Near church.
In church today, the service is accompanied by the Dutch National Children’s’ choir. My friend Hanke came with an eye covered with bandage, because of the treatment performed on it. After bringing my friend home, I returned to Amersfoort. My family in Eemnes is today returning from a wedding party in Italy. I rang my friend Gerard in Canada: he has no fixed plans to come to Holland yet.
Pruning trees.
On Tuesday I have Toets again here for the day. I like having her, because it forces me to go for a good walk. Toets is chasing all sorts of game, which I don’t usually see. I hear her going through the shrubbery. When later today my friend returns from hospital, she had good news: the operation on her eye was successful. Half an hour after she left with Toets, I got another visitor. A long-time friend appeared to be in the neighbourhood and came to see me. She did not stay long, just long enough to drink a cup of tea and exchange news in short without much detail.
Walking terrain.
On Friday I harvested redcurrants, readily available on the premises. When one really starts looking around, you find an abundance of edible foods here in the from of fruits, nuts and mushrooms. I made plans for the get-together with my former schoolmates (from 1952) and invited them per e-mail. The occasion is the 75th birthday for most of them and especially mine.
Baby rabbit.
Early on Saturday I am called by the R.S.C.P.A. asking me to transport a baby hare to the specialised sanctuary in Amsterdam. When I get there, they tell me the baby is not a hare but a rabbit.
Bijlmerweide.
After the delivery of the rabbit, I rang family and friends in Amsterdam to see if either of them might pour me a coffee: none of them appeared to be home, so I returned to Amersfoort.
Lots of time this week, are spent behind the television, to watch the soccer games for the World Champion Ships, going on in Russia.
Argentina on horseback. 1999, June 17-23.
The people from the manège left for a couple of hours, leaving me in charge with an enormous bundle of keys. Later in the afternoon, they produced a good barbecue. Life is easy like this.
Argentine from South to North.
Thursday, 17th June, 70st travel day. At 07:45 I am in the living room with my gear. The proprietor arrives a bit bewildered complaining that I had said to be up at 8. He organises himself and produces the standard breakfast. After that the taxi takes me to the manège. Nobody is there yet. It is raining, slowly but wet. I can only open the upper part of the doors to the boxes. Jil is putting his head through it in anticipation. Just after nine, whistling folk appear with a noisy reaction of the dogs. After one hour they all disappear again to town, allowing me to prepare for my departure without being held up. Snow is falling when we are on the road. Clouds are so low, that not much from the vicinity can be seen. The horses go supple, also Jil and I am glad I did not respond on the suggestion to trade him for another horse, some days ago. The road sides are soft and wet. We are climbing and approaching the tree-line and riding through the snow now. When the sky is clearing, now and then, I spot the icy peaks of the mountains nearby. At 5 o’clock I am where I planned to be: a tiny settlement called ‘El Rincon’, with some sort of a kiosk, a school, 5 huts and a commune from a sect. I ask around for refuge, but at up with a man who is busy cutting fire-wood. The horses get some problems with lumps of sticky snow under their feet. Fortunately, this wood cutting man is a hospitable one: of course, I am welcome. He himself does not keep animals, not even dogs, so food for my horses he does not have. The man appears to live on mate and dry bread, so I have to do with what I carry: buns, cheese, ham, Turron (nougat), a mandarin and whisky. The horses go into a well fenced off meadow without much grass but sufficient water. The luggage goes in to a dry and locked barn. In the house it is pitch dark, apart from three tiny oil wicks, so I get my battery with my inspection lamp: that helps a lot. The fellow running the kiosk arrives and the cassette player is started. Everybody so far, appears to have one or more portables, all usually pretty battered. My host is a joyful man, living from the trade in fire wood. He is separated form his wife and is happy, alone without the care for animals. The land he lives on, 900 hectares, is for sale. As soon as that is done, he leaves for Bariloche. Rich North American buy most of the land here and the price is in keeping with it. At a certain moment I hear a horse behind the house, one of mine no doubt. With my flashlight I go look and find Jut and Jil, but no Nora. Jil takes me whinnying to a dark area and receives whinnying back, from Nora on the wrong side of the fence. She is easy to lead back, but we don’t find where she managed to get out. She must have gone through the river is our conclusion. At ten, the visitor leaves and we call it a day as well. I get a real room, with oil lamp, a surprisingly comfortable bed and a load of blankets. It sleeps perfectly well. Short after I fell asleep, I hear a horse whinnying again and I go out of bed to have a look. This time I can not find Jut, but Jut is a very dark coloured horse and I know by now, that neither of them is ever far away, so I leave it as it is and go to bed again.
