A-C-B: Tafi de Valle

On October 19th Joan and I grabbed a couple of pastries at 7:00, when the hotel buffet opened, and then joined guide Laura and driver Gustavo for the trip to the downtown Buenos Aires airport and a busy travel day.

Despite our early arrival the automatic check-in kiosk showed only a few unassigned seats on our flight to Tucumán, in northwestern Argentina, and no two adjacent. However, on the plane, Joan's row had plenty of empty seats! The Aerolineas Argentina software wasn't synchronized with reality.

We knew before check-in that our luggage would be overweight, and we were prepared for the modest fee; within Argentina, the limit is 15 kg / 33 lbs. per person. When the check-in agent discovered this a multi-step process began. He tore up the boarding passes that had printed out and directed us to a window across the hall to pay the fee. No, it could not be done at check-in. Joan, Laura, and I waited in line to pay the fee and have new boarding passes printed. Many were paying in cash -- perhaps Aerolineas didn't want the check-in agents handling cash? Or they wanted to create more jobs?

Theoretically we boarded in two groups -- rows 1-15 and 16-29. But that merely affected the order in which we boarded buses to drive out to the plane, so inevitably some mixing occurred.

On the plane I was in a middle seat, and a young man was sitting in the window seat. The cabin attendants offered drinks and snacks, including alfajores, which come in many varieties; mine reminded me of the moon pies of my youth in Tennessee. When the young fellow heard me speaking English he introduced himself, Pablo. He was returning to his job as a radio host after spending a month working as a volunteer at the Summer Youth Olympics in Buenos Aires. I introduced him to Joan at the baggage claim.

In the arrivals hall we met Carlos, our guide for the rest of our trip. Outside there was a light spring rain. We immediately began to drive towards Tafí del Valle, today's destination, and Carlos described his trip to meet us. He had been rear-ended in a minor collision, which left his back bumper somewhat misaligned with the rest of the car, and for several days, until he found some suitable wire, it would require periodic inspection to make sure it wasn't falling off. The loose look of the bumper made the police suspicious, and they stopped him to make certain he wasn't stuffing drugs under it. Joan and I were glad he had been able to make it to the airport!

Tucumán is at 470 meters / 1542 ft., and at 26.8° south latitude, has a warm and wet climate; annual rainfall is about 1000 mm. On the other hand, Tafí del Valle is at 2,014 meters / 6,608 ft., annual precipitation only 410 mm, and is a favorite cooling-off spot for the citizens of the plains. The drive was a long and twisty one (click on the image to enlarge).

The climate is visibly drier at the top.

This region is part of the Yungas, a transition zone between the Andean highlands and the eastern forests -- a subtropical highland climate. In Argentina the name is pronounced Zhoon-gus.

Trade winds dump moisture on the rising slopes, and today there was rain of varying intensity.

A viewpoint over the draining river.

Looking upstream.

The three of us ate lunch by the riverside further up the road, while the weather cooperated. There was also time for some casual bird watching; above, a cactus was blooming.

Carlos drove us up and on to Tafí del Valle, where we checked into the Hosteria Lunahuana. The skies were overcast, but the precipitation hadn't made it this high. The three of us went for a walk.

Our route passed through a district with lots of small shops on either side of a noisy road hosting a variety of vehicles -- bicycles, motorbikes, autos, and small trucks. We left the crowded zone at a bridge over the confluence of two streams, and I took this picture looking back.

While crossing the bridge we were adopted by several roaming dogs, who would run ahead and check out interesting aromas and contest right-of-way with the resident canines.

We traveled as far as the Jesuit Chapel Museum and took the tour, with Carlos interpreting the Spanish-speaking guide for us. This history took us through indigenous, pre-conquest times up to the revolution for Argentine independence from Spain.

On our way back we stopped at a cheese/fruit/meat shop. We tasted the owner's unaged grape wine, and a soft cheese that came in flat strips, about the size of an extra-large ribbon of lasagna. Joan and I bought two strips of the cheese.

Our room at the hosteria had a small upper level, reachable by a stairway so steep that the steps had alternating left-right cutouts. (I never went up there, although Joan did.)

The dining room opened for dinner at 8:30, reminding us that we were in the Latin culture now. We had a good meal, including a half-bottle of local wine, and returned to our room eager for more exploration of the area tomorrow.

