Thursday, December 28, 2006
Christmas
Imagine arriving December the 24th, at 5:30 PM at a gas station, and you want to change the oil of your car…..Only in San martin de los Andes, Argentina…From Junin de los Andes we drove 87 kilometers over dirt roads with scary curves and deep voids until the very sympatic San martin de los Andes. Heavily influenced by German architecture, it serves as a base for another ski paradise; Chapelco. But even in December, when it’s summer here, the temperature hardly rises above 18 degrees.
It is here where I finally changed the oil and filters of my car. Luckily, we are traveling with extra oil, filters, pumps, light bulbs, fuses and other parts, so there is never a problem in getting hold of spare parts. Afterwards, we walked around the small center and tried to find a restaurant for our Christmas dinner, something almost impossible. But restaurant Kaimen was serving a Christmas buffet, and we made a reservation with the owner, and old wrinkled German looking man, who probably escaped the Nuremburg process. He said he was serving home cooked food, and so Kaimen it would be. At midnight, he served Champaign, and all the waiters and cooks came to the dining room, wishing us a merry Christmas. Through a very chilly night, we walked back to our small hotel, where I, before hitting the sack, watched an excellent Christmas episode of the Simpsons.December the 25th, we left San Martin de los Andes at 10.30 AM, and took the Ruta Nacional 234 on our way to the Republic of Chile. Three and a half hours through the National Park Lanin on a mud track that led us along yellow and blue flowers, red fire bush and blue lakes until the Argentine border control.
On our way, we saw whole families camping at lakesides, doing what Argentineans do best: Barbecue. With Capital “B”, because barbecue in Argentine is almost religion. A woman never touches Parrilla, (the Argentinean word for Barbecue), and every man has its own way to light the coals, how to roll the newspaper underneath the coals to lit the fire with only one match, how to season the meat and how to actually grill it. Surely there exists a special way to eat parrilla too, but that I don´t know yet....Hours and hours are spent here just discussing Parrilla. Anyway, after the formalities at the border we drove on, and again, at the Chilean border the regular formalities. We had to throw out our peaches and prunes, because these Chileans are dead scared of all kind of diseases a peach or prune can bring to their country and people. I was asked to open the back of the Land Rover, and when the customs officer saw the mess, he found it quite all right, and went back into his office, thinking of home, his wife and kids and Christmas dinner…
Then it was another two hours on Ruta 215, while the Oscar Peterson Trio was playing on the MP3, to the small village of Frutillar, overlooking the lake and the famous Vulcan of Osorno. There is a pretty modern building at the lake, looking a bit like a mixture between a lighthouse, the bow of a ship and a theater. Inside, to our surprise, was a nice bar. We enjoyed cappuccino in soft sofa’s, reading newspapers and magazines. Afterwards, we visited the art gallery. Later, for dinner I had a German fare; Kassler ribs with sauerkraut. A lot of restaurants here advertise German cuisine with Strudel and Kuchen.
After a good rest, we woke up next morning with heavy clouds and rain falling from them. The volcano, which I wanted to make some pictures of in the early morning light was completely hidden by fog, clouds and thunder, and so after a delicious home cooked breakfast with raspberry cake, French toast and – unfortunately, instant coffee – we headed to Puerto Montt, the largest city in the province.
The outskirts didn’t look too good; old, wooden barracks, stray dogs and dirt, but hey, when it rains, everything looks kind of sad. We decided to find someplace to sleep in the center, so there wouldn’t be the need to walk through rainy mud covered streets. The President Hotel at the harbor looked okay, but we always have the issue of the car; it’s pretty high with the roof rack and bicycles and headlights and stuff. The car didn’t get into the parking, and so we moved on, and very unlike tough travelers and drifters like us, we checked in a comfortable Holiday Inn. It was like an oasis, with even bigger beds and softer pillows than the Pestana in Curitiba.
Anchelmo is an old neighborhood with the fish market, and for us the only attraction in the center of the city, if you stay only for one day. A fish market is always nice to visit and photograph, so we got into a cab, and went there. Luckily, it was already time for lunch, and I was getting a nice appetite for oysters, mussels and clams. Even the sun came through, and gave an special light to the scene.
Little stands with smoked salmon, trout and conger eel, smoked mussels, hanging on a twine like a necklace, jars with escavèche, local cheeses, we saw it all. A lot of little restaurants where the National Health Service wouldn’t come close to, with women in white aprons inviting us in to taste the best merluza, the freshest oysters and simply the best food in Chile. We walked around a bit, and decided that Sonia, on number 20 looked the cleanest to us.