Friday, 71st travel day. From my bed, early in the morning, I hear my host busy. He comes to get me out of bed, because Jut is waiting outside the fence, at the gate. As I guessed: they don’t go away from me and the others. After a simple breakfast, I pack and leave. The sky is sometimes a bit open and it is pleasant weather. I nevertheless decide to dress in my raingear, with reason because not much later it is raining again. The road is winding a lot, also up and down with some terrific views through valleys with fast flowing rivers like Rio Foyle. I rested a while in El Foyel, 9 kilometers before Rio Villegas, my goal for today.
Bautiste Arce (Tito) started a 2,5 journey in 1965, covering the whole continent. Lots of problems in Columbia. After that he saved pennies and dimes. Now he retired, 59y old, owing a supermarket, a factory for furniture and the holiday camp where I met him.
There is a site where two chimneys are smoking and dogs barking, but I see no people and everything is locked. Just when I want to continue, a wheelbarrow approaches along the road. It takes a while before the driver finds a key, but after that I get coffee and bread. The most important however, is a toilet because the pressure becomes rather high. The boss of the wheel barrow driver arrives as well, very interested and telling me stories about other horse riding passers-by, like a Polish fellow of which I did hear already in January. This guy travelled with only one horse, walked 20km a day and rode 20km a day. This man changed horse dependent on the region where he was or where he went to. There is also a reappearing story about a German travelling with 3 horses. I don’t stay too long and leave for Rio Villegas, where I arrive in a drizzle. At the gendarmerie they perform a check, but not for me, they show me the way to a hostel in Rio Villegas. When I leave the gendarmeria I hear them calling on me: they saw a large stone in Jil’s hoof. They provide a good tool to remove the stone, while I keep Jil’s head in my hands. It is raining when we arrive at the hostel, a large two-story building with a well fenced off terrain at the fast-flowing river. The tiny curly haired woman seems to doubt for a moment, but then she let me in, with my horses in the garden. I am given a room above the kitchen, because the rooms upstairs are not heated and above the kitchen it is not too cold. The hostel is actually closed, but they have a tenant, lieutenant with the gendarmerie. At the general store here, I order food for my horses, for today, but also for Saturday and Sunday. Expensive, but necessary. The unmarried lady of the house is a dear. Her six dogs are trained to keep horses and cows out of her garden, but she manages to get them to accept my horses. In the evening is starts pouring. My host tells me about her childhood in Calabria (Italy) and about life here. It is all very ‘homey’, with home-made buns, jams and lemonades. It is not late when I go to bed, with the wind shaking the house and rain clanging at the roof.
Saturday, 19th of June, 72nd travel day. It takes four hours to start today, with heavy rain. The road sides are very soft from the rain and that is dangerous, for cars getting just of the tarmac. We are clearly climbing, crossing a pass, with now and then a fierce and very cold wind pushing through the gaps in the mountains. I did not plan a long trip for today, fortunately, only 16 kilometres to the house of a forester. My host from yesterday, Lucia, gave me directions and they are correct. According to plan, I arrive at 3 o’clock at the place, an open stall with meadow but few grass, a smoking chimney from a house, a large barn and a caravan. At the grounds there are a lot of heavy roadworks machines parked. I leave my horses at the gate, when the forester comes out of the house. I just arrived before the supplier of the food I ordered yesterday. His comment: you travelled fast! Lucia told him my departure time. With the as yet fully packed horses and the pickup car with food, we go to the large barn. In there I see 6 horse boxes well equipped and two rooms for storage. Two of the six boxes are occupied by soaking wet horses already. I paid the food supplier. After that we organise. For now, my horses go into a field. The forester is called Victor. Two youngsters are also there, his sons. One of the two takes a shower and after that leaves for Bariloche: going out. The other one is playing his cassette player. At 6 my horses go inside, with food. We eat, talk, write and watch what goes on at the road. A large road scraper appears, towing a lorry loaded with fire wood. At 8 it starts snowing heavily, which is relayed by radio to the central station in Bariloche. At first the house is lit by gas, but later the house is apparently switched to electricity. I get a large bed in the same room as the son.
