The other side of being a passenger

The next phase of my Argentina trip – the horse ride over the Andes, crossing into Chile.

Location: http://www.huechahue.com/

I arrived in Bariloche and I got off what was more like my little 1973 Ford Fiesta beaten up car, than a boeing plane. I promise you this aircraft was tied together with a string and some clag I used in Pre School.  I didn’t care it was taking me to my little adventure in the Andes on horseback. I had no idea what to expect, I just knew I was going there to be a passenger.  

You’ll be happy to know I left the black high heels at home, but swapped them for a pair of my finest, most solid brown boots, with an appropriate heel. They were fab, and for the record, they lasted the whole trip, in fact I’m sitting here with a stupid grin on my face as I wiggle my toes in them under the table.  These boots took my up and down some pretty steep hills, mud, dust, slopes that even the horse slid down, these boots were made for walkin’, a surefooted heeled Aussie bird! Olay.

Righto, so back to the scene at the airport – I was forgotten by my hostess, but not for long, for then came bounding through the door was Ernest.  He was a huge, big-handed man, who didn’t speak much English, so we pointed and laughed at each other for a lot of the 2-hour journey to Estancia Huechahue.

I decided to have two days at the ranch before the horse riding started and the rest of the crew arrived.  Buenos Aires is the Paris of South America and yes it has so much to offer, but in the two days I was there, I gave it good nudge and decided that cities are everywhere; time with my cows was what I was wanting. And time with my cows I got.

The lovely Diego (our host and posh Gaucho) took me under this wing and immediately out on the ranch to chase some cows, MOO! We then painted yellow numbers on them at the crack of dawn the next day ready for a big event. I was going to a horse and cow thingie. It’s got some posh Argentinean name and they do take it very seriously, so I will probably be run out of town when I publish this, but as a passenger you're not supposed to pay too much attention to detail, so for this piece it was like a rodeo/fate event, where the locals did this amazing parade of horsemanship in an event called Cow Parting. 

The whole town was there, and everyone looked like a gaucho to me.  All so authentic and right out of a coffee table book I bought before I left.  These very 80’s looking men on horse back and dressed in Michael Jackson big shouldered pleated leather jackets sat on their strong beautifully shiny creatures and parted cows in a very small yard.  Olay. I’ve never seen a man twirl a horse like that in an instant. They would round up 3 cows of the same number, amongst 30 with in 42 seconds. Unbelievable.  It was dusty, magical and more than the movie ticket promised I would see.  This being a passenger thing is working for me!

The following day my fellow horsemen arrived.  We sat around the table eating our first 3-course meal (every meal was three course after that!)  The group was very formal, polite, swapping amall talk and no laughter at all. I had a hunch that this wasn’t going to last. I was right. The group was perfect. We were so lucky.  3 couples and 3 singles gals, and we all just clicked. It was the best group of randoms, and from the end of the next day onwards, there would not be a dull moment, or silent ones for that matter.  We became a little unit.  Even with the locals, we were one big happy family. 

Next to the horses; all of whom were matched to our personalities. They did such a good job really, all very apt.  Enter stage left Argentina. She was brilliant.  She and I bonded in an instant, and in true Aussie style, I shorted her name to Argi.  She was just like me, in every way possible it was hysterical.

Fast, like lightening when she wanted to be. Tall, strong, big eyes, and when she couldn’t be assed, she was happy mosing around at the back, just watching what was going on.  She had her days, she definitely got her period at one point, she got a serious strop on one morning. Then far out, don’t mess with her tummy, or she’ll bite.  I’ve got a nice purple patch on my upper thigh to prove it.  Well yeah, I’ll backslap you too in you poke hard in my love muffin.  And hey, yes, she was a flirt, no doubt about it – for when there was hot boy out front, she was certainly up there having a little twinkle in her eye, flicking her hair for him.  Zorro was his name. HI Aussie name was Zozzi - is that fitting for a big hot black Stallion? Hmm?

Like every journey as passengers we need a safe place to land.  Pedro and his merry men were our ground staff. He makes a mean G&T and he’ll never leave your tin cup with a coloured ribbon on it go empty.  The food was utterly outstanding. Although, even being a farm girl, I have never eaten so much red meat in such a short space of time. I'm checking in for an Up the Jackson treatment when I get back into Singapore (Colonic, sorry too much info!)  My fellow Aussies will hate to hear me say this, but I have to share a secret with you. This beef and lamb takes on Australian meat hands down.  I’ve had several Patagonian lambs fanned out on the bbq, sirloins, rib eye t-bones, massive Fred Flintstone beef ribs on medieval swords stuck into the ground around the camp first, and with all I could have used a blunt stick to cut through it like soft butter. Juicy, fresh, succulent, amazing. magnific!

We were lucky to have had beautiful clear nights under the stars, sleeping on the ground, well on our thermal 1-inch thick mattress or sheep skin saddles. The first night was I thinking to myself what the ffffaaarrrrkkk have I done here, was I drunk when I booked this holiday? But the passenger in me pushed on. Come the last day, I didn’t want to leave, even sitting around a dinner table seemed wrong.  We all missed Pedro and his billie-can of hot coffee from the fire.

We traversed up and down the Andes, followed a snowy mountain river, crossed about 10 of them and survived through a pretty intense sleet and snow storm which just happened to be on the highest peak, our ridge of choice over the Andes.  Most of us thought our days were numbered and even the horses seemed to shake as we tried to get down off this ridge. I was shitting myself personally. Unlucky, or luckily, we had to change course and headed away from the ridge and through the dense forest. 

