Whiplash

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Got back to Buenos Aires at 2 am this morning, after a week at the southern tip of South America in the borderlands of Chile and Argentina in the Los Glaciares National Park. Stunning scenery, rustic outposts of the neighboring sheep farm where we cooked meals on wood fires and slept in shacks barely protected from the howling winds blowing down the Dickson and Perito Moreno Glaciars.


My little firecracker of a criollo mare Achicoria was stupendous. We herded wild cattle and scrambled over rocks, logs, and steep descents in between long gallops. I took a nap in a glacier field between the Calafate Berry Bushes and the wild grasses, drank mate and learned how to make empanadas with my guide Juani.

To say the trip was epic is a disservice. Being disconnected for so many days in the grandiosity of the Andes glaciers, drinking water straight from the streams, was a return to a lifestyle we have never known. As Juani and I did our last race back to the barn we were intercepted by a gaucho who asked us if we knew. Knew what? “Argentina won the world cup yesterday!”

Thats what I call whiplash.

Now, sunburnt and exhausted, Im looking forward to some fresh fruit and rest.

More stories to come.


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