Bariloche, April 12, 2009

That this posting appears is evidence that my self guided one-day tour with car rental was somewhat successful. Driving is DIFFERENT here. Lanes ar rarely divided and if one hestitates (como yo), or moves too slow, expect to be crowded over, one lane becoming two. This works in counter lines too. So, don't hesitate. As for velocidad, max is 60 km, but no one comes close to slowing that much. And, I´m not sure what the double yellow line is for. Gas ain't cheap either. I paid $30 American to add 3/4 tank to a 10-year old fiat sedan. Argentina does not import gas, but la gente here love to drive, if they can afford a vehicle. So, demand has not lessened and the price had not retreated.

Went through interesting countryside. Desert like flats, but mountains surrounding, somewhat like the background setting of an old Star Trek show. Destination was to a peninsula of Lake Nahual Haupi, a hugh and deep glacial lake. At the tip is an unusual woods. Finding it was nice, but the joy of walking was equally pleasant. Trail was excellent. Round trip was 15 miles, and don´t believe the entry sign saying three hour round trip. Nah. The bosque was wonderful, countless varieties, with the quiet muffled by the softness of the scene. Still, there were some small open spots where the sun reflected off of grass seemingly manicured, weedless, thick and short. At the end were the Anrayannes, trees unlike any other I have seen. A red and beige spotted trunk, pinto-pony like, with leaves similar to the Texas yaupon. A beautifully different speciman. I wish I had known my future difficulty, as I would have stayed far longer. Instead I hurried back with hopes of returning to Bariloche via a different route. But, I could not find access out of the busy touristy town of Angostura.

As it is everywhere, this weekend of Pascua is most important. Second only to navidad, this is a four day weekend, and Patagonia attracts folks from all over Argentina as well as Chile. Angostura and Bariloche are meccas. As it happened I did not find the route and returned early, but safe and secure.

Next day Saturday, I took an exursion to El Bolson. Most of Patagonia has only been settled in the last 100 years. El Bolson gots its life in the 70s by a bunch of Argentinian hippies. They are now elders, and the big attraction is a weekend market for artisans in the area. I enjoyed walking the booths, but not really that impressed with the quality. But, more importantly was the enjoyment of the countryside. Another one of those "most beautiful places I have ever seen". Lakes and lakes and lakes, all glacial, all blue, clean and deep. Colors are now showing in the area as fall is in progress. The most impressive of all are the brilliant yellows, blinding even, of the "Alamo". Yes, alamo, which is the spanish word for popular. Don´t recall seeing any in San Antonio. These are similar to ones in New Mexico, but these are actually healthy and vibrant. Definitely there is an idea for a painting in my photos.

Other stops were to a trout farm, and to a sweet factory. That is a factory that makes a variety of sweet products from its fruit orchards. Argentina, from my perspective likes two things to eat. Beef and sweets. Lots of both. Maybe a reason for the slight bulge in the waistline of the Argentinians, though a far comparison that us Americans.

Today went to mass in the cathedral, (photo posted earlier) here in Bariloche. Course I understood next to nada, but being in the presence on this holy day was important to me and I enjoyed. It is windy here today, cool enough for a jacket, though comfortably cool, for those who can understand. So, I am using the afternoon to post this. Anyone know if $120 American for a waist length 100% leather coat is a good deal? Anyway, ending my busy holiday. Only two weekends left, two weeks more of school. Not sure you can tell any difference, though there have been moments.

Good thing I am here, and not in Peru, which was my second choice (a maoist group murdered 13 soldiers this weekend). Could be interesting news tomorrow if Angle Cabrerra wins the Masters, he being Argentinian. Futbol news might temporarily take a second place for sport news.

Bariloche, April 6, 2009

This will likely not be completed before I start my first class here in Bariloche, toward the southern part of Argentina. But, I have some moments in front of a computer so will take advantage of it.

Bariloche, from what I have seen is beautiful. I say this unconvincingly as it has been rainy since my arrival on Saturday. However, I am pretty seguro in my statement. My initial impression brings a recollection, quite distant, of my visit to Europe in 1972, where part of the trip was in Lucerne, Switzerland. Even though the years passing have likely romantized somewhat mi memorias, still, there is a similarity. Though not commercial as Lucerne is, Bariloche lies amidst mountains, with a beautiful glacial lake beside. A few isolated glimpses showed newly fallen snow on the western slopes.

