with some wrecked cars and oil drums around it). The truck driver explains what's wrong and miracle of miracles the mechanic claims to be able to fix it. This is outstanding. 20mins ago I was trying to fix my car with electrical tape and now I've got someone with a jack and blocks and parts and know how with his head under my car.

Well, he tinkered around under there for a good hour, periodically getting out to get a part or see if I was comfortable sitting in the sun and would maybe like some shade. Who are these mystery people. 1st a guy stops without me asking and rigs up a towing system for a stranded motorist that could seriously damage his truck and therefore his livelihood and then the mechanic is more concerned that I'm comfortable than he is with the vehicle. Absolutely incredible. If you are going to break down I highly recommend the Argentine destert.

Whn he asked me to start the car and it actually started....the feeling....indescribeable. Maybe exhilerating would do it justice but I don't think that's quite right. It was that but it was mixed with relief and excitement as well. Unfortunately he recommended that I turn right around and go back to San Juan and get it fixed properly. And maybe if it was my car and I was from Argentina and could see the Valley of the Moon any time I want then I would have but as he seemed to do a kickass job of fixing what I was confident was the only problem I figured why not continue on.

So I did. And this is what the valley of the moon looks like:

I had arrived at 4:50. 10 minutes before the last tour of the park started. I arrived in time to see the red ridge that looked like they should have named it the "Martian Valley" and then to see the really cool moonscape and generally drive around a really cool valley very very carefully, stressing out over just about every bump, hoping my new fuel line system wouldn't let me down.

It didn't. But because I got there at 5. I was leaving to return back to San Juan at 8:00. Just before it got dark.

Remember my glasses? I didn't. So the drive there which, was supposed to take about 4 hours took me about 6.5 to get home. Partly because the line markings suck and it was another dark and stormy night and partly because up in the desert the Argentines don't bother to fence in their livestock so around seemingly every corner my high beams were lighting up a horse or a cow in the middle of the road. Soon I started seeing cows and horses even when they weren't there.

To compound matters when I got back to the city I immediately got lost. Even though the city is a reasonably straightforward rectangular grid it has three layers of encircling roads and at 2 in the morning after stressing out about horses on the road for 6 hours it's not nearly as easy as it looked on the map the next day.

When I returned the car I was just about to tell the guy about the problems I had but he went on and on about how I wasn't returning it with enough fuel and actually accompanied me to the pumps where I put about 3 bucks worth in to get it to the level of his satisfaction. Remember I picked it up and had to almost immediatly get fuel. I was very disappointed in him and so forgot to mention that his fuel line was currently held together by a rural desert patchwork of miscellaneous parts and ingenuity.

Nothing is ever easy is it? But it makes for a good story....

Photos 1) The landscape, and cactuses in particular reminded me of the roadrunner cartoons. So I took lots of photos. 2) Bariloche. See I told you it was nice. 3) Fuel line detached. 4) Car getting fixed in desert lot. 5-7) The valley of the moon.

*Actual name of the park is Ischigualasto and valle de la luna is just a part of it but I mean c'mon I can't even pronounce it so I'm not going to bother writing it either. Except for just now. But I actually copied and pasted it from wikipedia so didn't actually write it per se. Anyhooo, back to the blog.

**Proper take away coffee houses just haven't reached some corners of the globe yet unfortunately

***BTW don't listen to wikipedia on this one. It says that San Juan has lots happening with all kinds of culture and whatnot as well as noting that "very little rain falls in the region". Normally I don't have a bad thing to say about wikipedia and rely on it heavily but it got this one wrong. At least as far as a weekend in late December 08 goes when I was there.

****In my haste to get going I had forgotten to bring my eyeglasses which I need for important things like watching tv and driving at night.

*****What can I say, along with some other stuff that really is what is in my 1st aid kit.

********That's like CAD 2,500 or something

Mt Aconcagua Expidition: Summit Baby!

So back in 2001 when I went on my then 'epic' 6 week trip in South America I went to the foothills of the tallest mountain in the Americas, Mt. Aconcagua which peaks out at 6,962m or (23,841ft). I've got a good photo of it but it was so long ago that it was not taken on a digital camera so it's not featured here. Anyway being there and then meeting some people who tried to climb the mountain whet my appetite for summiting and when I found that there was an opportunity to join up with an expedition group and still be able to be back in Canada for Christmas I signed up immediately.

