Waiting in the corrals

Some of our guests just can’t help waxing lyrical about Estancia Ranquilco… enjoy!

Written by John, riding and mountain trip guest,2008

In January and February 2008 I spent six wonderful weeks at Estancia Ranquilco in Patagonia, or the Argentine Andes. I fell in love with the place and regard my stay there as the best vacation of my life.

Staying at Ranquilco was not like visiting any other resort I’ve ever experienced. The scenery, the accommodations, the activities, the people – all were unique and exceptional. Staying there is more like getting invited to visit as a friend of the family than going to a resort as a paying customer. There’s something about Ranquilco that seems to bring the best out in everyone. Part of it is certainly the breathtaking grandeur of the region. Another part is that everyone, owner, staff and clients alike, seemed to enjoy simply being there and making the best of their stay. Another important element was the atmosphere of peace and tranquility that pervades the region. The weather was ideal – warm in the day, cool at night, dry, with crystal clear skies day and night. The Estancia’s main compound is best described as “rustic elegance” — just rustic enough to make you feel like you’ve stepped back a couple of centuries to a simpler and less hectic time, yet, at the same time, very elegant and comfortable. The horse riding and camping were great fun, just challenging enough to give you a sense of accomplishment, but not over-taxing.

Ranquilco is very remote and pristine. Consider this – the only sounds I ever heard were horses snorting and whinnying, a few human voices, an occasional dog bark, the almost constant breeze in the trees and the faint rush of the river rapids in the gorge just below the main compound. In my six weeks there I never saw or heard an airplane or saw an airplane contrail

The staff and accommodations were exceptional. The owner was a gracious host who interacted with his guests daily and genuinely took pleasure in seeing them enjoy themselves.

The gauchos working the ranch, and with whom I interacted regularly, are really great guys — helpful, capable, good humored and just all-around fun to be with (they speak no English and I speak little Spanish, but that never proved to be a serious problem). They do the heavy work around the estancia. The horses are strong, sure-footed and “user friendly”. The food was excellent – wholesome, wonderfully prepared, organically nurtured and right out of the ground or off the range.

When I was there, a typical day at the main compound started with breakfast at about 9:00/9:30 AM, lunch around 2:00 PM and dinner around 9:00/10:00 PM. Breakfast was generally served in the kitchen, lunch on the patio and dinner either on the patio (by candlelight) or in the elegant formal dining room (Wedgewood china, sterling silverware and sterling candelabra). If a group of us wanted to go for a ride they’d pack us a lunch to take with us. Best of all, every week or so they had an “asado”, or barbeque, with a meat cooked before a wood fire, accompanied by numerous side dishes, breads, wine and more. My free hours were spent doing some combination of reading, horse riding, gardening, exploring, napping, performing small maintenance/repair projects (voluntarily) around the compound and chatting with the volunteers and other clients. Around 6:00/7:00 I’d light a small fire in my bathroom’s hot water heater, give it a half-hour to heat up, and take a nice, hot shower. Darkness fell at about 11:00 PM, and I mean total darkness. The only light pollution in that area is from the moon and the incredible canopy of stars!

Then there were the camping trips! A typical one involved four to six hours of horse riding to the first campsite high in the mountains, each person carrying their own personal gear in saddle bags. Pack horses and mules transported the heavy gear, food and wine (an essential and plentiful commodity at Ranquilco). Everyone set up their own tent and sleeping arrangement while the volunteers and gauchos prepared the meals over an open fire. The scenery we rode through and camped in was awesome, really beyond imagination. The grandeur and scale of everything was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. During the days we spent the time exploring by foot or horseback, taking care of the horses, helping with gathering firewood and cooking or just relaxing around the campfire and chatting. The time absolutely flew by. After a couple of days we would move on to another spectacular spot and set up again, for a total outing of five or six days.

Another important aspect of a stay at Ranquilco was working with the cattle. If you are there at the right times, you can, if you want to, participate in cattle round-ups for branding, for sales and to simply move herds from one location to another. In doing this you work side-by-side with the gauchos. As inexperienced as I was in horsemanship and cattle herding I was made to feel like a valuable member of the team. At times it was hard, dusty work, but I enjoyed every minute of it. Making the task even more rewarding was the fact that the round-ups for branding and cattle sales were always followed by a big “asado”, or barbeque, with some of the gauchos providing guitar music, much dancing by guests, volunteers, gauchos and their families, and lots of wine. Those parties would go into the wee hours of the morning.

