Helly Hansen

"Hey to everyone reading our posts from our roadtrip along the Andes and Patagonia. As promised on the previous update, here are some words about our looooong, but amazing trip to the hidden hut and hot springs of Cajun Grande, Argentina. To say the least, our trip over the border from Chile to Argentina some of the more surrealistic transfers I at least have ever experienced. As mentioned earlier, the driver taking us from Los Andes, across the border to Mendoza, was in a very bad mood after waiting two hours for us to come down from SkiArpa. During the transfer, we later found that the driver was only looking out for our group's best interest since the time-gap to pass the Chilean/Argentine border was getting narrower by the minute. But obvious cultural and communication barriers led to unfortunate misunderstandings resulting in the driver over-packing his van with heavy skibags shattering one of his windows. Arriving at a control post just before hitting the switchbacks on the way up to Portillo, a big "no passing" sign was set on the middle of the road - clearly stating that the road was closed. Damn! We're too late... What now? Our driver, now as calm as a bluebird-sky, stepped out of the van, lid a cigarette, and strolled over to the guards guarding the passage. We just sat still in the van swearing inside while the driver followed the guards inside their post. Not more than five minutes later he returns, still with a cigarette in his mouth. He steps into the van, and gives us the thumbs up - we're good to cross the border as the last car of the day - costing us only a bottle of scotch for the guards to take home. Just as a piece of advice - take account for that things do take a lot of time when crossing the border between Chile and Argentina. First you have to leave one country, get a stamp and your bags checked, and then the same procedure when entering the next country. And the crossings are just far enough away from each other that you have to pack and re-pack the car every time. Our first stop was in Mendoza - hometown of my good friend Sebastian "Yaya" Luna who I met last year in Las Lenas. Yaya's town is situated at the bottom of the east side of The Andes, approximately 3-4 from hours the Chilean/Argentine border. Mendoza is one of Argentina's cleanest, best well-kept and beautiful cities. The majority of votes went to Mendoza during a national poll in 2006 concluding its status. Here, we switched vans and drivers. Our complete journey would take us about 12-13 hours to complete. The first driver was tired and didn't want to go all the way to Malargue, so we had a new one ready as we arrived Mendoza. All of us fell a sleep, as the van was set and left Mendoza. None of us really remember much from that last stretch to Malargue. The only thing that is really good in mind, specially for me and Didrik, is that we at some point kept waking up with 30 minutes intervals with the feeling that the car was standing still and that our eyes met the same sign for several hours and not understanding anything. Suddenly, Mark wakes us all up mumbling something about the car's electricity generator had failed and that we had stopped because of the lack of driving lights. Another van had arrived, meaning we had to re-pack for the third time before we could get going again. This hick-up sat us back 4 hours, which signified we were going to be too late for our randez-vous with the guides leading the hike to Cajun Grande. Malargue is a drive-through town about 80km south Las Lenas and around 200km southwest from San Rafael Still, it's an up and coming town in constant development. New from last year was a cultural centre where they now had a pre-historic museum and cinema. Malargue also has a trout farm where you fish your own fish for lunch or dinner, but unfortunately we didn't get the time to experience that this year. After a quick pit stop at an apartment, where we got to shower, clean up and re pack (no need for 50kg per person when going on a long hike), we met Ricardo - the owner of Tierra Firma - a company that organizes trips to the volcanoes surrounding Malargue. His job that day was to take us as with his Defender as close as we could get Cajun Grande with four wheels. He got us to Las Loicas - 2 hours from Malargue. Las Loicas is a small village consisting only of dirt roads and a few buildings. They have a school, a health-care centre, a bar, a payphone, an enormous satellite dish and a grocery story with very flexible opening hours and an extremely limited selection of goods. It was here we were going to meet Serge - a Frenchman married with an Argentine girl called Erica who together run Cajun Grande. But where was he? The lady from the grocery store stated after a while that Serge had been there, but left again since we were so late and he needed to get back to Cajun Grande before dark. At this point, we got really uncertain about what to do. We couldn't stay in Las Loicas since there was no place to stay, and going beck to Malargue would just ruin the trip further. We were already 3 days late because of the storm that prevented us from crossing the border earlier. So it was either try and get to Cajun Grande by our selves or leave and do something else. We choose the first option and got Ricardo to drive us till the Defender wouldn't go anymore. Ricardo stopped about 20 minutes later where excess water resulting in a landslide had made a big and deep gap on the dirt road. From here we had to go by foot. Serge's pick-up was parked at the same spot. The engine was still warm - Serge had to be only 30 minutes ahead of us. With that in mind and that we were expecting to horseback ride with most of our equipment, we decided to leave most of our equipment and only bring what we would need for one night, leaving the rest in the pick-up expecting to return the next day to pick it up. That never happened. The road was pretty wide, muddy and with some occasional proof of previous rock slides. We were all pretty motivated and excited about arriving in Cajun Grande. Serge had earlier told Mark that the hike