So there we sat down on wooden benches, at wooden tables. There was a menu, but nearly half of it wasn’t available, so we simply asked what was the best to eat here. Curanta, the girl said, and so Curanta it would be. It is a mix of mussels, clams, other unidentified shellfish, cooked in a pot with potatoes, smoked pork ribs and some weird looking pasta, made of bread and eggs. It comes with a cup of the broth, with a lot of cilantro.
It was, in one word, delicious. We ate it with some spicy tomato salsa, and drunk “Te frio”, the cheapest white wine in the house, served in teacups. Now this “cold tea” has some history, and here we go:
From the early days, when the fish market operated, the little stalls didn’t have a license to sell alcohol, so they served white wine in teacups. If you wished red wine, you ordered “Te caliente”, hot tea.
The late afternoon we walked a bit around the center, and went to bed pretty early, as next day we would go back to Argentina again.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Into the wild…
Rio de Janeiro, December 12th
Dear friends,
I woke up at 4 AM, had a quick shower, and went down, with two months worth of luggage. I put the cars’ odometer on zero, and programmed the GPS on Curitiba, some 895 kilometers away. That’s about 12 hours driving, a few stops included. I inspected the car for the last time, and at exactly 6.25 AM we were ready to go. I said a little prayer to whoever was listening, and asked for a safe trip. The first hour we drove through the horrible neighborhoods and suburbs, where all the drug trafficking and robberies origin. Not a pretty sight. Sao Paulo, at midday wasn’t much better; the usual mess, and it took about two hours to cross. We had a small lunch just outside the capital with its 16 million inhabitants, and continued on the BR-116 highway, which lead all cars, trucks, buses and even horse carriages to Curitiba, still 6 ½ hours away.
We were received like kings in the Pestana Curitiba Hotel. A nice 5 star hotel with soft beds, warm showers and overpriced beer in the minibar. That night we had a memorable dinner, prepared by tatiane, a friend of mine, who works in the kitchen. I believe it took me about 30 seconds to fall asleep afterwards.
Completely rested, we left Curitiba at 8.30 AM. Next stop: Puerto Iguazu, in Argentine, again, about 12 hours away, 793 kilometers. The beautiful BR-277 highway lead us trough endless cornfields and pastures. Cows were chewing green grass, the skies were a kind of blue your rarely see. Amazing how landscape changes every hour or so. I realized I hadn’t touched my camera’s yet; but that would change soon. But then again, some views are so incredible beautiful that you basically want to keep them for yourself.
At precisely 6.15 PM we crossed the border. It’s a funny situation; you leave Brazil through customs, where I had to register all my camera’s and laptop, and you drive on through no-mans’ land for about a mile or so. You cross the Ponte de Amizedade, and see on your right side a huge shopping mall; the duty free shop. Just a quick stop to get us a digital camera, and on we drove, until the Argentinean border control. How a Dutch passport and a smile open doors, my friends. Without any hassle, we finally got into argentine, and into Puerto Iguazu, where our next Pousada was waiting.
December the 14th we visited the famous Iguazu waterfalls. It is a spectacle to take your breath away, really. Through an incredible humid rainforest were we saw butterflies, strange birds and even Guinea pigs, we arrived at the Garganta del Diablo, the Devils’ throat. The water falls down with so much violence, you can hardly hear each other. It’s so impressing that, as Bruce Dickinson put it so right: “words escaped me as I tried to speak”. It takes about fifteen seconds to become soaked from head to toe. Luckily, my cameras are rainwater proof, and so I shot one film of slides.
That night we ate assado at a barbecue restaurant. Argentinean barbecue, with intestines, kidneys, sweetbreads, ribs and anything else a butchers’ knife can cut out of a cow. Bottles of Quilmes beer cooled us down, as it was still in the lower forties.
Early next morning we drove on, until 8 at night, it were 986 kilometers. Advantage is that those long hours are spent with endless conversations about almost everything; something I had never the time for when I was working those long hours, back in Rio de Janeiro. Somewhere in the afternoon, at a police control, we got our first, and hopefully last fine. The bored police officer said that is prohibited to drive any car with elements passing the car’s bumpers. In our case the winch with steel cable on the front, and the spare tire on the back. He showed us the Argentinean traffic code, an old booklet, edited in 1977. Fernanda tried to explain that that counts for cars with an Argentinean license number, and not for foreign cars, which is true, but the thief in police clothing (!) came with some vague argument about Geneva Conventions, and cars being towed away. So we paid the 98 pesos, and we continued our long trip.