The forest was staggering, in parts really mind blowing.  We took to recalling movie scenes that it reminded us of. First it was Last of the Mohicans; we were expecting men in little loin clothes and tama hawks to come out of nowhere, we were shouting at each other, "Stay alive, I will find you".  We actually were in an Indian plantation with a real Indian guide leading us, so inspired.  Then through the monkey puzzle trees we all thought Gandalf would came gliding out with the Tree People, and we were in Lord of the Rings. He and they would have been tall enough for our tree's.  A quick scare gave us the Blair Witch Project, then finally, then it was Out of Africa in the wonderful little clearings with perfect lush grass and one or two dead trees that seemed fitting and medieval. These were my favourite and always such surprises when we had just ridden through dense forest.  Our mysterious little treasures only discovered because we were on horseback and perfect for our afternoon siesta. Then there was the wedding scene for Braveheart. Of course, I had the sound track playing.

The other side of being a passenger is that it can have a shelf life in my books. Meaning that to relinquish my freedom of a choice wasn’t going to work for the whole time.  With every great story there has to be some good with the bad – really, the bad is there to make the good times even better. 

I got sick.  I really was open to moving on from 2010 and leaving all the bad stuff and hard year behind me. Rules of physics are: what goes in, must come out, and my toxins were coming out.  I got a stress lump under my arm.  I knew what it was immediately, but untreated it become nasty, spreading quickly and the pain really set in. I was trying to treat it with overdosing on evening primrose oil and every other tea tree oil or pill I had in my bag.  I wanted so badly to keep going, I didn’t want this little journey to stop but it was looking grim. 

It was time to take back the reins and be responsible.   I needed to be real about this and the pragmatic woman kicked in, “well, it is what it is”.  And it wasn’t going away on spiritual affirmations and 4 horse pills of evening primrose oil either.  Was that the end of my trip – ho hum? I had 3 weeks left of more yeah ha action that I also needed to protect, and I didn’t really want to check out how good my UOB travel insurance was.

The gap of changing horses at Chile was the opening. Jane (the owner of the Estancia) rushed me into the closest town and into Hospital.  The next thing I knew, my pants were down and I was blushing getting a jab in the ass by a nice handsome young Argentinean doctor. The formulae if I wanted to keep riding; strap up my arm and take some medicated horse pills.  "Antibiotics down your gob, or up your ass?", one of my new friends asked me. What was I prepared to do? I wasn’t going to die, or loose a boob so there wasn’t any need for the latter precaution. I was back with the group with in the hour.  Yeah Ha, Olay.

I rode for the next two days with my arm in the sling.  Less pain, and more love. Great antidote really - The gauchos were a sucker for a blonde in a sling! I really was a passenger now, I didn’t lift a finger, or a saddle for that matter, but I was well enough to lift a glass, "pass the vino tinto, I’m back!"

For the next two days, I had a little chat to myself – yes again, it was all about the choosing your attitude stuff.  I could be a passenger in the journey, but a passenger that checked in this time. Get a ticket and know where you’re going love.  I had a second chance and it was sweeter than the first.

Chile was magnificent. Fresh horses, a complete change in scenery, more lush and green, softer steep slopes that we had fun cruising down like The Man from Snowy River, with our Chilean red headed leader calling out random Chilean words that none of us could understand.  I joined in with “Marco....Polo”… no one really understood that either! I had found my fun button again, with a new passenger appreciation. Our little ponies, mine was Favourita, were the experts and we were travellers.

The slopes seemed steeper, more sludgy, more muddy, seriously slidey, but I had complete faith in my Favourita, he just bounced down, sure footed, a man on a mission, utter know how, a real professional and I was so happy hanging on for one armed ride.  We were well matched, Favourita and I.  I only wish I would fall in love with a man in real life like that.  Surefooted.  Yes, that’s it.

I’d recommend Estancia Huechahue to anyone wanting a little adventure and some good honest riding fun. There is none of this trail riding bullshit for sissies and nay-stuffy wankers that think being horsey is something to brood about.  I had the time of life, which was one of the movie scenes we didn’t think of.  Every night was a hoot, full of sidesplitting laughter, great stories, incredible food and Vino de Toro that we could muster under the south hemisphere bright stars. 

As for my little group, I fell in love with them all. (My nose is tingly writing this). As passengers together over the Andes, we bonded. Thankfully no one had to eat a frozen bum cheek (for those of you that have seen Alive!).  There is talk of getting together again for another little adventure…. maybe horse back across Africa!

As for being a passenger, some are better at it than others. I’m learning nicely I think.  It’s really lovely when you have a life that is so jammed full of making decisions all the time, that you can enjoy letting someone else take the reins for a while.

Olay – on to my next journey and opportunity to just go with it for a while.  Estancia Cristina, again, I have no idea what to expect, but I know all I have to do is just rock up and they will feed and take me out looking at some great big iceberg stuff! Unreal. Tick, yes please.

I know this is going to sound so utterly annoying, but I have to say I’ve been the luckiest gal in the world. I’ve had such a wonderful time on this trip, even though not everything has gone to plan. I’d put this little trip on your Bucket List, and as I always say, never put a price on experience.

TBS

Xxx

p.a Btw I fell off the horse twice and didn’t even fall over in my heeled booted babies - go figure!