In Patagonia, endless desert proves far from an easy ride
LA ESPERANZA, ARGENTINA— The southernmost continental province of Argentine Patagonia has done everything in its power to knock me off my saddle: powerful 120-km/h winds blowing days at a time. Desert nights in below-zero weather. Riding for 10 days straight without showering. I fought my way south — swaddled in long johns, jeans, knee-high rubber boots, T-shirt, button-up shirt, hoodie, windbreaker, thick outback jacket, scarf, tuque, face mask, sunglasses and gloves topped by a black plastic rain poncho.
Some days, the wind was so strong, I was forced to lean forward and hug my horse’s neck, the wind making Sapo and Picasso stumble with every third stride. Even Toti, my support driver, suffered through the cold, stark terrain.
One hundred kilometres south of the small town of Governador Gregores, we were rescued from this never-ending desert by a ranch called Estancia la Verde. We had passed many empty ranches so the thought of being with a real family lifted our spirits. Jorge Villalba, the manager of the ranch, invited us to a lamb barbecue and chance to hunt guanacos, the hardy llama of Argentina. Sitting down for dinner with this gracious gaucho and his lovely family, he explained why we were crossing hundreds of kilometres of ranchland without seeing a single family in the homes or animal in the pastures.
“Today these lands are plagued with government-protected guanacos, who overgraze the pastures. With the hard winters, finding people to work is nearly impossible. Most families picked up and left. It’s simply too difficult to ranch in Santa Cruz.”
One of the most important parts of Jorge’s job is tracking and killing pumas. These large grey felines prey on the more than 2,000 sheep on the ranch and they can kill up to 20 sheep in a night. Judging by the remarkable number of puma pelts in his barn, Jorge was an even match for the predator.
The next morning Jorge took us hunting. After he cleaned his rifle, we jumped into his silver pickup truck and drove through the ranch’s long pastures. He slammed on the brakes on a steep hill, turned off the truck and pointed the barrel of the rifle out the window. With a loud explosion, a guanaco about 50 metres to our left dropped to the ground. In a heartbeat we drove up to the wounded animal and, carefully grabbing its left ear, Jorge jabbed the sharp blade of his knife into the animal’s soft neck.
The animal twitched for a few seconds while it bled out. Jorge butchered the animal on the spot and we drove back to the ranch with the meat. As we packed up to move on Jorge handed us the dressed meat. “You guys take this for the road. With these cold temperatures you need to eat a lot of protein.”
From Estancia La Verde we continued trekking through this desolate, cold and windy province eating guanaco meat every day.
In between El Chalten and El Calafate we found a pasture to rest the horses and went to play tourist for a few days. First we visited the Perito Moreno Glacier. Standing 70 metres high and 30 kilometres in length, the colossal icefield left me in awe. I sat in front of the glacier for more than two hours in silence. The sound of the calving ice plates that broke off and crashed onto the icy, light-green water beneath echoed like deep thunder.
The next morning we drove to the trekking capital of Argentina, El Chalten, a town surrounded by mountains that attracts thousands of tourists from all over the world to climb the nearby peaks.
On a cold and cloudy Sunday morning, I put on my cowboy boots and decided to take on Fitz Roy, the peak that inspired the “Patagonia” logo, one of the most famous mountains in the world. And boy is it hard to climb! After four hours trekking up the steep mountain in rain, ice and thick snow, we finally reached “Lagoon de los Tres.” I was frozen numb and extremely fatigued, but the turquoise lagoon we discovered at the top left me feeling lucky to be a witness. Lucky to be alive.
Unfortunately, from the lagoon jewel in the clouds I was thrown back to earth with one phone call. On Tuesday, May 9 at 6 p.m., my horse, my boy, my Dude, the mighty Mustang who helped me cross the Americas on my first journey from Canada to Brazil, contracted a virus that attacked his nervous system. There was nothing that could be done.
My dad held the cellphone up to Dude’s ear as the vet gave him an injection to stop his heart. “Hey Dude, I love you so much buddy.” I whispered to him, “Thank you for everything. You’re the best horse I could have asked for. You rest now OK? . . . I love you so, so much.”
Heavy tears strangled my voice. Images of my little surfer Dude with his bleachblond mane flowing wild in the wind filled my mind. With only 150 kilometres of Argentina’s mainland left to cross and 300 kilometres in Tierra del Fuego, I dedicated this journey to the mightiest horse I have ever met.
I will never forget you Dude. Filipe Masetti Leite is a filmmaker, Ryerson University journalism graduate and cowboy en route to Tierra del Fuego. He is filing monthly reports to the Star from the trail. Dispatches from both this yearlong trip and his 2012 journey from Calgary to Brazil can be found at outwildtv.com/expeditions.