What surprised me was the comradeship and feeling of solidarity between truck drivers and us. As we were stopped by the wolf in sheep’s clothing (read: police officer), immediately a Brazilian and a Chilean truck driver, who were passing by, stopped, and asked if they could be of any help. And in general, when we took over a truck, we were complimented by them, sounding their horns, or waving friendly.
Finally, we then arrived in Federal, some small village, were we slept at the Copacabana hotel, for 50 pesos a night; 17 U$ dollars. The owner of the hotel told us with a broad smile upon his face, when he saw our Land Rover, that his horse was a four by four too. “Only no wheels, just four feet”.
Our next stop was Unquillo, about 30 kilometers into the hills, north of Cordoba, 450 kilometers away from Federal. It’s extremely difficult to find on any map, but apparently, Nalbadian, the famous Argentinean tennis player was born and raised here. Through green fields with horses and cows we drove. Somewhere along the road a cow was lying, all his four legs up in the air. I thought it was hit by a car, but later heard that it often happens in hot summers. Cows eat a lot of grass, and then drink dirty water. The whole lot starts to ferment in its belly, and the poor animal literally explodes from the inside because of the gases.
Here in Unquillo we left Lucas, Fernanda’s son with his father in a small brick and stone house. Like real Argentineans do on Sundays, we lunched on Pasta. Washed it down with two bottles of Trapiche Malbec, 8 pesos a bottle, that is 2,70 U$ dolars. We stayed overnight, and in the morning I took an awesome cold shower with water from the mountains. Looks like Argentineans still practice torture, hahaha.
Today we move on to Mendoza. Hopefully there is internet over there. All the best to you my friends, God Speed we go……………
Rio de Janeiro, December 12th
Dear friends,
I woke up at 4 AM, had a quick shower, and went down, with two months worth of luggage. I put the cars’ odometer on zero, and programmed the GPS on Curitiba, some 895 kilometers away. That’s about 12 hours driving, a few stops included. I inspected the car for the last time, and at exactly 6.25 AM we were ready to go. I said a little prayer to whoever was listening, and asked for a safe trip. The first hour we drove through the horrible neighborhoods and suburbs, where all the drug trafficking and robberies origin. Not a pretty sight. Sao Paulo, at midday wasn’t much better; the usual mess, and it took about two hours to cross. We had a small lunch just outside the capital with its 16 million inhabitants, and continued on the BR-116 highway, which lead all cars, trucks, buses and even horse carriages to Curitiba, still 6 ½ hours away.
We were received like kings in the Pestana Curitiba Hotel. A nice 5 star hotel with soft beds, warm showers and overpriced beer in the minibar. That night we had a memorable dinner, prepared by tatiane, a friend of mine, who works in the kitchen. I believe it took me about 30 seconds to fall asleep afterwards.
Completely rested, we left Curitiba at 8.30 AM. Next stop: Puerto Iguazu, in Argentine, again, about 12 hours away, 793 kilometers. The beautiful BR-277 highway lead us trough endless cornfields and pastures. Cows were chewing green grass, the skies were a kind of blue your rarely see. Amazing how landscape changes every hour or so. I realized I hadn’t touched my camera’s yet; but that would change soon. But then again, some views are so incredible beautiful that you basically want to keep them for yourself.
At precisely 6.15 PM we crossed the border. It’s a funny situation; you leave Brazil through customs, where I had to register all my camera’s and laptop, and you drive on through no-mans’ land for about a mile or so. You cross the Ponte de Amizedade, and see on your right side a huge shopping mall; the duty free shop. Just a quick stop to get us a digital camera, and on we drove, until the Argentinean border control. How a Dutch passport and a smile open doors, my friends. Without any hassle, we finally got into argentine, and into Puerto Iguazu, where our next Pousada was waiting.
December the 14th we visited the famous Iguazu waterfalls. It is a spectacle to take your breath away, really. Through an incredible humid rainforest were we saw butterflies, strange birds and even Guinea pigs, we arrived at the Garganta del Diablo, the Devils’ throat. The water falls down with so much violence, you can hardly hear each other. It’s so impressing that, as Bruce Dickinson put it so right: “words escaped me as I tried to speak”. It takes about fifteen seconds to become soaked from head to toe. Luckily, my cameras are rainwater proof, and so I shot one film of slides.
