We approached Mendoza from the east, and so the landscape that stretched out under our wings was not the jagged terrain of the Andes but rather the lush, fertile valley of vineyard after vineyard.
And so, our first introduction to the vineyards of Mendoza was from above. But it was not our last. Stay tuned for more photographs from ground level!
We approached Buenos Aires from the west and so did not get views of the downtown or of the main port area. However, we did see something of the texture of the city with its red tile roofs and a pretty marina area on the wide Rio de la Plata, which separates Argentina from Uruguay.
Next, a change of planes and we’re off to Mendoza! But don’t worry: we’ll be back in Buenos Aires for a real visit in a few days.
The flight from El Calafate to Mendoza via Buenos Aires (like most domestic flights in Argentina) provided opportunities for aerial photos of all three locations. I’ll share aerial views in this and the next two posts.
We flew out of El Calafate’s airport on a morning of sunshine and dramatic clouds. Our path crossed Lago Argentino, the large fresh-water lake whose source is the Andean glaciers. We had good views of the lake and the Andes beyond.
We then tracked the valley of the Santa Cruz River, which runs from Lago Argentina to the Atlantic Ocean.
Next: On to Buenos Aires for a change of planes!
We visited the Plaza de Mayo on the Thursday between Christmas and New Years. The mothers weren’t marching, but they did staff a well-stocked information booth, and their presence was felt profoundly. It was hard to look at the sad-eyed white-kerchiefed elderly ladies at the booth without a sense of their profound humanity.
All around, the plaza is stenciled with white shawls like those the madres wear.
Signs declared their principles. Er, well, I think they did. I could read some of the Spanish but not all. Maybe you can read more.
Most moving was the wall of photo collages of children still missing.
Each of these collages was put together with obvious love and tenderness. And while some of the “children” were in their twenties and even thirties, so many of them were sixteen… or fourteen… or younger.
When I think about visiting this plaza, I am on the edge of tears. I don’t know how I could stand it had my daughter gone missing at age thirteen… and knowing that she’d probably been tortured and killed. Those very brave mothers.
After the track petered out and the 4×4 vehicle could go no further, we walked about half a kilometer over desolate Andean glacial moraine to reach a stunning viewpoint over the Upsala glacier.
In the picture above, you can see one of Upsala glacier’s three branches sitting above the lake, while in the foreground the glacial moraine is visible. Below, one of two tributary glaciers feeds into the second branch of Upsala glacier.
Upsala is one of the many glaciers that is shrinking. This one is shrinking rather dramatically–at about six meters *per day*. In the above two photos the high-level mark of Upsala glacier on the rock mountains is dramatically evident.
Because of the icebergs, we could not approach Upsala glacier from the lake, and so we booked a trip to Estancia Cristina on the far side of the lake and from there took a four-wheel drive vehicle to an overlook site. Estancia Cristina was once a sheep ranch of over 50,000 acres, with over 27,000 head of sheep. Everything had to be brought into the estancia by boat, and prices for wool made these costs prohibitive. Eventually the estancia  with its magnificent scenery was taken over as part of Los Glaciares National Park.
The 4×4 vehicle bumped and jostled over some of the most magnificent countryside Dan and I have ever seen.
We also saw some of the wild horses that roam the estancia–escapees of several generations ago that are now completely feral. And lovely. (Horses now used on the ranch are geldings, so no chance of new blood in the herd.)
In the next post I’ll discuss and show what we all came here to see: the Upsala glacier.
Here are some pictures, and I hope perhaps (if I can figure out the technology of this) also a short snippet of a movie from last night’s milonga in Buenos Aires.
And here is the band:
I think that if you click here you will be able to download a movie of some pretty good tango dancing at this milonga, but it’s a big file (30mb), and I can’t (yet) figure out how to make it smaller or how to stream it. Perhaps later.
Meanwhile, I hope you get a sense of the place and the event.
The largest body of fresh water in Argentina, Lago Argentino is the terminus of several southern Andean glaciers. As you might expect, it’s surrounded by mountains.
As the day went on, the views became more and more dramatic.
Clouds developed, until the interaction of sea and sky and mountain was heartstoppingly beautiful.
When the ship reached the dock at Estancia Cristina, we debarked and took a four-wheel drive vehicle over truly beautiful countryside to reach a viewpoint of the Upsala Glacier. The next post contains views of that countryside.
I wanted to go see Upsala Glacier by boat, along with some of the other glaciers that are part of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field. Unfortunately, a large part of the glacier’s front broke off several years ago, and the channel is now blocked with icebergs. And so the boat traveled to view, not the glacier (that comes in a later post, my friends) but the icebergs. Can you say, “Titanic?”
It turns out that icebergs are just as beautiful and perhaps even more surreal than glaciers.
At first, we saw just a few icebergs here and there in the lake, like ships on their own courses.
But as we headed up the channel, we got much closer to them. And they were bigger.
And yes, in case you’re wondering. They really do look blue. Depending on the light, sometimes glistening white but at other times, in the shadows, a blue so intense it hurts to look at and yet is impossible to look away from.
Soon the glaciers filled the channel.
Each, more beautiful than the next.
The landscapes and seascapes of this excursion were particularly magnificent. Next, I’ll post some seascapes (with mountains), and then we’ll move to the views on land.
Besides for its jagged peaks and spires and startling crevasses, the most amazing thing about the ice is its color. Wherever it folds in on itself, the ice is blue–often the stunning aquamarine of the clearest tropical waters, but also in places a rich deep blue that wants to hold onto your eyeballs and never let go. Here are some pictures of glacial ice, as true to shape and color as I could get them.
The next post will talk about icebergs. Which, it turns out, are also beautiful.
