Two hours from Christchurch, through low, grass-covered hills, we swing around a bend. The road stretches out across a massive plain of grass and flowers and sparse trees, sliced in two by the grey road — a straight shot that stretches out until it disappears at the base of the Southern Alps.
On the Brazilian side, looking up the “Devil’s Throat” toward the mouth of the falls, with Argentina on the right. These shots had to be taken quickly because of…