Chapter Fourteen

Valparaiso to Buenos Aires, Argentina

From Valparaiso the road wound inland through fertile mountain country to the capital of Chile, Santiago. Completely surrounded by the awesome snow-capped peaks of the Andes Mountains, this city boasts proud Spanish colonial architecture, especially the buildings that surround the Central Plaza. Like all South American cities however it is suffering from population explosion and pollution.

It was mid-winter in South America. I had another decision to make! To carry on south along the west coast of Chile, or to drive across the continent again to the east coast of Argentina and spend some time in Buenos Aires while awaiting the arrival of spring? I had plenty of time before the approach of spring and therefore decided on the latter.

There was one major obstacle in my path, the snow-capped mountain chain of the Andes. How could I cross this formidable range in mid-winter? North of Santiago was the Mendoza Pass, which General San Martín used to march his army across 170 years before. When I arrived at the bottom of the pass I had to pass through a checkpoint. The police there informed me that the pass had been closed for three weeks before that day but due to some milder weather and with men continuously driving snow ploughs, the pass would be open towards that particular evening. A little luck was on my side therefore, but I was advised to use snow chains to provide better grip for my tyres! As I did not have a set of these I was therefore advised to proceed up the mountain as soon as the pass opened in the late afternoon because for the first few hours the following morning the roads would be iced up again after the previous night's freezing temperatures. Therefore at six o'clock in the early evening of winter darkness I proceeded cautiously up this steep winding mountain pass with several S-bend switchbacks. Snow several metres high was heaped like a thick continuous wall along the roadside. A clear starry sky and pitch-black darkness helped create an eery atmosphere! The two beams of my headlights made me feel as if they were my only connection to safety! Further up the mountain, a thousand feet higher up, I could make out the headlights of a huge truck descending the same icy road. I needed to proceed carefully therefore, so as to pass it on a straight section of road and not in one of the precipitous S-bend switchbacks where two slipping and sliding vehicles in a collision could surely end my journey, or my life for that matter! I drove slowly upwards, negotiated each switchback while at the same time kept an eye on the truck, anticipated its speed and its distance to one of the switchbacks and allowed it to negotiate the switchback using the entire snow-ploughed section of the bend. I breathed a sigh of relief as it inched passed me only to be confronted by another one further up the mountain making its way inexorably towards me. Another sigh of relief as it negotiated another switchback and passed my van with only centimetres to spare!

These are the challenges of the intrepid traveller!

This particular night three thousand metres up a snow covered mountain I slept comfortably in my duck-down sleeping bag. It was in situations like these that I was pleased to have invested in an expensive sleeping bag. The following day I woke up to a panorama not easily forgotten, a crystal-clear blue sky and all around me, mountains covered completely in fine white powder snow. A sight to behold! Ah! the magnificence of nature!

After clearing customs at the top of the pass I drove into Argentina, driving down the other side of the mountain pass into a dry gorge of desert sandstone. Along the way I caught a glimpse of Aconcagua (6960 metres) where powerful freezing cold winds were blowing tracts of fine snow off South America's highest mountain top. Once through the mountains the landscape flattened considerably into rolling hills. The road went further inland to Mendoza, renowned in this country for its tasteful wines, much of which, both red and white, are exported internationally. Mendoza was an attractive town with many tree lined avenues and boulevards based on the French style.

From Mendoza I travelled almost directly east to Buenos Aires, driving through Argentina's Pampas, a huge region in the country's north divided into large cattle producing haciendas. Guachos could still be seen on horseback following the herds of cattle that abound in this region. The worn road had deep ruts embedded into its asphalt surface due to the enormous number of cattle trucks that travel along this road to Buenos Aires, laden with live cattle to be sold at markets in a city of over ten million people. Many of them have large appetites for their local beef. This meat and various others are used for traditional 'asados', the Argentine BBQ. The meat is of excellent quality and very tasty indeed!

I arrived at Buenos Aires half-way through winter knowing also that I would need to stay here at least two months before being able to travel south to Tierra del Fuego. At first I left the van parked outside Harrods, in the centre of the city and went to sleep at night with pedestrians wandering past making comments of my presence there. I parked at this particular spot in the city because it was across the street from a modelling agency and nearby was a gym which I joined to work on fitness and strength as well as to have use of its shower facilities.