I suppose in hindsight I could have planned this thing better. Must be that northern exposure thing. I should have started my travels south, then progressed northward as the fall lengthens and the climate becomes more winter like. As it is I started in the north, got hot, and now as the daylight shrinkens and temperatures drop, I find my schedule is pushing me toward Antartica. My last stop, in three weeks, is at the southern end, when it should really be cold. Guess I won´t miss cold weather after all, having spent winter in Austin.

The town itself is geared toward the tourists, with minimal industrial efforts. Accordingly the primary street is lined with shopes of clothing, tiendas de "recuerdos" (gift shops), cafes, and many, I say many, chocolaterias. My goodness, I have never seen so much chocolate. I have only had one sample so far, excellente, and one cup of hot chocolate which is probably the best ever for me, as it was indeed made with true genuine chocolate. It is made here, not imported. So many choices, I am not quite sure how to describe, much less figure out how to transport sufficient samples back to he states. Anyone know the tariff or limits?

My living situation is going to be ineteresting, but sufficient. My new mother, widowed and una enfermeria (nurse), lives in a small sixth floor apartment, two bedrooms, one bath, small kitchen, small living area. She shares the domocile, the second bedroom, with a tiny 95 year-old amiga she has adopted. Two days has not produced any difficulty yet. My room, also small, is somewhat like a cruise ship room I suppose, though I have not done that thing. But, it has a single bed, small closet, a TV, a chair, and, a most magnificent view. My window looks to the west where I gaze upon a beatiful cathedral, not sure how old yet, with the lake and mountains behind. I am waiting for the clouds to clear to get that great photo. Otherwise my mother is friendly and helpful.

She is teaching me to eat "correctly" as well, so I guess I will learn more than spanish. She is teaching me to not switch utensils after I cut, so now I am learning to cut left handed and to "fork it up" with the right hand. I will find out how ambidexterous I am. She also likes to watch the Italian news channel so maybe I will pick up a few italian phrases to mix up with my spanish. And, as with my previous mother, she cooks well.

Today I wait for the beginning of my class. Arrived early, taking no chances on finding the place. It is not located in town as my previous schools have been. Rather it is in a upscale neighborhood a few miles out. Since, the directions wind about I have for the time being decided to experience public transportation, and leave the map skills to the driver. I can catch a bus about four blocks from my residence, and if I get off correctly, am about four blocks from the school. I say IF, as I must learn the system. It worked today only due to the niceness of a departing passenger. I realized I had passed my "mark", got off, and with the kind directions got back to where I should have been initially. As this time my classes are in the afternoon, not to my liking, but acceptable, I left at noon. School is out then, businesses are closing for the afternoon siesta, so the bus was packed, SRO. I was very impressed, however, Very much so as the students who had seats got up and offered them to older passengers as they ascended upon the bus. Yes, I was offered a seat, so laugh if you want. And, no, I did not accept it. I don´t use the bus much in the states, but I doubt (tengo duda) if I would have witnessed the same there. So far, my entire trip has provided witness to graciousness and respect.

My teachers, profesoras, are great. Older than the ones in Mendoza, which really means nada, but just a piece of information. As always, two classes, grammar then convesation. I am so far, the only spanish student in the afternoon. Not sure if there are others in the morning, but only that I am the only individual student. I think I will learn some new things now that my review and recovery period has passed. Shall see.

Finally weather has broken some three days after my arrival, and indeed the place is beautiful. After five months I can smell a pine tree again, and it is lovely. The area itself is not too different from Pagosa, except the variation in curvature and depth has been glacially caused. The lake Nahuel Huapi is 500 meters deep. You figure it out, but it is deep.