Sunday the 20th June. I slept like a rose. The wind cleared the sky. I have to get my things out of the way, because my host gets family visiting: daughter with husband and two children. At 1 o’clock it is raining again. Yesterday all my gear got very wet. During riding, water drips into my shoes. Today I try to develop a means to prevent that from happening again. My sleeping bag is also wet. All the wet items are laid out to dry. The daughter of my host makes tasty food today and we discuss the road for tomorrow. At 25km from here there is a settlement, just halfway Bariloche and that is just fine. The son that went out to Bariloche, did not return, so I don’t have to change bed.
National Parc Nahuel Huapi
Monday, 21st June, 73rd travel day. It snows when I get up. Without haste I feed and pack my horses, inside the large barn. Victor suggested me to stay, because of the weather. I argued that if I did so, I could stay here for as long as the winter lasts. The winter only just started! Victor looks me in the eyes for a while, then he nods and wishes me good luck. The weather today is not too bed: there is no wind. Depending on the height where we ride, it is either snowing or raining. I get very wet again, also inside my shoes. The road leads along beautiful lakes, Lago Guillelino and Lago Mascardi and even now, with only limited view, it is clear that this part of the country is very attractive. Three years ago, I am told, this dirt road was given a tarmac surface. They have been rather frugal with cutting their way through the hills and mountain side. Sometime there are no shoulders. Victor told me that this road needs a lot of maintenance, which is a bit logical when you realize that in summer it is very hot and in winter very cold. Also flushing underneath the tarmac is not a rarity, so it can be pretty hazardous. I notice it, because at various positions we pass large amounts of fallen stones with branches, complete trees and a lot of soil washed onto the road. Tricky. After 13 kms I arrive in Villa Mascardi. At the roadside stands a car with two attractive women, smoking. I have nothing left to smoke, so I ask them for a cigarette. When they drive on, they hand me the pack of cigarettes. Three kilometres further, I come to a petrol station where I drink good coffee. A motorist pictures my horses, while Nora is trying to get to the bag with food on Jil’s back. We carry on and make good progress, without adverse situations. At the end of Lake Macardi, I find some buildings, as told by Victor. It is around 4 o’clock and I turn off, a bit on impulse to the left where I saw a sign to a camping. In the snow I see footsteps and imprints of dogs’ paws, so there are people around. And indeed, soon enough I arrive at fences, orchards and a house. The snow is now falling heavily. I knock on a window, bringing out a man, wife and female teen. I am welcome without any reservation. They love horses and the out-doors. The man, 68-year-old Julio, helps me unpack, while the teen, Malvina, brings water for the horses. The horses go into a meadow and are fed pellets. Gras is plenty, but they have to dig it from underneath the snow now. In the kitchen, with the stove in the middle of it, I am getting comfortable fast and we talk, a lot. They love the story of my trip. At six, Malvinas mother arrives to take her back to Bariloche. At 7 the shutters are closed, there is electric light, no telephone. By radio from Bariloche they are told that mother and daughter came home safely. Lucia, is cooking dinner, beef with bread and white wine. After dinner, around the stove, the lights go out so oil lamps are lit. The snow, they think, must have caused a tree to fall onto a power line: not unusual here. Like in many more situations, I sleep outdoor at first, then they give me a spot in the kitchen and then, after some consideration, and ordinary room with a proper bed. The room is cold and moist, but does have a door to the outside, so I can go outside if need be. The bed is slanting and a number of times I nearly roll off it. The pillow is so damp that I fear my ears might become rheumatism. Julio worked 40 years on a trout farm near Cerro Perito Moreno, West of El Bolson. His hands are warped from rheumatism. Lucia, his wife, loves my mare Nora. They owe a house in Bariloche as well, but prefer to live here and I understand them. In the local outskirts of the various towns it is usually a mess, with muddy dirt roads, odour nuisance, noisy rattling cars, barking dogs and not to underestimate: theft.
