Long, Hot, 9 Mile Day
A surprisingly long day! The Vacas Valley is an exceptional desert environment of crumbling arid slopes. The valley floor was littered with fallen boulders from the steeply pitched walls.
The quality of rock is widely graded, but by and large it is poor, allowing for large sections to break free from purchases.
The Vacas River flows down the valley, gathering strength in some places and wandering in a placid shallow delta form in others.
We have been warned about a "wet crossing" of this glacial run-off scheduled for tomorrow morning. A stiff upper lip is easy to project with varying levels of bravado, but only the morning will reveal the “thick soled” and the “tender foot”. Today we were lucky enough to have a footbridge.
Bartek and I walked most of the day together, discussing the geopolitical history of the Balkans and other Soviet Era remnant challenges. He is a lawyer from Warsaw, Poland and my tent-mate for the expedition. When we arrived in Plaza del Inca two days ago he demonstrated a greater depth of understanding than 99% of Americans on the impending Presidential election. Combine this with his Eastern Block background and I figured there would be at least three weeks of topics to discuss on the mountain.
Everyone waited all day for the first view of the Aconcagua from the Vacas Valley, which was supposed to occur just before the Casa de Piedra camp. So when we had this view the camera shutters were flying and megabytes of free space vaporized from memory cards.
Walking another four hundred meters we were chagrined to find that hundreds of pictures were taken of the wrong mountain. In actuality, to the left was the first view of the Polish Glacier ascent of Aconcagua.
The group was fascinated by the concept of our major gear being transported by mule.
We have been warned repeatedly about their “wild nature” and to give them a wide berth. Everyone was curiously surprised to arrive at the Casa de Piedra camp ahead of the impending train. When they finally arrived, it was in a flurry of hoofs and dust.
The Gauchos definitely earned their pay and our respect in herding these impetuous beasts to a full stop and grouping.
Part of their management secret is to first tie the animals together and then blindfold the lead mule.
In this way the gauchos have created a living anchor to stabilize the tethered remaining mules.
There is no fenced pasture in which the tired mules can be confined. So the gauchos match pairs of mules and they keep each other in check through the night.
The group welcomed a dinner of barbequed meat and cold canned vegetables. The “surprise factor” of open grilled grizzle and meat overshadowed the volume of cold canned carrots, peas, and potatoes. We were happy, enthusiastic, and more importantly tired.
One task to be handled before day's end was washing out my clothes. Filth and stench are constant elements of expedition life. So, I rinsed every bit of used clothes from the day in a stream and, given the high merino wool content, no detergent was required. Hanging clothes from trekking poles, in rotating stages, provided dry, clean layers in less than an hour. The very low humidity level, combined with persistent breezes, gave a quicker cycle time than in the comforts of a gas dryer at home.
Sleep was not something to be fought. A typical night stretched to onwards of eleven hours. The miles walked, altitude, sapping sun, decent protein supplemented dinner and cold evening winds, aided by an early evening valley shading, blended into an insomniac’s curative cocktail.
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