Pigment and Spit

In classic Argentine fashion, the country's department of tourism takes great pains to hype the Cueva de las Manos without providing much in the way of infastructure for people to actually visit. There's one business in the infamous Perito Moreno offering excursions, but it took us two days to catch them when they were open (they're called "Guanacondor" which, to the best of our knowledge, is translated "Shit Buzzard").

Fortunately, Emily and I did manage to successfully sign up for a tour, which ended up consisting of the two of us, three Argentine women, and a guide. The guide drove us a few hours over extremely bumpy ripio roads until reaching the rim of the canyon housing the paintings. From the rim, it was roughly 45 minutes of steep descent, followed by an equally steep ascent. Because the trail cut through red rock outcroppings and scrubby desert vegetation, there was a great deal of scenery to admire. However, our fellow travellers were mostly interested in taking pictures in a wooded glen where the Rio Pinturas winds through the canyon bed. "Don't forget to get my shoes in the photo," warned one of the women. She had snappy new red sneakers.

In the end, the Cueva de las Manos was well worth the trouble taken to visit. A mysterious archaeological site, the "cave" (really a series of exposed overhangs) features 829 negative images of hands, created 9500 years ago by tribes in the area. By placing their hands on the rock wall and blowing pigment over top, the primitive artists created an eerie, remarkably long-lasting tableaux. In and around the hands are images of guanacos--the llama-like creatures that still wander around the dusty landscape. There are other indigenous paintings from 2500 years ago consisting of scribbly stick figures and jagged lines. I think everyone sort of silently agrees that these are pretty half-assed by comparison.

The woman who escorted us around the site (you're not allowed to go yourself in case you get the urge to spraypaint "TE AMO COCO!" or something over the hands) explained that some archaeologists theorize that the ancient painters might have successfully domesticated guanacos in the area. Guanacos usually appear pretty tame, so I didn't initially find this terribly impressive. However, on the ride back to Perito Moreno, we stopped off to use the bathroom at a hostel and saw one of the gangly creatures ambling around the grounds. We all took turns taking photos ("don't forget to get my shoes!") until the guanaco got restless and suddenly arched its back. Seconds later, a foul spray of spit flew from its mouth. Tragically, my shirt smelled of regurgitated grass for many hours after, giving me a new perspective from which to admire the resourceful cave painters and guanaco herders. -NSH