While in Buenos Aires some good and bad news came my way. Having finally located civilisation, I made a telephone call to find out about the stock market situation. A few days before the October 1987 stock market crash, I had invested my reserve cash supply of $40,000. This money was necessary to finance the completion of this journey. Unfortunately the crash had indeed affected me! Both companies with whom I had invested were no longer listed on the stock exchange thereby making my stocks totally worthless! A call to the real estate agent in Steamboat Springs, Colorado proved to be more positive however. He had found a buyer for my property and needed my signature on the contract to finalise the deal. This was taken care of by sending the signed contract with a Pan Am captain who I had just met and who was returning to the United States. I arranged for the money to be sent to a Swiss bank account and breathed a huge sigh of relief as I realised that I could finance the following stages of the journey.

After being harassed by a policeman who had received complaints from shopkeepers asking why my van was camped in the street, I decided to go to the port of Buenos Aires to locate a secure place for the duration of my stay in this city. I had noticed that to get into the port a security check was necessary. I passed the security quite easily as I had just come away from the Australian embassy carrying a letter. I had spoken with the ambassador of Australia to obtain a letter of recommendation from him using official letterhead. This request was granted to me, to facilitate my journey through South America as a photo-journalist. The initial reason why I requested this letter was because the local police, at provincial border controls, had an unpleasant habit of detaining me upon seeing my California numberplates. As they earn a small monthly wage they hope to supplement their income at the foreigner's expense! My finances were limited especially as a result of the recent unwelcome stock market news. The van had just been completely rebuilt by VW and I felt quite confident that I could avoid such police fines. Yet sure enough, at one of the provincial borders, I was held up and detained, to have my van searched inside and out. The police found, much to my chagrin, something wrong! My rear numberplate light was not working! Naturally a fine was imposed which I was unable to contest with my broken Spanish which was limited at that time. Consequently I paid the fine. The one consolation was, that at that particular time, severe inflation had hit the country improving the value of the US$. The fine therefore came to US$1. After the inflation had righted itself some months later I was fined again for similar circumstances and this time the fine came to US$100. I found this to be unacceptable and refused to pay this amount offering them the same amount that I had payed earlier, US$1 and walked off! The police did not shout out for me to come back!

The port of Buenos Aires turned out to be a uniquely interesting experience for me. Darsena Norte (North Dock) was walking distance from the centre of the city. I was therefore able to continue my gym workouts and use their shower facilities, etc. and any other activities that I may have wanted to pursue in the city. In Latin America I also found that rules could be bent, with a little tolerance naturally! One Saturday morning I was walking past the tug boats that were lined up alongside the wharf. The officers and crew were partaking in their regular Saturday feasts, their 'asados'. One of the tugboat crew invited me on board to share some food and drink a glass of wine. These kind of invitations are the pleasant experiences that make travel worthwhile; meeting local people and enjoying their way of life. The feast of meat and wine was absolutely delicious indeed, especially since I hadn't had the opportunity to eat as well for a long time. Everybody was very friendly and within moments I was invited to go out with them on a tug boat the next time it had to work, either to bring in a ship or to take one out to the estuary of La Plata. For over two months I went out regularly with several tug boats, drinking 'mate' (a kind of tea) with the captains in their wheelhouses; taking many photographs of all the activities of the tug boats and their crews. Every Saturday morning I feasted with these people, sharing delicious meat cooked out on the open deck in true Argentinian 'asado' style. I thank them for many pleasant memories and for making my stay in the port a delightful one.

Also moored in Darsena Norte was a unique old ship, "Presidente Sarmiento", a turn of the century sailing ship that also boasted steam propulsion. It was a beautiful ship, having been fully restored to its original glory. I parked my van at the wharves so as to maximise the view of this magnificent ship, a three master with two high funnels centred amidships. And so close was I to the bollards on the quay, that at times I woke up to the sound of waterside workers gathering in a ships' hawsers of a docking freighter. I would invariably get up and watch the docking procedure which I always found to be an interesting experience. Usually I could also find my way on board to speak with officers or crew or just to go onto the bridge and watch the loading or unloading procedures.

Once, when I was on top of a crane taking photographs of a departing ship, the bow of the ship hit the crane with an almighty thud as it slid away from the quay on a steep list. The ship had almost capsized in the inner harbour! It had obviously been loaded incorrectly which caused severe instability problems once the ship had let go of its mooring lines. Only one tug was available (the crews of the other tugs had gone home for their weekend's rest) to tow it, very slowly, into the outer harbour where ballast could be pumped in to steady the list and bring the ship back to stability.

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