I’ll end with a few miscellaneous points. First, while the Ranquilco area is very dry and dusty, water in the form of mountain rivers and pure, cold, crystal clear springs are everywhere. The springs provide wonderful and plentiful drinking water for the estancia and wherever you travel throughout the countryside. Second, the meat served most often is goat cooked in various ways. It was a new experience for me and I found it delicious. Beef, right off the range, is the next most frequently served meat. They also cater to vegetarian diets. Third, electric power at the main compound is limited but adequate for all the needs I had. They have a solar panel array that can charge batteries, run laptops and power a few lights. They had a small hydro-turbine system that provided power throughout the compound until late 2007 when it wore out. I happen to know that a new one is slated for installation later this year. We used flashlights to move around after dark and candles in the rooms. Truthfully I did not miss the hydro-turbine power. Fourth, as hinted at earlier, wine is plentiful, very good and does not contain sulfites, making it headache free. Fifth, bird watching is incredible there, with Andean condors, numerous raptors, flamingos and dozens of other birds unique to the area encountered everywhere. Sixth, this is still really a wild area. As you ride through the countryside you will frequently come across skeletons of various animals, large and small, as well as spot live rabbits and foxes. Puma still roam the area. The hides of two of them hang in the barn at Ranquilco, one quite large that was shot in the compound last year. Puma tracks showed up in the main compound once while I was there.

Bottom line – would I go back to Estancia Ranquilco? The answer to that is I’ve already booked another visit for February/March 2009. This time I signed up for one of the special 14-day mountain camping trips offered by the owners’s son. He is a highly qualified wilderness survival expert and knows the area intimately. I will learn how to pack horses, start fires without modern aides, cook over a campfire, take care of my horse, set up a camp site, etc. The word is that these programs are great fun and immensely educational. I plan to stay a few weeks beyond the course as well.

Written by Helen, UK, 2009, horse riding and mountain trip client

I stayed with the Carrithers for 6 weeks as part guest and part gaucha and it was everything and more that I could have hoped for. Ranquilco is literally out of this world: one day’s ride from the nearest Argentine town and 4 days ride to the Chile border, you’ll find the estancia perched on a cliff overlooking a canyon and the river below, with the Andes all around.

We arrived by horse as night fell and crossed the river where the water rose as high as the saddle. The rocky trail that led up to the estancia was lit by moonlight and bordered by poplar trees that loomed above as high as skyscrapers. Ghostly outlines of horses in paddocks were made real by their nickering as we passed by.

I was met by Georgie, the effervescent American cook and housekeeper/gaucha, who ushered me into my woodshack that was more like a cabin stepping back in time: with oak furniture and silver heirlooms, crisp linen, B&W photos of the family, day bed, and bathroom with an open fire that heats the water, plus a bottle of house wine, with the words, ‘dinner will be served in the dining room in one hour.’ I felt like I’d melted into heaven.

Dinner was kicked off on the patio overlooking the river and Andes with a glass of wine. There were 11 of us: me and some other guests, Georgie and the Carrithers family including the sweet and independent 6 year old Kincade, son of TA, who announced that his father wasn’t that good at survival and he, on my return, would take me on a proper camping trip. No loo paper would be allowed because we’d use leaves and if he couldn’t catch a trout we’d eat crickets.

Dinner was served in the dining room adorned by oak European furniture, a fireplace you could walk into, and a table laid with wines bottled by the estancia, crystal glasses glittering in candlelight and Wedgewood crockery on a crisp white tablecloth. Ashley, the owner, strode in just before the first course in his riding attire looking like he’d walked off the set of a Jane Austen movie. After a fine evening of chatting about Ranquilco and our days ahead I made my way back to my shack. It was pitch dark and I’d forgotten my head torch but in any case I wanted to try the Carrithers’ first rule of survival: don’t rely on artificial light and allow your eyes to adjust naturally (and if ever you get lost with your horse in the Andes you should let your horse do the same and not shine the way with your head torch). After walking into a few trees and ending up in the laundry house Georgie raced out to help me. I never quite got used to that rule and always kept my torch to hand, that and lassoing were things that escaped me!

The next day I awoke to clear blue skies, a warm heat in the mid 20s, breakfast on the patio – eggs cooked to order, freshly made bread and home-made jam. We were joined by the ever-relaxed TA who took us through our itinerary for the next 10 days. Two days of orienteering on the estancia: learning how to herd horses, catch them (using the wide arm dance in the corral), tack up with the multitude of special rugs and leather straps, hacking around the Andes for a few hours here and there and gathering food and clothing in readiness for the 8 day trek. The thought of riding 7 hours a day, 8 days solid (he didn’t tell me at the time that we were to have a couple of days rest by a lake fishing for trout and sunbathing!), left me with a feeling of anticipation and slight worry that I would be sobbing with soreness after the first few hours. I’d packed tons of paracetamol and vowed to painkiller my way through it.

On the day of departure four of us set off in single file with our sturdy pack horse threading our way through pine forests, rivers, valley floors and mountain paths. About two hours in I turned back to see the far-off cluster of poplars that marked the estancia, the last mark of civilization. From now on it was just us, our supplies, and perhaps if we were lucky, the odd slaughtered goat from an obliging lone gaucho. Facing the direction we were heading in – the Chile border – all I could see in the distance were snow lined peaks that resembled shark teeth. That would be the half way mark. The homeward journey would be looping back down through valleys, past lakes jumping with trout, plains and mountains.

