Malargüe - La Payunia

Tuesday February 21st I got up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus to the town of Malargue, 3 hours from San Rafael. The early morning start was necessary in order to get to Malargüe for a 9am excursion out to La Payunia Volcanic Reserve.

150km from Malargüe via bumpy, winding backroads, the reserve is famous because it contains something like 300 volcanos within its boundaries. The most recent eruption was more than 500 years ago, but the effects of centuries of eruptions can be seen in landscape, most notably the black desert-like terrain. Upon closer inspection it's not black sand, but rather what you could call volcanic gravel. Different peaks and craters dot the reserve, which, given the altitude, is home to lots of llamas and guanacos.

The tour company I had signed up to go out there with is famous for the open-air caravan they take visitors through the reserve in. You're in the vehicle most of the day, but since the caravan consists of a sort of a roofed cart with benches pulled behind a 4WD truck, you get a more up close and personal experience with the landscape than you would in a traditional van.

Except when its raining. Which it was when I arrived in Malargue. Then they pull down these plastic window-style coverings to shield the passengers from the elements. Well, not all the elements. Malargüe was also experiencing a cold snap when I was there, and the day we went out would have been nippy for a November day in Montreal, let alone Argentina in the summer. Not really the day for an open-air caravan ride.

But we set out anyway.

As the twelve us as packed into the caravan, each of us layering on every item of the inadequate summer clothing we'd all predictably show up with, we were hoping that the weather would soon clear up. But, to the contrary, the higher the altitude as we climbed the road into the reserve, the colder it got, the stronger the wind, and, most frustratingly, the foggier it became. The cold and wind we could have handled, had we been able to see what was around us. But the guide's explanations just kept on coming out like "Well, over there in that cloud is Volcano such and such.." or normally, on a sunny day, from here there's this AMAZING view of blah blah blah..." The stops on the way through the reserve, which normally were for short hikes, walking around, taking in the amazing open spaces and strangely coloured geographical landscapes, were reduced to a quick run around in the bone-chiling wind and then getting back into the truck as quickly as possible. The silver lining was that the steaming maté being passed around inside the truck was all the more welcome...

And then it was mutiny - almost. Choro (our local guide/driver of sherpa-like qualities who new the terrain and the climate like the back of his hand and sped that caravan over dunes and hills like it was nobody's business) drove the truck into this nook he knew of behind a small hill where we were shielded from the wind for us to eat our lunch of empanadas and wine. By this point everyone was freezing, and sort of bored, or sort of pissed or very pissed at the lack of being able to see anything through the thick fog. There was a huge group debate on whether we should continue on into the fog, or whether we should head back to civilization. We were almost at the crater, the kind of crowning glory of the reserve because of the impressive views from the rim. Choro insisted that it looked like it was clearing up over the crater. But everyone was at the end of their rope. But one guy suggested that we listen to Choro, go onto the crater, and then if it were still cloudy from the top, turn back. And so that's what we did.

And were we all ever glad we did so. Magically, somewhere between lunch and the top of the crater, it totally cleared up, and got warm and sunny. The caravan snaked up the side of the crater, and then we got out and hiked up the rim for some of what I would qualify as the most spectacular views of my whole trip to Argentina. The Andes in the distance, the black volcanic pampa/desert terrain, dotted with flashes of yellow and green plant life, and the rainbow effects of mineral deposits.

On the way back down we got to see all the amazing landscapes we missed on the way up. Mood inside the caravan improved severalfold. For me, the near-freezing experience of the morning was worth it for the views from the top. Not everyone thought so, though, and when we got back to the company's office, there was a major bitch session with the company staff. I stayed out of it and went home to my hostel for some pasta and a well deserved bottle of wine.