That night we ate assado at a barbecue restaurant. Argentinean barbecue, with intestines, kidneys, sweetbreads, ribs and anything else a butchers’ knife can cut out of a cow. Bottles of Quilmes beer cooled us down, as it was still in the lower forties.
Early next morning we drove on, until 8 at night, it were 986 kilometers. Advantage is that those long hours are spent with endless conversations about almost everything; something I had never the time for when I was working those long hours, back in Rio de Janeiro. Somewhere in the afternoon, at a police control, we got our first, and hopefully last fine. The bored police officer said that is prohibited to drive any car with elements passing the car’s bumpers. In our case the winch with steel cable on the front, and the spare tire on the back. He showed us the Argentinean traffic code, an old booklet, edited in 1977. Fernanda tried to explain that that counts for cars with an Argentinean license number, and not for foreign cars, which is true, but the thief in police clothing (!) came with some vague argument about Geneva Conventions, and cars being towed away. So we paid the 98 pesos, and we continued our long trip.
What surprised me was the comradeship and feeling of solidarity between truck drivers and us. As we were stopped by the wolf in sheep’s clothing (read: police officer), immediately a Brazilian and a Chilean truck driver, who were passing by, stopped, and asked if they could be of any help. And in general, when we took over a truck, we were complimented by them, sounding their horns, or waving friendly.
Finally, we then arrived in Federal, some small village, were we slept at the Copacabana hotel, for 50 pesos a night; 17 U$ dollars. The owner of the hotel told us with a broad smile upon his face, when he saw our Land Rover, that his horse was a four by four too. “Only no wheels, just four feet”.
Our next stop was Unquillo, about 30 kilometers into the hills, north of Cordoba, 450 kilometers away from Federal. It’s extremely difficult to find on any map, but apparently, Nalbadian, the famous Argentinean tennis player was born and raised here. Through green fields with horses and cows we drove. Somewhere along the road a cow was lying, all his four legs up in the air. I thought it was hit by a car, but later heard that it often happens in hot summers. Cows eat a lot of grass, and then drink dirty water. The whole lot starts to ferment in its belly, and the poor animal literally explodes from the inside because of the gases.
Here in Unquillo we left Lucas, Fernanda’s son with his father in a small brick and stone house. Like real Argentineans do on Sundays, we lunched on Pasta. Washed it down with two bottles of Trapiche Malbec, 8 pesos a bottle, that is 2,70 U$ dolars. We stayed overnight, and in the morning I took an awesome cold shower with water from the mountains. Looks like Argentineans still practice torture, hahaha.
Today we move on to Mendoza. Hopefully there is internet over there. All the best to you my friends, God Speed we go……………
Mendoza
Arrived in Mendoza in the early afternoon. Like a postcard, we saw the vine yards with the snow topped Cordillera de los Andes on the background, highlighted by the bluest sky I’ve ever seen. Just a few kilometers before the city, there was a sign, indicating the Zucchardi family wine estate, open for visitors. So we took a sharp right turn, and drove through the wine yards for about 5 kilometers until the beautiful building which houses the bodegas, reception and of course a shop. The very friendly Paulo Zucchardi, grandson of the first generation Zucchardi’s showed us around the estate. After 45 minutes of explanations finally began what we came for; the wine tasting.We tasted fruity Chardonnay, fresh Viognier, and a rich, oak aged Bonarda. Paulo told us they were serving an excellent lunch at the estate restaurant, and so we decided to take a bite, since breakfast had been merely some coffee and toast. The restaurant was situated in the middle of the vineyards, in and stone and glass building, overlooking the Maipu valley. Outside, and old geezer was grilling large chunks of meat, ribs, kidneys and sausages over hot coals. Inside, efficient and extremely friendly staff. One set menu, with combining wines. Fresh baked bread, creamy butter on the table, and some empanadas; meat, onion or cheese filled little pastries, baked in a stone oven. Then came lettuce, ruby red tomatoes and roasted sweet potato with a cool Pinot Noir. And if that wasn’t enough, sausages, flank steak and juicy prime ribs with dark red Malbec. It’s been a long while since I ate such juicy and tasty meat. And so tender, I could have eaten it with a spoon. I was able to embrace the first cow in my way and kiss her all over. For dessert we had a coconut cake with a sublime Tardio, Argentine’s version of late harvest wines. We had our coffee in the library, where I enjoyed my first Cuban cigar of this trip.
