Lunch amid lupins

One of the things I particularly wanted to do was to visit an estancia; I imagined myself in the saddle, helping to round up the cattle. A slightly unusual role for a vegetarian, which stems more from a love of horse riding than a desire to see things through to their logical conclusion on someone's plate. Isn't there a bit of the gaucho in all of us? To be out there under the sky, ranging? (What is ranging, anyway?) With only the grass, birds, cattle and dogs for company, and, of course, your trusty steed. So it was off to an estancia yesterday, the Brother being less than bothered about it, both of us half expecting, half fearing something cheesy and overblown. A Teutonic driver (whose nationality was never revealed) picked us up in an old rattler of a van and took us the 25 kilometres on an unpaved road, through sparse, arid country. The estancia is in the national park, and, as we drew nearer, the land grew greener, we crossed crystal streams, hares darted across the road, and the mountains loomed larger. Before entering the park, we passed a large estancia, with sheep gathered in front; it's shearing time, and this estancia has over 2,000 sheep all needing to lose their dust-encrusted fleece and emerge creamy white and fresh for the summer. Our estancia is not allowed to keep more than 200 head because the Park has limits on grazing, and there is a sharp contrast between the arid landscape around the large estancia and the green surrounding "ours". This is on a peninsula between Lago Roca and the southernmost arm of Lake Argentino, the deep blue of the former contrasting with the icy hues of the latter. Paint yourself a picture of a perfect alpine scene including verdant vegetation, lakes, streams and mountains, and you have it. Then add a field of lupins, self-seeded over more than a century by the wind, and gradually making its way up the hillside. Then plonk down a few one-storey buildings, liberally clad with corrugated iron and painted cream and green, add in a tall chimney and some rustic stonework, and that is what greeted us. Perfect! The Brother elected to go for a guided walk while I, of course, opted for the horse ride. An hour wending our way gently up and along the hillside enjoying the spectacular views, followed by a sheepshearng demonstration, a display of gaucho horsemanship, and lunch in the small restaurant - the full asado (assorted meats) for the Brother - a generous helping of salads fresh from the garden for me. All done almost coyly, with no bluster or show. The only other guests for lunch were a retired couple from Cordoba province, who spoke only Spanish. After selling their plastic coffin factory, they spend their time enjoying life, taking the odd trip here and there, and generally living for the day. A British couple were staying at the estancia (oh, how I wish I'd spotted that opportunity back in March!), who have sold their house, and are spending a year travelling round the world. And here's the slightly surreal moment: when we discussed occupations, it turned out that he had done a lot of work with wrinklitourist's employer - is there no escape? Back to El Calafate, for a free afternoon, a bodge around the town, some souvenir window shopping, and a plateful of delicious veggies for me - a light sandwich after all that meat for the Brother - and both of us fully disabused of our weary cynicism.