Beaches from Brazil to Buenos Aires & Beyond

-Day 26-

It wasn’t the greatest idea to read a book about a woman who’d traveled to Tibet and suffered altitude sickness just days before today’s outing. We were about to ascend 4200 meters above sea level to the site of Cristo Redentor, where Argentine and Chilean soil meet.

We took a private bus so we could see several sites in a day, and it paid off. Over four hours we watched the mountains grow from already impressive to astronomically astounding, changing colour from rust to charcoal and everything in-between. We took the smooth concrete road beneath our bottoms for granted, until we took a turn onto the bumpy old route 7. Once upon a time, not even long ago, it had been the only passage from Argentina to Chile through the Andes mountains. It ran alongside the now also defunct Transandine railway, both tracks dwarfed by their surroundings and prone to landslides, flooding, and avalanches in winter. After a repeated battering, eventually both became casualties of the elements, and a more modern road was built alongside, but teetering on cliff sides the narrow passes, bridges and tunnels are still visible today.

We stopped at an old bridge & battle site called Puente Colonial de Picheuta which is miraculously still standing, and continued our ascent to Christo Redentor- our second Christ the Redeemer ‘viewing’ in South America. We were blessed with crystal clear blue skies and were lucky to see the snow capped peak of Aconagua, the highest peak in the western hemisphere! It is 7000 meters above sea level, and takes two weeks and £5000 to climb it (including all your food, a bargain we were informed!)

The climb up to Cristo was not one for the faint hearted. I’m not sure anybody was at all reassured that Christ was looking down on us (he was actually checking out the awesome views over Chile instead). Our ears popped during the rapid ascent, our tyres rolling just centimetres from the edge of the track which gave way to a sheer drop & a red dusty death.

All was forgotten however when we peaked the mountain at Cristo’s feet. The initial shock of the cold temperature and high speed winds wore off as we soaked in the view. It was almost impossible to comprehend the scale of our surroundings. Aconcagua and it’s glaciers loomed above us glistening in the sunshine, and mountains stretched into the horizon on all sides. Jaws dropped, skin numb and ear drums assaulted by howling winds, we bundled back into the minibus thirty minutes later and descended the mountain. Surprisingly the incline on the descent was a lot more stomach churning than the climb had been!

Soon we arrived at Punta del Inca. Deceptively named, this is not a bridge built by the Incas, but was first used by them. It is thought to have naturally formed in layers during the ice age, the natural hot spring beneath it forming a passage underneath turning it into a bridge. On arrival we meandered through market stalls, vendors selling their wares and usual trinkets. We were however mystified by an array of trainers and bottles that looked like they’d been involved in a chicken escalope recipe. Several strides closer, and we saw the whole area looked like it had been dipped in glue and then coated with sand. Every surface was coated in these rust coloured deposits, which we learned actually form naturally from sulphides, calcium and other minerals in the hot spring water. So rich are they, that once upon a time a hotel and spa was built here for its’ guests to take advantage of. Sadly, as with numerous destinations in this area, these were flattened by an avalanche, though miraculously the small church sitting adjacent to the hotel remained untouched. Cristo must have been looking in this direction on that day.

-By Cass

-Day 24-

Mora Hostel’s pastries were scrumdiddlyumptious. Under the bow of Ian’s raised eyebrow, I demolished five in quick succession, fuelling up for a day of relaxation at the Cacheuta natural spring spa. Then realised I’d peaked too early, when they brought out the duche de leche crepes, oops.

Our exuberant and rather toothless bus driver gave what we assumed was an entertaining speech in theatrical Spanish; we chuckled along with the other passengers, wondering if we were missing any vital information about our trip? We’d find out soon enough…

From Mendoza, our bus climbed 2000 meters above sea level, passing through valleys of vineyards cocooned in barren chestnut coloured mountains. We reached a dusty “village” (though I’m not sure that’s what this was) it was a dust bowl with a couple of tired wooden shacks selling the usual trinkets, cold drinks, and fly-covered pastries. Then everyone got off the bus. Were we here? This wasn’t exactly what we’d imagined when we’d heard about the famous Cacheuta springs?

In it’s heyday, Cacheuta was home to one of Argentina’s most luxurious spa resorts. The Transandine Railway used to stop in Cacheuta, and a special lift would transport the guests and their furs & gold, directly from the platform to the hotel. Today all that is left of the resort is this very lift shaft, after it was devastated by a glacial flood in 1934. Since the train line stopped coming here, the town sadly never returned to it’s former glory. However more recently a new spa has been built on the same site, and adjacent a natural spring water park was also constructed.

Unable to extract a word of direction from Mr Funny Driver, we followed a trail of people and found we were indeed at the springs. And they were fabulous! Waterfalls cascaded into about forty different pool sections, staggered at various levels down the face of the mountain. The water blue and crystal clear, the sun blazing; today was a day for topping up our tans and not much else!

Choosing a pool was like russian roulette, some were scorching hot, others luke warm and some were freezing cold! So after making a circuit of the whirlpool and Ian convincing me to go down the waterside (which was much scarier than it looked) we sprawled out in a cool shallow pool for the afternoon. It was a busy day at the springs, and as midday crept up strings of people arrived and set up camp in the sounding barbeque picnic areas. We were envious of the racks of ribs and scent of barbecued chicken floating by our noses, as we’d come equipt with an unimpressive selection of apples and bananas. But then I discovered the alfajores ice cream sandwich, and all at once, equilibrium was restored.

We got back to the hostel later than expected, but just on time to take part in the empanada making course with two Australian girls. Over a glass of Malbec, the fantastic hostel cook and her translator guided us through the surprisingly simple steps of making her delicious Carne (meat) empanadas. Try it at home, here’s the recipe:

Carne Empanada Recipe

Ingredients (in order of appearance):
2 eggs
Olive oil, drizzles
2 onions, finely chopped
1 red pepper, finely chopped
Green olives (approx 15) roughly chopped
Pack of mince meat, 250g
Chilli powder, 1 teaspoon
Cumin powder, 1 teaspoon
Salt & pepper
Empanada pastry - either make your own, recipe here or ready made puff or filo pastry cut in the right shape should do ok too!

How to make them:
Pre-heat the oven to 200 degrees celius.

1. Hard boil 2 eggs (for about 9 minutes). Once cool enough, peel and chop them up roughly into lots of small pieces, put to one side.

2. Drizzle some olive oil into another pan, when hot add the chopped onion and red pepper and cook slowly until browned through, add a few big pinches of salt and pepper.

3. Add the mince meat, cumin and chilli powder to the mixture and cook until browned through and smelling delish.

4. Take off the heat and mix in the chopped eggs and olives

5. Make the empanada pastry or lay out and cut the ready made stuff

6. Grease up or line a flat baking tray

7. Put a large table spoon or two of the meat mixture into one side of the pastry round. Then fold over the send half of the pastry, wet the edges with your fingers and pinch to ‘crimp’ the two edges together and seal in the mixture in a pretty crescent moon shape.

8. Bake for approximately 20 minutes (or however long it says on the pastry packet)

9. ¡Buen apetito! They should look something like this!?

-By Cass