A-C-B: On to Buenos Aires

Joan had been perusing tours that included the Atacama Desert of South America for a few years, but they either didn't go to places we wanted to go, or included places we didn't want to go, or both. Then, at the 2016 American Birding Expo in Columbus, Ohio, she made contact with Luis of Trogon Tours, an Argentine company. After working through vanishing emails, schedule issues, and such, we arrived at a custom tour arranged by Trogon that would include time in Argentina, Chile, and Bolivia, much of the time in the desert regions. This tour would include some birding, but also geology, pre-Columbian cultures, and other topics. The trip dates were set, and after working through immunizations and visa issues (Bolivia and the United States aren't the best of friends at the moment) Joan and I were ready to go.

On October 17th 2018 we boarded a Delta flight to Atlanta, our first connection. The flight attendant making announcements had a full quiver of humorous patter:

"If you can't get your carry-on into one of the overhead bins, I'll tape it to the wing myself."

"We have a tradition here that the last person to get off the plane has to clean it."

 From Atlanta it was a ten hour flight to the Ezeiza International Airport outside Buenos Aires, and we were numb on arrival. Passport control and customs went smoothly, including having a photo and thumbprint taken. Laura, from Trogon, met us at Arrivals, and Gustavo was our driver.

At first the ride into Buenos Aires went quickly, but the traffic grew more and more congested. We were barely crawling as we reached downtown. Laura mentioned that this was the final day of the Youth Summer Olympics, which made it worse than usual. 

At the Lafayette Hotel we had time to drop our bags in our room, splash some water on our face, so to speak, and then rejoin Laura and Gustavo. Laura lunched with us, and then Gustavo dropped off the three of us at the Natural Park and Ecological Reserve Costanera. Argentina is only one or two hours ahead of Eastern time (it does not observe Daylight Savings Time), so we weren't suffering from jet lag, but it had been a long day and an uncomfortable night. This was a wonderful opportunity for sunshine, fresh air, walking, and observing. Being outdoors appealed.

The large park is wedged between the skyscrapers of Buenos Aires and the estuary of the Río de la Plata.

Gustavo dropped us off at the southwest corner entrance, and immediately we were seeing wildlife, such as this male campo flicker, a largely terrestrial bird.

Here's an adult plus youngster coipú, known in North America as nutria. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

The nutria co-exist happily with the birds.

Through the foliage we spotted (part of) a Rufescent Tiger-Heron sitting on its nest.

The view was best through binoculars.

Our path in the reserve was wide and green,

even though we were adjacent to the city. Note the apartment windows behind this bird!

Caught this one in flight.

Just took off from the stick.

A vegetation-scooping boat plied the water between the reserve and the city.

There are about three dozen species of hummingbirds in Argentina ... this is a Glittering-bellied Emerald.

There were occasional viewing decks allowing spotters to check out the reserve grasslands.

Laura was thrilled when we spotted a Vermilion Flycatcher, and she wanted us to document it even though was far away.

An Ash-Colored Cuckoo, at the edge of its range. (Click on the image to enlarge, and perhaps you can see the red rim around the eyes.)

We turned onto the path that led across the reserve to the Río de la Plata.

There were picnic spots along the way, and a Crested Caracara.

Then we arrived at the shore, where paths cross and games are played.

That's a river, and over the horizon is Uruguay.

We returned the way we'd come, and the city towered ahead of us.

We passed several mud nests of the Rufous Hornero, the national bird of Argentina.

Returning to the original trail, we headed north, and stopped at a viewing deck over the edge of the wetlands.

Striding through the water's edge ... a Wattled Jacana.

A male Rosy-billed Pochard earnestly followed a female through the vegetation.

Laura recorded sixty-two species of birds during this expedition! After the hike it was time to return to the Lafayette, have a light dinner, and crash into sleep. Tomorrow an Aerolíneas Argentinas flight would take us to Tucumán, in northwestern Argentina, to meet our guide for the trip, Carlos.

On the 16th Day of Hiking (Jumping Pound Summit)

On September 21st Joan and I ventured into new territory. We had visited Sibbald Creek and the Deer Trail six years ago, but today we drove past them and plunged south on the unpaved Powerface Trail, heading for the Jumpingpound Summit trailhead.

After we turned onto Powderface Trail there was a sign advising "Powderface Trail not suitable for travel, travel at your own risk." It's a long, narrow road that must be shared with logging trucks. Fortunately we encountered only one truck; I steered close to the edge of the road, and everything went OK. Later the Trail widened and even left us a place to park across from the start of the hike.

