Sunday, January 20, 2008

Seven Wonders Of The Word...

Leaving Bariloche, a white wooden post blessed the rest of our journey with a common saying in Spanish...
This translates to "good travels", "happy trails", "journey well", or, perhaps you would have your own linguistic enlightenment if it said "bon voyage"...

Throughout our time in South America, we have studied the intertwined genealogy of Mankind and Mother Nature, their cooperation and conflict throughout Earth's history. But, also, we constantly discover new connections between our native tongue and other relatives of romantic language...

Patagonia, with a perfect mixture of ancestry and environment, embodies this idea...
Aboard a bus bound for San Martin de los Andes--another epic outdoorsy town of Argentina--we rounded the shore before snapping a "so long" photo of San Carlos de Bariloche below Cerro Catedral, surrounded by its mountain peak parishioners...

Before leaving the scrubland side of the lake, my hawk-eyed wife piped "Look!", pointing out a horned huemul, a South Andean deer just like this one. It bounded off a rock, over the sage and sedge, and disappeared in dust and green-brown bushes. A year before Leandra was born, this herbivore made the protected species list--for all the usual reasons: habitat destruction, poaching, non-native animal intrusion, deforestation-- and are now considered critically endangered, their extinction imminent...

Our route was the famed Seven Lakes Scenic Drive, but first we made a short stop to sip foam topped lattes in Villa La Angostura and stroll by the rustic structures and historic sculptures along main street. Named the "Village of Narrowness", this small skiing and fishing town saddles a land bridge between lakes, which made it a mandatory passing point for the European pioneers, once the the natives were forced to reveal it's existence...


For the next few hours we would float by seven heavenly bodies of water that polka-dot the low spots in the northern Patagonia's Andean mountains, known as the Lake District, located in Nahuel Huapi National Park--the oldest protected area in Argentina...
Lago Nahuel Huapi From the Araucanian Indian language for “island of the jaguars”, this lake and the last, Lago Lácar, are both number seven depending on where you start. So, for us, it's number zero. Some interesting legends surround the Siete Lagos region including "Nahuelito", the Patagonian plesiosaur, Latin America's Loch Ness monster, named after this lake but also observed in Lago Lácar. Another myth is "El Ucumar", the South American sasquatch, the man-bear bigfoot who's reported presence pre-dates the pioneers. Lastly, the "Duendes" are mischievous shape-shifting fairies that take forms like forest dwelling elves, goblins, and dwarfs...
Lago Espejo Can you guess what an "espejo" is in Spanish? Although the English name is Mirror Lake (from the Latin mirare, "to look"), the Spanish name actually comes from the Latin word specere, "to spy, behold". This picture still amazes me--since it was snapped from a speeding bus through tinted windows...

Lago Correntoso From the Latin for "to run", currere, like a current or a courier, this small lake shares its name with the short rushing river that flows through Villa La Angosture, filled with trout...

Lago Escondido Hidden Lake's name comes from abscondere, Latin for "to hide", with the prefix for "away from" and the root "to stow", like the English word "abscond"... Lago Villarino As if you can get smaller than a village, this name is the diminutive version of villa, Latin for "rural house". I assume there was one here once, perhaps pioneer or native Mapuche...
Lago Falkner An Englishman, Thomas Falkner, an apothecary's son and former surgeon whose Jesuit conversion led him to this region, provides this medium lake's moniker. Even more impressive than his 38 years abroad, from 1730-1768--living with and learning the language of local tribes--is his scientific compilation of all natural things, published in his 1774 book, "Descriptions of Patagonia"...

Lago Machónico The origins of this lake are elusive. It might mean "like pillars" in reference to a marker or rock formation or the cypress pines. Or, perhaps it implies a rugged masculinity, as in "macho". It's sister lake, Lago Hermoso, implies beauty and loveliness...

Along "El Camino de los Siete Lagos" we made several stops. One was at a wonderful farm, at which lake, I've forgotten. But we were greeted by grazing sheep and a gaggle of geese as we poured out to stretch our legs. Everyone bought some traditional fried cakes, "tortas fritas"...
Apparently, the birds know the benefits of tourists with bread, and they formed a honking brute squad that encircled the giggling crowd...
Leandra and I snuck along the lake where a pair of rare looking ducks tried to shroud their proud raft of ducklings...
Even back aboard, there was far more to ponder than the tarns. Much of the road was unpaved, under construction, with temporary spurs needling through the thick forest. When we weren't peering at peaks through green thickets, we might watch the puff of dust and listen to the trickle of a rockfall caused by a back wheel hanging halfway off the brim of the dirt shoulder, as the bus brushed back branches while the driver masterfully navigated around a blind bend...

After each breath-holding maneuver, our group would sigh in audible relief, add a smattering of claps, and the driver would raise his hand in recognition, then grip the steering wheel again...

Horses--who knows if they were wild or just loving the liberty of free range--would cross the highway in a dashing herd, then stop instantly to nibble the grass outside some farmer's fence, and stare at the metal coach changing gears...
We passed an otherwise ordinary creek, only to learn that this stream sits on the continental divide and splits accordingly--one fork goes to the Pacific, the other, the Atlantic...

We also stopped at Cascada Vuliñanco, another mysterious name, to watch the forty meter fall of water. Eventually, we reached lake number seven...And discovered San Martin de los Andes hiding by the shore...
Lago Lácar A little etymological research says that the name derives from "laca" in Spanish meaning "lacquer" in English. This could refer to the shimmering appearance of the east-west lying lake or to the useful tree sap abundantly available to finish fine wood. Correct thoughts or not, this long thin lake has an ideal bay to harbor another slumberous town hewed in lumber...
As we decelerated in, a speed boat accelerated out...
After a quick hotel check-in, we checked out the beach and bought tickets for an afternoon tour to the hidden shores of Quila Quina and a walk to it's waterfall. Leandra's obsession with cops has morphed into any and all things in uniform...
Most likely a Mapuche descendant, this captain has a pretty cushy job...
A natural testament to the power of plate tectonics towered a few minutes from Quila Quina's dock...

Before departure, the ticket lady told us the walk to the falls was closed--two people had drown there weeks before and they hadn't re-opened the path since. We decided to see for ourselves...
A cute little three-toothed Mapuche woman named Veronica was waiting in a small "security" shack near the trail head. A couple pesos later, she smiled and personally guided us in, making sure we stayed on the path...
Perhaps two hundred meters of cascades, it was more like a diagonal river, a elegant log-jammed staircase of water...
Afterward, we continued the short hike around the foothills above town until we reached the mystical--if not typical--life-giving waters of a natural spring. Planning her hundredth birthday, Leandra spritzed herself...
Quila Quina and dusk approached, the wharf and our boat hiding behind some spring blossoms...
Sporting the lake's name, you have to say "Danke schön!" to the Deutschlanders for bringing the beer brewing know-how with them when they found this Alpine piece of paradise...
What a wonderful non-near-death-experience day...
Along Lago Lácar and the lakes of Argentina....

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