Nahuel Huapi.
Tuesday, 22nd June, 74th travel day. The longest night of the year has passed. From today daylight will last one minute longer. Here they call June and July the worst months. I wake up early, dress and go around the house to the living, where I light the oil lamp. Julio appears not much later, kindles the stove and prepares maté. As soon as daylight is sufficient, I take a handful of pellets and enter the terrain where I expect my horses: I only see a lot of snow and not a horse in sight. I whistle and 5 minutes later, Jil comes chasing out of the forest, puts his head in my hands and follows me. After a bit of calling, Nora and Jut arrive from the same direction, but when I take Nora through the gate, Jut is not following. Jut is scared off from Julio and is running along the fence, until I go there too and calm him. They are very clearly my horses. During packing and saddling the horses, my feet feel cold and wet soon again. We have breakfast, finished off with a double whisky. We part cordially and Lucia says: when, at the end of your journey, please sent us Nora here! We disappear through the now deep snow, into the forest. We have to jump over a broken branch and have to cross a small slippery wooden bridge, very carefully. The weather is fine now, with even some sun now and then, the view at the mountaintops is fabulous. The traffic on the road is pretty busy and large rocks on the tarmac are causing some problems. We come again past a lovely lake. The road into Bariloche is not very charming, rather a mess with lots of dirty chasing dogs and an enormous refuse dump. It takes three hours to find a place where I can leave my horses, so I go to the gendarmerie in town.
Gendarmeria Bariloche.
There they don’t have any possibility. They advise me to go to the local church, but there I don’t get a response either. Finally, someone gives me the right advise and directions. I am directed to the provincial police school where an official, Maxim Martinez, helps me. Next to the school is a sanctuary from the local authority where they keep animals that are found or confiscated. There is a veterinarian. I can leave my horses there tied to a tree, for $15 but I have to feed them myself. The people here are unpleasant. A hostel is close and I get a room there, for $10. The room is heated, at the loft (3rd floor). The only comfortable item is the bed, the rest is very rundown, hardly working and I consider it a very unsafe building, without fire extinguishers, no fire escape and narrow stairs. A restaurant nearby serves a very good meal for $14, They tell me there is a railway station in Bariloche and a train runs three times per week to Buenos Aires.
Bariloche.
Wednesday 23rd June. I did sleep well, no matter my concerns about the safety. Downstairs I meet a 38y old Argentinian. He lives on the income from some business he hires out, and travels. When he finds work, he works for a while and continues travelling when the job stops. He speaks good English and comments that in Miami there are too many Spanish speaking people. After some talking I drink his coffee and go feed my horses.
I take a taxi to bring me to an address in a suburb, from a shoemaker, run by the brother of a shoemaker I met in Costa. To my surprise, the shoemaker from Costa is also here. They are going to produce galoshes from cow skin, to prevent my feet from getting wet and cold. Later, when I am back there, the galoshes don’t fit at all so I buy a pair of boots and leave my shoes with the shoemaker to redo the galoshes until they fit. I return to the town centre which looks pretty, a bit like Lech as my cousin told me. You find businesses there with names like Edelweiss or Tirol!.
Hotel Edelweiss.
The film I shot with my Chinese camera bought for next to nothing in Chili, is developed and I get the prints: nice pictures, but the camera leaks light and that’s a pity. I buy new gloves, socks and a hood. I believe that they overshadow Italians and Belgians in making ice-cream and chocolate. I buy a very tasty dinner around the corner from the police school and go to bed early, because tomorrow I want to travel again. Bariloche is bubbling, funny, but expensive.
Province Rio Negro, from El Bolson to San Carlos de Bariloche.
My diary 