Carrera at Cerro Guido

We were prepping to head in to the park again for some more backpacking and needed to get supplies in Puerto Natales before, but caught wind of a Gaucho Carrera (race) at Estancia Cerro Guido that afternoon. We caught a ride with the manager’s girlfriend and the head of food and beverage at the hotel. When we arrived it was a little different than expected. We had been told it was a huge party and a once yearly sort of thing but there were probably only about 70 people there. What there were plenty of was horses, and not just normal horses either. All of the grand steeds we could see were very large and lean. They were bristling with the approach of anyone and none of them seemed like the petting zoo type. Much unlike an event like this in the states, there wasn’t a horse trailer to be seen.  We asked Kineret, who is one of our fellow guides, how all of the horses had gotten there. She responded that they had all been riden of course. Now keep in mind we are about 15 miles from the next closest Estancia and there were about 30 horses with a wild side so everyone who had intended on riding had come that morning on horseback with horses in tow to do some serious bareback riding and also drop some serious money on all of the betting involved. With about 15 of the people present being official gauchos with the proper attire and demeanor the fun had already begun. A 200 meter stretch of earth with a slight uphill had been cut down to just dirt so we had what appeared to be a very short runway in front of us with people milling about making bets and buying cheap cervesas from a gaggle of 10 year olds in the back of a jeep.

 When the time came, two gauchos would politely challenge each other and hop on the backs of their mighty steeds often times with the assistance of a friend as these horses were much closer to their wilder roots and recoiled at the idea that they should be anyone’s mount. The two of them would then walk and canter to the end of the runway and after several false starts to get the right idea into the head of the horses they would set tearing off up the slight incline towards all of us with cameras flashing and shouting like the crescendo of any great Latin mariachi tune. With the greatest skill and speed these two brave Gauchos would fly up the track with horses foaming and straining every last muscle for victory. As they passed the final pole it was as simple as a winner and a loser and the disappointment was as obvious on the face of the losing rider as it was on the face of the beast. The winner would receive nothing more than accolades, small applause, and of course his wager. The strain horses at this point was most obvious through the incredible maze of veins like the roots of their hearts spread under a thin layer of flesh ready to burst with every beat. The rider would dismount and re-tether the animal to a long fence, careful to keep proper distance between them all and re-join his group of amigos. Most of the riders attending would only ride once during the whole event but after the event everyone present would enjoy an evening of partying and a large lamb asado Patagonian style. 

 I took the time between these islands of frenetic seconds to look around and try to get some semblance of a feeling of what was going on around us. This place is too big to describe. You can see for 100 miles clearly in every direction, and more towards the border of Argentina as the flat rolling pampa continues on until it reaches the Atlantic Ocean. Los Torres de Paine glistens under the cover of freshly fallen snow from the night before in the other direction. Andean condors circle overhead as there are most certainly fresh remnants of sheep or guanaco within several kilometers from the work of the pumas the night before. Behind us is a border range called Baguales or “Wild horses.” It fits. With the foaming beasts straining at their tethers, the carancho hawks stoically standing atop the miles of fence posts, Ñandu milling around the mata barrosa, this whole place is supremely wild.  

Baguales and Baguales