The town itself, to repeat, is geared toward the tourist. Thus, the town is more expensive, more crowded on the sidewalks, and not too many out of the way places to find isolation. However, I am very likely to branch out this weekend and rent a car. This is a stretch for me, but to get out and really see the landscape I must do so. Yes, excursions are available, but too much time is spent on the road, and little at the places you want to enjoy. It likely won´t be any less expensive. This will be a release from my guarded protections in South America. Getting on the road, unsure of roadsigns, conditions, directions and what to do in an emergency to a degree has added some anxiety. But, despite the risk, the reward could be great. My mother and profesoras have given me support and encouragement, which I need at this point. So, friends if you don´t see something in a week then assume I did indeed fall off the end of the earth.

I am getting weary of this solo travel as well. Mixing in as an extranjero is tiring and much work. Other than my mothers and profesoras in both Mendoza and here in Bariloche it has been quite an individual thing. Have not cratered yet, but I am only now halfway complete on this South American adventure and beginning to yearn for the contact of friends and my own home. But, on the other hand, every day I use and hear the language is a tiny improvement. One thing missed is just plain old routine. I enjoy routine, the repetition. But, here I have to make some changes. Since my classes are in the afternoon, for one thing that is a big change for me. So, how long it takes me to adapt to this new typw schedule may be influential in my satisfaction. For now, it is okay, just different. I also would like a real cup of coffee in the morning. Instant coffee is all I have had here from my mothers. It works for them, but not real well for me.

Well, lets see if I can load a few photos on this old machine I am sitting at.

Guess its true that time really does slip away
You only lose the chances you don´t take
If you want to feel the wind
You gotta take a ride
You better dream big
If you want to touch the sky
Can´t be scared to risk it all
You´ll never gonna fly
If you´re afraid to fall.

Mendoza, Marzo 27, 2009

A few days past one week and it seems I have little time to look back and see my shadow. I have gotten into a mode of hurry and too much to do. Hard to fit in here in Mendoza where nunca are in a hurry. The town, quite literally shuts down for siesta at 2:00 and does not reopen until around 5:00. Some, including banks, don´t reopen until the next day. Sunday looks like the streets when the sherif (gary cooper) has to face the bad guys at High Noon. People don´t eat until 9 or 10:00 at night. Even the bodegas (wineries) wait on the wine to be "ready". The only hurry here is the vehiculos, which it seems is a world wide problem.

The town is not all that conspicuous. The orginal town was destroyed in the 1800´s by an earthquake, and even though it dates back to the 1500´s there is really nothing of that age to see. One captivating characteristic is that every street I have seen so far is lined with trees. It gives a very pleasant feel, despite the otherwise strange mixture of residential and business property side by side. My house here sits between a bodega on the back side and a hospital on the front. Yet, it is a nice house with others equally pleasant around. But, this is the way of Latin America, based on my limited experience. The concept of segregated areas for business, industry and residential just does not seem to exit to any great extent. I am not sure I can really make any generalizations of Mendoza. It exceeds one million in population, and my teachers say equally balanced economically. Besides the lack of hurry, the extreme enjoyment of eating or drinking amongst friends in afternoon or evening, and the numerous parks with statures of heroes, the only other consistent obsevation I can make is sidewalk sweeping. Every time I walk to class or return home, I pass a number of locals sweeping the sidewalks. The sidewalks here are very wide I should add, in a positive way, providing room to park vehicles ON the sidewalk as well as avoid the numerous people that are coming and going in this town. Not sure if it is a pride thing or what. It just seems quite common.

Mis classes are going well enough, and I have almost recaptured my prior year loss after being in the states post-Ecuador. My instructors are young, enthusiastic, patient, and doing well with this slow learner. Mi madre is wonderful. She feeds me far too well (at 9:00), enough that I generally skip any mid-day meal. Diet here is mostly carne, old fashioned red meat. Lots of red meat. I believe barbecue is the national occupation. Not much vegetable, except for tomatoes, with a finish of fruit.

