Every river, swimming pool and fountain I’ve seen in Argentina has been dry. So when we met up with Lauren and James for a week, my only requirement was water. Tick. The tree frog (Lauren), the wolf (James), the elephant and the cheetah set off for Mina Clavero after a couple of uninspiring days in Cordoba (except for the best coffee in Argentina at Victoria cafe and some dinosaur bones at a museum).
Lauren and I knew the limitations of looking for accommodation with the boys, so we left them with a bottle of Quilmes and headed down the road in search of a deal. With Lauren’s spanish we landed a private cabin/house, Los Angeles, for a week at a price that was cheaper than a hostel. Swimming pool, our own bedroom, bathroom and a kitchen. Absolute luxury.
Hanging in Mina Clavero was our little summer holiday. A holiday from travel if you like. We were able to cook our own meals (finally a rest from cheese), shower without jandals, hang clothes on a washing line and unpack the pack! Like I said, luxury. And a ten minute walk away from us was a beautiful rocky river, dotted with private swimming holes, small rapids and mountain views in the background.
No trip to the river was complete without a guided tour by my favourite dog ever (don’t be fooled by the little affection I usually have for dogs). The first day he guided us through the rocky terrain, protected me from a snake (yes I freaked out a tad) and then showed us a beautiful place to swim – muy linda. I called him Spike, what a dog.
- Spike and James
The next trip to the river was a little more exhilarating. We found Spike again and he proceeded to risk his life to show us where not to swim. I can’t do it justice so will leave Bevan to tell the tale in his blog but basically we found a new swimming hole and were wondering how strong the current was. Spike jumped in and his doggy paddle couldn’t battle the current. James jumped in to save Spike and the two of them ended with a ride down a pretty decently sized rapid. Both were shaken but unharmed except for James’ sunnies that are still somewhere in the rapid.
Yes, the current was too strong.
We all loved Mina Clavero and the lady running Los Angeles. We called her Mum, she gave us angels when we left and we gave her flowers.
My memories of Mina Clavero are: buckets of ice-cream, a group obsession with iPod solitaire, an epic dice game tournament, sunburn, Museum Rogen and its random collection of everything (eg. a shrunken head, an old x-ray machine, insect taxonomy), me kicking-butt at air hockey, instant coffee and porridge for four in the mornings, the boys making friends with whoever sold them Quilmes, gin and tonic with lemon, winning the bet on how long the bus will take to arrive after our freezing 10km condor walk through clouds and Spike.
Note to Bolivia 