Observing Life in the Arid Landscapes of Mendoza Province

As I travel through Mendoza Province, I move across a land of striking climatic and ecological diversity. From the high Andes to the semi-arid terrain below, the landscape keeps changing. Closer to the Andes, the Aconcagua River runs strong and wild. Further away, the scenery softens into lower mountain ranges, dry open ground, vast rocky stretches, and soils whose colours can appear almost like a great natural rainbow.

At first sight, one may think there is nothing here. And yet, as one comes closer, life begins to reveal itself everywhere. Over the past year of living in this terrain, what I have come to know through direct observation and meditation is a growing sense of wonder at the unfamiliar ways life exists here and the cycles through which it persists.

From tarantulas, scorpions, tuk-tuks, and the “black widow,” to cacti so large and sculptural that their spines range from tiny points of only a few millimetres to long needles several centimetres in length, the desert keeps surprising me. Some cacti grow alone, others in clusters. Their flowers, often brief and seasonal, can be delicate and tiny, or unexpectedly large, fleshy, and radiant. Looking closely at the ground, I found myself amazed not only by the cacti, but by the diversity of flowering plants that live in close relationship with the soil.

Among the best-known native plants of Mendoza’s arid and Monte landscapes are jarilla (Larrea spp.), chañar (Geoffroea decorticans), algarrobo (Prosopis spp.), brea (Parkinsonia praecox), and many cacti. In Mendoza, cacti can include species such as Pterocactus reticulatus, while the province also protects a wide range of native flora across its Monte, Andean, Puna, and Patagonian environments. Native flowering plants of these dry landscapes can include plants such as Sphaeralcea philippiana with pink flowers, as well as yellow-flowering shrubs like pichana/pichanilla often found in arid zones.

I started to wonder: how do these plants survive here? How did they come to be so well adapted, and how do they continue to endure?

One striking discovery is that many non-succulent plants appear to develop a  taproot, strong main root that goes deep into the soil, rather than spreading only near the surface. In such dry terrain, depth may matter more than breadth. These plants must also make their way through stony ground, finding paths between rocks in order to survive. In Luján de Cuyo, at the foot of the Andes, the city lies at about 943 metres above sea level, with around 193 mm of annual precipitation, which helps explain both the semi-arid character of the region and the remarkable adaptations required of its vegetation.

The cacti, too, speak of endurance. Their tissues store water; their spines help protect them and can also reduce water loss and exposure. What fascinates me deeply is that so many of the plants I encounter here carry medicinal, edible, or practical value. Many cacti are edible in one form or another — through their pads, fruits, or flowers — while numerous native shrubs and herbs have long histories of local use. Mendoza’s vegetation is far more diverse than I had expected.

The flowering plants differ enormously in size and form. Some flowers are so small they can be overlooked entirely, no larger than a few millimetres. Others — especially those of certain cacti — can be large, juicy, luminous, and wider than an adult hand. What first appears empty becomes, under attention, a world of extraordinary detail.

And then there is the wildlife. Another surprise has been the presence, seen or sensed, of the Andean cat — the “ghost of the Andes” — a being so elusive that, if one is fortunate, one may only come across traces of its presence rather than the animal itself.

The longer I live here, the more this dry terrain teaches me that abundance is not always loud, green, or obvious. Sometimes life survives by rooting deeply, storing quietly, flowering briefly, and revealing itself only to those who pause long enough to look.