Not having any experience with high altitude I opted to go for the expeditions 'Extended Acclimitization Plan' (EAP) which saw me and two experienced German climbers begin our trek 2 days earlier than the rest of the group. We made it to the first camp at 3,100m with no issues other than the fact that I was a bit sick and needed to use the toilet constantly. The safety measures in place in the park were impressive but even though we had to visit the doctor daily to have our blood pressure and blood oxygenation levels* checked and discuss our general health, I conveniently forgot to mention that I was having trouble staying hydrated due to the fact that all the water I was drinking was finding it's way immediately back out.**

Even though I felt crappy (no pun intended) and did not enjoy any of the excrutiatingly long 8 hour hike up to the actual base camp Plaza des Mulas (4,300m) I got a full night's sleep once there and enjoyed the 'day off to acclimatize' the next day by augmenting the rock wall around my tent.

The next day saw the rest of the group arrive which was good because I had little in common with the two 50 something year old german dudes and one of them didn't speak English so communication was also difficult. We were now 14: Dave, Jan, Letitia, Dennis, Simon, Steve, Pascal, Cedric, Bernard, Walter, Caesar, Ricardo, Dieter and Helmut. Nationalities spanning the globe.

With lots of down time we spent a lot of time BS'ing in the food tent, just hanging out in our respective tents, playing cards***( in particular a game called Shit Head which Dennis was particularly bad at) or just waiting to be fed all with an upbeat attitude about the task ahead and lots of laughs now that there were some people in the group who both spoke English and had a sense of humour.

Once our acclimitization period was over at Plaza des Mulas we had 6 straight days of torture, well 7 if you count day 0. Tuesday the weather went bad and it snowed and the wind blowed and sleep was difficult to come by especially because part of acclimatizing meant drinking 5 litres of water per day which meant waking up at least once a night to go pee.

Wednesday we set off with full packs**** for the first of three high altitude camps Plaza de Canada (which we just called camp 1) and for the first time since Madagascar I was carrying a heavy load up a mountain. Believe me my legs let me know it the next day. The snow and wind started to blow on the way up the mountain and even though I would have been warmer I opted to let my beard warm my face instead of my bandana which was absolutely disgusing smelling having been absorbing sweat for two weeks or so since last being washed.

The high altitude camps meant no more meal tent so we ate our meals, either outside if the weather was good or, except for camp 1 when the sun came out, huddled up inside our tents.

Thursday and Friday saw the same crappy weather with snow falling and wind blowing and the two nights at these camps were probably the worst. It was -15 degrees outside not counting the effect of wind chill and even once I was warm and cozy in my sleeping bag my breath would condense on the outside of my sleeping bag or my pillow making them wet and disgusting and ultimately would condense on the ceiling of the tent, freeze and then when the wind would blow, would fall back down on me as if it were snowing inside the tent!!! Very unpleasant to say the least. It makes it really hard to get enthusiastic for a day of trekking when you've only had a couple of hours sleep and your pillow is wet. That said, the higher we went the more scenic and panoramic the views became, though my photos are few due to the fact that it was too cold to take off my gloves to opperate the camera or just too cold to be bothered leaving the tent altogether.

Saturday was summit day. On Friday night, our first night at camp 3, there was some concern whether or not the weather would be good enough to make an attempt on the summit. The wind was howling and it was freezing (exact temperature unknown but 'F'ing Freezing!' seems about right) so at 5:00am when our guide awoke us to let us know we were going to depart for the summit at 6:30am, it was hard to get up for it. Also, in the course of getting ready, I found that the outer shell of my trekking boots were frozen solid and I had to struggle for 15mins just to get my boots on, as a result I was delaying the group and getting stressed everytime the guide said 'c'mon guys, we're going'. Once I finally got my boots on I still wasn't ready and had to fill my water bottles which was met with a frustrated groan and eye roll from the guides. Then I had to find my ice axe, which wasn't where I expected it to be. So rather than panic and look all around for it I just said 'forget it' and went without it. The only one to do so I noticed after surveying everyone else's packs but I knew from discussions with others that there was only a slim chance of needing it anyway.

At about 6:50 or so we finally left and I took up my position near the back of the pack just, cause that's the way I do it, I don't like to feel like I'm being pushed and like to trek at a slow yet continuous pace.

As we were trekking I noticed that there weren't as many of us as there were supposed to be, Steve and Caesar were not in the group. When added to the fact that Bernard, Dieter, Helmut and Dennis had already turned back at various stages we were only 8 making a run at the summit.

Later, when reflecting on the trek over a few beers, we were all of the same opinion that our primary guide, Pablo, did not do his best to motivate the group and seemed insistent on convincing people to turn back as we reached certain milestones. For me he asked me how I was doing, I said "tired but fine' as, other than heavy breathing I was not suffering at all from the effects of high altitude and had no symptoms of altitude sickness or any other discomfort other than being tired from lack of sleep and having tired legs from 4 straight days of steep mountain ascent. Reminiscent of the Malagasy mountain guide when I climbed Pic Boby, he wouldn't let up though, "How are your legs?" "Don't forget you have to come back down too" "We only have a certain amount of time to reach the summit"*****. I think in his efforts to talk me down, he inadvertantly motivated me to keep going just out of spite. Never underestimate the power of spite.

