Los fugitivos

« Lets bring her back. » We took off to herd the pregnant mare that had lost her herd on the wrong side of the fence line. Juan galloped off the long way to circle around her and push her back towards the fallen doorway she had sneaked into. I blocked her way as she tried to avoid the water. On the other side the herd with six foals and several mares were nervous and the black stallion was pacing the fence line eventually galloping alongside the mare as we chased her. She got to the stream crossings and balked in the mud. Juan and his horse cut her off a dozen times, yelling and whistling until she tentatively started to cross, then galloped through. Past the opening, the black horse ran to her and towards the lagoon where they stopped and he stayed with her. The herd was set back looking but on the other side of some more muddy streams. The black stallion pushed the mare towards the streams and the herd but she refused. They stood waiting, as the mare calmed down. I watched on as Juan fixed the fence. Eventually the stallion pushed the mare closer to the lagoon and I guess the streams were dryer as she quickly crossed, rejoining the herd. And they returned to grazing, hundreds of cauquenes, upland geese taking flight.

I took zero pictures of this beautiful moment, but it filled my soul. Like many moments on this journey. 

This was our second day of our expedition, where we climbed down from the summer pasture in the mountain valley to the lagoons and glacier fields. We were heading towards the valley of the hidden glaciers. But we found some fugitives along the way, los fugitivos.

The cattle drive had happened just a few days before, as the gauchos moved 600 head of Hereford to the summer pastures. A few cattle were lost along the way and had banded together in small groups. Juan was taking stock to report back to the ranch. We also found small herds of horses that we think were left out to fatten up, or because the mares had young colts. It seemed like an idyllic life for a herbivore, rich grass, water plentiful, and lots of natural weather protection from canyons and trees. But there were pumas hiding in those hills.

The land was also peppered with wild cattle, from small pockets of old spanish bloodlines left behind hundreds of years ago, in the almost isolated reserve across the Rio Frias in the national park Los Glaciares. We came across cadavers that day, often at the bottom of some mountain precipice. Life here is rough.

Our pace was faster that day but still limited by the saddle bags with a sleeping bag on one side, and some extra layers of clothing for cold and rain on the other side. When we galloped, they would flip up and down. The horses were nonplussed, but it bothered me. It was a longer day too, with 8 hours from outpost to outpost. But the scenery really changed dramatically as we approached our outpost at the Lagoon.