Drink of course is vino, or mate. Mate is a herbal type of tea, pretty bitter, sucked through a barbillo (straw), I guess to temper any urge to gulp. The afternoons are very much devoted to mate consumption. Why not, ´cause the stores aren´t open. When the tour guides drink mate on the job, you get an idea of its popularity. Besides the straw the container is special as well, looking like a small honey pot that would make Winnie the Pooh very happy. Wine also is a big favorite, as this area is one of the largest wine producers worldwide and the most important wine region in all of Latin America. Check out Malbec types from Argentina. I am not much into wine, so I cannot help too much. I did go on a small wine tour to watch the process. How easy it is. You grow grapes, you pick grapes, you squash grapes, you collect the grape juice and let it sit for a long time. I preferred the olive oil factory instead as Mendoza is also a big olive growing region. Olives I can understand. Much better for my palette. You can get beer here also, but the typical size for native beer is about two liters worth. Not sure I could find my way home afterward. When I asked for una cerveza pèquena the waiter brought me a Corona. Geez.

My other excursion this week was into the mountains to the east of the city. I have not been anything but hot since my arrival in Argentina. Air conditioning is not typical for the average household, including mine. But, you deal with it. However, the trip into the mountains was at least a temporary release. There were essentially three destinations, with a few other brief stops along the way. The most important draw to me was closeness to Cerro (Mt) Aconcagua. This is the highest mountain outside of Asia. As I saw it in the distance for the first time as we were leaving Mendoza I was not that much impressed, thinking how funny it does not look that high from here. Even further into our voyage the same thoughts ocurred. But, when we got as close as we were going to get it took hold. My gosh, it IS WAY UP THERE. Imagine standing on the highest mountain in Colorado, then having to climb over a mile and one-half FURTHER UP! Atmospheric pressure up there is about 40 percent of that at sea level.Yet, supposedly, despite cover of snow and ice year around, there is one route that is considered easy. I guess the over 100 dead at failed attempts should have considered the easier route.

At the further distance our tour climbed up to see the statue of Cristo Redentor de los Andes (Christ the Redeemer). It stands on the border between Chile and Argentina. I can now say I have been in three South American countries. The statue was built as a peace symbol between the two countries after border dispute between the two was settled. The metal statue is made from melted arms used by the two. Not sure why either would care too much over a few extra feet at these altitudes. The statue itself stands at just under 13,000 feet. Glad I have no desires to paint at such heights. However, the view of Aconcagua was very impressive from there, as were many of the Andes peaks that lay around.

The final significant stop was on the return as we stopped to observe a natural bridge undercut by a river in creation. Not sure how it was created for there was no other journey for the water. Once it hit here it had to do something, and there is no evidence of any other escape route. It also has hot springs here, sulfur fed, giving an interesting yellowish tint to the rocks. The bridge was once used by the Inca in their trades. Oh, one of the other short stops was a man-made bridge by San Martin, one of the South American heroes that paired with Simon Bolivar to gain freedom from the Spanish.

This will be last week in Mendoza, and next to Bariloche, to be even further into the mountains. I am somewhat excited about that journey and hopes are high. Therefore, despite the pushing and hurrying, I suppose for now I shall maintain my course, work on the spanish, encounter what I can and return with memories. And, if at all possible, "will" myself to release and let go just a bit more and be carried along.

The wing and the wind they carry things along
Whether its me that does the leaving
Or a love that flies away.
The moon outside my window looks so lovely tonight
There is a chunk out of its middle
Big enough for an old fool (me) to hide.
Where are all the dreamers that I used to know
We used to lean out neath the streetlights
With our hallos in the smoke.
The wing and the wind they carried them away
Now they all live out in the suburbs
Where their dreams are in the children at play.
There is a pale sky in the east
And the stars are in the west
Here is to all the dreamers
May our open hearts find rest.
(N. Griffith)

Buenos Aires, Marzo 22, 2009

I have arrived in Argentina and trying to adjust, to first impressions, incorrect presumptions, and new experiences. Argentina is not like Ecuador, if four days can justify that statement. Latin si, mundo tercero no.

BA is a CITY. Big, busy, beautiful, energetic, cosmopolitan, fast, noisy, much more. Despite all my misgivings about taking excursiones, due to my brief time here I did take one my first day, and quickly saw the major tourist photo stops. I can now say I saw them, but other than the documentation and maybe memory, the day was not satisfying, and my thoughts were of the greatfulness of only two days here. Perhaps I was influenced by a 11 hour flight, and remnants of the fears of the unknown on taking this trip.

