The Big Splash and the Long Goodbye (Oct 17)

Today was our last full day of the trip and we spent it mostly doing one thing, which was getting very, very wet. We are still at Iguazú Falls and today was our visit to the Argentine side. This would have been a reprise of my own visit here 12 years ago but for one change that happened here in the past year, which is that the walkway that I trod at that time no longer exists, having been wiped out by a flood just last July. That’s a pity: the walkway was a dramatic catwalk that cantilevered way out over the gorge up to the face of the Devil’s Throat, the largest of the 270 cataracts. (We got pretty close to it yesterday from the Brazilian side, fortunately.) But last July’s rains were record-breakers, with water levels reaching unprecedented heights and doing damage to a number of the paths; indeed, we are still experiencing the aftermath of the rains in the form of exceptionally high water volumes over the falls, as I mentioned yesterday.

We arrived at the park in the morning, for the twin reasons of beating the crowds and beating the heat: the temperature hit 102°F today, and let me assure you that it is not a dry heat. It is in fact a sponge-soaking, sweltering, who-stole-all-the-oxygen, oh-my-god-why-am-I-here heat. So better the morning than the afternoon.

“Hand over the table scraps and no one gets hurt.”

There are a couple of ways in which the Argentine side of the park differs from the Brazilian side, one of which being the proliferation of raccoon-like coatimundis (universally called coatis, pronounced co-AH-tees). They’re everywhere, big family groups scampering in the woods, ambling across the walking paths, and wrestling each other on the ground and in the trees. They are about the size of raccoons, somewhat more lithe-looking, and with pointier snouts. (Here’s one at left.)

They’re cute, they’re great marketing material — you got your coati hats and tee shirts in the gift shop — and they’re brazen, hanging around the various snack bars to look for food targets of opportunity. And so of course the inevitable happens, which is that numbskull tourists try and hand-feed them and end up with an impressive collection of souvenir bite marks and lacerations. The park authorities, needless to say, try to discourage this, primarily by means of extremely graphic, medical grade warning signs depicting said bite marks and lacerations.

A suspicious butterfly, signaling his gang

Another attraction that distinguishes the Argentine park is butterflies, lots of them. We saw quite a few yesterday but many, many more today, probably ten varieties if not more. Like the coatis, they’re pretty brazen too, alighting everywhere and on everyone. I am not aware of any serious injuries resulting from butterfly attacks, however. (But I can see how it would happen. You’re crossing one of the metal catwalks across a high gorge with a roaring cataract below. Suddenly a cloud of butterflies comes fluttering out of nowhere, harassing you around the eyes! You swat at them but there are too many, and you’re not watching where you’re going so you bump into a lady in a wheelchair and stumble over the railing, plummeting a hundred feet, screaming and flailing, into the roiling whitecapped cascade below.)

Sorry, I got a little distracted there. What I was thinking of was something that did in fact happen today, which is that a woman in a wheelchair bumped into something whilst on a catwalk and her camera went flying over the edge and into liquid oblivion. No butterflies were involved. At least, none that we know of; they all have alibis. Anyway, here is one of the fearless butterflies, pictured at right.

Lost in all this talk about dangerous creatures are the falls themselves, which are about as spectacular on the Argentine side as in Brazil. So here they are, or more accurately a small part of them:

*Part* of the Argentine falls at Iguazú

Our goal today was a boat ride, in particular a boat ride straight into the bottom of the falls. This is about as insane and fun as it sounds. It’s rather hard to convey — you’ll have to wait till we post the video after we get home — but here’s what it looks like from above, as another boat enters the falls. The boat is that barely visible mist-cloaked triangular shape to the left of the rocks at the right side of the picture.

People paying to get very wet

The boats are open and hold maybe 25 people, all wearing life vests (of course), and all having stored their wallets, cameras, etc., etc., in sealed oilskin bags provided by the operators.

A prelude to getting lots more wet than this

But I am getting ahead of myself. The first thing that happens is that you have to get down to the river from the walkways way up at the tops of the falls. This involves, first, a long gentle traversing pathway that takes you about halfway down the cliffside, followed by a large number of stone steps down to river’s edge, followed by a rocky walkway along the river and about 30 feet above it. There are a number of spectacular viewpoints along the way, such as this one at right.

