Cerro Chapelco

Cerro Chapelco is the ski resort in my new favorite ski town, San Martin de los Andes, Argentina. The mountain is known for a wide open bowl at the top ringed at the tree line by glades of Lenga trees--a species of beech found only in this area of Patagonia and New Zealand. The resort is in Parque Nacional Lanin and the drive up is spectacular, even down to the wildlife along the road. We have a super driver, Gonzalo, who knows what to expect around every curve.



The fresh snow was superb but visibility at the top was pretty iffy.




We worked around the summit until lunch.



Craig took us to an on piste restaurant. The timberframe and glass construction was made even more cozy with a wood stove and warming hooks for our gloves.




Even better, the lodge served Argentine BBQ, chorizo sausage and sweetbreads, oh and papas fritas for the potato loving Finn.



Craig wanted us well fueled because his after lunch adventure Sara calls "Between a Rock and a Hard Place."

To set this up, I have to tell you about these Lenga trees. They are covered in Old Man's Beard. In the U.S., it's rare to find these long strings of green moss, but if anyone has ever been to Isle Royale, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And this moss is considered a sign of a pristine environment, and from what I've seen of Patagonia, and particularly their national parks, this rare moss is right on with the quality of water and air.



We followed Craig into the trees. Stay tuned for the story Sara-style.

Powder Triangle, really

When Casa Tours takes you on an August adventure in Argentina to ski the Powder Triangle, be ready. They aren't kidding.

Saturday's high winds (clocked at 150 kilometers) kept us off the slopes at Cerro Catedral, but no worries. These folks know how to have fun and with a few phone calls, a kayak adventure was arranged on Lago Guiterrez with Tuffi a guide with Puravida Patagonia.

Back to the slopes on Sunday to find fresh powder ready for us to write our name.

Craig Ross, our Guia de Montagne, started off the morning strapping avalanche beacons on us. We're respectful of these mountains and follow our guides instructions without question.

On the top of the mountain there was so much snow that we think one of these lads lost a ski and the rest of the gang were digging around trying to help him find it.



The snow continued and the story does too. Stay tuned. I'll have more when my internet connection allows.

Day 1 at Cerro Catedral

When we woke up to fresh snow out our window we wasted no time getting up the mountain to ski. No lingering breakfast or time on the internet; it's a powder day!

Graciela called Henrique and for 40 pesos he took us up to Cerro Catedral in his citroen. The road had been plowed but was still slushy. Arriving at the base we could tell it was going to be a powder day. The snow was wet and heavy and the sky hung around our shoulders. Still, you could sense the excitement generated by fresh snow and we were at the front of the line.

Lift tickets were 150 pesos each and a reminder if you are using a credit card, bring your passport for identification.

We had some trouble finding a place to change out of our shoes into ski boots, but after a bit of struggle and sign language a friendly ski instructor guided us into a rental shop where we could use the bench and. . .thankfully, the toilet.

Folks will tell you the world speaks English. Don't believe them. Learn as much of the language as you can. "Where is the bathroom?" is a good start. We never heard English spoken, nor did we see any signs in English.



Even more foreign, we didn't notice trail maps or signs pointing out the runs for beginner, intermediate or advanced. Tomorrow our tour begins and we will ski with our Casa guide, Craig Ross. Anxious to glide, we couldn't wait. Today would be an adventure all on our own. Ron and I looked at each other, tightened down our boot buckles, hopped on the first chair we came to. . .and dove into skim milk.



Our first rides up were on double chairs, Princess I & II. They are slow and old, but we weren't in a hurry. The chairs ride over some incredible waterfalls that seemed to be running with gusto. Snow was adding up by the minute. Visibility--even if I could keep my goggles from clogging with snow--was nil. No lifts were open higher up the mountain and it looked like the slopes were only skier and snowboarder groomed. Still, there were skiers everywhere, mostly young people on vacation from school. They were having a ball and so were we.



Whiteout is always tricky on your balance--especially when you haven't been on skis for 4 months--but not knowing the terrain, language, or where we could end up on a narrow little cat track made us feel like aliens. Yoopers are tough to turn away, though. We weren't about to call it quits and I was thinking of all the young kids on the mountain who were obviously beginners and maneuvering through the tough terrain too. Hats off. They would go home with a story to tell, and hopefully a love for gliding on snow. That's why we live to ski and not go bowling.

We finished the day soaked to the gills but happy as two otters born to glide.



Until today I had skied every month of the year except August. And now I have 4 out of 7 continents under my skis: North America, Europe, Asia, and South America. Only 3 more to go: Africa, Australia, and Antarctica. It's doable. But first to learn more about these triple AAA's--Amazing Andes of Argentina. You're right Bernie!

