Mike goes gaucho

From the very south of Argentina we flew up to Buenos Aires, dolled up and went to La Cabrera - perhaps the best steak restaurant in the whole world, and then hopped on an 18 hour night bus to Salta, in the north of Argentina - gaucho country.

The landscape couldn´t be more different from the south. Salta la linda - ´Salta the fair´ - is a pretty city nestled in the foothills of the Andes, surrounded by lush green valleys. After a few quick changes of plan we headed off to a ranch in the hills for some gaucho action. We chugged up in an aging pick-up and arrived at a crumbling ranch, untouched and unrenovated for years with armadillo skeletons on the coffee tables, an ancient record player in the hall with old tango records standing by and dusty old bathrooms with cracked tiles and dubious plumbing.

We didn´t have long to admire this amazing place because before we knew it we were matched up with some fine horses and were off, riding western-style through the long grass in the burning sun. After a short, sedate morning ride in quite a large group it was back to the ranch for a hearty asado (BBQ) where the steak was plentiful and the wine flowed freely. We played with the children and grandchildren of a local family, there were puppies and kittens to cuddle, and baby chicks pecking around our feet. By the end of lunch we were dancing with the kids on the patio and everyone was on a high. In the afternoon the day trippers returned to salta and we went out for another ride with a lovely dutch girl called Susannah. This time, with a smaller group we were able to go for a good long gallop in the lanes near the ranch and we returned to the ranch elated to share a maté with our host, the gaucho Milagro and his wife Alicia.

After a shower in the creaky old bathroom where I was joined by a bat (cue blood-curdling screams and a very frightened bat) we had a lovely dinner in the ranch and drank yet more of the local wine with Alicia and Milagro, muddling through a range of conversations in broken Spanish and English before retiring to our shuttered room for the deepest sleep imaginable.

The next day, Milagro ensured that Mike, Susannah and I had the fastest horses and we went off for another ride, this time climbing a steep hill before galloping along grassy tracks for a few kilometers with our hearts pounding in our chests. It was paradise, and the image of Mike galloping in front of me through the long green grass on his dappled grey horse will be one of my most treasured memories of this whole trip.