Volcanos and condors

September 5, 2008

Tap, whoosh, tap, whoosh and the creaking of springs and boots, and the crunching of snow, and the whistle of the wind was all that could be heard. I had joined Laura, Luis, and Pablo on a ski trek up Volcan Lanin on a picture perfect day of cloudless blue skies and brilliant blazing sun.
Volcan Lanin is an extinct volcano that lies in the beautiful Parque Nacional Lanin not far outside the town of San Martin de Los Andes from where we had set off. Luis is the friendly guide, Laura is his exhuberant girlfriend and Pablo is a friend of both of them. We were not planning on conquering all of Lanin{s 3776 meters, but crossing the forest at the base and scaling the snowy flanks to about midway.
This was my first time on touring skis which I figured would be a snap. It seemed to be a simple combination of both cross country skiing and down hill skiing, both of which I can perform adequatly. With the touring ski we used a slimmed down version of the ski boot clipped into a moveable bracket that attached to the top of a down hill type ski. [Skins[ were stuck on to the base of the skiis with a type of glue that kept them in place but allowed the skins to be removed once you were ready to ski down. The furry grip of the skins allowed one the traction needed to [walk[ their ski{s straight up the mountain with out sliding back. Well, with only sliding back a few times. What I hadn{t counted on was the weight of this combination. Though the skiis slid well enough and the skins gripped tight to the snow, dragging two skis and boots up the side of a mountain is a bit more work than I imagined. Luckily Laura was a newbie as well and Pablo was similar, so the three of us hung together while Luis charged ahead with the food.
In the forest at the base of the volcano our tapping heels were accompanied by another rat'a'tat'tat from the tree branches above. On closer inspection we found a pair of wood peckers busy at work. The flourescent red of the male{s head flashed against the dark bark of the tree and blazed against the blue of the sky. The female was an ebony black and flitted from tree to tree tapping in unison with her mate.
After the forest we reached a wide expanse of white snow stretching around the base of the volcano and into Chile. In summer this area was devoid of snow and consisted of only black volcanic ash and rock. We had a clear path across the glistening snow before crossing an avalanche path and then climbing the flanks of the volcano.
once our grade increased we raised our heel binding to allow the boots to maintain a level stance while climbing. Then the work began and the noise of creaky skiis and crunchy snow was the only sound as we put our efforts into pushing the skiis up the volcano.
At 1987 meters we were rewarded with one of those amazing views that you can only find among mountains. We were higher than most of the ranges that surrounded us, had a view of Lake Tromen below, and could even see Volcan Villarrica in Chile which had erupted and spewed lava only one month previously.
While we pulled off the skins and clipped our boots down into the bindings to lock the heels, Luis spotted a pair of condors on the horizon. The condors had been eluding me for the past eight months, all through out Ecuador, Peru, Chile, and now Argentina I had sought these enormous birds. In Ecuador there are only about 30 breeding pairs and they are exceedingly rare and difficult to find. Though they once filled the sky as buffalo had once thundered across America, their population dwindled from the onslaught of man. Here in Argentina they were more common, but the sight of my longed for subject made the day complete. With wing spans of up to ten feet they are a fantastic bird and a beauty to behold in their graceful flight. Coming over the ridges to catch the wind currents you could actually hear them before you saw the giant bird. The wind caught the expanse of their feathers and whipped the plumage as if it were the cloth of a sail causing a snapping sound as they rode the currents and sailed over head.
After a few face plants in the tricky wind whipped snow, we scuttled back down our mountain, roared across the level snow plain, dodged the trees in the forest and were once again back at the base.
Volcan Lanin looked the same as we had encountered her, you could not see the tracks we had left behind. She stood in her white snowy robe with the sun fading and casting royal shadows across her white gown. We left and she remained.