When we pulled in there was a trio also getting ready, two sisters and a husband. The ringleader, from Calgary, had a daughter who attended the Cincinnati Academy of Music, and the couple lives in Ontario, just across Lake Erie from Ohio, our home state. They set off ahead of us and stayed ahead.

The beginning of the route was flat, but soon turned into switchbacks. Jumpingpound Summit is considered a half-day hike with a distance of 3.4 km / 2.1 miles to the summit with a gain of 417 meters / 1370 feet. Weather permitting, Joan and I hoped to lope along some of Jumpingpound Ridge as well.

At one point there was a side trail leading to a bench and a view. We were again climbing into a region of wet, drippy snow.

We continued up to the ridgeline and turned left towards the summit. After a while we broke out of the trees.

Joan and I started up the summit spur, and soon the trio was converging with us. They had gone a short way past the summit on the ridge trail before deciding to turn around. We fell in with them and it was a short climb to the top.

You're seeing the last few feet of the summit.

The patchy network of bright and dark around us played hob with my camera; nonetheless, clear-cut logging areas can be seen in the right of this photo, just below the clouds. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

From the summit we could see the ridge crest stretching away, beckoning to us,

but the leader of the trio was adamant that her group would go back down. She was concerned that the clouds blowing in would create a whiteout, and although skeptical Joan and I joined them in the descent.

Going back down carefully.

Back on the ridge trail the leader showed us what she thought were grizzly tracks. The snow had melted too much for a definitive ID, but the trio had seen the impressions earlier and in undisturbed snow.

Joan and I stopped for a quick chocolate-bar break as the three went on. Then we started down, down in the drips and slush. Again we had been transported to the Holodeck and the trek had altered itself to make the return much longer than the outbound slog.

We had lunch the parking area and continued to chat with our fellow hikers. Then Joan and I drove south on Powderface, including a couple of muddy hills on which I held my breath, hoping the car wouldn't lose traction. We reached the Elbow River and paved Route 66, and by this time we were in the midst of fog. There were road signs warning "stock at large next 44 km," and we did see plenty of cattle, through mists that waxed and waned.

Our vehicular expedition turned onto 758 and into the town of Bragg Creek, and finally up 22 to the Trans-Canada Highway, where we turned west. On reaching 40 we turned south and stopped at the Barrier Lake Information Centre to donate our now surplus bear spray, and report the drone flight at Lillian Lake yesterday.

The warden at Barrier Lake couldn't take the report herself, but had to call Kananaskis Emergency Services and then hand me the phone to make my report. We learned that not only was a permit required, but permit holders must post notices around their flight perimeter to preserve the privacy of others. We sure hadn't seen any notices!

By the time we returned to the lodge some sunshine had begun to poke through the clouds, and we were able to pull our dinner reservations 45 minutes earlier. Rain and wind began while had our evening meal.

The next morning, our final day in Canada, revealed a couple of inches that had fallen overnight. It had been that kind of September, snowing overnight and melting grudgingly during the day.

The view from our lodge balcony.

Joan and I had time to indulge in a restaurant breakfast before completing our packing. There was a low cloud ceiling, but we hadn't planned on hiking today anyway. We drove into Canmore and our first stop was Le Chocolatier, where we stocked up on chocolate bars and other treats for ourselves, neighbors, and former neighbors. Then on to pick up two tubes of Voltaren, a pain relief cream not available in the U.S., based on two recommendations during this trip. Joan reports that it didn't do much.

We parked in the center of Canmore for browsing, picking up a new GemTrek map (the best!) and a track and scat ID book, and visiting several art galleries. In the midst of this it began to snow and sleet, and after one or two more stops we decided it was time to move on. Snow had already accumulated on the car.

Joan and I thought to visit the Chiniki cultural center on our way back to Calgary, but it was either well hidden, or closed for the season. We scouted out the associated convenience store/gas station at that exit but there wasn't much to see.

We had dinner at the airport hotel with our Calgary friend Barry, and afterwards rearranged our luggage to protect the chocolates in our carry-ons and to put banned items, such as Swiss Army knives, in the checked luggage.

The next morning I took a couple of interesting photos before our plane left. Here's a hazy look at the Calgary skyline:

We spotted this aircraft, painted in the original Trans-Canada Air Lines colors to celebrate 60 years of service, 1937-1997. Trans-Canada eventually became Air Canada.

I'm surprised they didn't repaint the tail for the 75th in 2012.

The weather in the Canadian Rockies was a challenge this September of 2018, but we're still very glad we came.