Our trek went deep into the Andes. Sometimes along tracks the width of a pencil above snow line and other times across lush plains with Condors swirling above us, we would stop for lunch and then head off again reaching camp in the late afternoon. Camp would be a plain of grass large enough for the horses to feed overnight and with access to spring water, sometimes by a lake other times sharing it with cattle and the odd puesto. There’s a routine to camping in the wilds. First is to water the horses and then tether them to bushes, with special slip knots, far enough apart so they don’t get tangled up with each other but in sight so they’re still comfortably within the herd.

The next is to gather firewood – which surprisingly was in good supply – and to get the fire and coals going. We would then sit around the fire preparing vegetables and maybe spit-roast some goat. As the sun went down, stretched out by the fire having had a basic but filling dinner with easy chat, we’d start thinking about where we would lay out our bedding. Camping out was on horse blankets with a sleeping bag on top and I had a poncho that prevented the early morning dew from seeping into my bag. Woolly hat and thermals made the cold low degrees nights more than warm enough. The stillness, quietness and crystal clear air ensured some of the best nights sleep I’ve ever had. I would say that I am now addicted to camping in the wilds and I shudder at the thought of using a tent (unless it’s pouring with rain, which it did once).

The first time I slept out I woke in the night and practically choked on the millions of stars pressing down on me. With the earth beneath me and the night sky above it was humbling and satisfying. Daunting at first, I soon ate it up, loving the ritual of saddling up, the lilt and sway of the horses as they always carefully picked their way across trails. And what’s great about it because you’re trekking you get very little saddle soreness, not bad considering I hadn’t ridden for 15 years. The other thing I worried about was the danger of riding. Ranquilco horses, however, are beautifully trained, calm and trustworthy and whilst trekking sometimes along quite scary tracks I found I could just settle back and let my horse, Cerillo, pick his way. I think I even fell asleep once while traversing along a mountain trail. If I had more space I’d write a whole testimony on the sweet, chestnut Cerillo. I fell in love with him and rode him for the whole 6 weeks I was at Ranquilco and anyone who’s lucky enough to have him look after him and give him an ear scratch from me.

At the end of the trek returning to Ranquilco was like a relief and a shock. I wandered around my woodshack not knowing what to do first: have a hot shower, sit by the fire, or have a beer with TA on the balcony. The beer won and then I caught my blackened reflection and Grady’s look of surprise – the air steward from the US who’d trekked with us – so the shower came next! I said to T.A sipping the fountain-chilled beer (no fridge at R) that it felt like the sand had finally settled in me. Ultimately, the trip stripped me of everything I have grown used to in life – urban living, mainly – and it brought me back to a place that is pure earth and nature and being at one with the horse.

The most illuminating part of my trip – other than reconnecting with horses – was working on the estancia; herding was wild and exhilarating, eating goat and dancing the traditional gaucho dances (flag dance anyone?) and learning how to make 160 tortas fritas on an open fire, and that mesmerising feel of kneading bread (I can knock up 10 loaves in an hour now!) was getting back to basics.

The magic of Ranquilco aside, I couldn’t leave this memory without talking about the Carrithers family. They are teachers in the gaucho ways, the spirit of nature and how to live in the wild and reconnecting with the earth, and best of all, they know how to have a damn good party. And then there’s T.A. He is buddha incarnate and I would probably follow him to the ends of the earth. At some point I hope to meet the lovely Laura, who couldn’t make the trip, but I heard a lot about her. And then there’s Kincade who is following in his father’s footsteps. He took me on the survival trip: we didn’t eat trout or crickets but cooked up a traditional gaucho stew, chatted by the fire and slept out under the stars. He also showed me how to sharpen a knife, not his father’s way, mind, but the gaucho way, in circles on a wet stone. And if anyone wants to meet the true cowgirl, it’s TA’s sister, Sky. Don’t let her blond hair down to her waist and 5 foot stature and guitar playing and singing like an angel fool you. She has truly gone feral and can wrestle a calf to its knees and can castrate it in moments. She’s a master in horsemanship, lives with her gaucho in the Andes in a puesto 6 hours ride from Ranquilco, where they tend to their cattle and practice leather craftsmanship and weaving. And then there’s Ashley who generously opens his house to strangers from all over the world, he shares his home, his vision, and his ways so that we can learn how to live off the land. And then there are the gauchos: the people of the last frontier, the true cowboys. Now, their ways are amazing: from their horsemanship, to their cooking, their shyness, their humour, love for a party and their own generosity in sharing their often solitary life with a bunch of westerners. There really isn’t enough space to give them credence. I guess you’ll just have to go out there and experience it for yourself!