a late start meant we didn’t arrive at chilechico, the border town with argentina, until 3pm. en route we passed our three israeli hitchhiking friends three times, like the hare and the tortoise racing for the border. we didn’t have enough room for them, but left them with a king size 250 gr bar of Shanne-Nuss to munch on while waiting for a ride. they were grateful now, but when they’d run out and crave for more, they’d realise our apparent generousity was in fact an addict’s attempt to quit during a rare window of lucidity. (un)fortunately we had another 1.25 kg stashed away in the winch bag.
not being a superstitious person, a couple of days earlier i’d commented to e-j that we were now in the home and dry stretch of the trip, and el burrito could be proud of a perfect scorecard – no break-ins, no flat tyres, no accidents and no road kill. e-j told me not to tempt fate but it was too late. on a long straight leading back to the lago general carrera where i was probably doing 50 mph, a team of birds were crossing the road way up ahead. i slowed a little, honked loudly and flashed my lights but got no reaction. i leaned on the hooter and i thought they cleared the road, but two were left. i hit the breaks hard but it was too late – one cleared and the other flew into the air, in the same direction we were driving in. our relative speed was still considerable and the poor panicking bird hit the top of the snorkel with a unnerving thud. we came to a stop and turned round, e-j insistent i should end its misery. i got out the car and looked for the bird. it had flapped its way back off the road and was clearly in distress, the loud flapping of its wings visible only through the violently shaking reeds it was under. the only tool i had available was the roof rack shovel but by the time i had taken it down the bird had struggled its way into the adjacent field. i convinced myself and then e-j that it was healthy enough to move around and would probably be ok, saving myself from its brutal execution with a spade. i put the tool back up and wondered how many people would order duck or chicken at dinner if they had to kill the bird with a spade. we drove off, a little slower.
the incredible scenery amazed at every turn and distracted us. we stopped a number of times to take photos of the spectacular view, at times presenting over 180 degrees of mountains and lake. we stopped by an oncoming german driving the ultimate overlander machine, a customised MAN truck weighing in at some EUR 250k, the closest you can get to buying a 4x4 studio flat… he said his wife didn’t like heights and was sitting in the back for this stretch; we told him there was an amazing view 14 km up the road and he returned a knowing smile. after passing him it became clear why. the clouds evaporated, the waters turned from emerald green to lapis blue, and the smooth mountains were substituted for ragged silhouttes against the warm blue skyline. lots more photos which did no justice.
arriving in chilochico we spent an hour in the internet, dealing with real-life tax returns and real-life property letting. we passed through chilean immigration and drove a few km through no-mans land to the argentinan border crossing. while waiting for our documents to be checked and stamped, i noticed a tiny black and white kitten curled up in the sun, it’s little claws gripping a paving stone to keep it from flying away off in the wind. i brought it over to e-j who gave it some milk. previous “wouldn’t it be nice to have a pet in the back of the car” chat was suddenly a real possibility. perhaps we were inadvertantly compensating for knocking the life out of a duck earlier, but when the customs official told us that it had been abandoned and we should take it with us otherwise it was likely to get run over, we decided to take it with us until we could find it a good home. one of the officials brought over a cardboard box and we lined it with t-shirts and kitchen roll and made room for it on the back seats. another official assured us the nearby estancias were over-run with mice and they always needed cats.
back on the road, the tailwind was so strong that dust from the car’s tyres was blown in front of us, so that we travelled in a cloak of dust. the cat wouldn’t stay in his box. he crawled on the dashboard and sat on e-j’s lap and then mine, struggling to find himself a comfy warm spot. we stopped and he got out for a shallow dig and a pee. given we had picked him at Los Antiguos and we’d spent a lot of time in Antigua, we called him Tigo. he wasn’t bothered.
about 7pm we arrived at estancia telken, a working sheep farm of 20,000 hectares, run by an argentian couple - petti of new zealand descent at coco of dutch descent. it was founded in 1915 and at it’s height had kept 8000 sheep but since the volcano hudson’s eruption in 1991, the numbers had struggled to recover beyond 4000 sheep, their teeth ground useless by the abrasive ash. the wind was unbearable and our tent would likely be damaged if we set it up so we took a room, including ‘a few leftovers for dinner’ and breakfast. the ensuing feast included tender lamb casserole with a delicious mushroom sauce, swiss chard and rice, all in abundance – followed by apple cake or apple crumble and we both had both. Tigo was placed in the refugio room with a litter box and a blanket. his feast was chopped mutton which he devoured and then sat burping as we waved him goodnight. petti already had 4000 sheep, dozens of horses and guanacos, cows, dogs and two cats and that was enough for her for now; Tigo would be back on the road with us the next morning.