I saw sights of many parks, not just scattered, but well placed throughout the central parts of the city. Each seemingly was anchored by some statue of historic personage, most unknown to me. Saw the Plaza de Mayo with its many government buildings including the Casa Rosado, from which the famous stand at the balcony to the cheers of their followers. This includes the Perons of course, as well as even Maradona, Argentina´s most famous football hero.

The single highlight of this trip was the area of the El Caminito (little street) in the barios of San Telmo and La Boca. Supposedly the area receives credit for originantion of the tango. Tango appears to be very much a prideful obsession. I have tried a few steps at a dance club in Pagosa, and have no claims of understanding. However, having now witnessed first hand streetdancers in El Caminito, surrounded by street cafes and stores selling tango memories, I can see the charm, the draw. Not sure I will ever understand how the music aligns with step, but the presentation of the dancers exudes as they say, pure romanticism, if not outright sexiness.

Second days somehow seem better. And as on schedule, the pattern repeated. My second day was indeed worth it all, changing that first impression, to darn, need another day. But, I drew in far more than my tour. My very first objective, if only one was to be achieved, was to visit the Museo de Malba, a collecion of latin art, mostly if not all, contemporary. Wonderful and I got so excited to see Diego Rivera, Kahlo, Bolero, and introduction to a new, Antonio Berni. Must find an art book on Amazon about him. Day could not get better, but it did.

Next, to get every minute of the day, with my trusty street map, I headed to a Japanese garden, every bit as beautiful as one would expecte. Peaceful and pretty, quite a refuge from the busyness of the surrounding city.

Next, to another art museum, the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. Amazing. Rembrandt, Reuben, Rodin, Picasso, Pissaro, Pollack, Manet, Monet, Modigliani, Toulouse and well, it just keeps on going. All for gratis. This collection is equal, if not better to any I have seen in America, including the Metropolitan of NY and National in DC. My head could not handle it. I believe I was hyperventilating at times.

From there to Cementario de Recoleto. Everybody has to see the Cementary where Eva Peron and others are buried. Her tomb, very simple black stone. She still appears to be much a person of the people. Not sure we as Americans can understand the importance. The cemetary itself is like nothing I have visited. All tombs above ground, family affairs. Not sure there is any room left for the future heros of the country. All stacked, side by side. Each strucuted differently, with its own face, or statues, or doors. Some had vent pipes above. Not sure what that is about, but it certainly is something to think of. Amongst all the rows and rows and rows of rock and concrete and marble, were enough trees to provide shade and semblance of nature. Despite the many tourists, most who appeared to respect the solemnity of the scene, it was indeed a very peaceful place, to visit certainly. I cannot take a stance on the eternal peace of the occupants inside.

By this time, even though daylight, it was late and I was hungry. How does one choose among the many restaurants lining the streets. No se. Pretty much by random I found one, went in at around 8:30 PM, which for BA is actually an early dining time. I can testify to this as the waiters were only begining to set the empty tables when I walked inside. Meal was good. And, no, it is very warm here, and because I was hot, I did not choose the wine, but an Argentinian beer, which was very good. Me gusto mucho.

Quick comments as this draws long. Wine is a much to do thing here. Have not yet tried the Malbecs, but will, and will comment later. As for the differences, more should come, but I was surprised at the size of the folks. I was a giant in Argentina. I do not stand out here. People of all sizes, and mostly, with plumpness to them, which was a total surprise. Not obese, but plump. More exposure as well. No shorts or shirtless in Ecuador. But, here, it looks like Austin the summer. Shorts everywhere, informal attire. Actually very rarely did I see anyone dressed formally, including the Friday visitation, a normal workday. So, enough for this first encounter. I am now in Mendoza and school starts tomorrow.