Back on the road until Lujan de Cujo, where we found an excellent pousada. Situated in a large garden, the house with thick brick stones, a wooden roof and all the comforts a drifter like me can wish, had only two apartments. The huge kitchen is filled with food if you want to cook (Just the thought of it….), cold drinks to cool down, and whiskey and grappa to warm up again, all included in the price. The son of the owner is always on the background if you need any help. He looks a lot like the actor Ralph Fiennes, by the way.
We ate a very small dinner of empanadas and Quilmes beer, and after walking 15 minutes trough a light rain we went into the sack, and slept like babies.
Next day, we visited the Luigi Bosca bodegas, and basically it’s the same drill; they show you around the bodega, tell that the wineyard is one of the oldest family run wine estates in the valley, and then let you sip their cheapest variety of wines. But then again, they are all extremely friendly. In the afternoon we drove to Tupungato, where we visited the Salentein wineyards. Salentein is a relatively young wine estate, owned by a Dutch millionaire, who happens to like wine, art and Argentine. And airplanes, as he flies in from Buenos Aires or Amsterdam every now and then. The main building, who houses an art gallery, the wine shop and a cinema, is neatly organized. The guide, who took us on the English tour, as a few Brits where stranded here as well, tried to explain us in English how wine was produced. She might as well have spoken Japanese, the poor thing…
Well, the building in which the wine is produced is shaped like a cross, with each wing directing to the north,
east, south and west. Inside, stainless steel tanks, forklift trucks without drivers, armed guards and cameras. Just like someone told us the day before; Salentein looks like a labatory. For me, it looked just like one of those innocent looking factories from any James Bond movie, where they, instead of wine, produce nerve gas or some designer drug. But then again, all were extremely friendly, and we even had a chat with Ariel, the Public Relation manager, about some culinary events in the near future. We tasted Chardonnay, which to me had little character, and a Pinot Noir, again, not that impressing. Well, you can’t have your cake and eat it too, isn’t it?Next day we visit South Americas most famous and best vineyards; Catena Zapata. Although there were no visits planned, we were showed around the modern building, shaped like a pyramid. The girl, who could do very well on any catwalk in Paris or Milan, whispered to us that we had to be quiet and quick, as Doutor Catena was around, and actually, we were not allowed to be here. We were actually not even allowed to be in the neighborhood, because of the reformations. Visiting Catena Zapata without an appointment; just the thought of it!
After tasting two of Catenas inferior, but still very nice wines; Alamos Chardonnay, rich in fruity tones like pineapple and mango, and the Bonarda, where we discovered tones like cherry, dried prunes and a hint of pepper, we left to our next destination: Malargue, 335 kilometer to the south. According to our map, about 150 kilometers on Ripio, dirt roads where only four wheel drive cars with courageous drivers who have a lot of bollocks can go. So I filled up the car with diesel, and headed south………
Heading South
Half past four we left the gas station where I filled up the Land Rover with diesel, and after about a kilometer, the asphalt changed into Ripio, a combination of dried mud, gravel and small or sometimes big stones. And that was just the Auto ruta 40, the highway. Five minutes later, the road turned too much eastward for my liking, and, just as planned, we turned right, onto the Ruta Provincial 110. The sun was still very hot, but a nice cool, almost chilling wind was blowing over the flat landscape. The first half hour were kind of easy, with nothing more than sand and gravel, but then, little by little, the road became narrower and the stones bigger. We checked the GPS; it showed us we were heading south, at a height of 1900 meters above sea level. It took us 2 and a half hours to cross this desert. We drove through canyons were the road was no more than 3 meters wide, with on one side a stony hill, and on the other side a deep void. To take your breath away in two senses; the beauty of the landscape and horror of realizing that if something happens, there is no one around to help you. In these two and a half hours, we crossed only one car, and a dozen of wild horses. We refreshed ourselves in a cool stream, and at 6:12 exactly, we left the track at the small village of Sosneado. Then it were only 49 kilometers until Malargue, where we found a nice Cabana, a small cabin, with soft pillows and an extremely nice bed.
Malargue has not too much to offer, although it’s pretty close to Las Lenas, where the rich and famous Argentineans, Chileans and Colombians spend their winter vacations snowboarding, causing an incredible erosion on beautiful mountains they don’t have at home. It has an observatory for Galactic rays, and some evil tongues whisper there had been UFO sightings not too long ago.
