Magic Cordillera!

We had taken off from  Buenos Aires. Now, an hour later, I gaze at the white band some 30,000 feet below, spellbound and in sheer awe. Deserted mountain giants, snow-covered peaks of overwhelming beauty stretch across the land. On the horizon, distant summits meet with a sky so hazily light as if snow itself. And my thoughts go further. Follow these mountains north, to equatorial highlands sweltering in humid heat. Follow the mountains south to Patagonia, where the continent tails off, windswept, weather-beaten. Magic Cordillera! You span no less than a whole world. Landmark, backbone, denominator! Heights of untamed beauty.

Slowly, the mountains level off. The plane begins to sink, turns sharply, darts through a portal of steep elevations and harshly touches ground on the runway. We have landed in Santiago de Chile. During the ensuing months, we went with these mountains north and we followed them south. Precious moments remain in memory, and this is undoubtedly the most valuable souvenir any traveler can take home from his journeys.

Puente del Inca: It is May, and a fierce, cold wind is blowing through the valley. We have spent the day hiking at the base of Mount Aconcagua, the highest peak of the Americas. Its broad shoulder towered in the distance as we crossed the barren terrain. On our return to Puente del Inca, a collection of huts up by the border between Chile and Argentina, we strip down in the cold and plunge into the hot springs of the old Balneario. Later that night, we gather in the kitchen of the village refugio. Mate tea and travel stories are shared. Then, without really knowing why, I get up, grab my coat and step out onto the porch. Crisp air, cold and dry on my face. Silence. The sky covered with a thousand points of light. There is the Southern Cross. And the lit window of our refugio is the only light on earth. A little lost out here, but shining warm.

Highway N° 5: Al Sur! We drive south on the Transamerica Highway, Chile's most important road, stretching once through the country. Geography gives a windfall to road builders, because two road signs suffice for direction: "Al Sur" and "Al Norte". In the west there is only ocean and in the east only mountains. Talk of Chile's most important road: What do you want to buy? Vendors by the side of this road offer anything from flowers to live chicken. Seldom more than one lane wide, unlit ox carts make driving on this road at night particularly dangerous. We pay tribute to this fact and stop each evening in whichever town we happen to find. These are towns of no particular beauty, but as travelers out of curiosity, do we look for beauty before anything else?

Patagonia: When you fly from Santiago to Punta Arenas, Chile's southernmost city, take a seat on the left side of the plane, they say. Or even better, ask the pilots to explain you the sight from the cockpit! After flying over the Andes from Buenos Aires to Santiago, this trip takes us along the Cordillera for some thousand miles. One of the pilots takes out a map to show the route: I look at a map without settlements, without roads, without signs of human presence. Such is the land in southern Chile.

Patagonia greets us with the usual dull weather. We rent a pickup truck and start driving. On seemingly endless dirt roads we encounter Ñandus, a type of ostrich, and Guanacos. And Penguins by the coast. How large must this continent be if already its tiny southern tip offers such vast expanse of open land!

Pucon: These ever-present stray village dogs in South America! This one, after meeting us on our way there, had waited for a full two hours in front of the restaurant, and now he is accompanying us home through the dark and empty streets. In summer, Pucon bustles with vacationing Chileans and Argentineans. Now it is April, and the emptiness of this place is not the only auspice of winter: Clouds hang low, covering the surrounding volcanoes, one of which we intended to ascend. We go whitewater rafting instead.

San Pedro de Atacama: We had gotten up at three in the morning and spent another three hours in a rattling van. Creeping higher and higher up into the mountains. Now, the sun is slowly raising behind the mountain rim. It steames all around us: We are at the world's highest geyser field, El Tatio in the Atacama Desert. We boil breakfast eggs in a hot spring before taking a swim in another, somewhat cooler spring pool. But exhaustion sets in soon because, after all, we are at over 12,000 feet above sea level.
The Atacama Desert hosts some of the driest spots on this planet, and its landscape is marked by a panorama of volcanoes: Perfectly shaped cones stand out against the horizon, often snow-capped. Ever tried dune running? - Take a steep dune and run down as fast as you can. It's almost like flying!

Valle Urubamba: The holy valley of the Inca. Still today, this Peruvian valley is surrounded by a magic air. By horseback, we ride through fields where Indians farm the land with ox ploughs and women do the laundry in open wells. The scenery is so peaceful that I feel like an intruder to a sacred realm. We had started our ride in the midday heat; now dusk will not be far. So many new impressions today: One world, yet so many ways of life!

Santiago de Chile: Again Santiago, where it all had started. This town lives with the constant panorama of the mighty Cordillera. I imagine living here: How often during the day would my eyes wander to the horizon, measure the mountains, and be reminded of the greatness of nature, of the unimportance of man, of the triviality of our business!

After a good while, yet still too soon, it was time to move on. Goodbye Andes! My heart is crying to stay: Too good were the days out here, too much do I still long to discover. But this is only a farewell on time, nothing more. Until I return, I might step out into the darkness some night in some other remote part of this world. I might look at the stars and will think of the night at Puente del Inca.

Magic Cordillera! I'll be looking at the moon, but will be seeing you. This will be your call. And then I can be certain: Then it will be time to return!