I gave up the fast lane,
For a dirt rock forest road,
Just burned out on all that talk,
Bout the mother lode
I traded it for an artbook
And a bigger piece of sky
When I miss the good ol´ days
I can´t imagine why.
Still I get restless
And drive into town,
Watch this world through the windows
While it all comes unwound
Its crazy but God knows
I don´t act my age
Like some old desperado
Tries to paint the town beige.
(R.Keene)

Getting started, again - 03/09/09

One week more, and plenty more to do. Guess when I leave, ready or not, I will be able to "leave" the undone behind, and deal with the days before. This is a renewal test, to see if it all still works. If so, then much more will follow.

There's no stronger wind than the one that blows
Down a lonesome railroad line
No prettier sight than looking back
On a town you left behind
There's nothing that's as real
As a love that's in my mind

There's lots of things along the road
I'd surely like to see
I'd like to lean into the wind
And tell myself I'm free
But your softest whisper's louder
Than the highways call to me.

Sherman_07_19_08

I have climbed the first for summer of 2008, Mt. Sherman, about a five-hour drive north, after you cross the Divide to the east. Fairly easy to get to, only the last eight miles on a washboard forest road. Two things circled the two days devoted to the effort, one the climb itself, the second the mental attitude of the effort.
As the climb is really considered not much more than a “walk-up, meaning not much more than physical exertion is involved, the worry became the diminished attitude of attempt. For an unknown reason(s) the anticipation of earlier attempts was absent. Any number of possibilities can be offered. Was it the solitary experience of the climb as almost all have been, a “been there done that” boredom, the experienced knowledge of knowing the aches that would follow, a tiredness brought about by the continuance of a long sequence of goal driven desires for near a year? Or, more worrisome, a deepness of some sadness setting in that needs a major event to avoid a tail spend. And, why would that be, having reached a period of relative calm, and certainty? Something to figure out, that needs attention and work.
As for the climb, it was as ‘advertised’ fairly easy on the effort. The entire walk, approximately a seven-mile round trip, just under 3,000 foot elevation gain, was gradual and steady. Not too many obstacles presented themselves. The entire area was an old mining spot. Vacated mines were easily visible on the slopes and the neighboring mountains. I don’t know what mineral motivated these men (no attempt at sexism), to challenge the altitudes, inclines, and outside four, five, months some extremely uncomfortable weather conditions. But, either there was, or was thought to be, plenty of the element based on the number of sites. I would like to know more about these mines, but do not. Some, as evidenced by the “junk” left behind give a hint that there was activity not too many years past, electricity, motorized machinery, even an old pickup with a 50’s of 60’s body style. Just don’t know.
A few climbers were already on the trail when I got started. There were typical exchanges of greetings, with folks from Colorado, Chicago, Philadelphia. Many more were met on the descent. There were also, it seemed, more than the usual numbers of dogs brought along for the climb. Perhaps due to the expected ease of the climb, but certainly more in number. Not sure I support dogs on the trail. I can understand the desire to share time with a loyal friend, but even on well developed trails, there still is limitation to space and secure footing. At the minimum, in my opinion, they should be leashed, for the protection of all. This trip brought a sample of the danger. Snow still is found in the mountains here at this time, due to the previous heavy winter. One of the few spots of caution was about 1,000 feet below peak, where one has to carefully cross about two feet deep snow patch, maybe 100 yards in length. As it happened on the descent, I observed a near “situation” as two groups met just above this snow patch, one pair on the ascent, the other on the descent. Both had dogs with them, one leashed, two not. At the intersection, the ridge narrowed and the parties were funneled close, including the dogs. Well, the unleashed dogs, perhaps with friendly intent, approached the leashed lab mix, who had no desire for friendship, and a nasty entanglement immediately resulted. The female owner of the unleashed tried to pull away the two, and in the mix of things, was jostled and fell onto the snow, whereupon she slid near the full length. She lodged against a small cropping of rocks among the snow, which perhaps prevented her from a horrific fall that awaited not too far beyond the snow. She was hurt, but with the assistance of her partner and others in her group, managed to get back on the trail, damaged, limping, but with no evidence of broken bones. Did not have to happen.
As to the completion of the climb, it was otherwise uneventful. At the top was the usual reward of a 360 degree view of the mountain ranges around, views of 100 miles in some directions. More snow than I have ever seen at this time of year. In comparison to other climbs, this was maybe midway. Some coverage of wildflowers, but not as much as other places, perhaps due to the mining activity that was once here. A nice view at the top, but primarily more mining spots below. So, as regards color and variety there was not too much offered. Still, it was a warm-up climb and yes, it was followed with tightness and tiredness. I got down easily, made the round trip in about four hours, a very quick climb, and returned to my tent site. Had a quick bite as the clouds began to come in, threw everything in and departed. I avoided evaluation, and will let that happen later.