We visited a deserted hotel with its thermal baths. Only 78 kilometers on mud and gravel tracks, and when we arrived, a strong sulfur smell welcomed us. The water came out of the ground, and was led into a huge artificial swimming pool, where in the early days the sick and weak found their strength.
Next day we took the road again to our next destination, Junin de los Andes, close to the Nahuel Huapi national park. It took us 11 hours to cover the 798 kilometers through the famous Pampas, where it sometimes took two hours in which we saw no one else. Just twice, on the middle of the road a heard of goats, who just wouldn’t move. Only when a Gaucho, complete with poncho, broad rimmed hat and large boots appeared, they would move, under protest though, to the roadside.
As the sun lowered, the spectacular landscape showed us colors of green and yellow, difficult to describe, and when we finally arrived at 8:12 PM, it was still light like a late summer afternoon. Only when we left the car to find a hostel, we realized we arrived in Patagonia; a wind that chilled us to the bone welcomed us, and quickly, I found a thick sweater in my luggage.
Dinner was in a restaurant on the city square. As they advertised trout as their specialty, we took the challenge, and what a trout it was. Soft, tasty, grilled to perfection, with just some black butter and a hint of lemon. A bottle of Norton oak aged Sauvignon Blanc 2005 to accompany. Through the cold and dark night we found our way back home to the hostel, and after a glass of Johnnie Walker Pure Malt and a Cohiba Siglio II on the varanda, we went to bed under thick and warm covers.
Tomorrow, I change the oil in the car, as we already drove 5800 kilometers, and then we move on to San martin de los Andes, about 60 Km from here, were we will spend Christmas eve. If I can find internet there, with the right configuration, I’ll finally post my messages. And from here, on the southern hemisphere, Fernanda and I wish you all a merry Christmas. We are doing extremely fine, the two of us…..
Saturday, December 09, 2006
The clock is ticking
Dear friends,
After a stressful week fighting Brazilian bureaucracy, we are all set now. A final check-up on the car was concluded. I will travel with spare parts, extra oil, fuses and things, all kindly explained by the wonderful people at Land Brazil (Jairo rocks!!!), and today I am packing my luggage. I checked all my photography equipment, (two Canon Eos-1V bodies, lenses are: 20-35, 24-70, 70-200 mm, all f/2.8, a 50mm f/2.5, a TS-90 f/2.8, a 200mm f/2.8, a tele converter, polarizers and filters and a lot more, like tripods and flashes.) and stored it in two watertight Pelican cases. Picked up 20 packs of Fuji Provia 100 slides, and another 20 packs of Fuji Reala film. Then I spent almost three hours importing coordinates, routes and waypoints into my GPS.
I am planning to get myself at the Duty Free Shop at the Brazilian-Argentinean border a small digital camera, like a Sony Cybershot or so, just to be able to make pictures for the weblog. Tuesday morning the adventure begins, and I hope you all think of us, and maybe say a little prayer sometime.
I thank you all for your kind words I received in my email, and send all my best regards to all of you. As Chris Mc Candless in John Krakauer´s book “Into The Wild” stated:
“I now walk into the wild”
Dear friends,
After a stressful week fighting Brazilian bureaucracy, we are all set now. A final check-up on the car was concluded. I will travel with spare parts, extra oil, fuses and things, all kindly explained by the wonderful people at Land Brazil (Jairo rocks!!!), and today I am packing my luggage. I checked all my photography equipment, (two Canon Eos-1V bodies, lenses are: 20-35, 24-70, 70-200 mm, all f/2.8, a 50mm f/2.5, a TS-90 f/2.8, a 200mm f/2.8, a tele converter, polarizers and filters and a lot more, like tripods and flashes.) and stored it in two watertight Pelican cases. Picked up 20 packs of Fuji Provia 100 slides, and another 20 packs of Fuji Reala film. Then I spent almost three hours importing coordinates, routes and waypoints into my GPS.
I am planning to get myself at the Duty Free Shop at the Brazilian-Argentinean border a small digital camera, like a Sony Cybershot or so, just to be able to make pictures for the weblog. Tuesday morning the adventure begins, and I hope you all think of us, and maybe say a little prayer sometime.
I thank you all for your kind words I received in my email, and send all my best regards to all of you. As Chris Mc Candless in John Krakauer´s book “Into The Wild” stated:
“I now walk into the wild”
