Dejala

The mountain pass opened to the valley of an endless sea of rich grass punctuated by deep streams that zig zagged across. Juan warned me of swampy areas and pointed out spots where the ground appeared wet.

We had left after breakfast to climb close to a 1000 meters through forests with snaking paths clamouring over gigantic fallen trees and deep gorges with makeshift bridges of rotting log piles. We topped out in the arctic tundra over the tree line for our last views of the glaciers and the estancia. I could see my new friend Helen from the UK who was just coming back from her own dayride and we yelled and whistled a hello to her as the sounds echoed in the valley.

Over the top and on the other side 10 km to the south, were the summer pastures used for 7 months from December to June to fatten the 600 head of Hereford cattle that provides 50% of the ranch income. Here we are on the border of Chile with just a small fence to block the cattle. Unfortunately the narrow passage that leads to the border has the sweetest grass and the cattle always gravitate here. A few times a day the puestero (postman) has to push them back into the valley of this 12000 hectare ranch to avoid them pushing against the fence and making a getaway through Chile like the Spanish anarchist Soto who tried to negotiate better living conditions for the gauchos in the 1920s leading to strikes and boycotts. The empresarios held their ground, called in the military to break the siege happening at the nearby estancia Brown-Masters, and the military tried to negotiate a truce and treaty. The gauchos held firm and the military killed 60 revolutionarios while Soto and a few others escaped through this valley to Chile.

The puestero lives alone with his 5 dogs here 7 months per year, going into town once a week for more supplies (he loves fanta) and to see his wife. Everything must be packed in saddlebags as no road comes through.

We stay in the shack that is his home and spend many hours cooking lunch, dinner and sipping on Mate to watch the herd of horses and cattle approach and retreat checking out our two horses Achicoria and Sarco who are inhaling the rich grass as fast as they can, knee deep in abundance.

We were standing in slightly wet and soft grass as I watched Juans horse shift his stance to pee. I felt Achicoria, my bright lively somewhat stubborn mare who took offense at times of my management style through tight turns in the deep canyons, shift her stance. Thinking nothing of it, as we had been riding for several hours and it seemed like a good place to pee. And then her knees crumpled as she actually had planned to roll. Juan started telling me to kick her up as I was planning to abort. My left foot was on the ground still in the stirrup but right leg on her flank. I squatted back into the saddle, grabbed the few inches of roached mane and prompted her up. She heaved at first hesitantly and then quickly as I ended up toppled over on the right side having no stirrups to shift back to center. Leaning left with both hands I grabbed the bottom skirt of the saddle to pull myself back on. Juan and I laughed, both impressed by my success. Of course I had missed my early window of opportunity to prevent the drop because I thought she wanted to pee. It wont happen again, I promised Juan and myself. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

After a yummy lunch of Chicken Criollo made in a cast iron disco over the wooden fire, we headed out for a lighter ride without saddle bags to the Chilean border. We crossed through the herds, crossed multiple streams until we got to one quite narrow and deep stream where we walked into the water filled with trout and then hopped out a two feet bank. I watched Juan carefully and did the same. Which was, not very much since the horses are real pros, very smart and handy with their feet. When we returned the same way, the obstacle was more ominous as we had to drop the narrow bank of two feet into two feet of mud and water. Juans horse objected at first but eventually did the drop slowly and efficiently. On the other side Juan stopped to turn and coach me through it. « Dejala » (Let her be) 

I dropped the reins and leaned back as she expertly dove her front legs down four feet into the narrow bank and carried me across. I slept like a log that night, excited to see what adventures were waiting for us in the valley of hidden glaciers.