Rodeo Campo de Ahumada (half)
The bus has just left the terminus of El Cobre, the last hamlet served by the rural line from Los Andes. From here, he does are more than rely on our good fortune - or our feet to reach Campo de Ahumada. As the driver advised us we crossed the little bridge over the river to wait for a vehicle that we care and we do browse the last 20 km ... And an hour ago that we're already there. So far, only a man passed that way. A man already old, white hair, slightly hunched and panting under the weight of two heavy suitcases. I recognized him. He was among the passengers on the bus from Los Andes and was down two or three stops before us.
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The man stopped a moment at our height, to chat a bit and probably also to catch his breath. For many years he scoured the region to sell from door to door, fabric, a bit of haberdashery and household linens. Her clientele was mainly composed of farmers. At Campo de Ahumada, however, there 's going again. He said there were too few people there and that now the age, he had no strength to climb up there on foot.
The merchant left us these words and wished us "lucky".
Rather than wait for more of a hypothetical vehicle, we finally decided to start despite the oppressive heat.
At the end of each curve, we hoped that the relief would flatten out, if only a few hundred meters back story some strengths, but each time the road straightened more. Despite our walking shoes, our ankles were twisted more often on rocky ground and scree.
Then a little girl, emerged from nowhere, appeared hopping merrily to meet us. As we asked if the road was still long, she replied that she did not know exactly, but then disappeared, as if to apologize for not being able to answer us, she handed us that one of two oranges held in his hands. Probably a gesture of good omen, since this is when, like a mirage, that far-below-a volute dust rose into the sky. Disappearing and reappearing constantly around every shoelace, the cloud grew larger and finally, the rumor of an engine became audible. The mechanics had to suffer. The vehicle must also be old or very responsible. When the little red truck passed close to us, it turned out he was not only very old but also very busy .... This did not prevent the driver and his wife to slow down and we cry if we wanted to climb back, he had to act quickly because the engine had a tendency to if "suppress" and no longer to restart. Just stuck between two bags of cement and other building materials, we restarted without delay.
After an hour's drive abominable, as painful for the axles of the vehicle to the kidneys of passengers, the van finally coming to a stop. The shed before which we were arrested was owned by "our" driver. It was a rather crude and rustic building that was acquired along with the vast land on which it was erected. This old barn they would soon act as a secondary residence. The surrounding land would be for their shortly planted with almond and olive trees. At least that was the dearest wishes of the bus driver for whom Santiago pollution and stress of city life became intolerable. He also intends, upon the retirement time came, to devote part of his estate to the establishment of a campsite. Our presence here was perhaps a good omen for a successful future business. In any case, we would be today the very first campers to enjoy this wild and bucolic landscape tenderly.
-course, a serious improvement of the road accessing the site would be an additional guarantee success, but in this area, nothing is yet planned for several years lamented the future boss of camping!
Throughout the conversation, our guests had yet to inform us that the Rodeo Campo de Ahumada this hard-to-mountain hike really was not extraordinary.
"You know, this is really" wild "there. There are even some who never descended to the city all their lives. By
-cons, if you really want to see beautiful rodeos, that he should go ... Rancagua
This phrase we'd already heard the watch in Villegas would remain intact, however, not our spirits. We would go at any cost, and on foot, because nobody wanted us there. The couple agreed, however, that we planted our tent in the garden.
After an hour's walk on the steep foothills of the mountain, we ultimately arrive at a sort of vast grassy dotted here and there with groves, scrub and wildflowers. In looking more closely, we saw a few houses, a small school, barns and corrals scattered without any concern of urban organization. Each owner seemed to have obeyed the rules intuitive consisting not to invest but a landscape to blend in him without disturbing the original balance.
In fact, this Sunday, the real heart of Campo de Ahumada was "media-luna (half moon). An arena rustic, semi-circular made of stones, pebbles and mud. It was closed by a slight wooden fence behind which was a corral where soon would be grouped cattle selected for the competition.
For now the hour was still in preparation: here, the farm boys moisten the soil before the test. Further, a peasant was testing one by one the bulbs that illuminate the chain of the ball tonight. Meanwhile, women in charge of the grill vigorously fanned glowing embers. A little apart, two goats butchered waiting at the end of a rope attached to a branch. The dogs, well trained, would pretend to ignore the temptation to close at muzzle.
There again, a small group of burly ended tension of the sheet in which the musicians would just now animate the evening. Tables, for now still scattered in the meadow had been borrowed the nearby school. Moreover, we were told, if the rodeo this Sunday engendered some profits, they would be used to buy school supplies and to renovate the school as much as possible.
For now, only the bar and put a board on trestles, was already operational. Since the years that this rodeo is held, it was always the same person who was responsible. Suffering from stomach ulcers, he was alone among his peers that they can not absorb every drop of liquor. The ideal bartender, after all!
(based travel diary from December 91)
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