The Andes are South America’s spine, a spiked belt of mountains running from the Panamanian isthmus to Tierra del Fuego, and resurfacing again on Antarctica. They
split the continent in two, with a ribbon of coastal nations to the west – Ecuador, Peru and Chile – and the monolithic states of Brazil and Argentina to the east. I’d skipped my way down the range, from the dry altiplano north of Salta, through the picturesque lake district at Bariloche and the spectacular glaciated peaks at El Calafate to the outpost islands at the continent’s southern tip in Ushuaia.
But it is along the valleys between Mendoza, Argentina and Santiago de Chile that they most impressed me. 
Cutting a 200+ km cross-section of the Andes, the road threads its way up a wide, glaciated valley between raw, red peaks that scrape the cirrus and blue sky. A braided river cuts a deep trench through the glacier detritus and skirts immense talus slopes. An abandoned rail line – a victim to geo-political animosity – appears in shattered fragments by the river’s edge. Occasional plans to resurrect it are short-lived election promises.
Climbing further, late autumn snows dust the peaks near the high altitude ski area called Los Penitentes – a colourful cluster of buildings set against a wide-open, rocky mountain side hungrily awaiting the deep drifts of winter. The skiers amongst us snap photos and dream of sweeping slalom turns on pristine Andean snows. 
The curious natural formation called the Inca Bridge, and an abandoned spa coated in a mucous of mineral salts, is an obligatory tourist stop, but the mountain backdrop is the main attraction.
At this point, on the border with Chile, the Andes climb to their loftiest peak – the spectacular, snow-clad Aconcagua, highest point outside of the Himalayas. 
Intrepid mountaineers can summit in 15 days, conquering another peak on a checklist that includes Everest, Kilimanjaro, Mont Blanc and McKinley. Less intrepid, we opt for the one-hour trail through a mountain meadow on the great mountain’s flank to capture cloud-draped images.
Trucks, busses and kamikaze Chilean drivers whizz by on their way to Pacific destinations, but we turn around and skim back down the Argentine side to Mendoza, soaking in the play of rosy sunset and dark cloud shadows on the rugged rock faces around us.
If this is just a single cross-section, a microscope-slide slice of the Andes, our imaginations struggle to grasp the scope of this continent cleaving range.
- 30 -
- 30 -
