El Ray national park

Hola!

This weekend Allison and I joined three Lithuanians and one Irishman on a guided tour to El Ray national park, which is a three hour (technically) drive from Salta to the south and then the east. It was quite a weekend and I don´t have much time to write, so below will be a brain purge.

El Ray is very remote, only accessable by driving over 38km off the paved highway on a dirt road with no less than 7 river crossings accessable only by 4wd vehicles. This made for a very interesting drive given our vehicle was a 2wd van similar to the type that airport shuttles use. Add to that the fact that the recent summer´s rainy season, which ended recently, had more rainfall than the past four seasons combined. The first 20 or so km were fine, if bumpy, as we passed many estancias and saw all sorts of chickens and cattle in the road. Beyond that the road got a bit dicier as we continually looked over sinkholes caused by the rain that almost took the road out, but not quite. As the van slipped and slided its way through the mud we trusted our drive would steer us right.

Our driver: Mariano. A man in his 50´s who doesn´t speak English. He has a healthy pot-belly, round lips, round chin, thin legs, very few teeth and is one of the best drivers I now know. He navigated the road well and got us out of one jam where the van got stuck in nasty mud requiring several tries to un-stick ourselves via rocking the van back and forth using low gears and reverse.

Our guide: Mario. A biologist in his 40´s who speaks excellent English and is extremely knowledgable about wild life. He can set up his tripod with scope and focus it on a bird that I can´t see with my naked eye, in seconds. His first bit of advice: ¨"When using the bushes, please be careful as there are two kinds of poisonous snakes out here, rattlesnakes and a variation of the arrowhead snake that is silent and very aggressive."

When we finally arrive at the campground we are the only visitors in this huge park. Mario says we are lucky to see it due to its inaccessability and because few tours go here (apparently there are only two groups licensed to take trips into this park, ours, which hasn´t even accessed the park since February on a scientific trip, and one other guy). The park was founded when a farmer who lived near our campground delivered a log from his farm to Peron in the 50´s. Peron was so impressed by the size of the log that he immediately declared the region around said farm a nat´l park.

After setting up camp our motley crew headed out on a nature hike in hot, humid sun. Along the way Mario´s excitement was palpable - he clearly loves the wild, and while point out to us many animal tracks (including, deer, raccoon - and Allison found a puma print), birds, and animals (a large weasel & it´s treed baby was very cool), he clearly wants to see the elusive tapir. He is very excited when the path´s mud contains many tapir tracks.

Along the way, one of our Lithuanian friends begins to lag behind. Near the end of our 3-4 hour trek he looks weak and is complaining of fever due to what he believes is an infection he acquired in Bolivia a few days earlier. One down.

After returning to camp from the trek we find a nice fire set up by Mariano. Water is put on for tea and coffee. Mario makes us some very good Mate and passes it around in their ritualistic tea drinking way. Ian, the Irishman, takes the first sip, then Allison, then myself. About five minutes later Ian stands up off the picinic table, walks a mere three or four steps, and vomits. Later, during dinner, he does this again. And again, projectile style. Two down.

Mario says to us, "I´m afraid. This has never happened to me before". He´s speaking as a tour guide of course.

For dinner we have meat Argentine style. A giant slab of steak, ribs, chicken, pork sausage, and blood sausage complete our grill, and it is delicious. However, with two sick men retreated into their tents, much of it goes uneaten.

After dinner our driver takes us in the van to a lagoon in the dark where we silently stalk the elusive tapir. Mario has his spotlight at the ready and a headlamp that emits a red light that he can use to see mammal´s eyes, but that mammal´s cannot see. While we don´t find a tapir, the night sounds in El Ray are spectacular. The frogs emit sounds in many tones and sound like a guitar pick plucking the short tight strings on near the tuning pegs of a guitar (Allison thought it sounded like a xylophone and Mario described it as "tapping on bottles").

Sunday morning. Our Irish and Lithuanian friends emerge from their tents, both feeling much better, but neither 100%. After breakfast we head out for a four hour trek to a lovely waterfall with Mario pointing out deer and other wildlife along the way. We also passed several horses that belong to the ranger. Interestingly, Mario brings no water, a candy bar for himself only, and a knife that sticks out from his belt near his back. Allison and I thought the lack of supplies was a little odd given the heat and the compromised health of two of our party. He seemed unsure of how to deal with them, so didn´t deal at all.

At 3pm we load up the van and head home. All is well until we reach the extremely muddy portion of the road where we got briefly stuck the day before. The muddy portion is just after a bend, and beyond the bend should you go straight is a severe dropoff from a sink hole. As we approach the muddy portion Mariano slows down, observes the terrain, and guns it. The van lunges forward, rocks to and fro, and stops, wheels spinning. He´s able to back up, and tries it again. This time, as the van gets stuck it starts to angle away from the road and toward the drop off. All the while the wheels are spinning. Allison and I fear that the van will suddenly catch, pop forward, and, well, hope Mariano is quick with the breaks.

This happens a few times until Mariano, in frustration, spins the wheels long enough to overheat the van. We hop out to see our van with steam coming out of the radiator and hot water puddling underneath. The hood is popped and while Mariano tends to the van, Mario gets a shovel and makes a plan of attack. Apparently the van was bottoming out on the ridge between the two wheel ruts in the mud, so we decide to take that down. After Mario appears tired I take over the digging and complete the job. The middle ridge is now lower and all the removed dirt is in the ruts.

Mariano sees his opportunity, and now that the van has cooled off he jumps into the driver´s seat and starts the van. We scatter out of it´s way and don´t have time to tell Mariano that the van´s back door is still open, leaving our luggage vulnerable to spilling out. He sits for a few seconds after turning the key, and then goes. The van leaps into the muddy ruts, water sprays left and right, the van slows down, then lunges forward again. It´s in the ruts so doesn´t veer toward the sink hole, but the van continually nudges left, then right, but always and slowly forward, wheels spinning, mud flying. At one point the back left of the van drops and the rear tail light dislogdes so it hangs by a thread. About 10 seconds later, he´s on the other side. We all cheer, happy we don´t need to wait for a rescue vehicle.

From there it is a long, 3hr ride home. Everyone is quiet, and Mariano, clearly ready to be home, drives like an Argentine at high speeds. We arrived at our Salta hotel last night bug bitten, stinky, worn, and ready for a large dinner at a fantastic restaurant next door.

It is now 8am, Monday, and in an hour and a half we pick up our rental car and head south to wine country in Cafayate. After a night there, we head to Cachi for two nights, and on Thursday we fly to Buenos Aires for the last leg of our trip.

I have no idea what internet access will be like after today, but if I find a computer I´ll post updates.

Thanks for reading. Ciao ciao,

Mark