on skins would not be longer than one hour after we reached skinable snow. That was a little vague since we only saw snow from just below the peaks now surrounding us. After a couple of hours hiking Mark and Jordan found this old stone hut without a door, dirt floor and plastic-bag sealed roof. Apparently the hut was in use as a cattle refuge during high winds. We took a picture and kept walking thinking that the snow was a round the corner. As I remember, I think we had hiked for 3-4 hours when it started to get dark. But, still no snow in sight. We decided to leave our skis and boots on the dirt road, just in case some one would come and search for us, but also because we at this point decided to return to the animal refuge to spend the night, and didn't want to carry the skis back and forth. Back at the animal refuge, it was almost pitch black. We had all our sleeping bags with, but Didrik peeked into the shed next door and found some mattresses. Using his Leatherman he got the door opened and we used the mattresses on the dirt floor under the sleeping bags. We were short on food too. We only had a power bar each and we hadn't eaten since we left Malargue. The important thing was to keep up the good mood and get some sleep since we wanted to continue by sunrise. Our night was everything else than calm. It was cold and very windy. The roof just above where Jordan was sleeping got ripped letting sand and dust enter, and the cattle hair around got Even getting a light allergic reaction while the rest of us got swollen faces. Now it is a good and enriching memory for life. We got moving again pretty early. The weather was calm and the sun was shining. The animal refuge as left behind us we headed on towards the hot springs of Cajun Grande. We had managed to walk to the skinable snow the night before, but didn't proceed because it was darkening. At this point we were all excited again. The skis were finally under our feet and we had supposedly only one hour left to Cajun Grande. That would turn out to be a big understatement. We had been skinning for 4 hours and still no exotic cabin. But suddenly, in the horizon, we saw some people skiing towards us. They stopped and acted very relaxed. It turned out to be Mike Hamiliton from H2O, and our new friend Jose - an awesome argentine guide with base in Las Lenas. These guys were thinking about leaving Cajun Grande since we hadn't showed up. We assaulted their backpacks for food, fruit and water, and together walked skinned the last half hour to Cajun Grande. Our new guides, for the rest of the trip - Doug "Dooglas" Krause and Travis No-more-drinking-with-Norwegians Eliasen were already there. We made it! Erica had made some pasta ready for us, we got to relax, and everything was all good again. Cajun Grande was amazing. Situated only 6 km from the Chilean border at the end of a valley 2500 meters above sea level surrounded by an amazing view of skiable terrain. It is owned by Erica's father who built it about twenty years ago to primarily house people doing summer activities and to hang in the natural hot springs. Cajun Grande is today ran by Serge and Erica who have it opened during summer and only a couple to three weeks during winter. The site consisted of three or maybe four buildings. There was neither electricity nor isolation at Cajun Grande, and the water ran constantly in the kitchen so that the piping wouldn't freeze. The biggest one was the kitchen and the refuge itself where we ate, dried our clothes, played cards and drank Jack in the evenings. Right next to it was the building with the bedrooms. Serge had 6 bedrooms with space for between 4 and 6 people in each room. The toilets were situated about 150 meters away from the other buildings. Pretty funny system they had there, where you would have to do your stuff, go out, pick up a bucket of water from a well behind the toilets, get back in, and flush by throwing the water over your doings. During our first afternoon and evening here we got to skin and ski the ridge just above the refuge, hang out in the hot springs (one of them held nearly 40 degrees Celsius), eat Erica's food, meet Britain's coolest Ali-G impersonator - Peter, and drink wine from jugs before we went exhausted to bed. Next morning was started bright and early with breakfast and conversations about where to ski. Karine is in super good shape and wanted to climb 1500 vertical meters and reach the highest peak in the area - a bit over 4000 meters above sea level. She convinced Even to go with her. 6 or 7 hours later they got back, tired, but with wide smiles of satisfaction. I had stayed on the refuge-side of the valley, lapping the ridge. Jose was with me the first run to try and find some south faced sides with some good snow. But the winds had been rough two nights before leaving us with hard-packs and carton. Then Doug, Didrik, Jose and I made an avalanche scenario to practice our skills. We buried Jose, spread his equipment over an area, and then locating him with the beacons, confirming his location with the probe before digging him out. Morten built a hip-kicker and threw some nice airs and grabs. Back at the refuge, Erica was preparing an Asado - the South American equivalent to the good old barbecue. The meat is spiced with salt only, and grilled on a barbecue heated with wood and not coal. To that we had salad, bread, and of course, more jugs of wine. Life is gooooooood! Our time at Cajun Grande came to an end too soon. Everybody had to leave. It was an eventful trip to get there, and of course worth it. We only got those few days because of the storm preventing us to get there, the night in cattle hut, and that there was rumours about snowy conditions in Bariloche. It wouldn't snow around the Cajun and Malargue area for at least a week, and we were missing good skiing. In our next update, which unfortunately also will be the last, I will share with you our own private Asado in Malargue, the trip to Bariloche, and tree-skiing in the sickest forest ever. Stay tuned! Pics by us, Peter Wilson and Jordan Manley All the best, Pedro - Didrik - Karine"