By the time we broke for lunch at about 1:00pm there were only two of us left, and I felt sure that Ricardo, who had earned the nickname La Machina, (due to the fact that he was fit and built like a tank Argentinian rugby player) would continue on with me but before I knew it he had turned around and was heading down the mountain with Pablo, the last of our group's guides and I had joined up with another group who I had never met before to make the final 3 hour ascent towards the summit.

From the photos you can tell that it was a beautiful sunny day and my legs were surprisingly holding up very well considering I'd never before undertaken such a physically demanding activity. With Pablo gone I could turn off the spite and just turn off in general and, like a robot, follow the person in front of me step by very, very slow step.

One hour into the final ascent we could see the summit. It looke really close. Like a couple of hundred metres away. But still two hours of trekking. Head down. One foot in front of the other. Don't forget to breathe.******

Finally, I made it! I mean I actually made it. On December 6, 2008 at about 3:50pm Andes time I reached the summit of the highest mountain in the Americas. It was really wierd that it wasn't a more emotional reaction. No sense of pride or even sense of relief. Just a matter of fact "I made it". The weirdness was compounded by the fact that, after a couple of weeks of talking about it with the group I was the only one there and had no one to high five or likewise congratulate. Seven years after I had originally been awe inspired by Mt. Aconcagua and the Andes in general I had no more emotional reaction than if I had just cycled across London to pick up my awesome goggles. 'Yup I'm here. Guess it's time to turn around and go back." Which I did. Though I did take some time to take and pose for some kickass photos if I do say so myself!

So I said 7 days of torture, that's only 5. Well to pariphrase Newton, "He who goes up a mountain must come down". My feet were hurting. I was tired. Exhausted even. In general I'm a slow trekker and even more so on the downhill due to not wanting to further tweak my wonky****** left knee. Trekking downhill was very slow but when I got down to the base camp there was a heroes welcome for the 1/14 to summit and hamburgers and coke. All of which were welcome.

That night we celebrated our experience and our last night on the mountain with champagne, beer and....whatever it was we had for dinner.

That night my lips exploded. Apparently my beard is unable to protect my lips from harsh sunlight at high altitude continuously reflecting off the snow into my face as I look down carefully placing every step for 8 hours up and 4 hours down on a bright and sunny summit day. That made Monday equally crap as i had to hide my lips from the sun and coddle my aching feet for the 8 hour hike down from base camp to the park entrance.

I assumed my feet were hurting due to wearing my boots too tight and really cinching on the crampons because I had taken the precaution of wearing all 4 pairs of my wool winter socks so I couldn't have frostbite right? Well, sort of. It turns out I had mild frostbite and when I went to the doctor a few weeks later because my toes were still numb, something I didn't think was consistent with 'boot squeeze' or whatever you want to call it, the doctor said that i had "no problem" and that I should regain feeling in my toes within 2-3months. Yes that says months.

Anyway it appears that success has it's price. Luckily around Mendoza and in Argentina generally red wine flows like a river and at about $2 a bottle so 'medicating' myself as I slowly recover was really quite pleasant.

Photos: 1) Summit Baby! 2) View from the toilet 'window' 3) View of the summit at sunset, awesome tent wall in the foreground 4) Dinner at high altitude camp 1 5) Freezing cold sunset 6) View from the summit. 6,962m. Waaaaay above the clouds. 7) Oh Ya! I made it! 8) Group photo, middle guy who made it to the top 9 + 10) Success has a price 11) Enjoying the medication

*I still don't know what this is, something like the higher your number, the fewer breaths you need to take to get the same amount of oxygen in your blood. Though how this is measured by cliping a sensor to your finger and not actually drawing blood, I'm not exactly sure.

**My logic was that, from experience, this is a temporary condition and I didn't want to be prevented from continuing up the mountain for something that would go away in a couple of days.

***Which I luckily remembered to bring but only because I had lost my bank card and had to go rummaging through my bag that I had earmarked for storage while we climbed the mountain for my mobile phone to cancel it only to find my cards there too

****Full meaning all of our personal stuff, not counting food and tents which were carried by the guides/porters.

*****Alluding to my 4 straight days of being one of the slowest in the group

******Don't forget to apply sunscreen to my lips should have also been on my mind.

*******Tweak and wonky both being proper medical terms for my condition