What Flows In Mendoza, Part I...

Bothered by perennial sun but watered by millennial canals the Inca had begun, Mendoza's expanse rivals the valleys of Napa, California or Bordeaux in France. Ancient aborigines, industrious immigrants and venerable vintners have transformed this desert to yield vast and expanding harvests ranging from growing grain to grape. Moreover, core exports like oil and ore move readily forth while eco-tourists are steadily imported. Nestled in a niche where boring tierra and soaring sierra switch, Mendoza's modern saga may climax above nearby Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas...

We cruised and we snoozed across monotonous pampas pampered in a deluxe double-decker. At dawn we were woken by unspoken beauty in views that enthused our emotions. Soon due in Mendoza, our windows exposed the magnificent lands of the Andes. As the mountains grew rugged the desert was mugged by newly dug furrows of plowers. With each passing mile we'd trade looks and we'd smile, zooming in on the looming horizon...



Thanks to Pablo, our Buenos Aires concierge at the Claridge, a taxi from the terminal and an early check-in surely spared us from dragging our baggage around. By noon we were wandering free seeing plazas and places in town. Unlike the uprising structures of Montevideo, Punta del Este, and Buenos Aires, Mendoza’s streets are adorned in imported features of colonial constructions camflaged under tri-color trees. A ten block walk around Plaza Independencia led to four more parks marked by fountains, statues and squares of forebears…






An iridescent array of tiles display Mendoza's founding history in one of these pristine public spaces. These vivid visuals unveil evidence of the influence of the Spanish, Jesuit, Italian, French and indigenous Huarpe Indians. After the Incan empire era and early irrigation, in 1561, the Spanish founded Mendoza for Chile's governor. Despite supportive natives, decades of struggle followed until the 1600's when economic incentives and increased irrigation eventually encouraged European immigration in the 1700's. Early in the 1800's, newly independent Argentina's heroic general, San Martin, amazingly marched his men across the Andes to liberate Chile and Peru.







That afternoon, we boarded a bus bound for a float down Rio Mendoza. White clouds puffed below a blue sky over the lower river's slower, stony oxbows...
On the Andean foothill steps, a new friend named Juan was along for the trip, and he clicked this pic on the road from the bus stop to boat outfit. Notice how the silty brown river settles into turquoise reservoir water. Those clouds look a little more puffy...

Meet Diego and Dinga--a ten-year veteran rafting guide and whitewater river-running rookie Juan! A crowd of clouds start to shroud out the sun...

After the safety talk, our crew (Leandra, Diego, Guido, Juan, Adam, Andres, Princess, and Coty) is all geared up and ready to rock! Packing our craft down the river bank, a flash splashes the sky. An echoing rumble ricochets up the rocky gorge...

The Rio Mendoza forges hydropowered class IV+ torrents out of the summer mountain melt. For folks without webfeet, class I means "innertube there", class II means "caution/take care", class III means "good for a scare", class IV means "go if you dare", class V means "need new underwear" and class VI, well, that means "you don't have a prayer". Fortunately, we have solid equipment from toe to torso to head, an expert guide who knows what's ahead, and...TORMENTAS--storms loaded with wind, rain, hail, lightning and thunder--hammering on our helmets. This will be one wild whitewater run...

Doesn't look that rough, you say? Try and spy the safety boat guy (above) in a kayak trapped in a trough ahead of the rafts. Trust us--rocks and waves appear ominous inside the rage of the rapids.

Paddling pros prefer to balance the boat and ballast the bow to dis-allow odds of it flipping. In the front of the raft I love it and laugh while Leandra looks happy near aft.

See that massive rock hiding underwater? We didn't...

This is called a "before" photo:

Diego yells, "HERE COMES A CLASS IV! ALL FORWARD!! FORWARD!!"

This is called the "after" photo:

"ALL BACK!! ALL BACK!! STOP!!", orders Diego, "HERE COMES ANOTHER!! ALL FORWARD!! C'MON!! ALL TOGETHER FORWARD!! FORWARD!!"

That's my arm. Leandra is in there somewhere.

As opposed to the "pool drop" classification, this river is categorized as "continuous flow"--which means you don't have nice little flat stretches between sets, or, in other words, you are constantly paddling your arms off...

"OK," bellows Diego, "ATTENTION PLEASE!! THIS IS A IV+!! VERY TECHNICAL!! STRONG SMOOTH STROKES TOGETHER!! OK!! ALL BACK!! ALL RIGHT!! RIGHT!! STOP!! ALL LEFT!! LEFT!! STOP!!"..."ALL FORWARD!!! FORWARD!!! ALL FORWARD!!! TOGETHER NOW!!! FORWARD!!!"

More liquid laserbeams up the nose. There's my paddle again--I like to try and keep my paddle dry. Leandra is still in there somewhere...

Paddling and panting, exhilirated and exhausted, cheering and jeering, the crew continues taking Diego's commands...

"OK!! NARROW CANYON AHEAD!! IN WINTER CLASS V+, SUMMER CLASS IV, IV+!! PAY ATTENTIION PLEASE!! VERY IMPORTANT!!"...Did I mention Diego speaks heavily accented broken English at best?..."OK NOW!! FORWARD!! FORWARD!! STOP!! LEFT!! BACK!! ALL BACK!! STOP!! ALL BACK!! ALL BACK!!! STOP!!"..." FORWARD! FORWARD! FORWARD! FORAWRD!"

At this point, the sediment is literally building up in my eyes. Let's see...paddle dry? Check. Leandra still on board? Check. Having fun? Check.

"OK!! OK! GOOD JOB everybody! Now, we can relax for uno momento", Diego says as he catches his own breath wearing a satisfied smile. Overhead, a little lightning flashed.

As the river quieted briefly, thunder rolls across our ears. A staggered double bolt flickers the electrified air. Despite all the sounds--heavy breathing, rain blopping in the river, river ripples slapping the raft, people chuckling with a high five, a rock rolling down the canyon wall, another clap of thunder--it seemed serene. Then...

"ALL FORWARD! FORWARD! STOP!"

Pointing to the photographer snapping away at the impromptu pull-out, Diego announced a crew-wide smile for the camera...as if he had to. It seems the storm forced us to stop short--just a kilometer, though, and no more big rapids...

Back at basecamp, after a shuttle full of laughter, we swapped emails and details over a crew-wide brew. We all agreed that was one awesome run!

A few hours past. We took showers and naps. Then, there was more of Mendoza to see. Just strolling around through the sights and the sound until we finally set down for another romantic meal...




We slept well that night and ate well in the morning enjoying a liesurely breakfast buffet. Mendoza had much more to show--like Pinots and Merlots. But we chose to let those things wait--we'd be back. Today, we'd board a bus that crosses the Andes, past Mt. Aconcagua, descending to Santiago, and from there to Cajon de Maipo...