San Juan River, 06/03/08

Not much more than one week back from Ecuador and I am back on the banana boat. Well, that is not really true. Rather I am in a raft. Accepting an invitation from a friend in Pagosa, shortly after returning to Pagosa, my friend and I headed to Utah, to join nine others to raft the San Juan River. The San Juan actually starts in the mountains around Pagosa, but travels miles and miles through Colorado, New Mexico, then into Utah. After draining water from several sources, uniting with other rivers and streams, it finally deposits a steady flow of snow melt into Lake Powell, which stretches for miles, enlarged by other rivers, including the Colorado. Reluctantly, or gladly, either way, Lake Powell finally lets loose some of its capture back to the Colorado as it heads through the Grand Canyon.
I suppose the San Juan does not have the notoriety of the Colorado, and is not framed by the canyon walls of the Grand Canyon. However, the San Juan too has its own strength, beauty, contribution, and visual beauty among canyon walls. Thus, it drew the excited interest of the eleven rafters, all except I who had returned to previous enjoyment of the river. All, except I, had several experiences on rivers, for some including rafting in the Grand Canyon.
The trip covered roughly 86 miles, and seven days. We embarked near a small desert town of Bluff, into the fast moving and muddy river. At first the landscape was somewhat routine, not too impressive. But, we got off around noon, and buddied up in twos, except for the most experienced, who went solo. The first day was rather short, and we found a camp site, which was pretty nice for a primitive site. Thereafter, the days travels were generally longer and more eventful. Along the way we stopped at various locations, and added land hikes to our watery highway.
Each hike had its own flavor. The first included visitation to Indian ruins, not only to wonder at the mystery of a missing culture, the architecture, reasons for location and then disappearance, and then to frequent discovery of wall art, petroglyph and pictograph, and the possibilities of interpretation of the images seen.
Other hikes included walks to old miner cabins, or sites. Others were up canyons, washes, gullies. One (name not remembered) provided great relief from the heat, as it linked spring water into many pools as it ran toward the river. All on the trip found their own seclusion in one or more of these pools and taking an initial deep breath, plunged into the coolness, which soon enough was worth the initial shock.
So many avenues to pursue and investigate, departing from the full river to the desert surroundings that began almost immediately from the shore. A certain contrast between the rapid movement of a full river, then to the sand and limestone cliffs that began after the first day. Soon these cliffs were rising over 1,000 feet up, with numerous side canyon intersections along the way. All had degrees of erosion to show, many amazing the onlooker with tremendous ability to balance huge rocks upon edges, smaller rocks, threatening to let go as we rafters raced by, looking upward and hopefully backward, to find all was still intact, though at the same time wishing to be around, at a safe distance, when the grip would finally be released, to observe what would be one heck of a show of force and energy and noise.
The ride on the river was for the most part fairly fast. There were occasional challenges with waves, rocks too close, narrowing entries, and the cliffs on either side. One rapid was sufficiently scary to require a beaching first to observe the energy, contemplate the risk and the challenge, develop a plan, and then finally to try and implement that plan. Despite the initial worry, all, including myself, succeeded without incident. On this particular rapid, I was only a passenger. A wise decision, based upon my display of limited skills with oars on the raft. Granted this was my first experience, but there was a bit of personal disappointment in my limited development over the week. I am not yet decided as to whether I am not all that symmetrical, if I am decidedly stronger on one side, or what the issue may be as to why I could not direct the raft on a straight course. If I rowed backward, the problem was lessened considerably, though not entirely eliminated. Still, it was an experience enjoyed, and if given another opportunity I would indeed do it again.
And, even though not the Colorado, or the Grand Canyon, it was a wild river and a trip through beautiful canyons.