Lake Tahoe of the Southern Hemisphere

Welcome to Hosteria Santa Rita.

After 30 hours in transit, we arrived at this delightful Inn and met the friendly Innkeeper, Graciela Villegas. She showed us our room, a quaint single bedroom with a wide window overlooking the lake. Everything is compact and clean. This area of Argentina is very much like Switzerland. The building is wood and plaster with stone floors that seem to be painted shiny black. Small stairways lead to at least 4 floors. I'm still exploring.

Graciela moved here from Buenos Aires when her family bought the Hosteria in 1994. It was built in 1980 and has 13 rooms.

Once we had luggage in our room, she directed us to a pizza place within walking distance.

We were in for a treat. The large cypress beams, fireplace and quaint tables were inviting even if we were the only customers that late on a Wednesday night.



Ron and I split our first bottle of Malbec from Mendoza about 35 pesos, or $9. Pizza was priced about the same. The pizza was topped with cheeze, ham and heart of palm slices but instead of being cooked with a sauce, it came with "Salsa Golf" a new taste for us. It was something like cheeze whiz with a red pepper flavor and the dispenser was a baggie with a spout. I'd like to have this instead of catsup on a camping trip.



You can tell folks here take pride in quality craftsmanship. Just look at how this window is set into the log frame.



Walking back to Hosteria Santa Rita we were ready for a good nights sleep.

Buenas noches.

Welcome to winter or la bienvenida al invierno

Winter does it to people.

Checking luggage to Bariloche we learned that LAN airlines doesn't charge for ski and boot bags. Yipppeeee. What a way to promote winter recreation. LAN earns five stars in my book.

The flight to Bariloche was filled with energy. People, families, kids all excited for snow. The two little ones in the seat behind me were kicking like mules on my seat back, but I didn't care. Their squeals of "Mama, mama, Bariloche" at seeing the snowcovered Andes had me just as excited.

Fate always puts you next to the right person and I met Soulange Bourel on the flight. She shared her photos of skiing and Ron and I quizzed her about where to go and what to do. I hope our ski tracks cross on the slopes.

We landed in the dark to cold, wet snow but I was as giddy as a girl at the prom. We dug out our light jackets, I put on a pair of socks and off we went to find a taxi.

Even though it was a scramble to load all of our bags into the itty bitty compact taxi, the driver seemed pretty adept at using ropes and bungees to secure the load. He stopped three times en route to check it. We couldn't understand each other but we knew he cared about our gear. Gotta love these guys. Taxi from the airport to the Hosteria was 50 pesos, $13 US.

Landing in South America

We arrived in Buenos Aires at 8:30 a.m. Wednesday, August 12. Tired, seat sore, but excited to learn about this new continent.

To continue on to Bariloche, you must transfer from the international to the domestic airport. A bus makes the trip and booking seats was easy. The fee was 70 pesos, or about 18 dollars. The exchange rate is 3.849 pesos per dollar.

We decided since we had such a long layover--our flight to Bariloche didn't leave until 5:20 p.m., 17:20 on their clock--we would take the bus downtown, store our luggage for 5 pesos per bag at the bus station, and go for a walk. Folks were very accommodating explaining our options even though we struggle with the language. "Por favor" and "gracias" get you a smile; they appreciate our attempts, but I dearly miss our daughter Eryka and her Spanish skills.

Note to self: Learn Spanish

Downtown Buenos Aires, or at least the section we tried, didn't hold our road weary interest. Admittedly, Ron and I came for the snow, mountains and skiing. Traffic, city smells and grimey street vendors don't do it for us. After an hour, we headed back to the bus depot for coffee and a sandwich, and boarded the next bus to the new airport. But walking in front the bustling train station we did see evidence that this country is BEEFY.

Far from home

Ron and I left Marquette on at 2:15 Tuesday afternoon. First stop on this American Airlines journey was Chicago, then on to Miami. As much as I've traveled the world to find snow, I can't recall ever heading south, deep south. Even more strange, to be in the US and hear nothing but Spanish. Our gate at the Miami airport was truly a welcome to the Latin world. We left Miami before midnight and traveled over 4,000 miles through the night at 590 mph, par for the course at an altitude of 39,000 feet. Watching the flight path posted on the video screen buried in the headrest of the seat ahead of me, I realized how different this trip would be. Not only because I don't know Spanish, but even the names of the towns we were passing over were from another world: Oruro Cochabamba, Fortaleza, Cuiaba, Iquique. This is geography I haven't studied on a continent I really know nothing about. Fasten that seat belt girlie, this will be the farthest you've ever traveled from home, a total 6,720 miles, but only 1 time zone ahead. Still, I am ready for this adventure. It will be WINTER and that's all the promise we need.