The problem with walking down all those steps, of course, is that (a) you are doing it in 102° heat, and (b) you are going to have to walk back up those steps later, when you are soaked to the skin. This is the price we pay for adventure tourism.

Once at the boarding point, we are issued life vests, the aforementioned dry bags, and we march aboard and sit down. As we cast off we receive a loud and insistent safety briefing entirely in Spanish, which we assume pretty much says, “Don’t do anything that a drunken 19 year old fraternity pledge would do.”

Blub blub, gurgle gurgle

The current is strong, the cataracts deafening, and the boat’s engine nearly a match for them. We charge up the river, make a few tight turns for the hell of it, then gun the motor and charge straight into the falls. WHHOOOSH!! Instant hurricane, pounding, blinding rain and swirling mist, the falls barely visible, looming directly atop us and thundering down onto us like a swimming pool dropped onto our heads from 100 feet up, which is pretty much what it is. Everybody screams and laughs as the irresistible current pushes us back out of the falls, the water pressure overwhelming the engine thrust. What a rush! I think even my internal organs got wet.

Julio had instructed everyone to chant “Uno mas!” (“One more time!”) over and over again as we came out of the falls to induce the boat driver to give us an encore. Which he did: we went under the falls four times and came out looking like drowned rats. (See my spousal drowned rat at left, partly obscured by drops on our thankfully waterproof camera lens.)

Exhilarated and soaked to the skin as we were, the task before us was to retrace our steps back up the cliffside. The water, of course, was wonderfully refreshing and its gradual evaporation as we hiked back up provided some cooling against the otherwise oppressive heat. By the time we reached the top, we were about 2/3 dry and ready to start sweating and stifling again. So we took a lunch break at the inevitable snack bar at the top (taking care not to feed the coatis lest mutilation ensue), rode the van back to the hotel, and variously showered, napped, and vegged out for the rst of the day.

Which brings us to the end of our adventure. Tomorrow morning we fly back to Buenos Aires, kill most of the day there, and fly home on a red eye via Miami tomorrow (Saturday) night. We’ve got a several-hour layover there, so we’ll walk through the door of our home near dinnertime on Sunday.

We have seen and some so much that it seems like forever ago that we landed in Santiago and struck out for the Atacama desert. Here are several stats for the South America part of the trip:

 Highest temperature  102° today and yesterday at Iguazú Falls
 Lowest temperature  20° at Tatio Geyser Field in the Atacama Desert
 Highest elevation  14,020′ at Tatio Geyser Field
 Lowest elevation  Sea level! (On the Via Australis Zodiacs, of course)
 Strongest wind  56 mph at Torres del Paine National Park
 Northernmost latitude   -25° 41′ at Iguazú Falls
 Southernmost latitude  -55° 59′ at Cape Horn
 Number of hotel rooms  11
 Plane flights  7 (plus 4 more to and from the US)

So we’ve spanned 30° of latitude, 14,020′ of elevation, and 82° of temperature. We saw calving glaciers and flamingoes living in desert salt flats; we walked on the southernmost point of land outside Antarctica; watched penguins; power-boated under a 200′ waterfall; rode a Zodiac through an ice-choked fjord; saw herds of guanáco and llamas roaming desert hillsides; drove across the Argentine pampas; and made an offering to some crazy semi-Catholic idol who isn’t even an official saint.

We took 2850 pictures. It was a great vacation.

 

 

  

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Categories: Patagonia | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “The Big Splash and the Long Goodbye (Oct 17)

  1. Richard Sikorski

    Your swarming killer butterflies is a truly horrific image, to use that horrific adjective which is horrifically overused of late, though reportedly (OED) in use since at least 1653, from the horrific French “horrere” meaning to bristle or stand on end (hair), which most likely is less noticeable while being cast over a waterfall by brazen butterflies, as was too horrific to report as the Deus Ex Machina that perhaps literally or literarily killed Prof Moriarty but evidently not so much Sherlock Holmes, in a sentence (horrifically?) longer than your flight home.

  2. Elaine Dodge

    So glad you made it safely thru the Falls and so sorry to hear that many of the walkways were destroyed by the floods. They were a highlight of our visit there last November.

    Looking forward to your return and seeing the album you’ll undoubtedly make. What an adventure!

    Call when you’ve recovered!

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