Primero Rio

A white tourist van picks me up at the hostel. We stop at hostel and hotel until the seats are full, and we go a few dozen kilometers up a canyon below the cordillera which is crowned by Aconcagua, the highest peak in the western hemisphere. We don wet suits and river boots and pick out helmets. We take a bus ride to the launch and push off into the river. I have fun on the rapids and the waves that are full of fresh glacial melt are more than invigorating. One of the three young Englishmen flips out of the boat and disappears for what seems like minutes. He finally emerges and the guide pulls at his lapels and gets him back into the boat. He got stuck underneath the boat for a time. The guide directs him to sit in the middle of the boat while he regains his wits and catches his breath.


The rest of the way goes off without a hitch. We pass some particularly turbulent rapids. Our guide tells us that these will be much bigger in a month or two once the summer melting intensifies. The diminished rapids of late spring are fun regardless. We purposely shoot them backwards and surf a wave by turning the boat sideways on the crest of the wave and the raft is churned as if going through a wash cycle. The icy water splashes into the boat with each churn and I’m chilled to the bone.



For a finale, we shoot rapids that border on class IV and then row into port and start the drying process. The Englishman makes good on our pact: anyone falling from the boat buys everyone a beer. He pours out glasses of weak Quilmes lager. I take a nap by the pool at the rafting headquarter, still hopelessly behind on my sleep.


Back in Mendoza, I try my second super pancho, a long but bland hot dog, and spread on some sweet mustard, and pass on the optional ketchup and mayonnaise that are commonly added. I vow that this one will be my last. I acquire a bodega map for tomorrow, when I plan to independently tour the wineries by bike. I eat at one of the many parillas lined up along the street in front of my hostel, and the waiter chuckles when I refuse wine.